The Saga of Vvardenfel, My fanfic, a conversion of Morrowind main quest. Options

[Gaius Maximus]

Well, this is my Morrowind fanfic, a story of my used-to-be minor now main character, Gaius Maximus. Since I didn't find it interesting to re-write the main quest of Morrowind, I decided to try it how I imagine it going after joining Imperial Legion and not touching the Main Quest for 6 in-game years. Any constructive criticism welcome.

The Saga of Vvardenfell
The Legionnaire, the Legend and the Island.

Grand Chapter 1: Every legend has a beginning...

Chapter 1: New Assignments.
Chapter 2: The Night before journey.
Chapter 3: Urshilaku Camp, part 1.
Chapter 4: Urshilaku Camp, part 2.
Chapter 5: Welcoming committee.

Grand Chapter 2: Closer to the Red Mountain.
Chapter 1: Odd Encounter.
Chapter 2: The Trial worth Our Hero, part 1.
Chapter 3: The Trial worth Our Hero, part 2.
Chapter 4: Veni, Vidi, Vici.
Chapter 5: Fire and Ice.

Grand Chapter 3: In the caverns of Vvardenfell.
Chapter 1: Dungeons, without Dragons.
Chapter 2: Dwemer Forge.
Chapter 3: Arming.

(Also note that I'm not sure if there are any more of the modern words left - do say if you see some. Help with that will be highly appreciated.)

Chapter 1: New assignments.

Gaius Maximus was a simple Imperial Legionnaire. Only possessions of his were the Divine Intervention amulet for quick escape, his Imperial steel armor and his broadsword, enchanted with his very own enchantment, made from a soul of a Dremora lord. The enchantment was pretty simple – it inflicted fire damage, along with a weakness to fire spell, which, combined with the steel itself, was pretty good for taking care of bandits, outlaws and other creatures, those native to the land of Vvardenfel.

Gaius was shipped to Vvardenfel 6 years ago, and the trip was quite interesting. During it, Gaius received a strange dream, about the troubles of Morrowind and Vvardenfel in particular, and how he was to save everything. Gaius never told anyone about it, as he later heard about strange dreams troubling people. He doubted they were different from his one, but he wasn’t able to ask anyone, as these so called ‘Dreamer’ and ‘Sleeper’ people would only ramble nonsense when talked to, if they wouldn’t attack him on sight.

Gaius lived in Gnisis, mainly in the Madach Tradehouse, where General Darius was taking residence. Darius would occasionally seek Gaius out, to give him harder assignments that other legionnaires couldn’t carry out. Like that time when he was assigned to rescue a priest from a Daedric ruin, in which he got that soul of a Dremora lord. Or when he was to investigate the mysterious happenings around a Dunmer stronghold, and ended up in a strange Dwemer ruin, fighting a creature called ‘Ash Vampire’. After a hard battle, Gaius beat the Vampire, and after coming back to Gnisis, he heard rumors about Red Mountain erupting and Blight Storms stopping for several hours.

Even now, Gaius was sitting at a table in the Tradehouse, with a bottle of Cyrodiilic brandy. Being rewarded quite healthy for all the special assignments, one would have retired from the Legion already if he was in Gaius’ place, but Gaius liked the Legion for some reason, and had no interest in retiring. As the assignments were given secretly, he never got a lot of promotions, as he couldn’t be promoted for what wasn’t a ‘Legion matter’ as Darius called it.

He heard news of some ‘Nerevarine’, a person claming to be an ancient hero reborn. Yeah, and I’m a trader. Gaius thought, taking another gulp from the brandy bottle. If he knew Vvardenfel right, the poor man would be executed by the Temple in a few days, if he was lucky, after a week. It was even a constant subject for bets in the Legion – how long would a new ‘Nerevarine’ last? They were just appearing out of nowhere – Ashlander tribes, guilds, Temple itself, Great Houses – or just freelancing adventurers, seeking for fame. Now that the Dagoth Ur problem was getting really nasty, everyone seemed to wait for the ‘Nerevarine’ to come, and rescue everyone.

After living in Vvardenfel for 6 years, Gaius soon noticed that whatever the Temple said, everything was turning wrong, and getting out of hand. The Ghostfence was getting weaker, as Gaius noticed while traveling near it, Corprus beasts – more frequent, and assassinations on important people even more frequent than the beasts. The Tribunal wasn’t that much of a help, and more people turned on worshiping Daedra, as Gaius found out while wandering in the ruins.

