Rex
Resident Furry
(@Rex, @Shocari, @Brendan Savem, @FalChromiforme, @Kerauno. Contact me on chat or by PM with any questions, comments, concerns, or changes you have.)
Reeh-Zeeus stepped on the boat to Solstheim to the glare of several nearby Dunmer. This was to be expected, after all, he was Saxhleel, Argonian, ‘Lizard.’ He’d heard them all, the former dying out as he left Black Marsh, and the latter becoming more and common the further from home he got. His race and the Dunmer had a… Historied past. The Dunmer tended to be very “never forgive, never forget” types.
So why was he, an Argonian, in Morrowind? Why not seek his fortune, as it were, in Cyrodiil? The Imperials were a much more accepting race, after all. Well, Rizzo, as he had come to call himself since leaving home, was something of an opportunist, Solstheim being the most recent of a string of opportunities that had carried him far away from his original home of Helstrom.
The winds of fortune had blown him north, into the ruins of Morrowind. The region was still reeling from the double whammy that was the eruption of Red Mountain, triggered by the fall of the Ministry of Truth. This, essentially, had decapitated the government, not to mention left most of Vvardenfall uninhabitable. To make matters worse, the Argonians, that is to say, Rizzo’s own people, had then invaded mainland Morrowind.
It was retribution for centuries of slavery. House Telvanni had been their primary target, each center of power they had had been sacked. House Dres also suffered a great reduction in territory, as Argonia, as independent Black Marsh was called, had taken much of southern Morrowind to act as a buffer between the swamps and the Dunmer. Out of the chaos, House Redoran grew to become the new head of the Grand Council.
It was to be expected, of course, that Redoran would take power. Telvanni and Dres were in ruins, Hlaalu was stripped of its power following the Imperial abandonment of the province, and Indoril and Hlaalu’s replacement, Sadras, were too small. As such, Morrowind’s capital was moved to Blacklight, the city Rizzo was sailing from. A number of refugees of the war had fled there, many of whom were still alive, Dunmer being such long lived species. Rizzo didn’t like to think himself a coward, but he was happy to leave Blacklight behind.
The Argonian leaned onto the ship’s railing, looking out towards the approaching island. He was a very average looking kind of Argonian. The top of his head lacked any sort of horns or feathers, though several nubby horns lined either side of his jaw. Dark green scales and blue-gray eyes, average looking build. Rizzo wore a fur kilt, boots, and grieves. All homemade, the Argonian enjoyed being self-sufficient. He carried a bow and a quiver full of arrows, and had an iron dagger on his belt. He made a little money selling pelts, though he expected Skyrim to be a larger market for that than Morrowind.
The wind carried a piece of conversation to the Argonian’s ears, “Did you hear? They say the Imperial Governor of Skyrim was found dead last week.”
The problem was, Skyrim was in the middle of a Civil War. On one side: the Empire, desperately trying to assert its authority over its quickly dwindling territory. On the other, the Stormcloaks, Nords lead by a man named Ulfric. The two sides had seemed fairly evenly matched. But if the Military Governor, an Imperial named Tullius, had been killed, it was a terrible blow for the Empire. Rumors claimed it was the Thalmor’s doing, and that this whole war had been to further weaken the Empire.
The Thalmor was the government of the Aldmeri Dominion. Their power base was centered on Summerset Isle, or Alinor, as the Altmer demanded it be called. They held Valenwood and its Bosmer in Union. They also owned Elsweyr, home of the Khajiit, as a pair of client kingdoms, Anequina and Pelletine. Valenwood and Elsweyr had something else in common, their previous, Imperial backed, governments were overthrown in coups backed by the Thalmor. If this was also true of Skyrim, it could mean bad things for the future of Tamriel.
“What’s to say those damned Stormcloaks will respect our agreements?”
After the eruption of Red Mountain, the High King of Skyrim had given Solstheim to the Dunmer as a show of compassion. Many Dunmer had fled there, and the primary settlement, Raven Rock, was a Redoran city. The Stormcloaks, and their leader, were notorious racists, often espousing the superiority of Nordic blood. In the Jarl Ulfric’s own city, the non-man races were forced to live in substandard conditions. If this man was to take power of Skyrim, who knew what that could mean for Solstheim and the Dunmer that call it home. Also a problem, because there was no way Rizzo was taking a boat back to Blacklight. Skyrim was the next closest province.
Finally, the boat docked at Raven Rock. The Argonian stepped off, feeling ash crunch under his boots. Red Mountain’s eruption had forever changed Solstheim. The former great southern forests had been replaced by ash lands. Much of Morrowind’s flora and fauna had moved to the island as well, either attracted by the changed ecology, or deliberately brought over by the Dunmer.
Raven Rock itself wasn’t in too great a shape either. The mines had run dry, though rumors claimed that there was more ebony to be had deep enough down. A number of buildings were boarded up and abandoned. The great Bulwark built by the East Empire Company to keep the worst of the ash out of Raven Rock was showing signs of disrepair, with cracks allowing ash to seep in. Several Redoran guards were patrolling the city, though their numbers, too, were dwindling. House Redoran seemed to regard the colony as insignificant, or at least, not worth the money to save.
