Act I, Part III: Inside New Vivec

By Antuul Dralosi, Scavenger

I’m writing this underneath what used to be somebody’s bed as the footsteps get closer. Each one is a heavy thud and the sharp tap of claws against the stone floors of this place. There’s more than one set of footsteps as well and they’re moving in unison—like a march. I think the stories about the Goblin Army might be true after all. I mean, I knew that the city was sacked by goblins but I never would have thought that they’d have stayed. I figured they were just a horde of barbarians looking to plunder, pillage, and rape, but no, these footsteps are too ordered and uniform and I can make out a bit of their conversation as they get closer.

From what I can make out of their mangled Aldmeris, they’re talking about a perimeter breach. I can only assume that means me, but maybe the gods have a sense of humor and some other fool cracked a seal as well and they’re looking for him instead of me. Somehow though, I doubt that’s the case. It doesn’t matter though, once that patrol moves on then I can sneak out and keep looking for that damn book. It really must be something though given Skriiva’s willing to pay off my debt to Sero for it—I’m still not sure if she’s doing that because she really wants this book or if she just doesn’t want to see me get a knife in the back. Either way though, I’m glad she’s in my corner—it’s nice to not have to go through life completely alone. I just wish she and I were more than just—whatever it is we are—business associates, I guess? I wish we had more of a friendship, but she’s not the type to keep friends and why would she be? She owns the biggest and best casino in Ald Uxith—she doesn’t need friends; she can buy them. Still, maybe she does care about me for more than all the money I bring to that casino on the tables through the House’s cut, but I don’t know. It doesn’t much matter right now anyways and I need to get moving—the patrol is gone.

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This isn’t how I thought I’d die, to be honest. When I was a kid, I always figured Dro’garra would beat me to death in one of his drunken rampages and I have always sort of looking over my shoulder for him just in case, but he’s never been there. Doesn’t mean I didn’t think he’d be the one to seal my fate, but nope, I’m here bleeding out in some old shop. What’s the first rule of scavenging? Check for traps. What did I not do? Check for traps. And now I’m laying here with my foot on the ground next to me and a pool of blood that just reinforces what an idiot I am. Ha. But you know what? I’ll bleed out before those goblins get to me, so it could be worse—it could be a lot worse.

At least I hope I bleed out first—that trap was loud, but I haven’t heard any patrols since so maybe I’m lucky. Maybe this is how the great Antuul Dralosi goes out—bleeding out in some shop that nobody’s been to for centuries. I bet this place really used to be something though judging by the tapestries and whatnot—hell—anything I pulled from this place would probably be enough to get Sero off my back for a while, but it doesn’t matter. None of that matters anymore, because I don’t have much longer.

Hell, Sero will probably think I skipped town with his money. I mean, I know he thinks I’m an idiot, but everyone knows you can’t run from him. He’ll probably put a bounty on my head bigger than my debt just to let people know what happens when you cross him, but it won’t matter. Nobody will collect that debt, because I’m all the way in here and they’ll all be searching out there. Ha ha ha! Poor, stupid fools.

Oh, I shouldn’t have laughed so loud—I hear the thuds and the clicking. Damnit. Damnit all. They’re getting closer. Closer. Closer. Whoever finds this journal, be smarter than me and