Fear and Loathing in Vvardenfell

Drug Dealing in the Southwall Cornerclub

Note from The Editor: Mr Octavian Venandus' (or as he has taken to calling himself, Clyde Frumgruel) papers have mentioned a certain person that we have come to realize requires his identity to be protected. We have had to redact his personal information to guard the interests of the Empire, and of the Emperor Himself (may he live forever), during these complex and critical times. It should be noted that while details of his home in Balmora appear specific enough to lead any readers to its location, we have discovered he currently resides elsewhere in Tamriel; this person no longer resides in Balmora and this information does not need to be redacted.

What day is it? What time is it? Where the hell am I? What is even going on in the world? Didn't I have some big plans today, something important that I was supposed to do? Why do I have such a terrible headache? Why is my mouth so dry? Why does the room shimmer, shift, and pulse like I'm underwater? Why do I feel like I'm in a goddamn dream? Why does nothing feel real?

And what's this scribbled in my notebook? Oh yes, notes from the previous night. Drunken and slurred words only in print form instead of vocals this time. Notes from someone totally and blasted drunk. Notes from my past self to me in my current state. At least drunken Mr. Venandus looks out for his future self. What a cool guy he is. I'm so appreciative of him despite his bad choices in life.

And the Southwall Cornerclub? Well, apparently I'd have to go there and track down this Mr. [REDACTED]. And where was the place even at? Probably near the southwall of Balmora if the name actually meant anything. I'm currently sitting in my room at The Eight Plates and damnit if there aren't eight actual plates anywhere to be seen. I wonder if the tavern across the street, The Razor Hole, has anything to do with razors or holes. Probably not. Let's hope the Southwall Cornerclub was true to its name.

But before all of that: more drinks. More alcohol. This hangover has to be banished for anything to be accomplished today. Let's get this day started correctly, shall we?

I went downstairs and grabbed a few drinks served by Dulnea again, this time confirming where the Southwall Cornerclub actually was. I was right; it was near the south wall of Balmora, across the river on the east side of town. It was one of the few places that had broken the west-business/east-residential rule that seemed to exist in Balmora. Or maybe the cornerclub served the poor people and set up shop right in their neighborhood? I thanked Dulnea again for all of her help and left a decent sized tip, despite being nearly out of money.

Luckily the cornerclub was easy to find with it being directly across the Odai River, and like its name implied, near the southern wall of Balmora. I walked in and was greeted by strange and suspicious glances from the people milling around in the hallway and the tavern. No one said anything while they silently stared at me waiting for me to state my business, whatever it was. As I eventually discovered, this was the hangout for the local Thieves Guild -- their guildhall of sorts -- and the inhabitants reflected the clandestine quality of their organization.

I stated my plight to the man behind the bar; he only nodded solemnly and directed me to a Khajiit named Sugar-Lips Habasi. She was seated at a table nearby with a few other people.

"Sugar-Lips Habasi, correct? Hi, my name is Clyde, and I have a few questions to ask you if that's okay?"

She appeared skeptical and apprehensive. "Are you a...are you some type of law enforcement officer?" she asked.

"No, not at all. I'm a...well." What the hell was by backstory about needing to meet with [REDACTED] again? I couldn't recall it in the midst of being both drunk and hungover. "I need to speak with [REDACTED]. I went to his house yesterday and he overreacted when I tried to talk to him. Moved furniture to barricade the damn door. The barman told me to speak to you about him."

She leaned back into her chair balancing it on its two rear legs. She then stretched and gave her ears a friendly twitch. "[REDACTED] is an old friend of mine, that old sugar-fiend. We're both in the business of...let's say work that needs to be kept quiet. Sometimes he does favors for me and sometimes I do favors for him. Mutual friends and 'business partners' if you'd like to see it that way.

"[REDACTED] is a very private person; it's no surprise that he isn't fond of strangers trying to break into his home for a leisurely chat. In his line of work this would be seen as a very threatening proposition indeed. And his line of work? I can't tell you that without putting my own life in jeopardy."

"I'd like to talk to him. Look, I'm trying to find an Argonian that is new to Vvardenfell. I've learned he came here to Balmora. The only lead I have is [REDACTED] and that's why I'd like to talk to him."

"Hmm. An Argonian? I know of this lizard. A strange soul he is. I don't know where he's at though. But yes, the New Lizard has been working with [REDACTED] although I have no idea for what reason.

"So how do I get to talk to your 'business partner?'"

"If you hang out here for a week, you're bound to run into him. But since he's seen your face and knows you'd like to chat with him, he's likely to either run away or to slit your throat; not the outcome you'd like, correct?" She smiled at my reaction and became thoughtful, twitching her whiskers and bobbing her ears slowly. "[REDACTED] loves his sugar. Moon sugar that is. I bet if you showed up at his door with some sugar, he'd have no choice but to let you in. Or try to kill you and take it for free. I don't know."

"So where the hell can I get moon sugar? That shit is super-illegal."

She smiled and looked around the room, checking that each person in sight was a person she knew. "I can help you with that. For a price. Or a favor. I'm a business-cat primarily -- the economy runs off people doing useful favors for everyone else -- and this is no different. [REDACTED] needs sugar but can't afford it: you need to speak to him, you need to provide him sugar, and Sugar-Lips has sugar. It sounds like a win-win for every party involved, doesn't it?

"You sell the stuff?" I whispered and also glanced slyly around the room. No one seemed to be paying attention to our conversation and if they did they didn't seem to care. We could've been talking about the weather for all the attention we were receiving.

"I sell many things and am not picky about the products and services I provide." This time she winked. "Are you interested?"

I thought for a moment. I didn't seem to have any other options besides camping out there for a fucking week (and possibly being attacked) or trying to break his damn door down again. And breaking down doors seemed to end badly anytime I tried it.

"There is one problem: I have no money. Not enough for moon sugar at least."

"Luckily for you I'm also a banker of sorts. Products and services come in many forms, sometimes cash and debt. We will call your debt a 'favor debt'. You owe me, and don't you forget it. We have a very nimble organization here and if you don't pay your debt we will collect it." She must've been surprised by the terrified look on my face. "Oh no! We won't physically harm you -- that's not our method of operation; it attracts too much attention -- we'll only 'collect property' that is equal to your debts to us. The sugar is 50 septims, so I think 500 septims of property would suffice. Call it a 'convenience charge' if that makes it easier for you to understand."

I still looked confused and Sugar-Lips noticed and said with a sigh, "Look, you owe us 50 septims, and if you don't eventually pay, we'll steal your shit. 500 septims worth of shit. Ten times what you owe. How about that? Does that make sense?"

"Oh, it makes perfect sense now. Thank you." I relaxed somewhat.

"You're an honest man -- at least more honest than most people -- and I trust you. Something about you seems, genuine, I guess. I don't believe we will have to collect debts from you at all. You'll be okay." She then slid a tiny leather pouch across the table. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Frumgruel."

"How did you know my name?"

She purred and winked.