Rashelle At Lokken, WWOLM fanfic Options

[blockhead]

Around the end of February and the beginning of March I posted a short fan fiction on a small intimate forum and there were some positive responses. This story is being posted here on the chorrol forums as I am eager to see the responses from the larger fanfic-oriented crowd here. This seems to be where the "pros" of the Morrowind fanfic world congregate,

This will be posted this in sections, serialized as it was originally. It would be easy to just post the entire thing all at once but I thought it would be more fun not to.

This story is based on the main quest of Emma's "White Wolf Of Lokken Mountain" plugin. It contains spoilers.


Rashelle At Lokken
by Blockhead

1. Arrival, Tension

Snow. The ground covered with it. The trees white with it. The late afternoon sun reflecting off of it. The landscape was that of a magical wonderland. My adventures in Solstheim had not reduced my wonder at this phenomena. I had never seen snow where I grew up and there was certainly none in Vvardenfell.

Although I was the Nerevarine and an experienced adventurer, I arrived at Lokken gawking and gaping like a tourist at the Imperial City.

The Lokken leaflet had been in my pack for some time and I had finally decided to see what it was all about. I had no great desire to hunt animals merely for sport (as advertised) but I have always liked to explore new places.

My adamantium boots crunched on the snow as I stepped out from the boat.

"You had better talk to Ragnar Fire Hair before you do anything else, lass. Without his permission, you are not allowed to be here", admonished the boatman again.

Yeah, whatever.

I paused to look around some more. Ahead lay the village, the road ahead rising up towards the mountain. Up further, to the left, could be seen the castle, covered with snow and looking amazing, like a fairy land castle in some painting.

As I slowly walked up the road I tried to stop and chat with some people but they all seemed preoccupied ... no ... afraid. At first I thought it was me, all decked out in my ebony cuirass, dark brotherhood greaves, adamantium boots, and the sword Chrysamere on my back. That and my bare arms making me look more a barbarian than a spell-sword could perhaps be intimidating. I suppose also my coal-black eyes and coal-black hair (an odd color for a Breton) marking me as Not A Nord did not put anyone at ease.

Several people had white hair. It was not the usual blond that Nords tend to, nor a light gray. It was a bright white, like snow. I had only seen such a pure white on the fur of snow bears and other animals. Something in the water perhaps?

A woman who did not have white hair (it was brown) was little friendlier. When I approached her she said "Hello there. Your face doesn't look familiar to me. I'm Silja. Welcome to Lokken. Don't expect to find much here, though. This is a poor village. Since we are not allowed to hunt in the forests anymore, it's hard for us to get by. I assume you have been invited by our chieftain, Ragnar Fire Hair, and that you have his permission to hunt? If not, you had better stay away from the Lokken wildlife."

I thanked her and walked up the road a little further before a guard named Gudmund also told me that it was very important that I see Ragnar Fire Hair first.

"I will, but first could you direct me to a trader or general store? I may need some warmer clothing."

That generated a smile and some directions the Lokken Clothier. I actually did not need the clothing. Despite my origin in warmer climes, I have an unusual tolerance, actually an affinity, for cold weather. What I was wearing now was comfortable and the only concession to cold I had was a sleeping fur in my pack. Still I had broken the ice a little bit. That was progress. It also gave me an excuse to try to talk to at least one more person before heading for the castle.

I walked into the clothing shop. I briefly talked with the woman there, Anna. She was also nervous like the people outside but gave away some more information. The people here were in fear, but from one of their own, not from me. Apparently this Ragnar Fire Hair, their new chieftain, was not liked and was a not a nice person. He had some men loyal to him and a shaman. They were also feared.

Thanking her I left and continued to the castle, stopping only once more, at the brewery. I had been in many a bar and tavern but never in a brewery and I was curious. There were big metal vats and kettles. It was rather complicated looking and awe inspiring in the manner of certain Dwemer ruins. By that I mean I had no idea how it worked.

Some chitchat there with Borka, and his wife Gwenn, yielded more information: the people who actually lived in Lokken were not allowed to drink the mead, or at least not much of it. It was reserved for Ragnar Fire Hair and for his guests. What little they were allowed was at three times the price that guests paid. I was beginning to dislike this Ragnar and I had not even met him yet.

Thus forewarned, I approached and entered the castle.

I entered an anteroom of sorts. A guard was there. He said nothing but pointed to the door on the opposite side of the room. I nodded and went to the door.

