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]

NOTE: A reminder that this story sucks and isn't worth your time.

Love and hugs,
BBQ Platypus




---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three days later we gathered in the Grand Council Chambers in Ebonheart – Imsin and Ri’Darsha were there, along with the two Hlaalu Councilmen I felt I could trust completely – Duke Vedam Dren and Crassius Curio. All of them sat at a simple round wooden table that had been brought in for the occasion. The doors surrounding the chamber were locked, and the sentries on the staircases stood guard just outside of earshot. This meeting had to be conducted in absolute secrecy – I couldn’t risk tipping my hand.

I was the last of the people assembled to take my seat. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Councilman Cur – er, I mean, Uncle Crassius. Your Grace.” I gestured toward Crassius and Duke Dren as I acknowledged them.

“Oh, it was really no trouble at all, pumpkin,” the flamboyant Imperial replied. “It’s not like I live very far away. And it’s HIS castle, after all!” He beamed widely.

“What’s this about, Grignr?” the Duke inquired with one eyebrow raised. His very expression made it clear that he was in no mood for such frivolities.

“Your brother, milord. And the Camonna Tong in general.” I addressed the Duke with the reverence and respect with which subjects traditionally give royalty, even though I held at least as much power as he did. The fact that I respected him so tremendously as a person probably had something to do with it.

The royal stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm…well, I can see why you wanted to keep this meeting a secret, then. Still, I thought my brother effectively handed control of the Tong over to you.”

“Officially, yes. Effectively, no. He still controls and coordinates all of its operations.”

“Ah. It figures that he would make such an arrangement. Frankly, it would have surprised me more if that weren’t the case. Now…what about the Camonna Tong do you wish to discuss, sera?”

“Well, as all of you know, I’ve been coordinating a series of House and Legion raids along the coast of this island, looking for smugglers caves. These missions are basically being conducted on a search-and-destroy basis – we look in a vague general area and hope there are caves there. As you can guess, it hasn’t been very effective.”

“Patrols along the Bitter Coast by the Moonmoth Legion alone have gone up 300 percent, and we’re not even making a substantial dent in the drug trade,” Imsin piped in.

“Demand has a tendency to create its own supply, sweetie,” Crassius said, shaking his head sadly. “Anyone who's ever taken a look at all the streetwalkers in the St. Olms Canalworks could tell you that. Not that your old Uncle Crassius would know anything about it…”

“True. We’ll never be able to truly stop the flow of illegal moon sugar into Morrowind. But we CAN stop the intrusion of the Camonna Tong and their ilk into the upper echelon of House Hlaalu. And Orvas Dren is the key to stopping it.”

The Duke looked at me with a skeptical expression on his face. “Really? And how’s that?”

I smiled. “Blackmail. You see, a couple nights ago, I had my personal courier here run a little errand for me in Suran...or thereabouts. And wouldn't you know it - something very interesting happened along the way. Perhaps Ri’Darsha would explain this best.” I gestured toward the Khajit.

“Certainly, milord,” Ri’Darsha said, his usual devious smirk spread across his face. “Ri’Darsha was returning home from...buying some fruit...when he passed by the Dren Plantation. But Ri’Darsha was getting lonely and wanted someone to talk to, so he started up a little chat with an Argonian slave returning from the fields.

“The Argonian invited Ri’Darsha to come into the manor and enjoy his master’s hospitality. So Ri’Darsha let himself in. He also recommended a very interesting letter for him to read, so Ri’Darsha went to the basement and brought it home for the Grandmaster. The Grandmaster is quite a bookworm, you see. Such a shame, though – the Argonian’s master did not show Ri’Darsha any of the famed Hlaalu hospitality. They never even noticed he was in the house.”

“Thank you, Ri’Darsha.” I cleared my throat and pulled a parchment from the folds of my Grandmaster’s Robe.

“Ranes and Navil,
You have served me well over the years. My brother has been trying to stop our business. We've lost over half our shipments recently. The Duke may be my brother, but if he keeps interfering I am afraid he must be killed. I will be next in line and can consolidate my power before the Redorans even come up with a candidate. I am telling you this so that you know the risks you may be taking. If you are unwilling, I will accept your word of honor not to speak of our business. If you stay, I will reward you.

~D”

“Lovely little note, isn’t it?”

The Duke stood out of his chair and pounded his fist on the table in anger. “That fetcher! I’ll have his HEAD for this!”

I raised my finger at him. “Ah, but then we wouldn’t be able to bring down everything he’s worked so hard to build. I plan on blackmailing your brother into telling me everything he knows about the Tong. I’m placing particular emphasis on the names of major members and associates with positions in major organizations. The Fighters Guild, for instance. Faced with being executed for treason and conspiracy, he’ll have no choice but to offer his full cooperation. Now, I’ve personally written two exact duplicates of this letter, one for each of you. This is in case anything goes wrong with the negotiation process.”

“And what are we going to do with the members that he identifies?” Imsin inquired. “We won’t be able to arrest a lot of them – they hold too much power!”

“I’ve already thought of that. We will deal with them the way the Dunmer have always dealt with such matters – through the Morag Tong.”

“Hmm…I like many things about this plan,” said the Duke. “And I don't think Dram Bero will have any problems with it, either. But what about Nevena Ules and Velenda Omani? They are Camonna Tong as well, and they represent damn near half our council!”

“Ules and Omani are cowards. When they see what has happened to the mer who bullies them around, they will capitulate immediately. Still, it would be a good idea to expel them from the council. I would suggest House Brother Relen Hlaalu and House Cousin Hlodala Savel, my savant, as replacements.”

The table fell silent.

“Look, I know this plan carries many risks. But they are the sort of risks that every leader must take. Those who stand for justice will always have many enemies. By standing against them, there is a possibility that we will make new enemies in the process. But I would rather have many weak enemies than a few powerful ones. Right now, we have in our hands the weapon that could wipe out corruption in this district. Without a leader, the Camonna Tong would collapse under the weight of petty squabbles between would-be kingpins. No longer will criminals hold sway over this Great House! The people would finally be able to trust those who have tasked to protect them and honor their laws! We may not be able to put a stop to trafficking, but we CAN stop it from permeating our government! Who among us is willing to actually FIGHT for that which they claim to represent!? Have we NO courage at all?”

For a few agonizing moments, all was silent. And then, finally, Imsin spoke up. “I will do whatever your plan requires, Grignr. You know that I would follow you through nine hells if you asked it of me.”

After a brief pause, the Duke rose from his seat. “I will go along with your plan, Lord Grignr.”

“As will I,” Crassius interjected.

Although my expression remained grim and determined, I could feel the faintest hint of a smile begin to creep across my face.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Mar 7 2014, 07:01 AM