(updated March 07, 2009)

Chapter two

Tamriel is a land that is shared by 10 Races (4 races of men, 3 races of elves, and 3 beast races), and is divided into 9 provinces, but is ruled by one Emperor.  This is a land of of magicka, where nearly everyone has at least a little magical ability. Besides spells, potions and enchantments (like enchanted weapons) are available to anyone - for a price.  Between the towns and cities are large areas of wilderness, where there are all sorts of strange creatures, most of which are very dangerous. And, of course, there are miles of dungeons and caves, which are often home to the most dangerous creatures.
Tamriel is my home . . .

First journal entry: 26 Last Seed, 3E433

Written by Lady Arwen Evenstar

Have you ever had one of those really nice, really realistic dreams that you just didn't want to wake up from?  I love those.  I had one of those last night . . . or was it this morning . . . hmmm, I'm not really sure . . .
I guess it doesn't really matter, the thing is that I was enjoying this great dream, and was trying to hold on to it a bit longer, but my sleep still slipped away from me and I slowly woke up.  I was curled up in a tight ball . . . shivering and sore all over.  In my half-awake state, I reached for my blankets . . . but there were none.  All I felt was a cold, damp, hard stone floor.  No wonder I was so so cold!

"Where AM I???"

I slowly opened my eyes . . . and it all came flooding back to me. 

Oh . . .

I'm in prison, somewhere under the Imperial City, in the province of Cyrodiil.  And I have no idea why.  The thing is that I'm what most people would call a "good" person . . . I don't go around breaking laws.  Ok, so I do bend a few a bit now and then, but I really doubt that that's why I'm in here.  I have made my share of enemies over the past few years, but none of them have the type of connections that would get me thrown into an Imperial prison.  This makes no sense at all. Yet here I sit.

It had just been nine weeks ago that several armed, and rather nervous imperial guards arrested me at my cottage.  I protested of course, and when that didn't work, I got rather furious.  But my rights didn't seem to matter at all to any of the guards, who wouldn't answer any of my questions.  Before I knew it, my wrists were bound in chains and I was being forced to make the long walk south to Ebonheart.

When we reached the city, we immediately boarded a waiting ship and sailed away from the large island of Morrowind.  I remember thinking that it was sort of funny that I had arrived in exactly the same way as I was now leaving Morrowind; in the hold of a ship . . . as a prisoner . . . with nothing but the clothes on my back.  The reason that I was a prisoner way back then wasn't because I had done anything wrong . . . it was just one of those political things.   Every twenty years the empire takes a census, and anyone who can't prove their citizenship is deported or imprisoned.  Well, I had no proof at all as to my citizenship (I was an orphan, and never knew much about my parents) and I had no other home, so I was imprisoned - but only for a few weeks.  I was soon forced to leave what had been my home and my adopted family for as long as I could remember, and was sent to Morrowind by ship, as that was where the closest census office was.

I first arrived in Morrowind just over four years ago, but it seems more like a lifetime to me.  At that time, I had been released in the small town of Seyda Neen . . . alone and scared.  But I had somehow survived, and had even become somewhat of a hero in that province.  I had remained there - and over the years Morrowind had become my home.  Now it was like those years had never even happened, and I will probably never see my home again. 

Ok, enough with the reminiscing/feeling sorry for myself stuff.  Now where was I?  Oh, yeah . . . nine weeks ago I had been bound, taken to Ebonheart, and forced on to a ship and was soon at sea.  After a couple of days the ship landed, and we began walking southwest through the mainland part of Morrowind.  We walked for several days, crossed the border into Cyrodiil, and then continued on to the Imperial City. 

I didn't really mind walking, even though we kept a very fast pace, and often continued without rest late into the night.  Even though I was the prisoner, the guards were the ones who were suffering.  Of course I was dressed in much more comfortable clothing, and they all had to wear all that heavy Imperial armor, which is like being inside a really heavy tin can.  It was the beginning of summer back then, so the weather was warm and the sun was hot . . . and those poor guys were melting.  All I had to carry was the chains attached to my iron wrist bands, which were very uncomfortable, but not unbearable. 

