Printable Version of Topic

Posted by: bbqplatypus Jul 29 2008, 08:20 PM

Author's Note, Five Years Later:

So yeah. This is a story I wrote quite some time ago about an idea that had long percolated in my head - what happened to the Nerevarine that caused him to bugger off between Morrowind and Oblivion. Not an inherently bad idea for a story - in fact, I still think it could make a pretty good one. This is not that story. In fact, looking back on it now, it's hard for me to imagine any sensible reaction to it other than OHMYGOD THIS IS SO FRUCKING FUCKBAD. Of course, everyone who's ever tried writing started out by writing ten thousand pages of crap. This right here constitutes five of my ten thousand.

I'm not gonna delete it - I'll leave it up, mostly because this forum doesn't seem to allow me to delete topics. But if you've come here by browsing the forums or through some random Google search, please hit the back button immediately and save yourself some time. This story isn't worth yours.






An Account of the Events of the Interim of Grignr the Nerevarine, Between the Fulfillment of the Bloodmoon Prophecy and His Departure to Akavir

Being An Anonymous Account Discovered, Compiled, and Edited by Bereditte Jastal


Editor’s Note: The non-academic nature of this account (its authorship is uncertain, and it is clearly written in prose form, with considerably more detail than one would expect from a typical “journal” or even a memoir) makes it a tome of questionable historical accuracy. The Nerevarine as portrayed in this account – a Nordic male named Grignr Star-Mane, married to an Imperial Legionnaire named Imsin the Dreamer, is b- [a blurry food stain blots out the next few words]-sistent with the details of Hasphat Antabolis’s authoritative (though not universally accepted) account, The Life and Times of the Nerevarine, which [Another food stain, this one with the general texture and coloration of kwama cuttle]

It should be noted that Antabolis’s account of the “interim” period (detailed in Volume IV) is rather sketchy compared to the immaculately detailed chronology of the first three volumes. Many of the events related in this text are [The rest of the page has been torn out, presumably used as a napkin].


Chapter I

The air was warm, heavy, and perplexing, draped like a thick, wet blanket upon the shoulders of the harsh, rocky coastline west of Gnisis. The dark, bloated clouds in the sky grew fat as they slowly drew in the oppressive moisture, accumulating and converging as one. A storm was coming, and we were miles away from cover.

We were one of several detachments that I myself had sent to seek out and clear smugglers caves along the coast of Vvardenfell. This particular group was assigned to investigate the drainage basin of the River Samsi (wherein many underground streams flowed). I led at my own insistence. As Hortator and Knight of the Imperial Dragon, no one dared to argue with me.

“Tread carefully, men,” I called back to the twelve Redoran soldiers who trudged miserably behind me. “We’re a long walk from Gnisis, and we only have so many Intervention scrolls to go around. We don’t want to have to carry anybody back to the Temple.”

“Understood, muthsera,” grunted Tedril Doren, the acting second-in-command of the detachment. His voice carried a ragged and weary tone to it – for he, like the rest of the men, had been marching now for several hours - in full bonemold armor - with very little rest. Even I was starting to feel a bit tired – enchanted armor can only do so much.

“We’ll keep marching until nightfall,” I said, turning my head toward the lieutenant, “and then we’ll head on home.”

The soldiers behind me grumbled a bit, but I could tell they were fairly content with knowing that the march would at least end sometime. For now, though, we would continue to plow ahead.

After a couple minutes of marching, Doren hastened his gait to move abreast with me. “May I speak with you privately for a moment, sera?” he inquired in a low voice.

“Fire away,” I replied quietly.

“Are all these men really necessary? Could you not have conducted this raid by yourself, sera? It seems an awful lot of trouble for us to have to go through.”

“You can never be too careful, Doren. We might catch them in the middle of restocking. Not to mention the amount of contraband we already have to carry back.”

I could tell that inwardly, we both knew the pointlessness of this mission. Even if we were to kill or arrest every man and mer in every cave, hideout, and abandoned fortress in the entire province, there would always be others to replace them. The drug trade is a horrid, unkillable beast, and we were both well aware of it. But I knew better than he did – I knew how to stop it.

It was all a matter of bribing the right person: Orvas Dren. If I could convince Orvas Dren to tell me the names and locations of the major members and safehouses of the Camonna Tong (an organization that I controlled in theory, but not in practice), I could send the full fury of the Dunmer and Imperial military after them, setting the drug trade back months – maybe even years. It only required the right application of bribery, blackmail, or brute force.

