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 dunmer was breathing heavily.

Our first job when the guards were killed was to remove the top of his robes to show the wounds. My eyes widened as I looked at his shaking figure, it was gripped with fever; the bronze amulet tied to his neck refused to yield. When you have fought others for long enough it isn’t hard to spot the body of another warrior.

The mer’s chest was criss-crossed with many small light scars, none of them were deep enough to cut muscle and thus none of them damaged his movement. Whoever this mage was whatever mistakes he had made in combat they were few and brief. There were several small gash wounds along his arms from fighting the guards earlier and the rope burns on his wrists flashed me every couple of minutes telling me that he had obviously been captured before...but by whom?

I guess we needed to wake him up first... “HAEIL!” I called as he rushed through the bushes with a handful of herbs in his claws. “I couldn’t find any Wickwheat” he hissed before I opened my mouth, dropping the rest of the ingredients to the ground. I felt a little sorry for him, he had gone through a lot before we had even met and the stress of the last week was starting to show as his he mashed some ingredients together in his palms before wiping it on a damp cloth.

The mage gave a short sigh as the cloth touched his tainted forehead. He mumbled something under his breath. Bad dreams were common for fever victims; I guess it’s just the minds way of coping.
I nodded softly.
Picking up the other ingredients I loosely began to look at them.

Corkbulb Root… some Sweetpulp… a dash of chokeweed…

My hand softly brushed over the dunmer’s sweaty chest, pushing the contents of my mortar and pestle down his throat. With a cough his mumbling stopped.
“Ok” I whispered.

Haeil wielded a needle better than any blade as it spun artfully between his fingers, the thread allowed itself to be pulled along as the perfect follower, through the dunmer’s ashen skin as the wounds on his arms began to close up I smile softly, if he was awake he would probably need something to ease the pain; it seemed that the fever was good for something after all.

The fire crackled lazily beneath my fingers, the smell of cooking rat meat hanging in the air. My nose curled in disgust but there was little I could do about it, one of the first rules of an adventurer is that a picky eater wouldn’t last a month out in the wild. I learned that when I arrived in Seyda Neen for the first time oh so long ago.

“Do you have any beef?”
“Beef?” Arrille stared at me blankly with suspicion growing in one of his eyes like an over ripe fruit.
“Are you trying to trick me outlander?”
“Oh….no, no of course not….but what do you have to eat?”
“Well I have some of the finest Scrib jelly, just made this morning. Only 12 drakes.”
He stressed the only part.
My eyes sat on the sour green mush that he held up to me in a bowl.
“I think I can go a few days without food” I muttered.
“What?”
“I said can do you have any armor for sale?”

Turning around I look at my patient, his eyes were open scanning the heavens above as if they held some answers for him. They didn’t seem to as he turned to me, his eyes resting on the 3 scars against my cheek.

“Why did you save me?” he whispered.
I shrugged, sitting beside him taking one of the rat’s skewers away from the fire and handed it to him. “You were pretty badly beat up… I thought a Telvanni would appreciate the help.”
Whatever smile the dunmer had harbored while he was awake slid off his face,

“You aren’t from around here…are you...”
It wasn’t a question.
Instead I held out my hand, “I’m Furan” I muttered.
“I’m Evo” the dunmer whispered without shaking my hand he instead looked at the crackling fire with his tired eyes, his man of grey hair dirty along the edges from the muddy floor.

“Would you be able to tell me what’s happened? I haven’t been here...in a while” Haeil began to make his way toward the fire, ripping the cooked rat about with his winter white teeth.
Evo laughed before realizing that I was serious, “Morrowind is a hard place these days outlander” he muttered, chewing the end of his rat meat softly before looking at the stars.

“I think our troubles began with the Nerevarines disappearance. He left Morrowind for who knows where…. The Oblivion Crisis happened a year or two after that and unless you’ve been out of Tamriel for the last decade you must have heard of it!” his laughter cracked the evening silence as I sat there quietly, feeling the guilt painted across my face. “Vivec disappeared with the gates and then Black Marsh invaded… King Helseth as well as all the main leaders of house Telvanni and Dres were killed, shadowscale blades cut through them like a knife through scrib jelly…”

Haeil looked at me with an eyebrow raised, “Something tells me we won’t be leaving here for a while…” he whispered, the fire crackled near his tail.

Evo spat into the fire, the sizzle from it breaking the silence.

“The Dark Brotherhood claimed Morrowind; members of the Morag tong fled, joined the brotherhood or were put into slave labor.
Then the king heard rumors about the Nerevarine, began to hunt him down…burning villages and people…men woman and children were put to the sword or sent to the labor camps”
“Isn’t there any resistance?” Haeil asked. I nodded slowly with my eyes resting on Evo.

How could I have let things get so bad?
You didn’t know…
NO! Sul-Matuul told me that Morrowind needed me, I should have listened.

“There is a resistance” Evo muttered, silencing the voices in my head for the time being. He flung his arm to the west, his razor red eyes showing defiance against the trees that blocked his gaze.

“Follow the trail toward Vvardenfell, take a ship to Sadrith Mora and then keep going west…when they find you ask for Lock, he can help you.”
“When they find us?” I asked.

Evo just smiled.

“To be honest with you I think you shouldn’t even bother trying, make your way to the imperial city get a room and have a future for yourself…there’s nothing here anymore accept for ash and pain. I would prefer it if you both didn’t die.. if it wasn’t for you I would be slaving in swampland right now…or I’d be dead!” Evo laughed hoarsely

Haeil nodded softly and sighed, we talked some more but we kept away from the tender topic of the country, instead sending my mind swimming into the plans of the occupation of Morrowind, we needed to find Lock and if what Evo said was true, calling myself the Nerevarine openly could be dangerous to whoever was nearby…

With a chuckle Haeil stood up.
“It’s ironic Furan” he whispered, “You left Morrowind for adventure…it seems that she has been waiting for you.”
I nodded softly, turning my back toward the fire as the sound of Evo’s snores took over my dreams and my night.

This post has been edited by Fiach: Mar 19 2010, 10:35 PM