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]

Delitian's sword slashed into the soldier next to me, cutting clean through his bonemold armor…and the rest of him as well, losing not a bit of momentum as it did so. Fortunately, I was ready with my shield, leaning toward the blade to absorb the bruising heavy blow. The sound rose far above even the furious clashes of metal against metal that filled the room. It was rivaled only by the fast and desperate duel of Doren and Karrod to my right.

I lunged forward and made my counterattack while Delitian’s blade was still pinned down by my side. But the captain gracefully hopped back and out of the way…mostly. Trueflame scratched through the armor in his gauntlet and damaged his wrist. Small but intense embers engulfed his entire right hand. He released his grip with that hand and howled in pain.

But then, before I could capitalize, he gripped his hand around the hilt once more, his face showing more determination than ever. There was a look of madness in his eyes as he shifted to attack once more. He was operating on pure adrenaline now. Though blood now soaked the hilt of his sword, he continued to come out swinging.

I prepared to block his strike once again, crouching low to better be able to resist the impact. Almost immediately, however, I began to regret it. The captain was angling his strike – it was coming in too high. Instinctively, I recoiled, backing off as much as I could in the instant before the impending impact. The attack missed my jugular by mere fractions of a hairlength.

Suddenly, Tienius lost control of his sword. The blood from his wounded hand had made the hilt slippery and difficult to hold. It slipped from out of his hands and went flying off into the crowd of soldiers. The hilt struck Doren in the small of his back, causing him to stumble…right into Karrod’s protruding sword. I watched as my lieutenant and trusted friend dropped to his knees, his eyes filled with agony, shock, and horror…and then onto his stomach, right beside the massive dai-katana that had brought about his downfall.

“TEDRIL!” I cried. “NOOOOOOO!”

Furious, I swept my blade in an aggressive arc, slicing off the captain’s head and making a motion toward Karrod’s torso. The King’s Champion, however, was prepared. He held fast with his sword and parried my attack. Though I continued my aggressive and forward strikes, he would invariably block and counter with his own.

We continued to trade blows in this fashion for well over half a minute – an eternity in swordfighting. It seemed this duel between us would last longer than our previous one if one of us didn’t act soon.

I remembered what Imsin had taught me, back during my earliest lessons from the master-at-arms. It was a lesson I had heard before, but she taught it so well that it stuck with me through all my travels – like all my memories of her. ”A mighty warrior uses his own strength to overcome the adversary. A wise one uses his adversary’s strength and through it creates weakness.”

Another strike was incoming – aimed for my upper body this time. But rather than deflect it directly, I took a quick step sideways, ducking slightly, with my shield perpendicular to my chest. Almost like a dancer I got myself out of the chief target, as I moved my shield behind the blade, pushing it farther and faster in the direction of the blow.

Karrod stumbled – his stance was now unbalanced; his right flank exposed. I pounced at the opportunity, running him all the way through. He collapsed into a massive, wheezing heap, blood pouring from the wound. The rest of the battle was not going well for the king’s guards, either – to my left and to my right, my men had gained the upper hand. The battle would be over in less than a minute. But the King was nowhere to be found.

I looked down at the fallen Redguard. He was wounded and bleeding heavily, but still alive and conscious – a testament to his great strength. I thought, briefly, about striking him down - killing him in retribution for what had happened to one of the only true friends I had left; one who had fought beside me so many times. Or better yet, leaving him to bleed to death and suffer for what he had done. It would be so easy to do it now...

I knew, though, that it was not the wise nor the morally right course of action. This was a man who could tell me where the King was hiding. And I knew I wouldn't be able to torture it out of him, as tempting as it seemed. However little I knew of him, I knew that he was loyal and honor-bound. He reminded me, in many ways, of Doren - as well as Captain Carius, Percius Mercius and a host of other good and brave fighting men I had befriended. And Imsin...she, too was such a soldier. Too many such men had already died today. I could not let it happen. For in his eyes I saw his soul. And in his soul I saw my own.

I knew the extent to which Karrod would adhere to his promises. But I also knew that he honored those men he respected. And he seemed to respect me. I had to talk to him.

“Karrod,” I said to him. “I know that you do not speak. But you’ve spoken to me. I know you are a good and loyal soldier. I will save your life if you tell me but one more thing – where your King has gone. You can even keep your sword.”

“How…how do you know…that I won’t just – koff! – turn right around and…kill as many of your men as I can?” he croaked.

“Because…” I said, staring deeply into the man’s eyes, “…you’re going to promise me that you won’t. Do you promise, Karrod?”

“You…are an honorable man, Lord Grignr,” he said quietly. “And so am I. I promise…and I will…keep my…w-w…word…” His eyes began to become glazed and unfocused.

I knelt beside him and held out my enchanted shield. “Quickly, grab this! Do it now!”

Karrod clutched desperately to the side of the Ward.

“Focus…!”

He shut his eyes and furrowed his brow. Slowly, the blood flow subsided, and the coughing stopped. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

I gave a silent prayer of thanks to whichever gods were listening. I then proceeded to question him. “Now...there must be a switch somewhere around here that opens an escape route. Where is it?"

“On the bottom side of the throne, below the cushions.”

“Really…” I commented. “How prosaic.”

“It gets the job done…well, it used to, anyway.”

It was a joke, of sorts. I didn't laugh. Neither did he.

“Well...I have...business I need to attend to now. Farewell, my friend.”

“Good bye,” said Karrod. “And…thank you.”

I kept walking, ducking under the throne to flip the switch. But as I did, I couldn't help but think of Tedril Doren - of all the people who had died to help secure my vendetta, and I wondered...was it all worth it?

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Nov 28 2008, 10:10 PM