From
the Journal of Fang (Translated from Ta’agra)
Yesterday… or this
morning?... I forget, but that’s not the point… I did something many would find
regrettable. I stole a book from my employer… indeed, a book I had just gotten
for him… then gave it so someone of… debatable morality. This is obviously a
crime, and one I feel no shame in committing. But I’d like to note that it’s
not a crime where I have inherently harmed anyone (unlike the crime I have been accused of, falsely, in the Fighter’s Guild), and I’d like to say how I got to
this point.
When I first came
to Cyrodiil, my hope was that I’d grow beyond my former life of crime. I did
many things I wasn’t proud of, back then, all for such foolish reasons. Small
change, drugs, booze… nothing I needed, certainly.
As I said in my
last entry, at the time, I was at a bit of a crossroads. I needed more money,
and was tempted to fall back onto my old ways for it… but still had the
opportunity by investigating Thoronir, which I began to do. (Episode 18) I
questioned his sources some, but he was evasive. I figured I’d try to keep an
eye on him, see where he went and who he talked to. As I waited though, resting
in a nearby inn for the market to begin to shut down, I did a lot of thinking,
though.
Reflecting on what
I was doing now, what I had been doing, and my near-death experience in the
arena… it was strange. It was as if everything in my life, up to then, had been
merely… existing, not truly accomplishing
anything, and I realized that was no longer what I wanted. It was as if I
was waking up from a long sleep, and felt… not only obligated to investigate
this matter about Thoronir for money, but for a greater good, if that makes any
sense.
To
say the least, a lot of this… sense of fulfillment slowly left me as I watched
Thoronir do bugger-all in the Garden district for a few hours. The only moment
of interest was when he talked to a paranoid man who I’d later find out was
named Amantius Allectus. I talked to him as well, to see if he had any connection
to Thoronir, and while I’d learn he didn’t… I gave him a wide berth. Someone
that paranoid, as I had learned from Glarthir, sometimes had reason to be paranoid. Either way,
eventually Thoronir left, heading back to the Market District. There, he’d end
up speaking with a Nord, an Agarmir… in what I thought was a VERY insecure location. Honestly, I barely even had to hide to overhear them. Agarmir was
clearly the supplier, though, and spoke of “last-minute” shipments. He was also
very insistent Thoronir take his
goods. I decied to follow Agarmir, to figure out his haunts. I nearly lost him
in the Talos Plaza District (I wasn’t being as stealthy as I could’ve been,
admittedly,) but saw him just as he ducked into a house. I waited a short
while, for him to fall asleep, before trying to break in… only to find he had
the door barred from the inside.
More
paranoia. And undoubtedly, for a reason. I decided to let it be for the night,
and then speak with Jensine in the morning. (Episode 19) She checked with her
people, and found out nothing about Agarmir. I asked the beggars around town if
they had any information, and they told me Agarmir tended to business around
town usually around mid-afternoon. I placed myself in the bushes outside his
house, and waited. I basically fell asleep, until I was roused by the sound of
the bar being lifted, and him leaving his house. It was then I encountered my
next problem: he had one hell of a lock on his door, and while I’m not the
worst lockpick in the world, I couldn’t get through it. I decided to track him
down to see if there was opportunity to pick his pocket, to get his house key,
but he kept to open areas with lots of people around. I finally got frustrated, and decided to go a different route: magic. I knew some basic alteration magic,
but between the stars of my birth and my lack of formal training, I decided to
purchase a scroll from Edgar Vautrine, one that could get me through all but
the heaviest of locks. And lucky me: it did.
WhatI found inside was… disturbing. Dirt, bones, bonemeal, dirty clothes, dirty
shovels, candles, and a sort of dark little shrine. Agarmir, it seemed, had a
bit of a thing for the macabre, and I quickly figured out why: he left a book
down there giving, in detail, where he got much, if not all, of Thoronir’s
inventory from: grave-robbing. With all this in hand, I went back to Thoronir
to confront him about it. I gave him the benefit of the doubt for not knowing
about it, if only because I’d like to think he would’ve been more cautious, had
he been. After all, being discovered taking part in grave-robbing is bad for
business. He gave me information that Agarmir was actually busy that very
evening with an “important matter.” It didn’t take a lot of detective work to
figure out what.
