OP
The Out Of World
Lichte's Brain
- Location
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A little over four centuries ago, all of Tamriel lay divided and at war with itself. This time of great strife, the Interregnum, began with the fall of the Reman Dynasty of Cyrodilic Emperors and the assassination of the appointed Akaviri Potentates by the Morag Tong, a guild of assassins sponsored by the Tribunal Temple of Morrowind, which had remained the sole nation outside the control of the Second Empire at its peak. With the death of the holy bloodline of the Dragon-Blooded Emperors and the eradication of the Akaviri Potentates, the heartland of the Empire was soon consumed by political struggles and division of the provinces as they seceded from Imperial rule one by one. In time, only Cyrodiil itself remained a state of the Empire, and even then it was thrown into five hundred years of conflict between usurper kings and petty warlords vying for the Ruby Throne. But a shining star emerged in the midst of this raging maelstrom; a ray of hope to restore peace to Tamriel. It was none other than Tiber Septim, an ambitious general who fought in the campaign to unify the Colovian Estates, who stepped forward to take the crown of Cyrodiil after the tragic demise of his former king Cuhlecain and unify all the chaotic provinces of Tamriel under a single banner once more. Thus ended the Interregnum and began the Third Empire, and with it the Third Era. After eighty years of righteous dominion over the collective lands and peoples of Tamriel united, Emperor Tiber Septim passed from the mortal coil and ascended to the heavens to join the gods as the Ninth Divine.
Now we turn our attention across time and distance to the Imperial Province of Morrowind in the modern day. A scant thirteen years ago, the Tribunal Temple opened the island of Vvardenfell for settlement and development to the people of Morrowind and the Empire at large for this first time in untold ages. The volcanic island soon became the seat of an unprecedented economic boom caused by new businesses harvesting the natural resources of the previously untapped land, such as malachite and ebony. Imperial prospectors, colonists and members of the Dunmer Great Houses of Morrowind's mainland arrived in waves to strike a fortune in this new beacon of prosperity. But with prosperity came adversity. Just as settlers poured in with stars in their eyes and hope in their hearts, so too did the seed of evil worm its way into Vvardenfell. The Sixth House, an iconoclastic cult dedicated to the malevolent demigod Dagoth Ur who was infamous in Temple doctrine as the nemesis of Morrowind's triune gods, took root in cities and towns across the expanse of Vvardenfell and began to construct terrorist cells to bring mayhem to the unsuspecting populace.
Fast-forward three more years ahead, to 3E 417. A bizarre event of unknown nature takes place in the High Rock, where the forty-four independent kingdoms and noble lands of the Iliac Bay region are suddenly and miraculously united four primary kingdoms as if by magic in the span of three days. Rumors drifting on the wind whisper of time itself being distorted by the resurgence of the colossal Numidium, a titanic war golem constructed by the ancient Dwemer and allegedly wielded by Tiber Septim in the old wars of reunification. Historians name this bizarre occurrence by many titles, chiefly among them the Miracle of Peace and the Warp in the West. Scholars argue endlessly over the nature of this event, but one thing is for certain: the world is becoming a stranger place.
Civil unrest began to stew on the island of Vvardenfell, be it from the mounting fear of the Sixth House cultists and their nefarious activities or growing dissent of the Dunmer people with Imperial administration. Tensions came to a boiling point one year ago in the city of Balmora, when public dissatisfaction with increasing tax rates and tariffs on trade, coupled with the Empire cracking down on the infamous skooma smuggling route known as the Purple Lane, sparked a revolt among the city's citizens. The Great Houses expressed their concern to the Imperial Government through the Grand Council that further revolts may begin throughout Vvardenfell if the pressures of trade and taxation on the island are not alleviated soon.
