Listen To THe Sound Of The Ashlands, Chapter 1->The Return Options

[Fiach]

Note: This is my first bit of serious fan-fiction, so please be patient with me xD
I would really appreciate it if whoever reads this give me their opinion on the story, as well as any ways that I can improve, which is something that I'm very passionate about.
But without any delay, let's begin.

Prologue

“So you’re planning to go through with it?” Sul-Matuul asked.

“Yes”

The old Ashlander sighed, his hand moving slowly against his withered face.
For a moment I began to pity the old mer. Age had paled his dark skin to the point that it was nearly like that of a imperial, his red eyes turning blank with his years.

He was sitting near the centre of his yurt, his body in its squatted form somewhat resembling an old flower. But he still held his staff proudly, and carried his head high with grace. Well at least he did before I entered his yurt this cold Last seed morning.

“I would like you to reconsider” Sul-Matuul said. With a groan I sat down beside him, my fingers playing with the dusty floor. “I don’t think I can this time my friend” I whispered, “I’ve been here for nearly 5 years, I’ve done a lot here but Morrowind....it just doesn’t need me anymore..”

Sul-Matuul slammed his fist against the ground, but I tried not to flinch, “don’t be foolish Lord Nerevarine” he growled, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. “You have so much more to do here, Morrowind is your home, and it’s where you’re destined to be!”

Sadly, I shook my head. “Everything will be ok Sul, I mean with you, Vivec....”
“Vivec is a traitor and a fool” He spat, “He should have had the decency to kill himself the day the others fell.”
I shook my head and rose from the ground. “He has the best interests of Morrowind in mind Sul.” I whispered. “The boat to Akavir will be leaving tomorrow... I have to be on my way.”
“Nerevarine!” Sul-Matuul growled, “Morrowind needs you, please don’t abandon her.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but then I noticed droplets of water against the dusty floor. The old mer was crying.

My courage failed and without another word, I turned around and opened up the small yurt skin door, into the world beyond.
As I travelled along the coastline I began to feel the thud of my heartbeat against my throat, a feeling that had escaped me for so long, Excitement and adventure.
I suppose I should tell you a little of myself before I begin my true story, although most of it I’m sure you already know.

My real name is Furan Saris, and I was born in Highrock, according to the local priests there, my mother was an ashlander who fled morrowind, but since she died when I was born, I guess I can’t really be sure. I was taken in by the local chapel of the nine divines, an experience that thankfully, I’ll never go through again. I learned to read and write, but at the cost of my dignity. I was trapped there, at least until he came to see me.
A man arrived at our village one foggy morning, he was a mage, but one that was not connected to any of the local guilds. It was safe to say that he caused a bit of a commotion in the town. He used his magic to entertain, summoning ponies and warriors that arrived in a plume of fire, his mana stirring and creating wonders before my very eyes. I spent days begging him to take me on as an apprentice, as a means to escape this life. The old man, who saw my mana levels agreed.

We left, I learned what I needed to learn, but after less than 4 years my master caught a chill and died. Magic stopped being an idle fancy and more of a means to survive, I was skilled at illusion and acrobatics, which helped me pilfer items from some of highrocks finest. But one night I tried to steal from a mage and I was caught.
Beginning my journey to Morrowind, which started the story every dunmer child grows up learning, the tale of the battle of the red mountain.

To foreigners of our shores this is where the story of the Nerevarine ends, the oblivion crisis set in and people forgot about the land of the dunmer people.
But I think that it is time that I continued the story.

The story of when the Nerevarine returned.

This post has been edited by Fiach: Feb 26 2010, 11:14 PM

[Fiach]

The waves crashed into my body, playing with it as though I was but a toy, tossing me in the air.My magical powers are forgotten as I returned to the ocean with a large splash.
Rain lashes against my bare skin like a dozen arrows but I’m too numb to care as I float with the waves. Wondering where was it wetter, out in the rain or in the sea.

I'm a little over thirteen years old, I’m living in Cragmoor , a nice isolated breton village, the type of place where everybody knew everybody, their lives devoted to the nine divines, their lives exactly the same.
Small stone cottages which everyone thanked the divine for because without the nine divines we wouldn't have the stone to build houses so we would have to live in the cold with the animals.

And whoever said otherwise was cast out.

It was the fourth of suns dusk, the frost of the morning nipped at my feet with the mercy of a wounded animal. I was in the chapel; the cold of the stone floor was even colder against my bare toes.
"Furan" a voice snapped behind me. I turned to see her; an imperial with her skin withered and sour lips as she looked at me with those accusing grey eyes.
"Good morning Sister Simana" I murmured. I Scuttled over to her.

My nose wrinkled. Thirteen years in this place isn't enough for me to get used to the smell of candlewax, the fatty vapors that always hung in the air like an unwelcome ghost long after mass of the over and the flames of the candle slain.

Mother Simana handed me a thick and tightly woven basket that was filled to the brim with bread.
"Take these around to the houses" She said.
"And don't cause any mischief!" I open my mouth to ask what possible mischief I could cause with a basket full of bread but then I remembered Mother Simana's birch, which she held beside her like a sword.
Just waiting to be planted against the skin of my palms.

Shutting my mouth quickly I took the basket, turned around and began to walk away with the sound of my bare feet squeaking against the wooden floors. I walked slowly.
Mischief gave you bruised palms but running in the chapel meant a night out in the cold.

The fog greeted me with open arms when I went outside, it hung along the ground like a silver blanket but my eyes widened as I scanned the horizon. A black figure was there.
And it was moving toward me.
I stare at him in shock as he approaches me. Strangers are rare to Cragmoor and this man really was strange. He was wrapped in a black cloak that covered his body and most of his face. A single bonemold pauldron protruded out of his left side.
He was stranding straight with a ball of light in his hands before his shawl fell from his face, a face that I had not seen in a long time.
"Master?" I whisper, tears coming to my eyes.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words never leave his lips.
His ruffled skin began to smoother and a rich gold like that of the Altmer, his mousey brown hair turning a stark white that grew until it ran along his black like a snowy waterfall.
Piercing blue eyes escaped her mask, the black robes turning into a elaborate silver dress.
The village vanished around me, it was replaced by a rich and beautiful garden.
"Hello Furan" Azura smiled.

My heart catches in my throat. Looking around me I whisper, "Am I still in Tamriel?" the garden really was beautiful, with golden flowers and rich purple leaves.
Azura shrugged "You are here, that is what matters....You have returned... And for that you have my deepest sympathy."

I look at her sharply but she smiles back that perfect smile.

A crackling reaches my ears as the world begins to dim, darkness surrounding me until all that I could see was that one perfect smile.

~sorry if its a bit poor, but I promise this will be the last major random flashback Lost style dream sequence , expect an update tomorrow.~