Introduction
The first of my journals chronicled a confused Dunmer woman's first days of freedom from a life imprisoned, coming into her own as a warrior, and a journey to know and understand the people she never knew. So much has changed now and so has the journal I will use.
My name is Adarise Salvel, but I am now also known as Lord Indoril Nerevar. I bear the ring Moon-and-Star, and now seek to use it to unite all of Morrowind. This will be an account of that quest and of the trials that come after it, kept for the sake of accountability, history, and my own sanity.
15 Frostfall, 3E426
Rising this morning among the Urshilaku, I noticed on my map that I was quite close to the Ahemmusa camp in the northeast corner of the grazelands. The Grazelands is a very pleasant change from Ashlands indeed; the air is dry and salty from the sea but the grasses grow as tall as my waist. The trees are taller than buildings, spaced out from one another. As I moved inland I could already see Vos and Tel Vos in the distance right beside one another, Tel Vos looking like a Telvanni tower was trying to strangle the stone fort it was wrapped around.
By lunch I was at their camp. I took a deep breath and removed my gauntlet so my ring was visible, and walked in. I felt a lot more impressive-looking now that I have these bright Ashlander robes and proof of my identity visible on my finger. It didn't take me long to see that something was wrong. These people were entirely too thin. A small herd of guar just outside the ring of tents looked visibly ill. Every face that looked to me looked weary and fearful, though I caught a few smiles when people began noticing to my ring and pointing it out to the rest.
I approached a woman with circles beneath her eyes and took out several large kwama eggs from my pack, loading her arms with them. She tried to tell me she had nothing to trade, and I told her they were a gift for them all to share. It may have been several days of my rations, but I have well enough coin to go get more and they needed it far more than I did. If she wanted to reciprocate, I told her, then arrange for me to meet with your Ashkhan. Her smile faded.
They had no Ashkhan, she explained. He had fallen to illness and left no heir, but they still had a Wise Woman. I ducked in to see her. Her name is Sinnammu Mirpal. She explained that there was a haven nearby she was intending to take her people to, a place known as Ald Daedroth, had been taken over by followers of Sheogorath, Prince of Madness, one of the Bad Daedra and corner of the House of Troubles. If the place were made safe, however, the people would finally have a place where they could escape the blight storms and maddened creatures.
They are not warriors, and cannot martially defend themselves; that is where I come in. "You have the ring of Nerevar," she said, "Now you shall do the deeds of Nerevar, and we shall call you Nerevarine."
16 Frostfall, 3E426
I scouted the ruins that Sinnammu was talking about on an island just off the northern coast; its isolation and structure would be an adequate shelter indeed. Like all the other Daedric ruins I'd seen it was made of intriguingly carved blocks of stone stacked upon one another. Eerie sounds emanated from within.
Inside it was all the same carved stones, made even stranger-looking in the dim, angled lights available. I was set upon before I even saw them, one with a sword, the other with spells. Early in the altercation I made a mistake that cost me dearly; I waited too long to dodge a spell I saw coming, hoping to trick my enemy into its path, but these two were too practiced for that. The swordswoman swung the way I was trying to move, forcing me back, and I was hit by some powerful curse. The way I felt my strength drain right out of me reminded me of when I'd contracted Black-Heart Blight quite some time ago, although I'm immune to the blight now I am not immune to curses. The fighter saw her chance and pressed her advantage, raining blows on me and my shield. It took all the energy and focus I had left to finally force her off of me so I could run my sword through her, and luckily the caster was about as sturdy as wet parchment.
The curse, however, wasn't. I retreated for the door, unashamed to be doing so because I knew I would be returning. I cast my weary eyes southward as I used a restoration spell to at least reverse some of the fatigue. I never did pay proper attention to those lessons in the Temple and I doubt they'll be very keen to continue teaching me after word starts spreading, or worse, the moment they see Moon-and-Star. Either way I was now forced to return to settled civilization earlier than I thought, if only briefly for supplies.
Oh it was quite an uncomfortable matter, even in a small settlement like Vos. I still refused to hide the ring, just keeping my head high and my gaze straight ahead. The woman at the tradehouse immediately forgot the list of things I asked her for when I laid my hand on the table, and I had to recant them. Lots of staring from people... so much staring. I don't think my colorful Ashlander robes and earrings and sash did much to help that. It may be a rather isolated little farming village, but the port at Vos is quite active, so I feel certain that word of my identity will now spill forth like a flood upon the settled peoples.
I felt too much paranoia after making a spectacle of myself by doing nothing more than buying some food and potions. The curse lifted now by means of alchemical concoction, I left the town despite the darkness and made myself a little camp somewhat between Vos and the Ahemmusa. I did not hide while I was in Vos; but I definitely didn't feel comfortable sleeping there.