An Imperial reporter is assigned to cover news stories and events in Morrowind, inadvertently finding danger, adventure, and an unassuming Argonian who may or may not be the so-called "Nerevarine." Story updates every Sunday!
I awoke, hung over as usual, in the mid a.m. The workers and traders of the ship were hard at work earning their pay and making one hell of a racket doing so. No one gave two shits about the lowly reporter tucked into his own private hole on the ship trying to sleep away the alcohol in his bloodstream. Somehow I wasn't surprised.
And to help ease myself into the day I cracked open another bottle of sujamma. Might as well use the stuff since I had it, right? I was finally here, Vvardenfell, and as reluctant as I was it was time to get to work. So terribly hungover and drunk from trying to hair-of-the-dog away my misery, I left the confines of the ship and set about doing whatever the hell I was supposed to be doing.
My first and really only goal in Ebonheart was to find the Imperial Cult shrine; these people were my contacts in and throughout Vvardenfell and would handle my reports to the Imperial City as well as my payments. I was counting on a cash advance from the Cult to make my life somewhat better. Not that it would take much to improve things; I was poor, having spent all my cash on Sujamma a few days earlier, and starving since I couldn't buy any food due to the aforementioned terrible choices I'd made.
The sun, as usual, burned my eyes as I exited the dark and musty holds of the trading ship. Although aware that we were docked in Ebonheart, it still took a moment to get my bearings. The sun was behind the ship, not even in my eyes but turning the sky itself into some glowing bright blue fluorescent screen that caused me to squint no matter which way I looked. And to the west? Ebonheart, the imperial garrison on this wild and uncontrollable island named Vvardenfell. Somewhere hidden amongst the cold, grey, and uninviting walls was the Imperial Cult shrine and I'd have to find it.
To the east, blurry from the haze of the sky and the blinding sun, was a massive city consisting of six or seven visible trapezoidal buildings; the cantons which made up Vivec City. My next destination after Ebonheart. The next place to desperately attempt to dig up dirt to report to the masses back home and abroad. It looked beautifully complex and amazing, a clear departure from the boring and typical Imperial/Nordic architecture I was used to seeing. While not perfectly organic, it was a clear departure from the uninviting styles I was accustomed to.
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On the southern end of the Vivec City, I noticed one canton rising much higher into the sky than the rest. Was this the Palace of Vivec himself? And there was what appeared to be a large rock floating near it. And on the rock? Scaffolding? What? I wasn't sure if my hangover was affecting my vision, but I could clearly see scaffolding, stairs, and rope attached to the floating rock despite the hazy air of the morning.
Vivec sure would give me something to write about.
I found an Orc near the ship, clipboard in hand, auditing the loading and unloading process. Another Orc doing this? I thought Orcs were a big, dumb, stupid race only known for their physical prowess. Every Orc I'd seen so far in my journey had been auditing goods and crunching numbers.
"Hey, pal," I said. "What is that floating thing over there. That's Vivec City, right?"
