Tamriel Data:A Dunce in Morrowind, vol. 3

When I woke the next morning, I was shocked to discover we were all in jail.

"Hey!" I said, standing up, hitting my head on the ceiling. "What's this about?"
"Be quiet," said the guard standing outside.
"Quiet? I've done nothing wrong!"
"We'll be the judge of that," the guard said. I looked around. One of us was missing.
"Oi. Where's the mage woman?"
"Dead," he said. "You're all suspects. Nobody else was in the Fighters' Guild while the Blight storm was going, so it had to be one of you." Then, he turned around to face me specifically. "Speaking of suspects. I interviewed the Indoril representative earlier today. After he stopped demanding his release, he said you and the Telvanni didn't particularly get along."
"Ha! Would you get along with a Telvanni?"
"An unexpectedly good point, Nord," the guard said, "but it does not change the facts. Second. The murder weapon was rather interesting and uncommon."
"Oh, aye? And what was it then?"
"A Nordic combat axe," he said. "An enchanted one, too. A weird one, too. The Mages' Guild says that whenever this axe strikes someone, it paralyzes them, soul traps them, and lightly poisons them, but also makes them mildly more charismatic."
"That's Niptickler!" I said.
"So. You know the murder weapon, you had a motive to use it, and you're a Nord, who probably thought that a Telvanni sorceror [sic] was a witch who would steal your clothes and enchanted axe. How stereotypical."
"Now, listen here! The only reason I'm here is because I had my clothes and enchanted axe stolen by someone who wasn't a witch!"
"Yes. That reflects so much better on you," the guard said. "You know, it gets worse though. The soul trapping part. Because we found a soul gem, probably filled with the victim's soul. Highly illegal in Morrowind. I don't know why you'd bring these into the province... unless you weren't supposed to be here."
"Well, I'm not supposed to be here, but that doe--"
"Fascinating."
"Look, listen. Niptickler was stolen from me. Whoever did that, that's your killer."
"And where was 'Niptickler' stolen from you?"
"Up near Khuul."
"And how did you get to Ald'Ruhn?"
"By foot, yesterday."
"Yes. Okay. You want me to believe that the not-witch who stole Niptickler followed you, on foot, to Ald'Ruhn, to frame you--you specifically--for murder, and that given that you were the only ones in the Fighters' Guild at the time, she somehow got in there before you, and before the Blight storm picked up. This is the story you want me to believe?"
"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?"
"I am not a fool," he said. He walked off.

After yelling at the bars for a few minutes, I slumped back onto the bench with the others.
"Remyn," I said nudging him. "Remyn. Did you hear that?"
He stirred a bit, groaning. "No."
"They think I committed murder, Remyn."
"That's bad."
"They've got Niptickler."
"That's ba--Niptickler? How?"
"That's right, Niptickler."
"I know, but how? You never had it," he said. "You were naked. I remember that part very clearly."
"Right? There was nowhere I could have hid Niptickler from you, not that I would hide it."
"Yes, you weren't hiding anything, unfortunately," he said. "And why do they have Niptickler?"
"That's the thing. The Telvanni woman was killed by Niptickler."
"That's good. But confusing."
"Good?"
"Yes, I'm glad she's dead."
"Hey, be careful about that!" I said. "They think I killed her just because we didn't get along!"
"Yes, but you're a Nord," he said. "The Dunmer are not great fans of Nords."
"That's pretty unfair. You know, an Elf was Jarl of Snowhawk once."
"...Where?"
"Snowhawk! Bah, never mind it. I suppose they weren't Jarl for very long, only the time it took for good ol' Hjomar to cook him. Bah, nevermind."
"I won't."
"I guess the only real possibility is that... somehow that witch who stole your axe got here before us."
"Or followed us."
"Wouldn't we have noticed?" He paused. "No, we probably wouldn't have. This is very serious." He sat up. "You are a fool, but you do not deserve to be framed for a crime you did not commit. However, Redoran are stubborn, and don't listen to reason."
"Then what should we do?"
"Lucky for us, we're not well known amongst guards, here or elsewhere. If we wanted, we could just escape."
"We could? How?"
"I'll just cast Divine Intervention. Then, we'll walk from the Imperial fort to the silt strider, and get away long enough for the guards to forget about us."
"You really think the guards would forget about us?"
"Telvanni kill each other all the time. Once the guards realize that the Telvanni councillors don't actually want people to be punished by other houses for killing Telvanni, they'll drop it."
"Is that true? That seems stupid."
"Most of the councillors are only councillors because they killed someone or other, and many of them intend to rise higher by killing some more councillors, not to mention all the aspiring young wizards in their ranks. The last thing they want is other Houses standing in the way of their individual schemes. It's one of the sick but practical ways that they remain united against other Houses. Here. Hook my arm."
I did so.
"Now, I'll just cast Divine Intervention."