We finally arrived at the Imperial City in the middle of a rainy night, where I was taken directly to the Imperial Prison and immediately locked in this cell.  At first I wondered how long I would be imprisoned here, before someone realized that my arrest had been a mistake. But weeks went by and I'm still here. Now I wonder how much longer I'll be able to survive here.  The Bosmer never seem to last very long in prisons . . .

Oh, I'm sorry . . . you probably don't know much about the Bosmer race.  Perhaps you know of us by the human name of our race, which is Wood Elf.  Well, we're a very outdoorsy race . . . basically the tree-huggers of the elves.  Personally, I prefer the term "nature lover", but the truth is that we are happiest out in the middle of the forest, among the trees.  And my family lived only in the forests for many generations . . . back in Valenwood (that's the home land of the Bosmer). You see, Valenwood is almost all forest covered - the Bosmer never even built any cities or towns there.  Our homes are all high up in the largest trees. But that was a long time ago. My grandfather left Valenwood way before my father was even born.  At least, that's what I was told when I was little; but my parents died when I was very young, so I no longer know where any of my family now lives - or if I even have any living relatives. 

Some of the Bosmer who left Valenwood have settled in other forests, but most of us now live in or near the towns.  After all, we do have to make a living, just like anyone else. And most of the work is found in the towns.  A few Bosmer even live in the cities - but even these urban elves all have large, tree-covered gardens.
We're also a very social bunch and usually live in small family clans, with several cozy cottages clustered together.  In Morrowind even the Bosmer were called "Outlanders" by our Dunmer cousins (known as Dark Elves by humans).  The volcanic island of Morrowind was their land - and they made that very clear to all the other races.

Anyhoo, that's pretty much why Wood Elves don't last very long in prison.  Being in a prison is like being in a hole in the ground, where there's no fresh air, and no sunlight to warm us.  And Bosmer love hot climates.  It must be one of those genetic things, because the cold has always really affected me.  And I already have a very nasty cold from the damp chill in here - so my health is going downhill fast. Plus there's no one to talk to . . . and I'm a very social Wood Elf . . . so I don't expect that I'll last long at all.  Without our freedom, most Bosmer soon become very sad and just die.  I guess we just can't take being confined - we're way too hyper and need to be outdoors, with the open sky.

Just trying to write this down in this journal makes me sad, and I feel like all I'm doing is complaining, which is the last thing that anyone wants to read about (that is if anyone ever actually reads any of this).  But that's what's been happening to me for a couple of days now - I can  feel it.  My spirit is being darkened with a deep sadness, and that's so unlike me (or at least the non-frozen, non-sick, non-stuck-in-a-prison me).  It's really a horrid way to feel, but there's nothing that I can do about it, and I know that my death isn't far off.  So I've been spending a lot of time lately thinking about my life (it's not like there's really much else to do in here).  Even though I'm still young, I've seen and done more than most people.  It's rather amazing that I've lived even this long, because I faced death many times while I lived in Morrowind.  But it still hasn't been easy to accept that I'm dying.  I guess that's true for anyone, but it just seems that it's harder to accept when you're still young.  The thing is that I have so many dreams that will now go unfulfilled.

The crummy part is that I don't even know why I was imprisoned here - no one has even bothered to tell me.  The guards probably don't know or even care . . .  Well, that's not entirely true, because one of the guards is kind to me and has tried to help me.  He persuaded the head guard to put me in this cell which is practically the only one that even has a window.  So I'm better off than most of the prisoners, even though my window is very small, and way too high for me to get much of a view . . . but at least I can see the sky . . .  and that helps me feel a little less sad.  The bad thing about having a window is that it lets in the cool night air.  That very same guard also gave me an old blanket on my first night here, when I was wet and cold from the night's rain.  But my blanket was taken away by another guard just a few days later.  So there's nothing to keep me warm anymore.  And my "bed" is just a stone ledge in an indentation in the wall.  At least I don't have to actually sleep on the floor, which is so totally gross that I hate even walking across it.

Earlier today, the nice guard slipped me this journal and an old quill and an ink pot.  New journals look exactly like any other book, except all the pages are blank.  This looks like a very old journal, but no one ever wrote in it - until now.  This one is rather shabby looking, and all the pages are water stained, but it's a treasure to me, because I now have something to occupy my time.  That's what I'm dong now . . . sitting here, at  this rickety little table, on an old stool, translating my thoughts into words - and trying to make sense of what I've been through.  The guards thankfully removed the chains connecting my wrists, but I still have my cold, heavy wrist irons, which make it rather difficult for me to write legibly, since they are like really heavy, over sized bracelets.  It does make me feel a bit better that I'm able to write all this down, although no one may ever read this, or even find it.

