The Interim, Part One, A Morrowind Fanfic by BBQ Platypus Options

[bbqplatypus]

Author's Note, Five Years Later:

So yeah. This is a story I wrote quite some time ago about an idea that had long percolated in my head - what happened to the Nerevarine that caused him to bugger off between Morrowind and Oblivion. Not an inherently bad idea for a story - in fact, I still think it could make a pretty good one. This is not that story. In fact, looking back on it now, it's hard for me to imagine any sensible reaction to it other than OHMYGOD THIS IS SO FRUCKING FUCKBAD. Of course, everyone who's ever tried writing started out by writing ten thousand pages of crap. This right here constitutes five of my ten thousand.

I'm not gonna delete it - I'll leave it up, mostly because this forum doesn't seem to allow me to delete topics. But if you've come here by browsing the forums or through some random Google search, please hit the back button immediately and save yourself some time. This story isn't worth yours.






An Account of the Events of the Interim of Grignr the Nerevarine, Between the Fulfillment of the Bloodmoon Prophecy and His Departure to Akavir

Being An Anonymous Account Discovered, Compiled, and Edited by Bereditte Jastal


Editor’s Note: The non-academic nature of this account (its authorship is uncertain, and it is clearly written in prose form, with considerably more detail than one would expect from a typical “journal” or even a memoir) makes it a tome of questionable historical accuracy. The Nerevarine as portrayed in this account – a Nordic male named Grignr Star-Mane, married to an Imperial Legionnaire named Imsin the Dreamer, is b- [a blurry food stain blots out the next few words]-sistent with the details of Hasphat Antabolis’s authoritative (though not universally accepted) account, The Life and Times of the Nerevarine, which [Another food stain, this one with the general texture and coloration of kwama cuttle]

It should be noted that Antabolis’s account of the “interim” period (detailed in Volume IV) is rather sketchy compared to the immaculately detailed chronology of the first three volumes. Many of the events related in this text are [The rest of the page has been torn out, presumably used as a napkin].


Chapter I

The air was warm, heavy, and perplexing, draped like a thick, wet blanket upon the shoulders of the harsh, rocky coastline west of Gnisis. The dark, bloated clouds in the sky grew fat as they slowly drew in the oppressive moisture, accumulating and converging as one. A storm was coming, and we were miles away from cover.

We were one of several detachments that I myself had sent to seek out and clear smugglers caves along the coast of Vvardenfell. This particular group was assigned to investigate the drainage basin of the River Samsi (wherein many underground streams flowed). I led at my own insistence. As Hortator and Knight of the Imperial Dragon, no one dared to argue with me.

“Tread carefully, men,” I called back to the twelve Redoran soldiers who trudged miserably behind me. “We’re a long walk from Gnisis, and we only have so many Intervention scrolls to go around. We don’t want to have to carry anybody back to the Temple.”

“Understood, muthsera,” grunted Tedril Doren, the acting second-in-command of the detachment. His voice carried a ragged and weary tone to it – for he, like the rest of the men, had been marching now for several hours - in full bonemold armor - with very little rest. Even I was starting to feel a bit tired – enchanted armor can only do so much.

“We’ll keep marching until nightfall,” I said, turning my head toward the lieutenant, “and then we’ll head on home.”

The soldiers behind me grumbled a bit, but I could tell they were fairly content with knowing that the march would at least end sometime. For now, though, we would continue to plow ahead.

After a couple minutes of marching, Doren hastened his gait to move abreast with me. “May I speak with you privately for a moment, sera?” he inquired in a low voice.

“Fire away,” I replied quietly.

“Are all these men really necessary? Could you not have conducted this raid by yourself, sera? It seems an awful lot of trouble for us to have to go through.”

“You can never be too careful, Doren. We might catch them in the middle of restocking. Not to mention the amount of contraband we already have to carry back.”

I could tell that inwardly, we both knew the pointlessness of this mission. Even if we were to kill or arrest every man and mer in every cave, hideout, and abandoned fortress in the entire province, there would always be others to replace them. The drug trade is a horrid, unkillable beast, and we were both well aware of it. But I knew better than he did – I knew how to stop it.

It was all a matter of bribing the right person: Orvas Dren. If I could convince Orvas Dren to tell me the names and locations of the major members and safehouses of the Camonna Tong (an organization that I controlled in theory, but not in practice), I could send the full fury of the Dunmer and Imperial military after them, setting the drug trade back months – maybe even years. It only required the right application of bribery, blackmail, or brute force.

But I dared not do such a thing. It would shatter the uneasy peace I had forged with my fellow Hlaalu councilmen (most of whom I didn’t trust as it was), and would put myself, my family, and many of the people I had sworn to protect in danger. And so here we were, scrounging and combing through the caves of Vvardenfell, fighting a war that could not be won.

We marched silently for a minute or two. We were sloshing through the water to skirt a small cliff face when a voice suddenly emerged from the rear of the ranks.

“Come look, sera!” one of the soldiers exclaimed. “I think I see an opening! It’s…submerged, but there’s a door there.”