I entered the throne room. There were animal pelts on the floor and tapestries on the walls to warm up the cold stone room and to provide an ambiance conducive to the hunting enthusiast. There was a bar on the left.

A bar in a throne room: that's not something I've seen before. Convenient I suppose if one were more concerned with entertaining than the usual duties of ruling. There were four guards; one on either side of the door I had just entered and two closer to the throne at the far end of the room.

The throne was on a raised section of the floor and on it sat a large mean-looking Nord with red hair who could only be Ragnar Fire Hair.

To his right stood a man in dark robes who had to be his shaman.

My boot steps were the only sound as I approached the throne. I presented the leaflet to Ragnar.

He tossed the leaflet aside and spoke: "Who the oblivion are you? You have no business being here uninvited and I'm sure I didn't invite you."

He paused and studied me. I stared back at him. I'm sure my eyes now had the hardness of obsidian as well as the color. I adjusted the angle of the sheath on my back.

He looked tough. And huge. A great bull of a man, and Nords are already kind of big. I wouldn't want to fight him, at least not alone.

"Well, you look like you can handle yourself in the wild. There is one way that perhaps you can be allowed in the forests."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I want you to hunt and kill a certain wolf. This is no ordinary wolf. It's larger than the regular snow wolves, though it is white like they are. It has unnatural blue eyes. My men and I have pursued it on numerous occasions and it has always gotten away."

"That's not something you see every day," I quipped. Oh Rashelle, you must stop this business of talking without thinking!

"Exactly. it is obviously not natural, not of the All-Maker. It is a daedra-spawn, an abomination, a menace that must be killed for the safety of my people," he said, not picking up on my sarcasm.

I nodded, not trusting myself to not again say something wrong, and to also buy myself a second or two of time to think of an appropriate response.

This man mentioning the All Maker rubbed me the wrong way: after my adventures amongst the Skaal I had some respect for their beliefs. I somehow knew that Ragnar had no right to call on their All Maker.

"So, oh chieftain of Lokken, so long as I Quest for this White Wolf, I am permitted in the forests of your island?"

"Aye, with my blessing. Bring me his head there will be a reward."

"I shall begin at once. First I will question the guards and villagers as to sightings."

"Excellent" he said, waving me away, obviously tired of talking to me now that I had agreed to his business.

I definitely did not like this man.

As I turned away I got a better look at his shaman and I liked him even less. My magical sensitivity picked up on an evil from him that I had previously only sensed from Sixth House minions. I tried not to display my feelings: a shaman is very sensitive and notices many things. Around him it would be best to appear to be a simple non-magical warrior and not a spellsword.

I strode away from the the throne. Before I took more than a few paces I could see that the woman at the bar was trying to get my attention with her eyes.

I sauntered over to the bar. Might not be a bad idea to get a mazte anyway. I cannot not stand mead. I love snow, but the Nords can keep their mead.

"I'm Kielreen"

"Rashelle. Got any mazte?"

"Yup".

"Please".

She poured me a mazte and started to speak very quietly. Not a whisper. That would have attracted attention, but she obviously wanted only me to hear.

"he's asked you about the big white wolf, wants you to kill it, right?"

I paid and took a sip before replying.

"Yes."

"Don't. There is something strange about the creature."

I took another sip.

"Things are not as they seem in Lokken."

That much was already obvious.

"Talk to my aunt Gwenn at the brewery."

I had just been there. Maybe mentioning Kielreen would get Gwenn to say more than she had the first time. I nodded ever so slightly. Picking up my drink, I walked to one of the one of Ragnars guards.

He at first did not want to speak but I can be charming when I want to be. I asked him about the white wolf and any sightings of it. This did not yield any new information but would go back to Ragnar and would keep him complacent about my activities. I had already decided that I was not going to kill this mysterious white wolf.

After talking to the the other guards I finished my mazte, left the mug on the bar and exited the castle. It had begun to snow. I caught some flakes in the palm of my hand and watched them melt.

This post has been edited by blockhead: Mar 30 2007, 11:41 PM

[blockhead]

4. Test

Laurenna explained the situation to me as we stood in the falling snow, she with the lantern so that her mother could see her.

"Ragnar threw me out of the castle because he thinks that it is my fault that Mother refuses to marry him. What nonsense."

