210 4e: Seyda Neen, Vvardenfell, Morrowind

The boat swayed with the ocean currents, bobbing up and down across the flowing expanse. Calen Dreysan was asleep, or as asleep as one can get on a rocking boat like this. She was not aware of the ship's goings on, her room locked and her self tucked away in her bed.

Morrowind....I'll finally be back in Morrowind

The thought raced in her dreams. She had always heard of the land before, but never actually seen it with her own eyes. Now, with the aid of the sacred assassins guild, she was making that dream a reality. The Morag Tong had funded her return, and in exchange she was to restart the Guild Headquarters in the newly repopulated Balmora. She was to meet with more Tong members, and the New Grand master would make an arrival there after to judge the success of the Guild. She could only hope that the guild would be to his standards.

It was already dark when the boat arrived at the swampy little port of Seyda Neen. Calen was already awake, anticipation in her every being. She awaited the call of the captain, and as soon as he told them that they had arrived, she made her way out to the dock, awaiting her official move to Morrowind.

Ana sat in her room, seated on her cot. Her robes were nearby, neatly folded in a pile. She clad in a simple set of trousers and a sleeveless tunic. The room was especially dark with the night overhead, but a single speck of brightness penetrated the gloom. Within her closed palms was a single, small flame, which she held near her face. It was warm, though she figured it would be hot enough to burn any one else at this proximity. She gently stroked the flames, which wrapped around her fingers as they passed over, and whispered, "We are almost there." A little smile came over her face, and she allowed the flame to grow until it was near the size of her fist. Holding it just above her palm, she stood and made her way to the small desk at the other side of the room.

It had been a long time since she'd been somewhere cool. Her exodus from Skyrim had not been an easy one, nor one she had wanted to undertake. But silly things like "the law" was apparently taken into consideration with prisoners of war, and so what she had done to the Stormcloaks would have landed her in jail for far longer than she cared to be in. And so she headed south, taking the route through the Rift. It was fairly easy to avoid detection, so long as she kept her robes put away and her face mostly covered. Even in Cyrodiil, there weren't nearly as many Legionnaires as there should have been, and so getting to Elsweyr was far easier than it should have been.

But the damn Legion, they were persistent. Once everything was finished in Skyrim, they put out wanted posters for her, stretching even down to her little hiding spot in the desert. After wading through piles of mercenaries and bounty hunters, and more than a few Legionnaires given leave to come for her, she was able to make it to a boat on the way to Vvardenfell, far out of everyone's jurisdiction. At least, she hoped.

She sat at the desk for a while, playing with the fire, and other little fires she summoned up. In the end, she managed to get about two hours of sleep before someone came around to wake them for departure from the ship. Pulling on the robes, them looking like a slimmed down version of the robes Morrowind temple priests wore, she made her way to the deck, a silver destruction staff in her hand. She gazed over the shore, standing near a Dunmer, and followed uncomfortably behind her as they and the others made their way off into Seyda Neen. Not the best looking place, she thought to herself, and began to move around the town. She needed to find a way to get deeper in, and find somewhere to stay away from the shore.

"Captain, how long until we arrive?" Ithilnur asked in a somewhat demanding tone towards the Dunmeri ship captain. "A few hours left, Sir. Should be dark by the time we land." Ithilnur offered a small, curt nod of the head and turned back on his heel, going below deck. He was tall, even for an Altmer and well-built, yet still holding a graceful, poised stance and pace. His features were long and sharp, everything straight and clean. His light blonde hair, only somewhat differentiating from his light skin ran slightly down past his shoulders, parted in the middle. A neat, well kept beard formed at the lower half of his face and a somewhat long scar ran over his left eye. His eyes were often a noticeable part of his visage, being a piercing green that some might say glowed under certain lighting. He was garbed in simple Mage robes, Elven boots and gauntlets complimenting his legs and arms respectively. The rest of his armor lay in his pack, alongside his trusty blade. For now, an Elven dagger lay hidden in the folds of his outfit just in case.