The rest of us doubled back to see what he had found. Sure enough, there was a weather-beaten, half-rotted door nestled into a small indentation in the cliff face.

“Yes, that’s a cave, alright,” I said. “And from the looks of it, there are or have been people in it. Doren, have one of your boys dive down and check it out.”

“Yes, sera.” He turned to a subordinate. “Arinith, I hope you can swim.”

“I can, sera,” the soldier answered. He dove into the frigid water, nudged the door open, and ducked under the low ceiling into the cave.

We waited what felt like an eternity for him to return. We waited for two minutes…three minutes…four minutes. Finally, after about half an hour, Doren spoke. “I do not know what is taking Arinith so long, but I think we should assume the worst.”

“I agree,” I said grimly. “Which is why I’m going in. I want you and everyone here who can swim to follow me.”

“We’ll be right behind you.”

I dove in and entered the cave.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Mar 28 2013, 06:01 AM

[bbqplatypus]

Chapter II

I can remember only fragments of what went through my head while I was unconscious. They were not so much visions or dreams as they were the rattlings of vague memories, from my life and from many lives previous. I am not even sure if all of the things I remembered actually happened. Nevertheless, I witnessed many lifetimes worth of events in those few moments. I watched Akulakhan tumble into the heart of Red Mountain. I fought beside the mortal Vehk in battle, slaying Nords by the dozen. I died countless times in many different ways, both peaceful and violent. But the memory I remember most vividly – the one that resonated with me the most – was also one of the simplest and most mundane of the lot: a conversation between me and my wife, Imsin the Dreamer.

We had not yet become intimate at the time – she was, after all, my superior officer. At the time, I was a young, fast-rising Knight Errant under the command of Radd Hard-Heart. But I had served under her before, and was now stopping by Fort Buckmoth on my way back from a mission to kill a mad wizard in Dagon Fel.

I knew exactly where to find her. I entered the main hall of the fort interior and turned right, heading down the stairs to the foyer. The room was bustling with activity – the blacksmith was hammering away at a broadsword, as various cult members, enlisted men, and NCO’s milled about. I slowly made my way through the crowd and proceeded toward a small, sturdy wooden door near the back of the room. Two guards stood beside it. I approached and addressed the one on the right, a balding Imperial wearing the uniform and insignia of a Trooper.

I cleared my throat and addressed him. “Excuse me, soldier, I’d like to speak with your commanding officer.”

“She can’t see anyone right now, sir. She’s busy writing her monthly report for the Legion brass in Cyrodil. Sorry, but we have orders not to let anyone in.”

“Well, it’s, ah…somewhat pressing business, I’m afraid. Not completely urgent, but it’ll only take about a minute.”

“Well…” the guard pondered it for a moment. “I’ll have to bring this up with Knight Imsin.” He opened the door and stepped inside. Quite frankly, I was surprised he even considered disobeying a direct order like this. I rather suspected that it had something to do with the enchanted masque I had taken from the mad wizard.

The room was relatively small for a fort commander’s office – only about a third the size of the foyer I was standing in. I could see her desk tucked into a corner of the grey stone room. The fireplace crackled and glowed on the side opposite her desk. She looked up from her work at the now-open door.

“Someone here to see you, ma’am,” the guard called out.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to be interrupted,” she snapped. Then, in a marginally less acidic tone, “Who is it?”

I realized that I had failed to give my name to the guard. I removed the masque and put one foot into the door. “Knight Grignr Star-Mane, ma’am, of the Fort Moonmoth garrison.”

Her expression softened. “Hmm. I suppose I can spare a few moments. Come on in.”

The guards parted to make way for me. I entered the room, saluted, and closed the door behind me.

She returned my salute. “Welcome, Grignr. It’s been only about…a couple months, hasn’t it? I’ve been hearing much about your meteoric rise through the enlisted ranks. You’re becoming quite the soldier, aren’t you?” She smiled at me.

“I…do my best, ma’am,” I replied, rather sheepishly.

“Every soldier worth his salt gives his best for the Empire, Knight Errant,” she said. “It takes a special talent – and a decent amount of luck – to be recognized for it. Now, then, what business is it that you wish to discuss?”

I cleared my throat and answered. “Just simple accommodations, ma’am. I need a place to rest before I head back to Fort Moonmoth, and I would like to know whether any bunks are available for the night.”

“Well, you’re certainly welcome to bunk here. We should have several beds available. Let me check the Quartermaster’s Report…” She rummaged through the stack of loose parchments that lie on her desk. “Well, it looks as though we have enough room, and enough beds. I’ll get a few of the men to set something up for you. I hope you don’t mind sleeping with the enlisted men.”

“Not at all. Thank you, ma’am.”

“No need to thank me. You’re welcome to bunk here whenever your duties require it.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

I started to turn to leave the room when she interrupted me. “Oh, and while you’re still here, soldier, there’s something rather personal I’d like to ask you, if you don’t mind. May I ask it?”

“Hmm…I suppose I wouldn’t mind too much,” I replied after a brief silence. It wasn’t as though I had any pressing or embarrassing secrets to keep from the Empire.