But I dared not do such a thing. It would shatter the uneasy peace I had forged with my fellow Hlaalu councilmen (most of whom I didn’t trust as it was), and would put myself, my family, and many of the people I had sworn to protect in danger. And so here we were, scrounging and combing through the caves of Vvardenfell, fighting a war that could not be won.

We marched silently for a minute or two. We were sloshing through the water to skirt a small cliff face when a voice suddenly emerged from the rear of the ranks.

“Come look, sera!” one of the soldiers exclaimed. “I think I see an opening! It’s…submerged, but there’s a door there.”

The rest of us doubled back to see what he had found. Sure enough, there was a weather-beaten, half-rotted door nestled into a small indentation in the cliff face.

“Yes, that’s a cave, alright,” I said. “And from the looks of it, there are or have been people in it. Doren, have one of your boys dive down and check it out.”

“Yes, sera.” He turned to a subordinate. “Arinith, I hope you can swim.”

“I can, sera,” the soldier answered. He dove into the frigid water, nudged the door open, and ducked under the low ceiling into the cave.

We waited what felt like an eternity for him to return. We waited for two minutes…three minutes…four minutes. Finally, after about half an hour, Doren spoke. “I do not know what is taking Arinith so long, but I think we should assume the worst.”

“I agree,” I said grimly. “Which is why I’m going in. I want you and everyone here who can swim to follow me.”

“We’ll be right behind you.”

I dove in and entered the cave.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Jul 29 2008, 10:11 PM

I surfaced as silently and carefully as I could, as my men emerged quietly behind me. I found myself in a shallow pool of dank, warmish water that smelled vaguely of sewage – likely the refuse of the inhabitants of this very cave. I struggled to peer over the edge of the water, but a foul, brackish mist burned my eyes and clouded my vision. I squinted and tilted my head upward.

We were in a stiflingly narrow, low-ceilinged passage – practically a crawlspace. Beams of flickering torchlight shone from the end of the tunnel, which opened into a large chamber. I could not see very far beyond the threshold, however – a wooden staircase, leading to an unseen area directly above us, obscured my vision.

I squinted harder, straining my neck and my eyes to see through the openings, but I could see no farther. As I waded closer to the end of the passageway, however, visibility began to improve. The water carried a faint tinge of red - a trail of crimson drifting lazily along the surface. My eyes followed the hazy trail to its point of origin. There, near the center of the chamber, lay Arinith's body, broken and unmistakably dead.

Damn. One dead already and the battle hadn't even begun.

Whoever had killed Arinith was inside that chamber – there could be no doubt. What’s more, he (or she) knew we were coming, and had probably already alerted his friends. This was no time for rash, foolish aggressiveness – it was imperative that we be as cautious as possible. I focused my keen and sharpened senses upon the area around me. A kind of deep, innate magic reverberated within me and throughout the cave. I felt aware - one with everything that lived and moved around me, while remaining aware of myself in relation to it all. I felt at least three other living creatures within the chamber. I could sense that at least one of them carried an item imbued with a powerful enchantment.

I signaled the archers to move abreast of me and aim up toward the platform behind us (in case there was a marksman perched there) while the rest followed behind us. We approached the opening, weapons drawn and at the ready.

No sooner had I emerged from the tunnel than I was spotted. I saw him at the same time he saw me – a short, scrawny Bosmer in tattered chainmail, practically dragging a massive steel claymore alongside him. The sword looked bigger than he was.

“Intruder!” he shrieked, as he rushed at me with his sword raised awkwardly above his head. He let out a shrill war cry as he charged head-on into certain death.

I prepared myself to deflect his wild blow. Could this pitiful specimen of a mer REALLY have killed a battle-hardened veteran of House Redoran? I couldn’t believe he could survive more than five seconds, unless he somehow managed to sneak up from –

“Behind you, sera!” Doren shouted. I turned my head and saw an Imperial standing on a platform above me, his longbow primed and ready to fire. But that wasn’t what concerned me. For there was another enemy approaching from the top of the staircase: a tall, muscular dark elf clad in a full suit of ebony armor and wielding an enchanted longsword. A scar ran down the length of his face through his right eye. This was a mer who had seen many battles. He wore a look of grim determination as he took off down the staircase with his sword raised.

