Elder Scrolls Online: Interactive Map Texts: Stonefalls

Today, I was invited to observe the training of recruits at Davon’s Watch and offer advice regarding their regimen. They were a ragtag assembly, with several Nords and Argonians in their midst. The outlanders’ disinterest in the formal drills was quite clear. Nords sighed heavily, Argonians’ eyes glazed over, and weapons clanged to the ground again and again to the sound of various curses. I noticed that every recruit held a Dunmer-style blade, and it was clear that the outlanders were not comfortable with them. I suggested that the sergeant commission wooden practice weapons of every variety and begin sparring practice right away, allowing the recruits to use weapons they were comfortable with. Exposing them to differing combat styles will benefit them greatly as they learn. The desire to train using our superior weapons and in our tradition is admirable, but I fear it will only slow progress when time is critical.

20th Sun’s Height

The damned ash storm forced us to shelter in an abandoned kwama mine early this morning. Vikalfar’s still coughing up sludge. Told him to cover his face better. Give me a good blizzard any day over this choking Orkey-cursed ash. Worse, I’m convinced our friendly Dark Elf “guide” doesn’t know this route as well as he said.

We’re already three days behind schedule and supplies are running low, and now we’re stuck here until we can at least see our hands in front of our faces again out there. At least I’m hauling furs now and not anything that could expire. Vikalfar’s babbling about hearing something back in the mine; I’ll go have a look to put his mind at rest. I’d be ill at ease, too, if I was coughing up that stuff.

My first tasting this evening was from Guar-Hop Estates. I had high hopes for this new establishment, but found only disappointment. Its weak, pinkish color had me skeptical from the first pour. The flavor was blunt and artless, and even a mead-loving Nord would have found it too sweet. No respectable Dunmer could enjoy this.

I moved on quickly to last year’s Five Isles reserve blend, which immediately justified its demanding price. I was satisfied with the warm, ruddy color and sharp tang in its nose. The bitterness was balanced by a pleasant sour note, and it is quite obvious this was brewed from the finest Ascadian comberries. I shall order more right away.

Notice to Citizens!

Rise in local alit populations putting strain on local alchemists! Curatives in short supply!

Ebonheart municipal authorities warn against unnecessary excursions into wilderness areas. Report any sightings near the city walls to the guard immediately.

Those in possession of alchemical ingredients are strongly encouraged to donate to local potion-brewers to help alleviate the shortage and prevent further spread of diseases contracted from alit bites.

Do not disguise injuries in an attempt to enter the city! Report all alit-related injuries and treatment will be arranged at the earliest possible time.

In youth I once dreamed of wealth in extremes
Of fine robes and thirty-year wines
I hoped I’d hoard heaps of gold in my keeps
But a netchiman’s fate is mine

I bought up a herd on hearing the word
That netches fetched profits divine
Now I live stuck in the rain and the muck
And a netchiman’s fate is mine

I’m deep in arrears, and will be for years
From creatures that stink more than swine
But I found a good wife, the love of my life
So a netchiman’s fate is just fine

“Mother Morrowind would not lead us astray. She and the rest of the Tribunal—Blessed Be Their Holy Names—protect us and have led us all through many hardships with wisdom. True, the abolition of trade in laborers presents a difficult challenge for our House, but we must remember the homily of the guar and the mudcrabs. Truly, there is always someone in a worse position, and we will adapt, not despair. We will follow the Three and take comfort that the fate of the Dunmer is in Their Hands.”