Rizzo took a look around. There had to be an inn around here, somewhere. Then maybe he could look into doing some odd jobs.
Reeh-Zeeus stepped on the boat to Solstheim to the glare of several nearby Dunmer. This was to be expected, after all, he was Saxhleel, Argonian, ‘Lizard.’ He’d heard them all, the former dying out as he left Black Marsh, and the latter becoming more and common the further from home he got. His race and the Dunmer had a… Historied past. The Dunmer tended to be very “never forgive, never forget” types.
So why was he, an Argonian, in Morrowind? Why not seek his fortune, as it were, in Cyrodiil? The Imperials were a much more accepting race, after all. Well, Rizzo, as he had come to call himself since leaving home, was something of an opportunist, Solstheim being the most recent of a string of opportunities that had carried him far away from his original home of Helstrom.
The winds of fortune had blown him north, into the ruins of Morrowind. The region was still reeling from the double whammy that was the eruption of Red Mountain, triggered by the fall of the Ministry of Truth. This, essentially, had decapitated the government, not to mention left most of Vvardenfall uninhabitable. To make matters worse, the Argonians, that is to say, Rizzo’s own people, had then invaded mainland Morrowind.
It was retribution for centuries of slavery. House Telvanni had been their primary target, each center of power they had had been sacked. House Dres also suffered a great reduction in territory, as Argonia, as independent Black Marsh was called, had taken much of southern Morrowind to act as a buffer between the swamps and the Dunmer. Out of the chaos, House Redoran grew to become the new head of the Grand Council.
It was to be expected, of course, that Redoran would take power. Telvanni and Dres were in ruins, Hlaalu was stripped of its power following the Imperial abandonment of the province, and Indoril and Hlaalu’s replacement, Sadras, were too small. As such, Morrowind’s capital was moved to Blacklight, the city Rizzo was sailing from. A number of refugees of the war had fled there, many of whom were still alive, Dunmer being such long lived species. Rizzo didn’t like to think himself a coward, but he was happy to leave Blacklight behind.
The Argonian leaned onto the ship’s railing, looking out towards the approaching island. He was a very average looking kind of Argonian. The top of his head lacked any sort of horns or feathers, though several nubby horns lined either side of his jaw. Dark green scales and blue-gray eyes, average looking build. Rizzo wore a fur kilt, boots, and grieves. All homemade, the Argonian enjoyed being self-sufficient. He carried a bow and a quiver full of arrows, and had an iron dagger on his belt. He made a little money selling pelts, though he expected Skyrim to be a larger market for that than Morrowind.
The wind carried a piece of conversation to the Argonian’s ears, “Did you hear? They say the Imperial Governor of Skyrim was found dead last week.”
The problem was, Skyrim was in the middle of a Civil War. On one side: the Empire, desperately trying to assert its authority over its quickly dwindling territory. On the other, the Stormcloaks, Nords lead by a man named Ulfric. The two sides had seemed fairly evenly matched. But if the Military Governor, an Imperial named Tullius, had been killed, it was a terrible blow for the Empire. Rumors claimed it was the Thalmor’s doing, and that this whole war had been to further weaken the Empire.
The Thalmor was the government of the Aldmeri Dominion. Their power base was centered on Summerset Isle, or Alinor, as the Altmer demanded it be called. They held Valenwood and its Bosmer in Union. They also owned Elsweyr, home of the Khajiit, as a pair of client kingdoms, Anequina and Pelletine. Valenwood and Elsweyr had something else in common, their previous, Imperial backed, governments were overthrown in coups backed by the Thalmor. If this was also true of Skyrim, it could mean bad things for the future of Tamriel.
“What’s to say those damned Stormcloaks will respect our agreements?”
After the eruption of Red Mountain, the High King of Skyrim had given Solstheim to the Dunmer as a show of compassion. Many Dunmer had fled there, and the primary settlement, Raven Rock, was a Redoran city. The Stormcloaks, and their leader, were notorious racists, often espousing the superiority of Nordic blood. In the Jarl Ulfric’s own city, the non-man races were forced to live in substandard conditions. If this man was to take power of Skyrim, who knew what that could mean for Solstheim and the Dunmer that call it home. Also a problem, because there was no way Rizzo was taking a boat back to Blacklight. Skyrim was the next closest province.
Finally, the boat docked at Raven Rock. The Argonian stepped off, feeling ash crunch under his boots. Red Mountain’s eruption had forever changed Solstheim. The former great southern forests had been replaced by ash lands. Much of Morrowind’s flora and fauna had moved to the island as well, either attracted by the changed ecology, or deliberately brought over by the Dunmer.
Raven Rock itself wasn’t in too great a shape either. The mines had run dry, though rumors claimed that there was more ebony to be had deep enough down. A number of buildings were boarded up and abandoned. The great Bulwark built by the East Empire Company to keep the worst of the ash out of Raven Rock was showing signs of disrepair, with cracks allowing ash to seep in. Several Redoran guards were patrolling the city, though their numbers, too, were dwindling. House Redoran seemed to regard the colony as insignificant, or at least, not worth the money to save.
Rizzo took a look around. There had to be an inn around here, somewhere. Then maybe he could look into doing some odd jobs.
