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]

Haeil coughed loudly as we walked along. The road was practically dust but after nearly 3 days of walking down it we were used to it, the ground baked hard by the blistering sun above.
I breathed in heavily as we walked on; my netch leather cuirass was slung against my shoulder because of the heat. Haeil was in front of me, silent as he heaved his huge tail against the road, I have no idea if he’s enjoying the sudden warmth of is slowly dying inside that leather armour that he can never take off.
“Furan” he hissed, pointing a finger directly in front of us. I laughed; hope rising in my chest as I saw what he did.
Sadrith Amu said a small sign that was just poking out of the dust.
“It’s Telvanni land” I muttered, pulling my netch cuirass back onto me.
“Telvanni?”
“It’s probably better if you stay here...”
I heard Haeil sigh softly behind me.
Within minutes in the town I was greeted by a pair of guards...guards? They barely looked older than 16! they were both dressed in loose farm clothes, one of them had a chitin cuirass on as well. They were wielding spears loosely in their ashen hands that shook while they spoke.
“State your business...outlander!”
outlander....some things never change...
“My business is trading” I answered with a small sigh, one of the boys looked at me with a snarl,
“You should leave this town alone...we have had nothing but trouble from you outlanders!”
typical Telvanni...
“I don’t have time for this” I growled, beginning to move through them. One of them roared and lunged his spear toward me. I ducked my head and grabbed the spear, knocking it out of the mers hands and sending the other boy to the ground, his weapon rolling on the ground away from him.
“Long spears are defensive weapons” I said with a wink, throwing it at his feet,
“Remember that the next time you try to kill someone with it...”
The both boys seemed to pale at this.
“Ok outlander...we’ll let you through just don’t....don’t cause any trouble...” the guard croaked, his voice nearly failing him. I bowed respectively and walked past them, feeling a little guilty but at the same time feeling like it was an accomplishment beating a pair of farm boys.
The general store of Sadrith Amu had reached a stage where it was practically part of the landscape. The thick stone was a rusted red as it braved the sea air; the tiles above were covered in a rich yellow moss with Traven’s cave written on a rotten wooden sign that hung from an iron chain.
The door opened with a shallow creak without me even touching it, before me was Traven, the dunmer’s grey hair was tied in loose braids against the back of his head, his razor red eyes scanning me up and down outside his shop.
“What do you want?” he snapped before looking at the armour that was on my body.
“Come in” he sniffed, walking quickly toward the counter.
“So sorry I haven’t had a customer in a while you understand...” the pathetic amount of supplies on his shelves pretty much proved it. I smiled and threw a small sack of coins on the counter, 600 drakes. Everything that I had left as well as a small bit of gold that was in the bandits pockets.
The dark elves eyes widened as he counted the drakes, “Where...where did you get this much money?” he gasped, his grey skin now pale beneath the candlelight.
“Adventuring” I laughed, pointing at a few of the things on the shelves to purchase, a pair of robes, a cloth backpack and some food....”The man smiled, “It’s been years since we saw one of your folk around he...” he was cut off by a sudden knock on the door.
A small dark elf came in; no more than 20 he held he bit on the edge of his sleeve nervously his short grey hair not really helping his incredibly sharp face.
“Mr Traven” he asked with his voice quavering.
“Is it about Olissia?” Traven asked softly, The man nodded quickly.
“She won’t get better; she’s still so...so pale”
Traven shrugged, “I’m afraid I can’t help you son... I’m not really much of a healer...”
Lucky boy
“Is there any swelling?” I asked. The man looked confused but slowly he nodded.
“Vomiting?”
“Confusion?”
“Sore limbs?”
3 sharp nods.
I walked over to the shelves, my hands hovering quickly over the ingredients...
Willow Anther...some grave dust....
With a smile I took out Haeil’s mortar and pestle and began to mash the ingredients together, Traven and the young mer were looking at me with interest.
I added a small bit of water from my satchel and poured it into the mortar, mixing it quickly with the edge of my short sword.
By the time it was in the bottle it was a glowing grey.
“Sounds like Rockjoint...” I said, handing him the potion.
“make her drink a spoon of this every 2 hours for about a day, don’t feed her too much but give her plenty of liquids...” The man smiled softly, taking it with a bow he left the room.
Traven looked at me strangely, “You are the first kind outsider I’ve seen in years” he whispered.
I opened my mouth to say something else before I noticed the shine of the setting sun on the horizon, damn it, I only said I’d be gone for an hour...

Haeil was waiting for me as when I left the village. “Have fun?” he chuckled as I threw him a pair of robes to hide his tail.
“Heaps” I laughed as we began to continue our walk.

This post has been edited by Fiach: Mar 18 2010, 01:22 PM