Morrowind, A fanfic Options

[Alexander]

Another fanfic about Morrowind you must be asking yourself? Do we really need yet another one? I've asked myself the same question
As some of you might know I tried a hand at writing some two+ years back, resulting in two chapters of something I didn't really like looking back. Though even back then, I'd had the idea for another, a different fanfiction.

For some reason despite the fact that I was very much convinced I was not a good writer, this idea stayed with me through all this time and kept nagging at me. Then early this year I decided to simply give it a go again, and the result is something I'm actually quite fond of. This is the result.

It's a fan fiction about Morrowind, set in the time after the events in the game Morrowind but before the events in Oblivion. It's told from the perspective of three people who play a large part in Morrowind's future, at least the future I've created with some parts told by other characters.

As you'll notice, some events in chapters start a little while before the end of the past chapters, just a heads up there.

And lastly, before I bore you all to death with my rants I'd just like to extend a very large thank you, firstly to everyone who ever read "Alexander in Morrowind" and told me it was good (whether they meant it or not ) and second a very special thank you to Treydog who sacrificed quite a bit of his spare time in order to proof read this story, and who played the role of Editor for me. I'm very grateful for that.

Now, on to the story.







The year is 3E 432 many things have changed since the return of the lord Nerevar, and even more things are changing. Four Great Houses have a new head. The Tribunal gods are slain. Temple doctrine is falling and failing rapidly. Oppression of other faiths has been removed. Many rumours float around, rumours of things unheard of in the very near past; The lord Nerevar wants to abolish slavery, Indoril generals are taking bribes and forsaking their honour, some or all of the Tribunal gods were killed by the lord Nerevar, the lord Nerevar used the powers of the heart of Lorkhan to make himself immortal and godlike, secret cults are rising in Cyrodiil, Imperial legions are being recalled to Cyrodiil to quell the unrest, king Helseth poisoned the last king, Mehrunes Dagon has come to earth in the guise of queen Barenziah, Sheogorath has started a love affair with Azura, Bosmer everywhere are planning the end of the world, Orcs have taken to worshiping Khajiit instead of Malacath.

Some rumours are a bit wilder then others of course, but if only half of them are true the future promises to be spectacular.

This story starts in Ebonheart, in the Grand Council chambers where the lord Nerevar is preparing for what could be the most important council meeting in many years.

[Alexander]

Chapter 8. A tale of two Snakes.

Vivec. Quite possibly the largest city in Morrowind both in terms of population and overall size. Divided into cantons, with a change in two of them since lord Nerevar had come back. After he’d defeated Dagoth Ur, and then killed the remaining two members of the Tribunal, the temple followers wanted to change the palace that had belonged to Vivec, and turn it into a palace for lord Nerevar. He had refused, of course, but he did make a few other changes. Formerly St. Olms canton was now home to representatives of the house Indoril. And St. Delyn home to house Dres. Varvur assumed lord Nerevar had always thought whoever had built Vivec had made an error by only allowing three houses to represent themselves there.

As was customary, Varvur first went in search of the ranking Redoran in Vivec, Favela Dralor. While walking through the Hlaalu compound, where the boat had dropped him off, Varvur noticed many nervous and even hostile looks thrown his way. There was a tension here so clearly one could likely cut it with a Daedric dagger. He sighed in relief when he found himself across the bridge to the Redoran canton, but even there he felt some nervous stares.

Favela revealed the reason for the nervousness. “Haven’t you heard yet, Varvur? Cassius Curio was murdered two nights ago. He was found by servants yesterday morning; someone had strangled him. It was not a pretty sight, I can assure you. But luckily there’s already a large search going on to find the killer, one of his own kin- can you imagine that? But then the Hlaalu have never taken their house relations as seriously as we have.”

“Who killed him then, Favela?”

“Why it was that Dram Bero character. I tell you, no one in his right mind would want to live in a haunted house, and he proved that he was crazy when he strangled old Curio.”

“But did anyone see him do it? I mean are there any witnesses?” Varvur remembered when he’d last seen master Bero at the funeral and he looked simply crushed. And even before that, he’d always been on good terms with most of the Redoran and even Indoril nobles. To think he could have done such a ghastly deed.

“Yes, Yngling saw him. He witnessed Bero coming out of Curio’s manor, and saw him holding a bloody cord. He confronted him about it and was nearly killed himself. Bero fled the city and Yngling got together with the other remaining councillors; Velanda Omani, Nevena Ules and Raynasa Rethan, and threw Bero out of house Hlaalu. I hope they find that monster and string him up.”

