Fear and Loathing in Vvardenfell

Confusion and an Interview in Almas Thirr

I awoke with the sun nearly overheard, glaring into my pitiful eyes as I strained to become coherent. The air was warm and humid and I felt nauseous, like I hadn't eaten in days, my stomach consuming itself in protest. My head felt like I had been tossed to the ground by a minotaur, and numerous times too. I reached up and there was a massive welt directly above my right eye, the hand came back with puss and some diluted blood on it.

I sat up and the terrain was wholly unfamiliar. Where was I? Where were we at? My squinted eyes looked around to my fellow trading caravan workers who returned my curious and confused glances with shame and a hint of anger. None of this made any sense. And at my feet? Five giant bottles of something that weren't in the wagon yesterday. Yesterday? I panicked as I realized that I didn't remember anything from the past few days. It seemed I had a strong case of confusion and amnesia, and my already anxious and confused state was only made worse by my inability to recall anything.

"W...what? Huh? Where are we?" I asked to a Khajiit, named S'zami, seated across from me that worked for the trading company.

"The idiot awakes. Hmm. You really don't remember anything do you, Mr. Journalist? Isn't that your job? To remember things? To tell people about things? To write stories? Articles?" He seemed pissed and scowled at me with his feline eyes.

"Yeah, I...I guess. I can't wait to get to Old Ebonhart. But, what? 'The idiot awakes'?"

He gave a low and angry purr which almost sounded like a growl. "Maybe you should check your notes, yes? You scribbled all kinds of notes yesterday in Almas Thirr. So I'm told, at least."

"Almas Thirr? We've been there? And we left? Where are we now?"

"Yessss," he purred, "we were there yesterday. We're now almost to Old Ebonhart; we should be there by sunset. Do you not remember a single thing?"

"No. No, I have no idea where we are or what day it is. Where even is Almas Thirr?"

S'zami shook his head and said nothing.

I glanced down at my notebook buried underneath the five bottles of whatever it was strewn about the wagon at my feet. I moved a few bottles, picked it up, and opened it to the last page that was written on. I found myself greeted with scribbles and manic markings. The longer I looked the more the scribbles seemed to be actual words -- nearly illegible words -- but words nonetheless. It was surely my writing, but it was terrible. I tried to read the section that seemed to pertain to yesterday, but nothing made sense. Eventually a few nouns and verbs jumped out of the hastily scribbled raving yielding words like ashyams yummy!, Tribunal, Corpus, blight, three gods?, ghostfence, INTERVIEW WITH VIVEC ASAP, south-Vvardenfell, sujamma, wow!, five fucking bottles. Cryptic writings from past me to present me. What did it all mean?

I poured over the notes and nursed the wound on my head as my companions of the trading wagon (who were smiling, scowling, and shaking their heads at me) looked on. And then it happened: memories. They came back. At first they came upon me like remembering a dream; foggy and unclear with everything colored in whites, black, and greys. But the more I thought about the scribbled words in my journal the more these images had color, sound, and formed a coherent story. It was all making sense now, my current state...oh geez, what had I done?

***

Yesterday we had arrived in Almas Thirr, a Tribunal Temple garrison/town located in what is called a 'canton'; a singular building with multiple rooms, shops, beds, and a few services for passing pilgrims/travelers/traders. I had never seen or heard of anything like a canton. It stood well above the locally flat terrain and had a pyramid shape, although the "top" was missing. It also wasn't completely triangular and was more of a trapezoidal shape. The caravan was stopping for a few reasons: we had to drop off supplies at the shops, pick up supplies for the trip north towards Old Ebonhart, as well as be inspected by the local law enforcement. The Tribunal Temple, as I came to discover, was similar to the empire in its opposition to smuggling and drug trafficking. Almas Thirr, being the primary gateway into central and eastern Morrowind (given its unique position as the only crossing of the Thirr River, a river that splits Morrowind roughly in half as it runs north/south) was a convenient checkpoint for drug/smuggling enforcement. We'd end up staying here a few hours at the very least.