Gaius was distracted from his bottle by a man walking up the stairs – it was the same Orc that seemed to spend his whole life in Darius’ office. As he walked up to Gaius, the Imperial sighed. No doubt, this meant work.

“General wants to see you. Now.” The Orc said. Gaius never really liked the Orcish names, so he couldn’t recognize them, but he was pretty sure every one of them included ‘gro’.

“Sure thing, officer gro-Mamblang.” Gaius said, and stood up.

“For the last time, my name isn’t gro-Mamblang! One more time you call me like that, and I’ll… I’ll…” The Orc stammered.

“You’ll stammer when speaking with me?” The Orc swore, and rushed off into Darius’ office, with Gaius close behind.

Soon, Gaius was inside Darius’ office. “What now… sir?” The Legionnaire asked, catching Darius’ glare.

“I have another task for you. This one, though, will be official, though it’s quite dangerous. You’re up to it?” Darius began. As if he needed to ask.

“Of course, sir! Which ruin am I going to now?” Gaius asked.

“No, you’re not heading for a ruin this time. I want you to do a harder task this time. It’ll be a really long task, and I could only entrust you upon it. I know this’ll sound weird, but…” The General said, and silenced.

“What is it?”

“I want you to make a go for the Nerevarine prophecy completion.” Darius said.

Gaius felt something blow up in him. For a moment, he almost thought it was his brain. The Imperial Legion wants him to make a go for the Nerevarine Prophecies? What the?! “Okay, is this a really weird kind of joke?” Gaius finally asked, hanging on his last hope. Unfortunately…

“No, I’m absolutely serious.” Darius replied, and raised an eyebrow.

“But… But why? You want to make a bet for how long will I last?” Gaius asked.

“Not funny, Trooper. The Emperor wants to prove to the people of Morrowind that the Empire – and it’s Legions – can offer protection to the people. With the Temple unable to do anything, it’s a perfect chance to gain the trust of the people. You won’t understand it, its political business.” The General said. “Now, I want you to finish off any business before I give you your first assignment concerning this.” With that, he released Gaius.

Gaius went up shocked. Next thing he wanted to do was head into the Barracks and speak with Irr’cah, an ex-thief.

End of Chapter 1.

This post has been edited by Gaius Maximus: Nov 18 2007, 12:41 PM

[Gaius Maximus]

I would point out though that the Khajiit province is basically a giant desert, so the remark about Irr having a hard time in the sun sounds odd (though, logically I think it makes sense). Perhaps in Irr's case, he's a bit different from the normal Khajiit.

I plan, if I ever get done with Gaius' story (which I plan expanding on to modified takes on Tribunal and Solstheim, a self-made little Saga about something that I find highly interesting (involves taking some religious refferences from ancient times), also a new take on Cyrodiil), I'll perhaps make a story detailing Irr's life before the action of this Saga. He's actually the only person except for Gaius whose life - or at least one part of it - I could record, since the other companion of Gaius that is yet to come is way too unusua-

Whoops.

YOU'VE HEARD NOTHING!

I mean seriously, Caius had been living there for years and still didn't know a bloody thing about the Nerevarine? Geez, now that's a bit pathetic.

Also the gathering part is boring, and Gaius, given his temper, would have just went to the library and fetched Caius a book about Nerevarine... It would take ages to record every little piece of information that needs to be gathered. Plus, being in jail doesn't fit the things I have in store for our poor little Legionnaire, Gaius, and he's not supposed to ever become a Blade. He's the Legionnaire. Tactics and battles are his thing.

Speaking of which, I was busy with writting the last three chapters of this story. They should be a boom, even though they're just loose sketches yet... Man, I can't wait until the Red Mountain comes. I can already depict everything inside my head, though I (as well as Gaius) will become better at certain things until I reach the ending. Example: writting.

Gack, must stop giving subtle hints and get back to posting chapter...

Chapter 6: Odd encounter.

Seeing no point in waiting, Gaius marched forwards towards the largest yurt. It was probably the one in which the chieftain of the Ashlanders resided. But before he could pull the miserable excuse for an entrance open, Irr’cah’s arm grabbed his.

“This One must warn good friend Gaius!”

“Well, let’s listen to the worst, then. What is it? Is the chieftain is very paranoid, and has traps inside his yurt? Or is it a guard guar that’s inside?” Gaius shrugged, chuckling at his own comment. Irr gave him a puzzled look – it was a mystery to him how one could chuckle at something like that – and began speaking:

“The Ashkhan of Ashlanders is very proud, too proud! Good friend Gaius is used to dealing with good friend Darius, but the Ashkhan is a very different person, yes! One slightest hint of an insult, and This One and good friend Gaius will be in deep trouble.” Irr whispered, watching around with worry. The Khajiit was highly paranoid that the day when the saying ‘even walls have ears’ will come soon.

