The island of Solstheim is painted a beautiful auburn as I sit in the back of my favorite club, The Retching Netch, with an empty bottle of sujamma, a disgustingly strong drink only found in Morrowind and it's territories, making it a rare treat for me. Watching the patrons, I notice my contract, another dunmer, at the counter ordering a bottle of his own. Silently, I set my empty bottle down on the table and walk over to him, swaying my hips to catch his attention, and order another bottle of sujamma. The fool follows me to my table, just as I had hoped. "By Azura, it must be my lucky day, finding someone so beautiful is rare, especially in this place." he says, obviously attempting to hit on me. I force a smile through the disgust and reluctantly motion for the seat next to mine.
While we drink, we sit and discuss the politics of our homeland, Morrowind, which has seen quite a bit of disaster after Red Mountain's eruption. The once prosperous island of Vvardenfall was nearly completely abandoned, and the ash covered all of Morrowind. The removal of House Hlaalu from the grand council due to their Imperial loyalties, was also still a popular topic among my people. We discussed these politics and our history, which he had seen quite a bit of first-hand, until I empty my bottle of Sujamma.
"Say, would you mind buying me a room for us? I'm getting rather heated from all this drink." I say, purposely showing more cleavage than necessary. He buys our room and as we walk in, he slams the door and kisses me, desperate for human touch. I kiss back, expertly hiding my summoning of a dagger from the realm of Sithis. I then slowly stab the blade into his stomach, twisting it, enjoying the sound of this scumbag's last breaths and the smell of his blood slowly leaving his body as I slide the blade back out. "That was disgusting." I say as his soul is absorbed into the black soul gem in my satchel.
As I walk through the city of Raven Rock towards the only dock with passage to Windhelm, I look up towards Vvardenfall, and admire the honey-colored evening sky, a tall pillar of smoke still coming from Red Mountain, even after all these years, was painted a silky lavender. I finally arive at the dock, and take a charter ship, captained by my old friend Gjalund Salt-Sage back to Windhelm, a family of refugees are the only other passengers, most likely fleeing from the ever-expanding ash wastelands back in Vvardenfall. I felt sorry for them, as I had to do the same as a child, and I gave them 10 septims, enough for a dinner in Candlehearth Hall.
When I finally returned to the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary near Falkreath, I was welcomed back with a hefty could in purse filled with 450 septims, and a mug of Black-Briar mead. Babette brought me a nightshade, knowing of my love for the poisonous plant. Happy to have another for my collection, I thanked the vampire-child, and turned my head towards Astrid. A beautiful Nord woman, one I admired and feared, as well as secretly loved. I watched sadly as Astrid joked with Arnbjorn, her husband, and I envied him, knowing that even in the void, they would never be apart. A look around the room shows the cheery faces of my fellow followers of Sithis, but I noticed a look in Veezara's eyes that showed he felt the similarly to I. I felt sorry for the young argonian, being the last of the shadowscales must be difficult, and not knowing what happened to his father most likely only made it worse. I wished to help but my only lead was killed at Helgen, his last letter stating that he was surprised to find an Argonian amongst the Stormcloak escort for Ulfric, stating that he felt wrong about sending the young lizard to Sithis. I wonder every night what happened to that Argonian.