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]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: You really should know what I think of this story by now.


I teleported home and made my way inside, nearly tripping over my own robes as I ran. Three guards were there to greet me.

“Where is she?” I demanded. “Lead me to her!”

“Certainly. Right this way, milord.”

They led me downstairs down a broad hallway toward where my healer worked. As I got closer, I could hear the sound of pained moans and labored breathing. It seemed as though I had arrived just in time.

“Leave me,” I commanded the guards. They turned and headed back up the corridor as I entered the room.

Imsin lay on one of the many simple brown cots that lined the side of the room, panting and groaning, her legs spread and her back periodically arching back. The healer, a Breton woman by the name of Edrene Sylbor, stood over her, patting her forehead with a dry cloth.

Edrene turned her head to face me with a visible look of concern in her eyes. “Thank the Nine you’ve arrived,” she said. “The baby is coming any minute now, and the birth is not going to be an easy one. Your wife is in a great deal of pain – even more than you’d usually expect. I’ve given her some marshmerrow extract to help relieve the pain, but she’s still in pretty bad shape. The good news is, our mystic’s determined that the head’s facing the right way, at least.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“I think so…but I’m not sure. You never can tell with this sort of thing.”

I walked closer, right beside the bed where Imsin was. She was staring at the ceiling, her eyes vacant yet wild and feverish at the same time. She didn’t even seem to notice I was there. Almost instinctively, I brought my hand down beside her face and stroked her hair gently. “Imsin…” I murmured.

“Grignr…” she whimpered softly. “I…n-need you…” Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she screamed in pain. Her breathing and convulsions began to grow even louder and more rhythmic.

“It’s coming!” yelled Edrene. “Breathe, Imsin! Breathe! Slowly…slowly!” She turned her head. “Get ready, Grignr! You’re going to deliver this baby! Do exactly as I say when I tell you to! Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Alright. When the head appears, I want you to use your hands to guide the baby out. Do NOT pull it out. It’ll come out on its own. Just sort of slowly help and guide it along. Got it?”

I nodded again.

“Good. Now brace yourself. This is going to be messy.”

And indeed it was. The next few minutes felt like an eternity. Imsin’s contractions gradually grew more frequent, and her cries of pain grew louder. Then, she gave out an ear-shattering scream. The child’s head was now visible. I reached out to guide it as I had been instructed. Then, another thrust, this one even more forceful than the last. Imsin’s screaming conveyed more sheer agony than I had ever heard before, even from my many foes on the battlefield. There seemed to be a sort of desperation to them that I wasn’t expecting. Was something wrong?

Time slowed down with each contraction. And then, as the baby finally came out, it literally stood still. All sound and motion ceased – from the baby, from the healer, and from Imsin. I looked at the child…and then I looked in her eyes. There was no trace of life to be found in them. She looked as though she had died…

And then, I heard a voice echoing inside my head. It was distinctly feminine, yet with traces of masculinity, dripping with bass overtones. It was a voice the likes of which I had never heard before. And yet, it felt strangely familiar. My mind reverberated with quiet thunder as the heavens opened and spoke to me.

”YOUR VISION FAILS YOU, MORTAL,” the voice said. ”YOU HAVE FAILED TO SEE YOUR TRUE DESTINY. HEARKEN NOW, AND I WILL BRING LIGHT TO THAT WHICH LIES HIDDEN TO YOUR MORTAL EYES.”

”What is this?” I inquired silently. ”Who are you?”

“I HAVE MANY NAMES, NONE OF WHICH I AM AT LIBERTY TO REVEAL TO YOU. BUT MY NAME IS NOT IMPORTANT. WHAT MATTERS IS THAT YOU ARE NOT FULFILLING YOUR DESTINY.”

“What are you trying to say, spirit?”

“THAT YOU ARE NOT MEANT TO LIVE A MERE MORTAL’S LIFE. YOUR FRIENDS AND YOUR FAMILY CANNOT ENDURE LONG ENOUGH, NOR NEARLY ENOUGH. YOUR WIFE IS NOW DEAD, AND VERILY YOU SHALL SEE THE DAY WHEN YOUR CHILD HAS GROWN OLD AND YOU HAVE NOT. YOU SHALL BURY THEM BOTH, AS YOU SHALL ALL YOUR DESCENDANTS. FOR YOU SHALL OUTLIVE THEM ALL.”

“Dead? No…no…spirit, this cannot happen. I cannot allow it.”

“IT DOES NOT MATTER WHAT YOU ARE WILLING TO ALLOW, MORTAL. THE HEART OF THE WORLD HAS GIVEN YOU A BLESSING INTENDED FOR YOU AND FOR YOU ALONE. IT IS NOT YOUR GIFT TO SHARE. EVERYONE YOU NOW KNOW – YOUR FAMILY, YOUR TRUSTED FRIENDS, EVEN YOUR ENEMIES – SHALL AGE BEFORE YOUR EYES WHILE YOU REMAIN THE SAME. WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE IF YOUR WIFE DIES TODAY, TOMORROW, OR A HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW? IT IS INEVITABLE. YOU WILL OUTLIVE HER.”

“It makes all the difference in the world to me, spirit. It means the difference between merely surviving and truly LIVING. I don’t expect you to understand, but…I beg you. You must have great power to stop the hands of time. Please…don’t let this happen.”

“VERY WELL, MORTAL. I WILL PREVENT HER DEATH JUST THIS ONCE, FOR YOUR RECENT DEEDS HAVE GAINED YOU MY FAVOR. JUST KNOW, YOUR WIFE SHALL LEAVE THIS MORTAL PLANE LONG BEFORE YOU DO. PERHAPS SHE WILL DIE TOMORROW. REMEMBER…YOUR FINAL DESTINY LIES FAR FROM HER.”

“We’ll see about that, spirit. But thank you.”

Time resumed. The baby began to cry. I could see Imsin opening her eyes and taking a deep breath. Her vitality had returned – the sickness in her eyes had gone.

I looked at the child. “It’s a girl,” I said, handing the baby to her mother. We smiled knowingly at each other as she cradled it gently in her arms.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Mar 7 2014, 07:05 AM