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]

Up until now there have been two errors with point of view. Specifically, two sentences in two chapters were written in third person. The first one was done deliberately but since then I realized that it was lame so that has been changed to match the rest of the story. The second one was done completely by accident: I had no idea. That has been fixed as well.

Remember when I said that there was one more deliberate third-person sentence coming up? This is the chapter it's in. I hope it works.



--
7. Loss

"Laurenna. I have very good news, but brace yourself for a shock anyway".

"OK."

"The White Wolf is your brother. I spoke to him. He is recovering nicely."

"So that is why you asked me what color his eyes were before."

"Yes. I had a suspicion this morning but did not want to say anything to you until I was certain."

"I understand."

"Wulfren confirms that Ragnar killed your father. He was there when it happened and that is why the shaman transformed him into a wolf."

"Oh Rashelle, I just knew that Wulfren didn't kill our father. I knew that Wulfren was alive."

She paused. It continued to snow.

She then spoke again: "Oh my gods ... what if those poisoned arrows had killed him! Rashelle, You have saved my brothers life... I... I... oh words are not enough to tell you how grateful I am."

I waited. What could I say?

"I believe I have heard some rumors about those gauntlets in the village. You should ask around and someone may be able to give you a clue"

I nodded.

"Ages ago I think I've heard Lisendra mention Thorjans's gauntlets. She is a ... hrm ... witty girl who usually spends her time drinking mead or hunting boyfriends, I mean hunting with her boyfriends. She's usually in the main hall. It's the one who is laughing constantly"

I smiled at her use of "it's". Laurenna definitely did not approve of Lisendra any more than Lisendra did of her.

I was tempted to shed Lisendra in a better light by relating what had occurred the last time I saw her, but that would wait for a better time.

Laurenna continued: "Just take care of yourself, will you? And if you go off to find those gauntlets, please look after yourself! Please don't let anything happen to you!"

I flashed a smile and left.

Surprisingly, Lisendra was not in the main hall. I chatted briefly with the guys, obliquely inquiring about the warhammer and the gauntlets. No one had heard anything concrete about their whereabouts.

I was concerned over Lisendra's absence, especially in view of the state she had been in when I last left her. I left the main hall and walked in the falling snow to Lisendra's house.

I knocked on the door.

"Lisendra. It's Rashelle. Are you alive?"

She opened the door, "Hello there."

She waved me in and pointed to a chair. She sat on her bed.

"Thanks for taking care of me before. I'm sorry to put you through that. I didn't even know your name until you said it just now."

"It's OK. I was concerned when I didn't see you in the main hall just now. How are you feeling?"

"I'm much better now, Rashelle. I've sworn off the mead, and the hanging out at the main hall, at least for a few days. I need to collect my thoughts."

Good.

I very much wanted to ease her suffering by telling her the good news about Wulfren, but I didn't trust her to not accidently spill the beans to the wrong person. For Laurenna's sake, it would be best that no one in the town knew that Wulfren had been "found".

"Lisendra, I've heard rumors around town about a legendary set of gauntlets, called Thorjan's gauntlets. Do you know anything about them?"

"I'll tell you what I know, but it isn't much."

I nodded.

"There is a warhammer that is supposed to be very powerful, allowing a man to fight things he might not otherwise be able to fight. The drawback to this weapon is that it is exceptionally heavy. To work around this, the gauntlets of Thorjan were made. One must be wearing the gauntlets to use the warhammer. They have an enchantment that enables one to use the warhammer with ease."

I nodded. This is good. I had not spoken of the warhammer to Lisendra so her mention of it further verified what Wulfgar had told me.

"Have you ever met the hunters Gartheim and Ingemar? They are usually hunting in the area around Granny Torunn's cottage."

"No."

She described them.

Then she said; "Those two I have heard talking about the gauntlets, and also about a warhammer. You should talk to them."

"I will. Thank you Lisendra."

She nodded.

It took an hour to find them. Well, I actually only found one of them: Gartheim. I asked him about Thorjan's gauntlets.

"Ingemar I think would know about that", said Gartheim. "He rambles on about them all the time when we hunt. They are supposed to be in a secret cave, filled with evil creatures. He has often talked about how to overcome the creatures and get those gauntlets of incredible strength but I'm not sure he has the skills to do so himself."

I nodded.

"Alas, Ingemar isn't around. He went to explore a snow bear cave up near the northern coastline two days ago. I have not seen him since. I'm concerned about him. I suspect something has happened to him."

I looked questioningly at him.

"Well, you see, lass, those snow bears are nothing to mess with, especially one in its lair. We've hunted them but only outdoors and even then it is dangerous. Better to stick to smaller game. It would be very dangerous going in that cave. I warned him not to go."

"You know," I said, "I could go there and take a look for you."

"Would you? Great! I must admit that I'm really afraid to go to that cave. I believe that is the hideout for a female snow bear with cubs and such 'ladies' are extremely dangerous. Now, the cave is located at the north cape of Lokken island. The entrance is close to the mountain side. Good luck."

"North coast. Snow bear cave. I'm on it."

Through the swirling snowfall, I traveled. It was beautiful.

I found a cave in the approximate area. The odds were that it was the correct cave. Sword ready, moving silently, I entered.

Immediately the snow bear came at me. I darted to one side, slashing. Wicked claws smashed against my cuirass, doing no damage but knocking me to one side.

With a speed surprising for a creature its size, the bear came at me again. I rolled out of the way, stabbing. I darted away and the bear roared and turned to attack me again. This time I was ready and with a powerful thrust I finished the beast.

Why do these stupid animals always attack? I find no sport or thrill in hunting for its own sake but when attacked I defend myself. I would have been happy to nip into the cave, find Ingemar, and nip out again, leaving the snow bear alone.

I wiped Chrysamere clean and walked past the snow bear. I carefully continued to walk deeper into the cave. The cave went on for only a short while and ended.

I froze.

Here were two creatures that were not attacking me; two small snow bear cubs. Gartheim had mentioned cubs but that fact hadn't really registered with me until now. They looked up at me with such cute little innocent eyes.

And I had just killed their mother.

The Nerevarine, hero of Vvardenfell, Bloodskaal, Clan Friend of the Ashlanders, Chieftain Of Thirsk, Hortator of three Great Houses, a House Father of House Redoran and veteran of countless battles, collapsed to the floor and wept uncontrollably.