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

[Zelda_Zealot]

Pretty good, though I didn't read all of it (I was itching to respond, but I will go back and finish it in a second).

Just one thing, sometimes your discriptions will repeat themselves, or be rather bland. So instead of "Several people I saw had snow white hair: that was strange." Try something like. "Many of the residents had shockingly (Or "blindingly" if you prefer that) white hair, which was rather odd given the climate in which they lived."

While both might paint a picture of what you see in your mind, one is more extavagent and colorful, the other is basic and short. But sometimes basic and short is good, when you are writting a battle scene for instance, who would be taking note the color of the paint on the walls?

Aside from that, you are well on your way with this story. And seeing as I have never played this mod, I have no idea where you are going with it, and am thus much more interested in it (Also, one idea you could try is to add in a small quest, so as to add back story or something).

Sorry to drone on for so long, I will get back to reading it now.

EDIT: "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." I love that line . Loved the sarcasm as well, keep up those funny lines and this story will go a long way.

This post has been edited by Zelda_Zealot: Mar 29 2007, 05:12 PM

[blockhead]

Just one thing, sometimes your discriptions will repeat themselves, or be rather bland. So instead of "Several people I saw had snow white hair: that was strange." Try something like. "Many of the residents had shockingly (Or "blindingly" if you prefer that) white hair, which was rather odd given the climate in which they lived."

While both might paint a picture of what you see in your mind, one is more extavagent and colorful, the other is basic and short. But sometimes basic and short is good, when you are writting a battle scene for instance, who would be taking note the color of the paint on the walls?

I've caught myself repeating before. For me it's a problem ... I'm constantly having to watch for it. As for the blandness, that may work better for me: I find that the use of words ending in "ly" can cause more trouble than they are worth (for me anyway).

Replies like yours are why I wanted to post here. So I can learn and improve myself. Thank you.

Why would climate make white hair odd? Oh ... sun "bleaching" associated with tropical climates and/or summer. never mind

Thanks again for the detailed reply.

Aside from that, you are well on your way with this story. And seeing as I have never played this mod, I have no idea where you are going with it, and am thus much more interested in it (Also, one idea you could try is to add in a small quest, so as to add back story or something).

White Wolf Of Lokken Mountian is one of the best plugins ever. If you have Morrowind and the expansions, you should really try it. Emma writes NPCs with personality. You get attached to them. And Lokken has snow.

Again, a reminder (to all) that this story is a spoiler for the main quest of White Wolf Of Lokken Mountain.

Quests are coming. The back story appears in bits and pieces. You'll see.

EDIT: "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." I love that line . Loved the sarcasm as well, keep up those funny lines and this story will go a long way.

I like to put as much humor as I can into things, yet in such a way that it does not detract from the pacing/plot/action/whatever. It's a balancing act. Nice to know I've managed it so far.

This post has been edited by blockhead: Mar 29 2007, 11:43 PM