Here I am Vvardenfell, come and get me.

Oh christ, what a wierd dream. I was woken by a friendly Dark Elf, we arrived at our destination after one bloody long trip. I head off the boat into this strange new world, and journey towards the closest large town. Balamora. After a few minutes walking up the road I hear screaming, then a sharply dressed man fell to the ground right infront off me! Scared shitless by this, I instantly turned around after taking his clothes and money. Nice.

I ran straight back to the small town I docked at, Seyda Neen. I found no inns at all, god damned hippie town. What do you do in such circumstances? You kill the poor and steal their house, that’s what! Before setting off once more I decided to sleep in my new bed, not much special really. Just a sack on the floor with a bag of flour.

I’m awoken by some homosexual lunatic wearing a tight black gimp suit. He dare mess with ME? An off the boat prisoner? I killed him within seconds then went back to sleep, the following morning I decided to talk to the guard about this. Maybe I could get some compensations or something, instead he told me to seek out somebody in Ebonheart, a castle ten miles south-east from Seyda Neen. Wanting to feal like a big man I set out for Ebonheart… after putting on the gimp suit ofcourse.

After much discussion about the assasination attempt, I think light of it and decide to continue on my way to Balamora, and get a nice trip a to the coast, a few miles off of Balamora. Not bad, that’s the first nice person I’ve seen here so far.

Oh what’s this? Another friendly guy? How nice of him to warn me about the already obvious. Wait… stop that for a second… is he mugging me? Why should I give him money I don’t have? No.

Haha, he warns me about scum then turns out to be one of them, friendly Vvardenfellers count rolls back down to 1. Die.

A day has passed, and as I’m aproaching Balamora I’m attacked by a horrible… diseased creature. Once again, die. I hope I didn’t get whatever the hell it had.

Thank god, some friendly looking faces. I ask the tanned one how far to Balamora, and he replies, in a strange voice ‘Close, now go away before that vermin on your face spreads.’ so fealing puzzled I ask him what the hell he’s talking about, and I should have known by my luck. I caught that creatures disease, typical. I guess I’ll keep heading on and look for aid.

Balamora graces my eye, what satisfaction!

The friendly Vvardens count goes back up too 2, upon entering the humble town of Balamora a scaleskin told me where I could cure myself, along with some places to sell off the loot I collected along on my journey here. Turns out that gimp suit’s very, very, valuble; am I, for once, getting a break?