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

[Destri Melarg]

Vivec gone, Helseth dead, Black Marsh, shadowscales, Telvanni and a resistance. We are starting to get the lay of the land in these last few posts. You have a very nice, deceptively simple style that makes for enjoyable reading. Stating that the birds in flight were 'like warrior-poets' almost buried the needle on my bad simile meter, but you were able to cook your way out of it. So much so that by the end of the paragraph I was nodding my head in agreement! Well done.