And, after some purple nonsense, we'd finally gotten out of the jail. Still hungover, we stumbled a bit in the Imperial fort. The legionnaires ignored us, used to finding hungover, injured, or other kinds of adventurers and travellers teleporting themselves into the fort, often just by accident, but one legionnaire seemed to swear under his breath.
"Right. The silt strider." Remyn, still hung over, stumbled out. "It's that way." He pointed.
After a few hours heading down the ashlands, it was clear that we were going the wrong way, but by now we were closer to Caldera than we were to Ald'Ruhn, so, Remyn reasoned, we would just use the guild guide. He was annoyed, because his important business was ruined now, his pack guars and merchandise were back in Ald'Ruhn where he was still suspected for murder, and he was too hung over to have realized this when he got us out of prison, but it was too bloody late for any of that nonsense. We arrived in Caldera, a completely non-descript place with no features whatsoever, and hitched into the Mages' Guild, a completely non-descript place with no features whatsoever.
Remyn stumbled up the stairs to the guild guide. "Get us to Vivec," he said.
"Where?" the woman said. "Sorry, my hearings a bit weird right now. I got hit by a sound spell."
"A what?"
"What? I said my hearing's a bit we--"
"Yes, I heard that, what sound spell?"
"That's right, a sound spell?"
"Is someone casting sound spells?" I said, getting hit by a sound spell.
"What?" Remyn said.
"I got hit by a sound spell!"
"A what?"
"Whggshs ka k k?" the guild guide seemed to say, but I couldn't hear, because I'd been hit by a sound spell.
"Yes, a sound spell!" I shouted at her. Remyn and I were starting to lose our tempers.
"My, my, you're being very rude and drunk and intimidating at me, and if you don't stop, I'll just, I'll just send you somewhere and you won't like it!"
"No, a sound spell! Someone in this bloody guild is casting sound spells!"
"I mean it, I really will just get you out of here! I don't even know where! I'll just cast a spell, I'm warning you, you--you could end up in Red Mountain! I've had a very stressful day because the Argonian keeps casting sound spells at everyone!"
"What?"
"Yes, sound spells!" she said.
Remyn lost his temper and stormed right up to her. "Listen, Breton, I don't care about the sound spells, just get us to Vivec!"
"You asked for it! I did warn you!" she shouted. Remyn and I disappeared in a bright light.

After stumbling about and choking for a bit, Remyn and I got to our feet. Touching the ground with my bare hands scratched them, and it felt poisonous. The air was disgusting. Truthfully, I have never felt so immediately attacked by anything in my life than I did by wherever this place was. This includes the time I was attacked by three frost trolls up near Morthal. But I would've taken my chances with the trolls over wherever this place was. Standing up was a test of strength. Luckily, it was obviously not Red Mountain. Wasn't red.

Remyn managed to stand up too, covering up his nose to protect himself from the foul, foul stench. He hacked a bit. "That n'wah!" he yelled. "I can't believe her!"
"Where are we, Remyn?"
"She teleported us off Vvardenfell!" he shouted. Before me was a flat wasteland, mostly covered in a green haze. It smelled worse than anything I'd ever smelled, covered in salt and poison fumes.
"We're in the Deshaan Plains."

****
Publisher's Note:
The comparison of Dunmer Great House virtues never failed to provoke a healthy bar brawl, which Ferana Adrethi took personal pride in.
Unfortunately, during one such a brawl, caused, of all things, by her characters' unflattering remarks about House Dres, Ferana was struck by an ill-aimed keg and perished shortly afterwards.

While copies of the unedited volume 4 and a few drafts of an unfinished volume 5 exist, it is the wish of Frolja Silver-Blood and the Sneezing Horker Historical Society to remember Ferana's work at its best. Her characters, brought to life by insight, performance, and drink, ended up stuck in an inhospitable wasteland. Who are we, to tell you how they overcame their predicament?

Come, drink, be merry, and share a laugh and a care about the Dunce and all who can still laugh like you do!