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 know what? [censored] it. You get the point by now.


Vivec was sitting cross-legged, as always, levitating and meditating in the center of the room. His eyes were closed and his brow furrowed in deep thought.

Just as I was about to announce my presence to him, he spoke in his distinctively dreamlike, whistling baritone. “Ah…Lord Grignr. I suspected we might meet again. I sense you have come seeking my council.” The corners of his lips turned upward in a rather whimsical grin. “What have you come here to talk about?”

“Dreams. Dreams and visions.”

“Dreams of Akavir?”

“Akavir? No…why?”

“I have heard the name whispered among the flowers blooming over the wind-swept hills of Veloth. I whisper the name back to them and they speak of you. Perhaps you do not listen closely enough.”

“Perhaps not,” I replied. “Still, I’m hearing quite enough as it is. It seems as though every night I am dreaming of loss, suffering, death, and betrayal. I believe my fears stem from my divine gift. Surely you, in your long lifetime, have experienced something at least partly similar to this.”

“You forget that I am a god,” he said. “Or what remains of one. You cannot hope to compare the experience of godhood to anything you know, nor even comprehend what it is like.

“Still, I am well aware of how and why you suffer. You bore this gift – one that no mortal was meant to take on – out of necessity, to save the people of Morrowind. Because you walked the path of the Hero, which had been detailed by prophecy, you were able to retain this gift without being consumed by it.

“And so you have a mortal’s hopes, desires, and aspirations, but not his lifespan. You will endure only to lose everything, for the days of mortals are few and miserable. It is very sad that this must be. But it must. All that can be done is to count and cherish what little time you will have.

“But you already know this. There is something else that troubles you, otherwise you would not have come to me.”

“Yes…that is true.” I told Vivec about the voice – how it had halted time and brought my wife back from death.

“Interesting…the et’Ada are most certainly involved. The clouds of deceit linger like vapor over the Mundus. Threads are woven and unraveled, scores are settled through secret murder…the Webspinner is again at work.”

My face blanched white as I realized the truth. “Mephala…”

“Yes…and probably Boethiah as well. Treachery and murder…one tends to accompany the other. Your visions are messages from the depths of Oblivion. The only way to end them is to listen closely to whatever they want you to hear. Find out what they want from you. I am afraid there is no other way.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“I am sorry, my friend, but these are your visions to deal with, not mine. The meddlers of Oblivion have something in mind for you. It is not wise to defy one Daedric Prince, let alone two. I know from experience, and though I have no regrets, I do not think things would turn out well for you. You must heed their words and follow them wherever they may take you.”

“Even to Akavir?”

“If that is where they would have you go. Of course, you could always opt not to and see what happens.”

I rolled my eyes in disgust. “You know, for a god, you are extraordinarily unhelpful.”

Vivec glared at me, his eyes flaring bright red. “I have nothing more to say to you, Nerevarine. Leave me. NOW.”

I turned around and stormed out the doors. The good news was, my questions had been answered. Unfortunately, a multitude of new ones had taken their place.

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