Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20191223012920/@comment-25828117-20191227000207

The covenant ate a late breakfast. Or at least... Those with an appetite did and afterwards they soon set course for Weye, Weaver's Glade and New Imperia.

Meanwhile, somewhere East...

Drelis walked through the busy streets of the city. All things considered it was a fine day, especially if one compared it with the state of the world elsewhere. It was perhaps a saint's sent that there was very little tragedy here. The people milled about, going about their business under the watchful eye of the guards, and children played with spinning tops, looking happy and unaware of trouble.

But Drelis was not happy. And as far as he was concerned, there actually was trouble. Trouble that had manifested itself in all sorts of ways; but primarily as Outsiders, Foreigners... Morrowind was positively crawling with them. They had been here ever since the red year, when they had come to pick the carcass of a once mighty nation clean.

As he walked by the stall of a food vendor on Almalexia Street, the one that was famous for her deep fried guar strips he realized he had little appetite for his favourite food. Instead, he desired something for more nebulous. A yearning desire to act. That was why he had agreed to the meeting. It was illegal but he didn't care. Damn Imperials and their damn laws. Supposedly they had been made to protect and preserve the peace and sanctioned by the emergency government with the help of their Hlaalu, and arguably Indoril, puppets. Imperials... They might talk an awful lot about protecting Morrowind from the Laumer invaders but anyone with any sense knew they were here just because they much rather preferred a warzone in a 'foreign' country than in their own. Typical two-faced Imperials always thought they were cleverer than they actually were.

It didn't help that they had set up small chapels for their hordes of soldiers that crawled over the city like a disease. Chapels made out to their false gods.

To add insult to injury, Ordinators from the New Temple were tasked with protecting these chapels to make it look less like the disgusting cancer of an occupying force that they actually were; but instead as the temporary shrines for the good soldiers that come to Morrowind's aid. The emergency government damn well knew the bad optics of having Imperial legionnaires stand guard by them, so instead they had the guards of Morrowind's faith protect this blasphemy instead. Genius!

Drelis scowled as he walked passed a newly erected statue of Zenithar and its guards. Even though the ordinators wore their famous masks he knew he could sense the disapproval underneath.

In any case, the meeting place wasn't far now. Just a few more steps and then a left turn. The small alleyway was indeed the definition of inconspicuous, Morvil had been very right about that. A web of drying laundry criss-crossed above Drelis' head as he walked down the narrow street of the city. The tavern mentioned in the note was built in an old basement and could only be entered with a small winding staircase.

Inside the interior looked about as cozy as one could expect. It was less a tavern and more something akin to a den. Drelis shivered slightly, being quite certain at least one patron was Morang Tong. The sweet smell of skooma smoke hung like a thick cloud against the barely ventilated ceiling and Stonefall fire-bugs in glass bottles served as the primary source of lighting.

Drelis saw Morvil and the others huddled in a corner. All of them relatively young male dunmer like himself. All of them were unhappy. Deeply unhappy with the state of Morrowind today. The government was weak, The people were beaten, life seemed aimless and the faith was meaningless.

But that would soon change... For Drelis and his friends had orders from the highest authority. A god.

Soon Boethiah would show them. Show them all.

He gave the other conspirators the secret handshake and they welcomed him into their fold with a fine glass of Sujamma. - 3rd of Morning Star

Helian blew into his hands as they rode up to the forest where it had all started. Weaver's Glade lay within. The peculiar stone circle where they had met each other and received their quest. Only this time it was snowing where last time it had been in the middle of summer.

A thin coat of snow lay here and there. The most Cyrodiil got this far south. Peanuts compared to the Jeralls or Skyrim. Or even Jehanna. But cold for most nonetheless. It had been snowing on and off these last few days.

The White-Gold tower renovations could be seen clearly now. The spire loomed ever-present.