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]

I made my way through the euphoric throng of Ashlanders and toward the ashkhan’s yurt. Raising my hand, I motioned for the crowd to be silent. Then, I rapped gently upon the outer wall to ask permission to enter his abode.

“Come in,” I heard a voice call out from inside. I ducked beneath the low-hanging door and entered.

Sul-Matuul was sitting in his chair with his back facing the door. Neither of us said anything. We savored the glorious silence for a moment before the khan turned and faced me.

"You have passed the Third Trial. Before you lies the Fourth Trial, and the Fifth Trial. I have spoken with Nibani Maesa, and I know these Trials. You wish to be called Urshilaku Nerevarine. But first, would you hear the counsel of Sul-Matuul?"

I shook my head – not in refusal, but in amazement. “I spoke to her…to Peakstar. I spoke with all of them – the spirits of those who came before me and failed. They all seemed to say the same thing. That I am to unite the people of Veloth under one banner. That I am to be their war leader, not only on the battlefield, but in their hearts as well. That it is I, above all others, who is fit and destined to do this. I am a soldier, but…I’m only one man. I am not a demigod. To do this, I am going to have to be not just a warrior, but a diplomat as well. I have no idea of how to even begin going about this task. The weight of an entire nation rests on my shoulders. Of course I will hear your council. I need it now more than ever.”

"Good,” he said. “First, I would give you warning. When you are called 'Nerevarine,' the word must spread, and many must hear. Your enemies will hear, and come seeking your blood. And such friends as you may have among the Great Houses, those who heed the words of the Temple, they may forget their love for you. If you have business with the People of the Houses and Temple, you may wish to conduct that business first, before you are named 'Nerevarine.'”

“My business with them can be considered finished. Let them despise me if they wish. Whatever it is I must do, I intend to see it through. I will continue to push forward until none are left who deny me. All I ask is that you tell me where to push, and how…and I will be the leader you need.”

Chapter X

It had been three days since my confrontation with Ri’Darsha. I had taken that time to prepare my approach to the castle. I had gathered a small group of the best soldiers under my command. I had conspired with officials to keep it under wraps. But I could not do it through mere force of arms alone. I needed a sorcerer’s help.

So I decided to go to an old friend for help: Divayth Fyr. If anyone knew a way I could get an edge over the king, it was him. And so I made the long and arduous journey across the waters of Zafirbel Bay and up the great mushroom tower Tel Fyr. I floated up through the central shaft and landed gently on the top floor.

I entered quietly. He was sitting at his desk, poring over a piece of parchment that appeared to be several centuries old.

“Good day to you, Lord Fyr,” I said. “May I have a word with you?”

Divayth sighed. “More interruptions…who is it this time?” He looked up from his work, his eyes glaring with an obsessive passion that clashed with his weathered face. “Oh…it’s you again. I’m sorry, but I’m rather busy right now. Whatever you want, it’ll have to wait for some other time.”

“I’m afraid it can’t,” I said, reaching into my pack. “I have brought you a gift.” I pulled a copious number of Dwemer books and schematics out of my bag and set them on his desk. “I thought you might find these interesting.”

The old wizard looked over the ancient texts I had given them, briefly perusing their content. “Fascinating…these texts appear to date to the time of Kagrenac himself! Thank you very much for giving me these. I cannot refuse such a generous houseguest. Now, what have you come to talk with me about?”

“Do you know of any practical way to teleport large numbers of people all at once? Say…a couple hundred or so?”

“Hmm…might I ask why you would need to do such a thing, or would I regret asking?”

“Let’s just say that it’s some fairly personal business and leave it at that.”

“Very well. In any case, I don’t think it’s possible. Unless you had some sort of powerful artifact that had that ability to begin with, but I really don’t know of any with that kind of power.”

“Wait…I think I have something that might work, with a bit of tweaking.” I fumbled around in my pockets. “Ah…here it is! Barilzar’s Mazed Band! It’s an odd little artifact that I encountered during the…incident in Mournhold.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Lord Fyr replied. “Might I have a look at it?”

“Yes, certainly.” I handed it to him.

Divayth brought the ring up to his face to get a closer look at it. “Hmm…yes…a very interesting enchantment indeed. I can sense much darkness inside it…like the work of some unnatural force or revenant. Fitting, seeing as how that’s exactly what it is. As for the effects themselves, though…I’m not sure if they can be strengthened at all, I’m afraid.”

“Almalexia seemed to be able to do it.”

“Almalexia? What are you talking about?”

I told him the story of what had happened in Mournhold – the attack of the fabricants, her descent into madness, and the death of Sotha Sil. He just sat there, nodding all the while. And once I had finished, he still remained silent, quietly mulling over what I had just said.

At last, the wizard spoke. “Quite a fantastic tale, Lord Grignr. Rather difficult to believe, actually. But I believe it. And what’s more, I think I have the solution to your problem. I believe Almalexia must have used some of the remnants of her divine essence to imbue the Mazed Band with this power. Once she was killed, the essence and power of the artifact waned. My guess is that if we restore the ring’s connection to the divine, we can regain the power that it lost. If we obtain a substance of a divine nature – say, the blood of a Daedra Lord – it might be possible to recreate that bond, if only for a short while.”

“And how exactly are we going to go about doing that?” I asked.

“Leave that to me. You needn’t worry about it – I have everything I need right here.” He gestured toward an oddly-shaped Daedric axe resting on one of his shelves. It looked for all the world like a sharp-winged bat at the end of a rod. “Meet me here tomorrow. I shall have the Band ready for you then.”

“Thank you, Lord Fyr. You are a good friend.”

And so, I left his central chambers with a great sense of anticipation. My plan was slowly beginning to crystallize. Soon, my loyal troops would be materializing by the hundreds outside the King’s doorstep. Tomorrow I would have justice. Tomorrow, I would take my vengeance.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Nov 21 2008, 08:17 AM