You see, I found the perfect place to keep it hidden, behind a loose stone in the outer wall of my cell.  I don't want this taken from me, as it's the only thing I have left.  It's my one treasured possession . . . even the clothing that I was wearing was taken from me on the night that I arrived in the Imperial City. The worse part was that I happened to  be wearing my best robe and my favorite pair of shoes (my most comfy ones) when I was arrested.  Now all I have to wear is this very thin, and horribly itchy, sack cloth top and pants outfit - and some very ratty-looking sandals.

Just in case someone does eventually find this, I should probably introduce myself: My name is Arwen Evenstar.  On the Island of Morrowind I was known as Lady Evenstar, but now I'm just known as "The Prisoner."

It could be worse, as it's still fall, so the nights are not real cold yet.  If I've kept track of the days correctly, tomorrow will be 27 Last Seed, which is Harvest's End, an major holiday that is celebrated throughout the empire.  It marks the end of the growing season and is a time of celebration, especially for the farmers. But everyone seems to join in . . . the taverns even offer free drinks all day long, and it is a day of feasting.  I love holidays, but it looks like I won't be joining in this year.  My stomach grumbles again, and I recall that it's been a couple of days since I've had a thing to eat.  The guards had always brought food to us once a day - usually just a small loaf of stale bread and a pitcher of water.  About once a week we were given a bowl of cold, thin soup. It wasn't much, but it was something.  Now it's been two days since I've even seen a guard, which is very strange.

Oh, I wrote a bit earlier that there's no one to talk to, which is why I'm so lonely, but I'm not completely alone here.  There are several other prisoners down here with me, but most are in cells too far away for me to talk to them.  The only nearby cell is the one right across from mine, but its prisoner is a really mean Dark Elf, who isn't what I would call "good company."  Not that I have anything against Dunmers, other than most of them aren't very friendly to us Bosmers.  But this guy just says horrid things to me all day long . . . mostly by explaining in great detail all the different ways that I'm going to die in here.   Like I really need to hear that sort of thing right now.

Yawn . . . I guess we aren't being fed today either, as it must be pretty late by now, since there hasn't been any daylight coming in from my window for hours.  Time to put this journal away and try to sleep some.  Hopefully someone will remember that we're down here and a guard will bring us some food tomorrow.

Hold on a sec.  There's something going on outside.  I can hear several people coming down the store stairway, and I don't recognize any of the voices. So they can't be guards, at least not any of the ones that have been here since I've been stuck in this horrid cell.  So this is more than just a little weird, especially since it's like the middle of the night. This is so very strange.  No one ever comes down those stairs except for the prison guards. Ok, I better stop writing for now and hide this journal before someone sees it.  I'll write again just as soon as I find out what's going on . . .

About this section:

I think it's pretty obvious to you that I'm really into role-playing. In fact, I'm rather obsessive in what I expect from a game that is advertised as a role-playing game. Mods are a major part of this obsession, because they have made it possible for me to change the game in ways that make it closer to what I'm looking for in a RPG.  At the end of each chapter of my Oblivion Journal (the story part) is this Gaming Comments and Tips section - which is generally made up of two parts. 

The first part is "Notes about MODs" which is where I tell you how various mods are connected to some of the things that I experienced and wrote about in each chapter.  If you not familiar with the term "MOD," it is just a shortened form of the word "modification." A mod modifies some part of the game - sometimes in very small ways, and sometimes in very large, and dramatic ways.  If you want to know more about mods, see my MODs Index Page.

The second section is "Role-Playing."  This is where I explain why I did something a specific way in my game.  Or where I complain about the game when it wouldn't allow me to do what I really wanted to (or where something was left out).  Role playing works best when you are able to immerse yourself into the game world. Because of the immersion-breaking parts, there are times that I have to use a lot of imagination.  A good imagination, along with the right collection of mods will give you a much more immersive gaming experience with Oblivion. This story closely follows what I actually experienced while playing the game - but some of what I experienced needed a lot of help from my imagination.  I'll try to make it clear when my role playing experiences relied more on my imagination than on what was in the game.