He had to keep searching for a place to stay. Cyrodiil nearly burnt, Summerset under Thalmor control, Skyrim filled with bigots, Morrowind was the next stop. Ithilnur's pride was hurt, he was forced to go scampering about, searching for a bed to rest his head on at the end of every day. Though he certainly was not destitute, he would not be considered wealthy by Altmeri standards.

After a few hours of thinking and wasting time, the captain's loud voice called out. They had made port. His thin lips curved into a smile, Ithilnur grabbed his items and made his way above deck. "So this is Morrowind." He began to no-one in particular. "Let's hope it meets the margin." He said before approaching the boarding dock.

He handed a bag of coin to the captain before leaving the boardwalk into the city of Vvardenfell itself...

Dar'Ja uncrumbled a sweetroll as he took a seat on a stump just outside Ebonheart. He greedily threw it in his mouth, took out his knife and plunged it into the rotten wood. As he once again did a swift motion with his knife hand, he's uncovered a beautiful, even yet blackened by wood yet fancy-like convert bearing the symbol of Aldmeri. The Khajiit swore, tore the convert apart and read through as quickly as possible. He is to look after migrants in Seyda Neen. Never liked that place. He quickly burned the message, finished his sweetrolls, wiped his mouth, and went west.

He remembers the story of Nerevarine, some say he be a Dunmer, but he liked to think it was a Khajiit. Walking over to Arille's tradehouse, he momentarily took a seat, ordered some Argonian ale, and hunkered down, looking out the window.

Jar'mo had arrived only a few days ago and he'd allready been arrested. Disturbance of the peace they said as they dragged him from a barfight he'd been involved in. He grabbed his bread, ripped it in half and grinned noticing his agreement hadn't been forgotten. He pulled out the lockpick and knelt down in front of the cell door. He moved it arround carafully for it not to break. After a few seconds he heard the satisfying sound of the open door. Now came the easy part he thought as he unsheathed his claws...

Ria awoke when the bumpy waves knocked on her noggin. Many of the passengers were moving to the top deck so naturally she followed. There she saw the endless sea halted by a streak of land just visible on the horizon. Morrowind, home of the Dunmer. She was still getting used to being somewhere other than Cyrodiil. A sense of adventure filled her veins, this is where she would find fortune. Before the ship docked Ria equipped her iron armor and sheathed her steel sword. The weight felt familiar to the seasoned warrior.

The feel of solid ground was comforting as she stepped on the unmoving earth. She should be in Seyda Neen, or she hoped she was. The entirety of the landscape, the plants, dirt, and architecture, felt alien. And truth be told, she had no idea where to begin. First things first, she should find an inn or tavern of some sort. She followed some of the other passengers, hoping they actually knew their way around.

Ithilnur grimaced slightly. It had only been a few minutes since he had gone offshore and already the ash was staining his robes. Resigned, he sighed before heading towards one of the many alien-shaped buildings scattered around the city.

As he walked through the door he could immediately tell it was a tavern: the dimly lit rooms, the thick smell of alcohol on the air, and many patrons looking like workers or guards.

His boots made a light tapping sound on the stone as he walked by, his head turning left and right to see those inside. He approached the somewhat worn wooden bar, where a friendly looking Dunmer stood, running a rag through a tankard. "Greetings traveler, ain't every day visitors come to Vvardenfell, what can I do for ya?"

Ithilnur pulled back his hood, "I'd like a basic map around Morrowind, if you've one to offer, and a meal that hopefully is of better quality than that on ships."

The barkeep nodded, squatting behind the bar and rustling through a few items. "Ah, yes, here we are! Bit dusted, but in good condition and should be up to date! Only 10 Septims."

Ithilnur took out a small coin purse, handing it to the barkeep. "Now then, traveler, just have yourself a seat there. One of the attendants will bring your meal t' you." The barkeep added before going back to cleaning the mug.

Ithilnur offered a small nod of thanks before moving to one of the corner tables. After a few minutes, a Dunmeri attendant approached him, a wooden plate vacated by a few horker steaks, some steamed vegetables, and a goblet of wine.

Ithilnur gave the man a few more Septims and took his food, eating alone whilst looking at the map.

