Fear and Loathing in Vvardenfell

Starvation and Smug Smiles in Old Ebonhart

I awoke in my room midmorning, and while I felt miles better than I did yesterday with my bashed-in head along with a vile sujamma hangover, I still had problems. I had no money -- well, I had some -- six septims remained in my coin purse. Maybe I'd try to get food with it? No, I knew most likely I couldn't find anything edible for six paltry septims. My mistake yesterday of trying to substitute sujamma for food would not work in the long run and contributed to my infernal hangover. Alcohol is full of calories, yes, but I'd probably die within a week if I tried to survive off it.

I decided to mull over my predicament with a few glasses of sujamma, obviously. It was still well before noon but today was a big day. I had to be to the docks by 15:00 sharp. My ride across the bay to Vvardenfell was aboard a trading ship and they would not wait for some lowly drunken reporter. To a trader with a boat laden with goods time is literal money and they were only doing me a favor. The Times asked nicely if I could tag along with them in return for good publicity. Just that. Publicity. They couldn't even pay for me to be on the ship for half-day. I knew the place was on the verge of going under.

After a few hours of lying on my cot sipping sujamma I had an idea. I was poor. Actually poor. Starving. Out of luck. The Imperial Cult? The Nine Divines! Those suckers hate to see people beaten down, starving, and out of luck. That was me; I was both starving and beaten down, literally. I would appeal to their feelings, see if I couldn't get a handout of sorts from them. Hell, the shrine was just down the road from my inn, in Ebon Tower. I glanced out the window to check my bearings and sure enough Ebon Tower loomed over me just a few buildings away. Full of energy and hope, I got up, dressed, smashed my empty bottle of sujamma on the floor (to give the room and Old Ebonhart in general a send-off), returned my room key to the owner of the inn, and headed out the door ready to tackle the day with uplifted spirits.

Across the street from the inn was a shop. It looked like it had various items for sale, but most importantly it had food. It would be cutting it close, but maybe I could try to buy some food before I went blanataly begging for handouts. It was worth a shot. Better to not be a scoundrel if I didn't have to.

I ran through the door, found the owner behind the counter (an Altmer), and asked if he had any food or drink he could give me for the small amount of coin I had on me.

"How small are we talking here?" He asked.

"Um. Well. Let's see. Six septims."

He looked serious. He looked contemplative. He put his hand on his chin and raised his eyes sideways and up to the ceiling, deep in thought. "Hmm. six septims. Let me think." He tapped his finger in his chin and as if discovering a new magic spell his eyes popped wide open as he looked directly at me. "I got it! You see there's a box out back, let's call it the 'discount bin.' You can have anything you want out of that for free!"

"Oh wow, you're so kind, good sir. Can I give you a coin or two as a courtesy? As a tip?"

"Oh, no no. It isn't necessary. You'll find the box outside. It's easy to miss but it's labelled 'garbage' so you should be able to find it." He gave me a devilish smile in return. That son of a bitch.

"You know what, high and mighty elf, I'll have you know I'm a reporter for the Cyrodiilian General Times and I have influence. Serious influence! I'm going to write so much shit about the lack of hospitality and assistance to those in need at your shop. What's it called? Emiil's Wares? Yeah, fuck Emiil and your wares. It's a terrible name too. Asshole."

"Have a good day, sir!" Emiil said as I walked out of his shop, slamming the door in the process.

I hurried down the road towards Ebon Tower and the Imperial Cult shrine. Time was ticking and I had to get something to eat, some money, or anything I could get my hands on really.