“So, basically, he’s one of the stuck-up kind of people. I’ve dealt with them before, no worries. Though not on circumstances like this one…” Gaius scratched his chin, remembering the bunch of cultist he saw and killed. All of them, for some reason, believed he was going to die from their hand. “Might as well try my luck, though – never too late to learn.” He added, freeing his hand, then walking inside the Ashkhan’s yurt before Irr’cah could stop him. The Khajiit sighed, burying his face in his fur-covered palms.

Upon entrance, Gaius came face-to-face with a Dunmer. Even though he himself wasn’t the tiny negotiating Imperial kind of person, the Dunmer looked like one of those people grown for fighting, while Gaius was not – his early childhood was spent back in Cyrodiil, Kvatch, with his father, who was a priest of Akatosh. Gaius was to be one as well, though under odd circumstances, he ended up what he was now – a sword-for-hire, an Imperial Legionnaire.

But more on the Dunmer. The Elf was highly muscular, though of shorter height than Gaius, which made him look quite odd. His armor looked like it would be torn apart at any moment from the mass number of muscles the Elf possessed. On his left hand rested a ring with a large blood-red jewel on it, placed on the black armored index finger.

The armor wasn’t usual Ashlander Chitin armor. It was Indoril armor, the one worn by Ordinators of Vivec, and from the heavy gold and Ebony trimming Gaius presumed this was a captain of the Ordinators. The golden helmet was held in one of his hands, and a swiftly curved Ebony scimitar was hanging at his side. The Elf did not possess a shield.

Since his helmet was off, Gaius could get a good look on his face. With the usual red eyes and ash-blue skin, it would’ve been nothing out of the ordinary, if not for the large scar that ranged from left to right, starting at the brow and ending somewhere near the chin. It crossed one of his eyes and passed near the nose – should the hit went straighter, the Dunmer would’ve lost his nose.

Upon almost coming in coalition with Gaius, the Dunmer grunted something taking a step back and unsheathing his scimitar. Gaius did the same, only stepping forward. Their swords, both enchanted – though with completely different enchantments, as Gaius’ blade was red, reminding of fire, while the Dunmer’s – Hunot was his name - was bearing the clear blue color that reminded of ice and snow, and just cold in general – hit each other before their wielders could pose them in a better state for combat.

“Stand back, outlander!” Hunot growled, pressing his icy sword against Gaius’ fiery sword. Gaius pressed on against the opposing blade again, and neither moved. This day seemed to be the ‘pushing around with weapons’ day to Gaius…

The reason of this hostile approach was very simple – Dunmeri hated Imperials, Imperials hated Dunmeri. Even Gaius, who despised all and any religions, disliked the ash-skinned red-eyed grumpy folk that were called Dark Elves by Men, while they called themselves Dunmeri.

Even though the cramped yurt wasn’t a great area for competition, that wouldn’t have stopped the two from engaging, if not for the Ashkhan of Urshilaku Ashlanders. He, hating both Ordinators and Imperials, didn’t want to have them fighting here, and much less did he want the blood of either one on his yurt’s floor. Thus, the chieftain of Ashland-folk raised his arm up, exclaiming:

“I shall not have you fight in my village! While in this settlement, you will enjoy our hospitality, but shall not fight against each other or my people.”

Hospitality. Right. Apparently, he needs more socializing, because he knows nothing of the famous ‘greet people by swearing at them and attempting to kill them, all the while calling them ‘outlanders’’ ritual. Gaius thought with sarcasm, though was wise enough to not say it out loud. He only raised his eyebrow, before slowly sheathing his weapon while Hunot did the same.

Irr’cah made himself present, only to be almost knocked over by Hunot charging out with fury. Grumping about bad manners, the Khajiit managed to maintain his balance as the short though muscular warrior passed by.

“Now, who are you, outlanders? I know the beast-folk, but who are you?” The Ashkhan managed to maintain a tone that was like one would use when talking about accidentally slamming into a stranger the other day. Gaius twitched slightly at being called ‘outlander’ yet again, and made a solemn oath that the next person to call him ‘outlander’ would end up with a sword in his stomach. To be seen, he only once did he fulfill that oath.

End of Chapter 6.

[Note: If one had paid attention to a certain part of this chapter, as well as a certain part of the Morrowind Main Quest, the one that did could've noticed something interesting.]