Calen decided a quick stop at a local tavern would help her navigate. After arriving, she ordered herself one of the local liqours, a dunmeri drink called Matze; a favorite of her parents and other Morrowind-born living on Solthsteim. No taste besides the bitterness of Alcohol. Calen was not surprised, she didn't expect much more. She just took sips of the Matze while looking around for anyone who might have some info for her.

It was then that she caught sight of something, a map to be more specific. Tilting her head, she easily was able to catch a glimpse. It was indeed a map, and the owner of it was, to her great surprise, Altmer.

Calen was surprised and perplexed, what would an Altmer be doing in Morrowind? The immediate suspicion was Thalmor, but the young Morag Tong had learned by now that simple looks can be deceiving. She knew that not all Altmer supported the Thalmor, but she was slightly suspicious of the distinctive boots and gauntlets. They were of the Aldmeri design.

However, she needed to make her way to Balmora, and it was much better to go with a partner than alone. Especially with the conditions of Vvardenfell. Even if he was Thalmor, she was more than capable of taking him out at the first sign of trouble, as her training with the Tong had ensured.

She pulled up a chair next to the Altmer, not sure if he noticed her coming from the side while he ate.
"This your first time to Morrowind?" she asked him, not quite kind enough to be suspicious, but gruff enough for him to take her for a local.

As Ithilnur ate and examined the map, he had become lost in his own thoughts. There was a strong Dominion presence even here in Morrowind. 'By Auriel's name...' He began in his head, 'Is nowhere safe from their clutches?'

Suddenly, however, his thoughts were interrupted by a female Dunmer sitting down next to him. Ithilnur sighed loudly, obviously displaying his displeasure. He turned to her, gently rolling up the map. "Who wants to know?" He responded to her in a mysterious, guarded tone, a single eyebrow raised in response. He had no reason to trust this Dunmer and wouldn't give anything away in case she was a Thalmor spy.

Dar'Ja coldly stared out in the mudded beach, the disgusting silk-striders leaning from one limb onto another. He's drank what was left in his cup, threw a couple more coins at a beggar, and left, managing to get hold of a beautifully made silver plate which barman has left in a place where it's easy to grab from, and nobody noticed. He's grimly moved his eyes from the barren landscape onto the boat, gripping his eyes at the imperial girl just off at the coast. It was easy to find she's Imperial, and he had his eyes on her. Thalmor had to secure the Dunmer lands from such people like the Imperials. He however, would also come to despise the Aldmeri soon. He came over to her, and put on his great actor mood:

"Good day to you, Dar'Ja is glad. What you say we go to Balmora and then to treasure hunt?"

Calen responded in a typical Dunmer tone. "Its obvious you want to get into the meat of Morrowind, and it's quite dangerous moving from city to city, many failed treasure seekers have turned bandit" She leaned in a little closer. "Its better to be in a group, at least two together. Bandits and all number of local wild life will tear apart even a seasoned traveler alone."

"It just so happens that I'm on my way to Balmora, a decent sized city; not too far from here. I have family there, and it's a nice stop for anyone looking to go deeper into Morrowind to stock up on supplies. If you're looking to go traveling, we could go there together." The offer was out there. She knew neither had reason to trust the other, but even so, it would make travelling to Balmora that much easier, and if her suspicions were true, i would give her the oppourtunity to take put a potential Thalmor enemy.

Ithilnur heard her case, his guarded face softening slightly, yet still holding the typical Altmer distrust. "Don't take me for a fool, what's your fee? No simple traveler would offer a complete stranger travel without charging anything." He sighed, resigned, "But I would be a fool to turn away assistance. Money is no object, name your price, and I shall allow you to journey with me."

Ithilnur took a drink from his mug, his eyes subtly narrowed. Perhaps he was being a fool by entrusting a stranger, but what other choice did he have? Nevertheless this 'savior' would have to be watched carefully. Much of the Dunmeri population has become embittered, turning to base thievery or assassination, not to mention the infamous Morag Tong assassins. Perhaps it would be good to come across them, Ithilnur had not drawn his blade in some time and what better blood to spill than that of spineless assassins?