She continued; "Mother won't marry him because he's a murdering swine. She and I know that he killed my father but we can't prove it."

She told me that she used to see the wolf quite often until a week ago. It seemed to visit Laurenna every day, as if it had a particular interest in her welfare.

"I fear that Ragnar's hunters have wounded the wolf with their poison arrows as they have claimed. Oh I wish I could look for him but I have to stay here. My mother would become frantic if she didn't see me here."

"Laurenna, you can't ever not stand here?"

"I stop to sleep at night. And I stop for meals and to get food & supplies, but only at certain times. I have to keep on a regular schedule. If I break it, she'll think something has happened to me. She might give in and marry Ragnar. She can't do that! I can't stop."

"Very well, I will start looking right now."

"Wait", she said, "You won't find anything in this snow now. In about an hour I'll be done. Wait with me for now and then later come in and we can eat."

That made sense. Also I suspected she was just craving company. The lifestyle of a hermit does not agree with everyone.

We stood there for the hour, talking. Laurenna told me of her life and her experiences growing up. I told her much about myself. It was as if we were old friends catching up, rather than two people who had just met.

Laurenna showed me the window in the tower where her mother was imprisoned. I could not really see in the window at this distance: Laurenna's eyes were sharper than mine. Perhaps in clearer weather I would see better.

Then she was done.

Just before I went inside I cast a Mark spell near the cottage, yet not in line of site of the castle. I suspected this would be the center of operations for the next few days.

We ate and then she trimmed my new hair style a bit neater. She said I could sleep here and pointed to a corner where I could place my sleeping fur.

We breakfasted at dawn.

"Rashelle, I have had an idea. My old friend Fjorngrin may know of the wolf's whereabouts. At least he can help you with the search. He lives in a house in the wilderness, away from the village. He's not very talkative and is rather suspicious of strangers, even more so than I am."

"I'm not cutting my arm off just to talk with him."

She laughed.

"I know an easier way to gain his trust. Years ago on a hunting trip, my father approached a frost boar that he thought he had just killed with a spear. Turns out the beast was not dead and it upped and gored him in the butt."

She smiled and chuckled, temporarily back in happier days.

"He was OK afterwards. For years after, all anyone had to say to make any of us laugh was 'frost boar tusk in the butt.'"

"So I tell him 'frost boar tusk in the butt' and he will know that you sent me?"

She nodded.

She gave me directions and we were off: she to her vigil and I to Fjorngrin's place. It was sunny now: the snow had stopped sometime during the night. The landscape was just incredible. Of course something attacked me but it was nothing I wasn't used to from my time in Solstheim. Soon I reached Fjorngrin's house.

I knocked on the door and a man answered. From the bloodshot eyes and the general unhealthy look I could tell that he had been drinking the night before. Looking past him I could see the place was a bit of a mess.

"Are you Fjorngrin?"

He winced.

"Aye, but can you not speak so loud?"

"I'm Rashelle. Laurenna sent me. May I come in?"

He let me in and waved me to a chair. He pulled up a crate.

"So what can I do for you?"

"I need to find the big white wolf with the blue eyes."

"Do you now?" he said in a wary tone.

I nodded.

"So how do I know that Laurenna really sent you?"

"Laurenna says 'frost boar tusk in the butt.'"

He smiled and chuckled.

"I guess she did."

I waited.

"But that's not enough. She may trust you and that's got some weight to it but I don't trust you."

I looked down at the floor and put my hands on the back of my head. I'd now have to do some stupid quest. Maybe find some Dwemer tubes, or fetch him a Telvanni bride, or maybe get him some muck! No, it would be pillows. pillows? Pillows! I almost started to giggle. Focus Rashelle. Focus.

I took a breath and forced some calm.

I released the breath, looked up again and said, "What would you have me do to convince you?"

"Yesterday I was guiding this silly Imperial, one of Ragnar's 'guests'. He was exclaiming his prowess at hunting though it was obvious to me he had never done it before. He wore a fur hat that had been dyed a ridiculous bright yellow. Still, he paid well and I guided him through the woods for some time. Oddly enough we did not run into any animals. That's just as well considering his lack of experience. He was a city-born idiot but we were getting along well so I invited him here for supper. Then we got to drinking."

I nodded. As noted before, the less I speak, the more other people speak.

