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

[haute ecole rider]

Tell me about school! Though it's been almost twenty-five years since college for me (and nearly twenty since I got my doctorate), I remember all too well how time consuming (as well as draining of one's creativity) it can be. I still have fragments of stories I started and never finished from those days. Ahh.

Anyway, this is good, again. I liked the characterization of the Bosmer here. You did well fleshing him out beyond the stereotypical Annoying Fan (I'm not as familiar with Morrowind, I think their version starts with an F - Fargoth?). I especially liked the comment about risking his children's futures for a "boat ride."

I did notice a few nits, nothing that detracts from the content, really, just slightly disrupts the flow while reading it:

I spat into the water and tried my best Vivec style accent. “Guar dung, I’ll pay fifteen drakes... I mean how dangerous can a boat ride be?” my voice croaked, as I heard the grunt of Evo trying not to laugh. The wood elf traded his suspicious look for one of surprise, “There’s daedra about Outlander, and I’m not risking my children’s futures for a ‘boat ride’”

Methinks a paragraph space would do well between the two bits of dialogue, since they are spoken by two different characters:

I spat into the water and tried my best Vivec style accent. “Guar dung, I’ll pay fifteen drakes... I mean how dangerous can a boat ride be?” my voice croaked, as I heard the grunt of Evo trying not to laugh.

The wood elf traded his suspicious look for one of surprise, “There’s daedra about Outlander, and I’m not risking my children’s futures for a ‘boat ride’”
When the dialogue is spoken by a different character, it is customary to put in a paragraph break between the two speakers, to make it clearer that someone else is now speaking.

“Thirty drakes” I said throwing the coins onto the boat before the captain could object. “If we get in any danger I’ll give you another twenty.”
The comma after drakes swam away. On the other hand, I loved this little bit of haggling!

“No short jokes Haeil” I muttered before the Tsaesci could open his mouth. “we don’t want this bosmer pissed.”Evo got onto the boat after us quietly.

"we . . ." should be capitalized since it follows a period in the previous clause: "We don't want . . ."; bosmer may need capitalization while wood elf necessarily doesn't; and the space following the closing quote also disappeared into the Sea of Ghosts. OTH, great sarcasm here ("No short jokes . . .").

I hope you don't mind my nits. I'm about making good writing great, and I think you've got what it takes to write a terrific and compelling story.