Looking
around the graveyard, I saw a mausoleum that looked broken into, and prepared
myself, readying a scroll I had saved for just this sort of situation. Upon
entering, not only was Agarmir present (along with a wicked looking blade), but
he had an armored friend as well. He said that he was expecting me, which… was
a bit of a surprise, to be honest. Apparently I did have the look of someone good at figuring these things out. He and his friend attacked me, while I released the magic in the scroll…
And
in the air appeared a daedra. A clannfear.
Have
you ever seen a clannfear? They are terrifying. Lizard-like creatures, covered
in thick scaly armor, and taller than a man. They have a sharp hooked beak,
vicious claws, and they move very quickly. The magic of the scroll commanded
the clannfear attack my foes first, and while I handled Agarmir, it tore into
the other man present… before turning on me. I am incredibly thankful the
summoning spell only lasts so long, or I surely WOULD have died in that
mausoleum. But once finished there, I took some of the more expensive looking
items Agarmir had (as well as one from the mausoleum, I’m not ashamed to say:
it would’ve been stolen by Agarmir anyways, I’m certain), and made my way back
to town.
The
next morning, I set to inform everyone the issue had been, hopefully, resolved.
(Episode 20) After all, aside from Thoronir demanding proof of Agarmir’s crimes
(what more proof did the stupid little elf need?!), I had wrapped it up quite
nicely, I thought, and expected decent payment from the merchants that Jensine
represented. My reward, for all my assistance?
One
hundred gold coins. One hundred.
To say the least, I was not
pleased with that. I made tenfold more gold selling what I had looted from
Agarmir and the tomb, which resonated highly with my old beliefs: crime does pay. More than legitimate work, at
any rate. It was around this time I began to ask the beggars around the Imperial City
The
waterfront… also where my supposed hovel was. Feeling frustrated and annoyed, I
felt like waiting in somewhat isolation, to rest some more. After all, my last
few days had been occupied with following people around. I decided to spend a
little gold to rent a room at the “Bloated Float” inn, which was… an
interesting little concept. “An inn inside a boat!” I remember thinking. “This
should be relaxing.”
Ha.
Ha. Ha.
APPARENTLY,
in broad daylight, some… thieves or pirates or something… actually managed to
take over the inn, and sailed off with it. While I was aboard. Again, in broad
daylight. Can you even FATHOM how ridiculous that is? To say the least,
once more it seemed I was forced to act, as I found out we were incredibly far
out to sea; when I made my way to the top deck, there was no land in sight. Oh,
also, to save myself and what few others were on board? I had to kill four
people. Admittedly, one of them, a dark elf, was… incredibly robust,
questioning me and interrogating me after I had shot her, in the head, with an arrow… but I suspect she may have,
well, not been thinking clearly. I would come to find out that this was all
because of some rumor the innkeeper
had started to drum up more business for his rotten inn!
Four
people’s blood, on my hands, all
because of his greed. Six people dead in
the last forty-eight hours all because of people wanting more money: Jensine’s
blasted society, Thoronir, the innkeeper, Ormil…
here’s the best part. I got a reward, for the death of the thieves’ leader.
Seventy-five gold.
The
elven bastard even had the gall to tell me not to spend it all in one place, unless it was his inn. I’d be
hard-pressed to NOT spend seventy-five gold in one place!
It
was here that it all began to click down on me. How my life was in the distant
past, how it was in the recent past, and how it would be.
I
enjoyed doing… good, I suppose. I wasn’t opposed to stopping grave-robbers and
bandits, or thinking further back, those swindlers in Anvil, or the insanity of
Glarthir. But the rewards I was given by the authorities were all so… pitiful. Handfuls of gold here and
there, meanwhile, stealing from those I had slain
was proving far more lucrative.
I
was no longer a puppet of my vices, but I wouldn’t be a puppet of society
either, being a ‘good person’ for a few gold here and there. No. I’d be a good
person because it was the right thing to do.
But
when it came to money? To power? … Well. Given what I’ve had to deal with, can
you blame me for deciding being a little more cutthroat to get what I deserved
was… unwarranted?