And then came the straw that broke the silt strider's back: Earlier this very year, scarlet clouds of infectious pestilence roamed down from Red Mountain and coalesced into vicious ash storms that ravaged the environment and tainted vast swathes of Vvardenfell's citizens and wildlife alike with a cancerous curse of undeath. The Tribunal Temple issued an official statement, proclaiming the prophecized plague of "The Blight" had come to signal the return of Dagoth Ur. All of Morrowind was quickly embroiled in a silent panic as this supernatural evil began to spread throughout Vvardenfell. Deranged cultists, diseased ash storms, men and mer cursed to live on as walking corpses, all of these ignited the fear of Morrowind's denizens like brushfire. The world has become stranger yet again, but this time it was no Miracle of Peace that transpired.
Many stayed on Vvardenfell, for the island had become their home and they had nowhere else to go. Surely the gods of the Tribunal would defend them, they thought. The more skeptical members of the populace did not share this sentiment and saw fit to get as much distance between themselves and Vvardenfell as possible. People began to emigrate from Morrowind in far greater numbers than the Empire's Census and Excise Administration could process, causing stopgaps to be placed on immigration in and out of Morrowind so as to keep their workload within manageable levels. In response, various entrepreneurs found a new source of income for those who would claim it by right of daring and enterprise. Ferries and charter ships began to accept stowaways for a modest price, smuggling passengers past customs and out of the country behind the watchful eyes of the Empire. By no means was it legal, but the recent restrictions on emigration had made it almost impossible to leave Morrowind in a timely fashion to escape the mounting insanity of bloodthirsty cultists and magical ash-plagues.
This is where our story begins in earnest. It was a simple affair: board a shipping vessel at the city of Blacklight, grease the palms of the ever-generous sailors for 'discrete' passage into Skyrim and disembark at Windhelm where you could escape Morrowind's rising turmoil. These people had experience in the business and assured you'd get to your destination without a single interruption, smooth as butter. The bits of legal jargon thrown in here and there soothed your nerves a bit. Everything would be fine. Or at least, it was going to be fine right up until the ship was halted by an East Empire Company galleon and threatened with promises of cannonfire lest they halt in their tracks. The boat was boarded, the cargo hold thoroughly searched and the additional passengers were discovered. It didn't take long for the EEC officers to place you under arrest and toss you in the brig of their galleon with the rest of the charter ship's crew before unceremoniously setting the entire galleon ablaze.
You've spent the last two days in a prison cell in the dungeons of Windhelm, sharing this cozy little space with some of your fellow extraneous passengers from the boat. You haven't seen hide or hair of the crewmen since the galleon took port at the city docks and marched you all straight to prison. What happened to them? What will happen to you? Will you rot down here for the rest of your life? All these questions drift through your mind. Not much else to do but think, and maybe talk with your cellmates. Hopefully something will happen soon to break the dull monotony.
Now we turn our attention across time and distance to the Imperial Province of Morrowind in the modern day. A scant thirteen years ago, the Tribunal Temple opened the island of Vvardenfell for settlement and development to the people of Morrowind and the Empire at large for this first time in untold ages. The volcanic island soon became the seat of an unprecedented economic boom caused by new businesses harvesting the natural resources of the previously untapped land, such as malachite and ebony. Imperial prospectors, colonists and members of the Dunmer Great Houses of Morrowind's mainland arrived in waves to strike a fortune in this new beacon of prosperity. But with prosperity came adversity. Just as settlers poured in with stars in their eyes and hope in their hearts, so too did the seed of evil worm its way into Vvardenfell. The Sixth House, an iconoclastic cult dedicated to the malevolent demigod Dagoth Ur who was infamous in Temple doctrine as the nemesis of Morrowind's triune gods, took root in cities and towns across the expanse of Vvardenfell and began to construct terrorist cells to bring mayhem to the unsuspecting populace.