"I eventually passed out. Well, near as I can tell he sneaked out in the middle of the night, taking with him my long bow and my snow bear trophy. The trophy is a snow bear head stuffed and mounted on a wooden plaque. I assume he wants to take them back to Cyrodiil and convince everyone there that he actually went hunting and killed something.

"Rashelle, find him. Get my bow. Get the plaque as well if you can but the bow is more important. Do this and then we can talk. With that silly bright yellow hat he should be easy to find."

I stood up.

"Right. I'm on it."

After walking out of the house, I looked for tracks in the snow. I could see my tracks clearly, as they had been made just a few moments ago. The Imperial's tracks would have been made while it was still snowing so would be partially covered up.

Then I saw them. Heading west. I followed.

I was feeling anger. I was not angry at Fjorngrin for giving me this task. I was angry at the Imperial thief. Now I've done some thieving in my time; I was starving and had to. The Imperial was pilfering just to build up a lie of his own hunting prowess. That is what bothered me. Also, when Fjorngrin invited the Imperial into his home it was a trust. To then steal from Fjorngrin was a betrayal of that trust.

If this "silly Imperial" was as ineffectual as Fjorngrin had said, he would not have gone very far so I would find him soon. The tracks faded in and out, as the wind had piled up the snow into drifts here and there.

Here I could see where he started running. Two sets of tracks that were probably wolves joined his tracks.

Very soon I found the Imperial. I was surprised to find him alive. He was standing on a large rock outcrop, being menaced by two wolves who could not climb the rock. I dispatched them and called him down. He had the bow but not the snow bear plaque.

He climbed down and started to say "Oh, thank you, I ... "

"Shut up."

He gaped.

"Give me the bow."

"I was only ... "

"Shut up."

He gave me the bow.

I handed him an Almsivi Intervention potion: I had no intention of escorting him out of here myself.

"This will take you to the Dunmer Temple in Gnisis. Use it now."

"Dunmer? Ewww. Those stupid weird savages."

So he was a bigot as well as thief. People like him were the reason the Dunmer hated outlanders so much. It took all of my willpower not to deck the s'wit. I'm sure I was trembling with rage.

"Respect the Dunmer, sera!" I hissed. "Have you lived with the Ashlanders? Have you taken the pilgrimage of the Seven Graces? Speak not of what you know nothing!"

He looked like he was going to say more. I cracked my knuckles. My eyes dared him to speak.

"Take the potion now, Outlander, while you still can."

He drank it and was gone.

I took a few breaths to calm myself down.

I had just called someone an outlander. I had never done that before. I had always been the outlander. What had just happened?

I found the snow bear head plaque on the way back to Fjorngrin's place.

When I returned, he saw what I was holding and said "Ahhh Rashelle, you've brought my bow and also the plaque. Thank you."

I sat down on a crate.

"Was the Imperial still alive when you found him?", he asked.

"Surprisingly, yes. I gave the s'wit an Intervention potion and he's now on his way back home."

"Rashelle, while you were gone I have been thinking. When Wulfgar was still alive, Snorri was his shaman. He may not have been the most able of shamen but he is a good man. When Ragnar took over, Snorri left the castle. He told me he was afraid of Ragnar's shaman."

"With good reason," I interrupted.

He raised an eyebrow. Wait a minute ... wasn't I supposed to do that?

I continued. "I have some training and ... sensitivities ... in the areas of magic. That man radiates dark magic. He's evil. And he has power. He is dangerous. I'm sorry to interrupt. Please go on."

"Well," he continued, "Snorri and I still stay in touch from time to time. He now lives in the unfrozen eastern area of Lokken island."

I raised an eyebrow. That's better.

"It hardly snows there for some reason. At any rate, he has a hideout there someplace. I have not seen it myself but Snorri has mentioned that it is a cave and that the entrance is very well hidden between two stone blocks."

I nodded.

"Like myself, and like Laurenna, Snorri won't trust you. I have no ideas on getting though to him. Perhaps Laurenna can think of something. I think you should talk to her."

I nodded. That made sense. I rose to leave.

"Rashelle?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you doing this?"

I looked away.

"I swore a vow."

He remained silent. I had not answered his question.

"I want to remove the evil in the castle. That shaman radiates a cloud of black evil and Ragnar Fire Hair is a thug. Wulfren is the rightful chieftain. Somehow the white wolf is the key to this matter."

Everything I said was true, yet he remained silent.

I looked him straight in the eyes.

"I do this for Laurenna."

He nodded.

I left.