Varvur thanked Favela for bringing him up to speed. Even though he had some doubts about Dram Bero being the killer, he was wise enough to keep those to himself, and went on his way, the reason he’d come to Vivec. Across the bridge from the Redoran Compound lay the Arena, a canton on its own, it housed much of the scum of Vivec. At the very top one could find the actual Arena, with seating to house all of Vivec if need be. Varvur recalled the crowd when lord Nerevar had battled the former Grandmaster of the Redoran, Bolvyn Venim. There hadn’t been an empty seat in the area. Everyone who was anyone wanted to see this man who claimed to be an incarnate in action, not least of all the Redoran nobles. I think there were but a few people who actually felt sorry when Venim was cleanly beheaded by lord Nerevar, and most of those were removed from the house in the next few weeks due to evidence of corruption. All were surprised when rather then demanding the title of Grandmaster for himself, lord Nerevar instead allowed the Redoran to choose amongst their own for the new Grandmaster. Of course Varvur’s father had been granted that honour. Varvur later learned that to be typical of lord Nerevar’s character, an excellent swordsman, perhaps the best in the land even, with a huge sense of honor and righteousness, he was the ultimate fighter. At the same time he’d never to Varvur’s knowledge, used any magical or stealth abilities. But with a sword arm as fast as his, he didn’t need it.

But today Varvur was not there to visit the arena pit to see a fight; no today he went to where the rats were housed, to the storage area. It was a place everyone knew how to find, but none were willing to go. Entering the area, Varvur noticed he was being followed. A Dunmer whom he had seen first in the Hlaalu canton was trying his best to go unobserved. Quickly, Varvur rounded a corner, drew his blade and stood very quietly. Very softly, he heard ever nearing footsteps and just as the tail reached the end of the stairs, Varvur grabbed him, shoved him to the wall and pressed his blade to his throat.

“Why are you following me?”

“Mercy Serah, I was merely ordered to keep you from doing anything rash.”

“Like killing you?” Varvur saw he held a young Dunmer, he couldn’t have been more then 50 years old, most definitely not a weathered assassin.

“Serah, Grandmaster Eno bid me to welcome you, and promise you safe passage for one day in our headquarters. Look Serah, in my right pocket is his seal.” Not trusting what appeared to be the thrall a bit, he bid him to slowly take it out himself. It proved to be truly the seal of the Grandmaster of the Morag Tong.

Such a thing had not occurred so long as Varvur could remember, a non-member allowed freely into the headquarters of the Morag Tong and leaving with their life.

“Please Serah, the grandmaster bid me to blindfold you so you would not know the inside.” Varvur sheathed his blade, and allowed himself to be blindfolded. He was led by the thrall into a door, and down a short ladder. He assumed he was directly below the storage area now and he didn’t think this was the only entrance, and likely the last time this entrance would be used. He walked for a short time through what he felt was a narrow corridor; in the distance he heard some vague chanting so he knew there had to be a shrine present, and a bit further he heard the distinct clink of blades. They came to a door, and he heard the thrall knock softly on it. The door opened and he was ushered inside. Not until the door was again closed and locked though, was the blindfold removed. And there Varvur found himself eye to eye with Eno Hlaalu. Though relatively young at 125, the current Grandmaster of the Morag Tong was already legendary. Rumour had it he’d made a tremendously fast rise to the top of the assassins guild, and there was even a rumour that he’d allowed the former Grandmaster, already getting on with age, die peacefully in a remote location rather than killing him as was the custom. Such rumours had of course never been proven.

“Hello Varvur; I knew you’d come here sooner or later. I hope my thrall has not inconvenienced you in any way?”

“No, thank you, master Hlaalu,” Varvur had always been taught it’s better to show politeness to a snake when you entered its den than risk its wrath, “But your thrall could do with some more lessons in how to better sneak.”

“Yes, I’ve been telling him that myself but young people today have a hard time listening.” Varvur listened as he looked over the room. It was very plain, with very few things in sight. Almost everything in it seemed to have a function except perhaps one thing. In a corner Varvur saw a magnificent enchanted cuirass. It was obviously crafted from heavy material by the looks of it and very out of place in the room of a warrior who spent his entire time training for speed.

“Yes, a magnificent cuirass, wouldn’t you agree Varvur? It’s actually an artefact, the Lords Mail. It was given to me as payment for a….. recent service. Of course that is all I can say about that.”

This post has been edited by Alexander: Mar 9 2008, 10:17 AM