“Good.” She smiled briefly, and then looked me straight in the eye. “Now, I want you to tell me honestly, one Knight to another…”

I stood stiffly, nervously anticipating the question she was about to ask.

“…how do you feel about being promoted so quickly?”

I was somewhat taken aback. This wasn’t the sort of question I was expecting. “How do I feel about it?”

“Yes. Are you comfortable with it? Do you feel it was right to make you a commissioned officer after a little less than two years? Are you worried about what the other men might think about your swift and relatively painless ascent to the officer’s quarters? How do you feel about it?” She stared piercingly at me, awaiting my response.

“Well, uh…” I mumbled as my mind grasped frantically for the right words. “I…can’t say I don’t like being an officer. I mean, I find commanding and coordinating squads on patrol to be more rewarding than standing still outside a door for hours on end.

“Still…I did notice that I was given active beat duty and special assignments more often than the other men. I did ask General Darius why that was, and he said it was because I was one of his best and most promising young soldiers. The other soldiers didn’t complain much…well, not to my face, anyway. Some of them were more than a little resentful, though. I tried to ignore them, and assuage their bitterness by being the best and most trustworthy leader I could be. This certainly helped for the men I was assigned to lead, but for the others it was a bit more…difficult.

“I think that resentment has a lot to do with my being transferred to other posts so frequently. The fort commanders aren’t sure what to do with me, and they don’t want to spread discontent among their own men, so they ship me off elsewhere. So life in the Legion has been a bit less…stable than I was expecting. Still, I fully believe that I’ve earned everything the Legion has given me. Does that answer your question?”

Imsin, who had been listening patiently and attentively as I spoke, considered my words thoughtfully for a moment. “You say that you feel you deserve to bear an officer’s rank. But are you ready to bear an officer’s burden?”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“The duty to their men, to their garrison weighs heavily upon every good officer. You’ve proven to me that you are excellent at following orders from your superiors, and you certainly know how to handle a sword…” She paused for effect. “…but can you fulfill your responsibility as a leader of men?”

“Yes, I believe I can, ma’am. I know I can,” I said firmly and with conviction.

“Then you must always be mindful of the soldiers under your command, for they are the greatest asset at your disposal. They are more important than your career, your rank, and even your life. As an officer, you must know their strengths and their weaknesses. You must gain their trust and respect. Most of all, you must be prepared to fight as one cohesive unit. In my experience, men who are promoted too quickly tend to be poor leaders no matter HOW good they are at fighting. And you’ve been promoted VERY quickly. No offense.”

“None taken, ma’am.”

She put one hand on my shoulder. “Good. Because I’m only telling you this because I like you. You must always remember that a good officer must take his responsibilities more seriously than his privileges. You’re a good soldier, Grignr. I know you will do your duty.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re free to go,” she said, “unless there’s something else you want to ask me.”

“Well, actually, I was going to ask for some archery training from the master-at-arms, but I see you’re rather busy at the moment.”

“True. It’s not like it’ll take me all night, though.” She smiled. “Meet me at the archery range at dawn tomorrow. I’ll give you a few pointers.”

I believe it was at that very moment – the simple promise of archery lessons – that I knew I was destined to be with her; that she was the love of my life. Or would be, as it were. It wasn’t so much concrete knowledge as it was intuitive – a fuzzy, vague…

…dull, throbbing pain that got clearer and more excruciating by the second. Then a cool, soothing liquid touching my lips…a slowly solidifying gray blur in front of my eyes…a familiar voice…

“Grignr! Lord Grignr! Are you alright, sera? Wake up!”

My vision (and my head) gradually began to clear. I could see Tedril Doren standing over me, holding one of my own home-brewed potions to my lips. I moved the flask away from my mouth and sat upright.

“It’s good to see you’re alright, sera,” said Doren. “You took a pretty nasty fall. Made a huge gash on the back of your head. We were able to take down the mer you were after.” He gestured toward the well-dressed smuggler’s lifeless corpse.

I rubbed my hand against the back of my head. There was still a muted, aching pain where I had fallen. “Is the cave secure?” I asked.

“All the smugglers are dead, sera,” he said. “Unfortunately, we’ve suffered a few losses of our own. Two dead – Arinith Sendal and Golam Vendal – plus three wounded, not counting you. They’re being tended to right now. One thing’s for sure, this wasn’t your usual den of run-of-the-mill drug runners. Sure, there were a few of your usual chumps, but make no mistake, these guys had professional help.”

“Camonna Tong?”

“Probably,” he answered. “It was a pretty big shipment of moon sugar – I reckon about two and a half tons worth, plus fifteen slaves for delivery purposes. They wanted to protect their investment.”

“That’s for sure,” I said. “Can I have a look at them?”

“A look at what, sera?”

“The slaves, Tedril. I’d like to ask them a few questions – see if they know anything.”

“As you wish. Right this way, sera.” He led me down a dim, torchlit passage to the pen where the slaves were kept.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Nov 26 2008, 09:17 AM