Fast-forward three more years ahead, to 3E 417. A bizarre event of unknown nature takes place in the High Rock, where the forty-four independent kingdoms and noble lands of the Iliac Bay region are suddenly and miraculously united four primary kingdoms as if by magic in the span of three days. Rumors drifting on the wind whisper of time itself being distorted by the resurgence of the colossal Numidium, a titanic war golem constructed by the ancient Dwemer and allegedly wielded by Tiber Septim in the old wars of reunification. Historians name this bizarre occurrence by many titles, chiefly among them the Miracle of Peace and the Warp in the West. Scholars argue endlessly over the nature of this event, but one thing is for certain: the world is becoming a stranger place.
Civil unrest began to stew on the island of Vvardenfell, be it from the mounting fear of the Sixth House cultists and their nefarious activities or growing dissent of the Dunmer people with Imperial administration. Tensions came to a boiling point one year ago in the city of Balmora, when public dissatisfaction with increasing tax rates and tariffs on trade, coupled with the Empire cracking down on the infamous skooma smuggling route known as the Purple Lane, sparked a revolt among the city's citizens. The Great Houses expressed their concern to the Imperial Government through the Grand Council that further revolts may begin throughout Vvardenfell if the pressures of trade and taxation on the island are not alleviated soon.
And then came the straw that broke the silt strider's back: Earlier this very year, scarlet clouds of infectious pestilence roamed down from Red Mountain and coalesced into vicious ash storms that ravaged the environment and tainted vast swathes of Vvardenfell's citizens and wildlife alike with a cancerous curse of undeath. The Tribunal Temple issued an official statement, proclaiming the prophecized plague of "The Blight" had come to signal the return of Dagoth Ur. All of Morrowind was quickly embroiled in a silent panic as this supernatural evil began to spread throughout Vvardenfell. Deranged cultists, diseased ash storms, men and mer cursed to live on as walking corpses, all of these ignited the fear of Morrowind's denizens like brushfire. The world has become stranger yet again, but this time it was no Miracle of Peace that transpired.
Many stayed on Vvardenfell, for the island had become their home and they had nowhere else to go. Surely the gods of the Tribunal would defend them, they thought. The more skeptical members of the populace did not share this sentiment and saw fit to get as much distance between themselves and Vvardenfell as possible. People began to emigrate from Morrowind in far greater numbers than the Empire's Census and Excise Administration could process, causing stopgaps to be placed on immigration in and out of Morrowind so as to keep their workload within manageable levels. In response, various entrepreneurs found a new source of income for those who would claim it by right of daring and enterprise. Ferries and charter ships began to accept stowaways for a modest price, smuggling passengers past customs and out of the country behind the watchful eyes of the Empire. By no means was it legal, but the recent restrictions on emigration had made it almost impossible to leave Morrowind in a timely fashion to escape the mounting insanity of bloodthirsty cultists and magical ash-plagues.
This is where our story begins in earnest. It was a simple affair: board a shipping vessel at the city of Blacklight, grease the palms of the ever-generous sailors for 'discrete' passage into Skyrim and disembark at Windhelm where you could escape Morrowind's rising turmoil. These people had experience in the business and assured you'd get to your destination without a single interruption, smooth as butter. The bits of legal jargon thrown in here and there soothed your nerves a bit. Everything would be fine. Or at least, it was going to be fine right up until the ship was halted by an East Empire Company galleon and threatened with promises of cannonfire lest they halt in their tracks. The boat was boarded, the cargo hold thoroughly searched and the additional passengers were discovered. It didn't take long for the EEC officers to place you under arrest and toss you in the brig of their galleon with the rest of the charter ship's crew before unceremoniously setting the entire galleon ablaze.
You've spent the last two days in a prison cell in the dungeons of Windhelm, sharing this cozy little space with some of your fellow extraneous passengers from the boat. You haven't seen hide or hair of the crewmen since the galleon took port at the city docks and marched you all straight to prison. What happened to them? What will happen to you? Will you rot down here for the rest of your life? All these questions drift through your mind. Not much else to do but think, and maybe talk with your cellmates. Hopefully something will happen soon to break the dull monotony.
