A Short Story By Kiln The Wanderer, First Fan Fiction...be gentle... Options

[Kiln]

This is my first Fan fiction and if anyone likes it I will add to it as time passes.


In all my adventures around Morrowind I never felt so sad as when I found a body in an ancestral tomb journal in hand. As I look at the door upon entering it was obvious that this door could only be opened from the outside and this poor adventurer had been trapped inside. I picked up the journal and read the last entry to understand what exactly had happened to this adventurer.

"I write to you for possibly the final time as I carve my final Epitaph in this wall and write my final journal entry. To know me entirely would take a lifetime. I'm not well known even in my end and likely will never be recognized for all of the great deeds I have done the great island of Morrowind. Many have never heard my name or of my accomplishments and likely never will. My greed and lust for money has led me to my end and left my task unfulfilled. In this journal I have kept entries of my accomplishments in their entirity."

I sat down gently laying my sword beside me and flipped to the front of the journal to read how he had gotten here and what had happened to him and this is what it said,

"Today I awoke from my sleep to a strange dream. The dream was not bad but I have forgotten most of it but one thing I can remember was the soft voice of a woman. You have been chosen, fear not for I am watchful." Probably a side effect of the awful drink I had been given by the guards. Oh yes I've yet to explain that I am on an Imperial prison ship. The reason is unknown to me for I have suffered a loss of almost all of my memory previous to my time on the ship. I was not the only prisoner on the ship though, there was also a strange man with pale blue skin named Jiub. His voice was deep and piercing though he was always nice and friendly. I feel sick as the boat sways in the water, it is clear that we have run into a storm on our way to our destination."

As I read the first entry in the man's journal I felt sorry for him already. He had no clue about his past. That is a horrible way to live. I knew this wasn't a safe place to continue reading so I took the journal but left all of his personal belongings on his body. I wasn't one to rob from the dead...well I was robbing an ancestral tomb so I guess that's a lie, but I still don't want to rob this particular man. I had a recall spell set to the Eight Plates in Balmora so with a movement of my hands and whispering the correct words I was lifted into darkness and appeared in the Pub.

[Kiln]

Yup the short story is pretty much out the window...
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It seemed as if he had just fallen asleep and it was morning roll call already. They called everyones name and woke them up for breakfast. The guards that woke him this morning gave him a wicked grin and wished him luck in the fight today.

How had he forgotten? He was to fight a guard today during afternoon exercise.
The officers who would likely disagree with holding the fight were taken out for a nice dinner at Balmora so they wouldn't find out about any of it.

Breakfast was the same every day and the taste got old quickly but at least it started to taste better. All through his meal he thought of how he would beat the brute of a man but it would be impossible to see his strategy until the actual fight.

He was taken from his cell a few minutes after eating breakfast.

"The man you will fight today has been allowed to practice with a sword and he wished for us to allow you to do the same." a guard told him

"Thank you." Kiln said relieved

"Don't thank me...thank the man that'll be killin ya later." The man laughed

Kiln didn't find it funny because it could be the cold reality setting in. He didn't know how his opponent would fight and he was pretty afraid to lose his own life.

He entered the courtyard where a few dummies filled with hay were hanging. He felt dumb practicing blocking and jabbing with a straw figure but anything to hone his skills before the fight.

He practiced letting an imaginary blade slide off his chestplate by quickly lifting his right arm out of the way and turning his chest away from the blade. He hoped that using this in actual combat would confuse and intimidate his opponent. After grueling practice he was sent back inside for possibly his final meal.
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I think I just found a way to make the story short...