Notes about Mods:

Quest Popup Remover: This also removes the game tutorial popups.  Personally I like that it does so, because those huge bright text messages really ruined my first impressions of the game.  I mean, it's really had to stay immersed and role-play your character, with billboards constantly popping up - telling you exactly what to do.  The tutorial is treated just like a quest, so, if you need to refer to it, all you have to do is open your journal and read it. (Or you could just read the game manual.)

Days & Months - the date and the time of day is given at the top of the map menu [F4]. The time given is simply the game time (time of day in the game world), which governs schedules and daylight.  But the date part is not so simple, because the Elder Scrolls Calendar has its own names for the months and the days of the week.  You may have noticed a the beginning of this chapter that I dated my first journal entry as: 26 Last Seed, 3E433. Last Seed is our month of August.  The 3E433 stands for the third Era (each era equals ~1000 years), and the 433rd year.  So my story began on August 26th, on the 433rd year of the 3rd Era of the empire.  Of course I didn't know all that until I did a bit of research of Elder Scrolls lore, but it was still a bit of a pain to keep the months straight.  This little mod adds Earth's names for the months and days of the week after Tamriel's.  When I began my current game, it was just after 1 am on 27th day of Last Seed  - that's why my journal was dated as the 26 Last Seed - since (in the made up part of my fantasy story) I had begun writing in it a few hours earlier.  The days that I give in this journal will always match the game date (and time).

My Wood Elf's Appearance: when you first start the game, you have to select your character's name, race and gender, and then design your character's face and hairstyle/color.  After I spent over an hour trying to get her look just right, I still wasn't completely happy with the end result, so I went in search of mods until I got exactly the look I wanted: 

Ethereal Eyes Universal Edition - The vanilla eyes give the people in the game a rather soulless look.  Part of the problem is that the characters in Oblivion (due to much improved graphics) are much more realistic in appearance than the Morrowind characters. But the eyes just didn't give the characters the life that they needed.  Besides, there were no blue eyes that I liked, so my character's "Sky Blue" eyes came from this mod.  These eyes make all the NPC (as well as your own character) much more life like.  The change is amazing.

Facial Textures by Enayla and Natural Faces - these two mods greatly improve the textures of the faces of all game characters.

Role-Playing:

Wrist Irons: So I'm in prison, with these heavy iron bands clamped onto my wrists.  I really expected that it would be a bit of a challenge (even a quest) to get out of these things.  Guess what?  It isn't.  All I had to do was go into my inventory menu and unselect them.  What a disappointment!  Bethesda missed a major role-playing opportunity here - and a fun quest.  Why even have our character start out in irons if they are just going to be treated like bracelets?   My solution: Just pretend that I can't remove them, which also means that I'm going to look like a prisoner, until I find someone to remove these pesky things for me.

More about My Character's Appearance: There seems to be a huge demand on the Elder Scrolls Forums for beautiful female characters (and there's quite a few that you can download).  I think that my Wood Elf is attractive, but I didn't try to make her look like she just stepped out of a beauty salon.  My intent was to make her look natural - rather than all made-up.  After all, she's not exactly living a life of leisure here, or in a beauty pageant - she's on an adventure - running around through the forests and crawling through caves and dungeons.  After all, when I play volleyball, or go hiking, or kayaking, or sailing, I put my hair in a ponytail, and don't wear a bunch of makeup - that would just be silly (and wouldn't look very good after I started perspiring or when I got wet).

Harvest's End is on the 27th of Last Seed (August, 27th ): "Perhaps no other festival fires the spirit of Tamriel as much as the one held today, Harvest's End. The work of the year is over, the seeding, sowing, and reaping. Now is the time to celebrate and enjoy the fruits of the harvest, and even visitors to the celebrated region are invited to join the farmers. The taverns offer free drinks all day long, an extravagance before the economy of the coming winter months. Underfed farm hands gorging themselves and then getting sick in the town square are the most common sights of the celebration of Harvest's End." see the Elder Scrolls Calendar for more on the calendar and on the holidays

Continued in Chapter 3

Meeting Royalty . . . and I've Nothing to Wear!