In a single motion, I raised my shield, pivoting to face the two threats to my rear, and swung my blade to parry the wild blow of the charging Bosmer. The ill-delivered strike was deflected with a loud CLANG! Meanwhile, the Imperial’s arrow missed, striking the Bosmer instead (who let out a piercing, agonized shriek). Unfortunately, my shield failed to connect with the Dunmer’s glimmering ebony blade. The blow swept across the top of my helmet, knocking it backward. Bolts of magical lightning singed the hair on my neck and burned my scalp.

I pinned the wounded Bosmer’s oversized claymore to the ground with my left boot and plunged the scythe-like tip of Trueflame into the wood elf’s heart, killing him instantly. Then I pirouetted to face my other attacker, extending my sword just in time to deflect a potential death blow.

As I continued to defend myself, the archers moved into position to take out the Imperial. They made quick work of him turning him into a human pincushion. There was only one enemy left now. Still, that wouldn’t be the case for long – I heard footsteps coming from another passage behind me. The other smugglers must have heard us. My men moved forward to counter the threat as the Dunmer and I continued to do battle.

We dueled back and forth across the staircase, each of us holding one important advantage over the other – I was the better swordsman, while he held the high ground. Neither of us, however, seemed able to gain the upper hand – until a well-timed thrust to the upper body threw him off balance, causing him to stumble. I pounced at him, taking a step forward as I prepared to deliver the killing blow…only to slip on the wet, oily staircase beneath my feet. I fell backward, down the staircase and into the shallow water below, landing directly on my now unprotected head.

The world around me went dark as my mind began to drift…

Posted by: minque Jul 29 2008, 10:14 PM

ohhh....nice! This will be an interesting story to follow! A very good start mind you BBQ!

Posted by: bbqplatypus Jul 30 2008, 12:57 AM

Chapter II

I can remember only fragments of what went through my head while I was unconscious. They were not so much visions or dreams as they were the rattlings of vague memories, from my life and from many lives previous. I am not even sure if all of the things I remembered actually happened. Nevertheless, I witnessed many lifetimes worth of events in those few moments. I watched Akulakhan tumble into the heart of Red Mountain. I fought beside the mortal Vehk in battle, slaying Nords by the dozen. I died countless times in many different ways, both peaceful and violent. But the memory I remember most vividly – the one that resonated with me the most – was also one of the simplest and most mundane of the lot: a conversation between me and my wife, Imsin the Dreamer.

We had not yet become intimate at the time – she was, after all, my superior officer. At the time, I was a young, fast-rising Knight Errant under the command of Radd Hard-Heart. But I had served under her before, and was now stopping by Fort Buckmoth on my way back from a mission to kill a mad wizard in Dagon Fel.

I knew exactly where to find her. I entered the main hall of the fort interior and turned right, heading down the stairs to the foyer. The room was bustling with activity – the blacksmith was hammering away at a broadsword, as various cult members, enlisted men, and NCO’s milled about. I slowly made my way through the crowd and proceeded toward a small, sturdy wooden door near the back of the room. Two guards stood beside it. I approached and addressed the one on the right, a balding Imperial wearing the uniform and insignia of a Trooper.

I cleared my throat and addressed him. “Excuse me, soldier, I’d like to speak with your commanding officer.”

“She can’t see anyone right now, sir. She’s busy writing her monthly report for the Legion brass in Cyrodil. Sorry, but we have orders not to let anyone in.”

“Well, it’s, ah…somewhat pressing business, I’m afraid. Not completely urgent, but it’ll only take about a minute.”

“Well…” the guard pondered it for a moment. “I’ll have to bring this up with Knight Imsin.” He opened the door and stepped inside. Quite frankly, I was surprised he even considered disobeying a direct order like this. I rather suspected that it had something to do with the enchanted masque I had taken from the mad wizard.

The room was relatively small for a fort commander’s office – only about a third the size of the foyer I was standing in. I could see her desk tucked into a corner of the grey stone room. The fireplace crackled and glowed on the side opposite her desk. She looked up from her work at the now-open door.

“Someone here to see you, ma’am,” the guard called out.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to be interrupted,” she snapped. Then, in a marginally less acidic tone, “Who is it?”

I realized that I had failed to give my name to the guard. I removed the masque and put one foot into the door. “Knight Grignr Star-Mane, ma’am, of the Fort Moonmoth garrison.”

Her expression softened. “Hmm. I suppose I can spare a few moments. Come on in.”

The guards parted to make way for me. I entered the room, saluted, and closed the door behind me.

She returned my salute. “Welcome, Grignr. It’s been only about…a couple months, hasn’t it? I’ve been hearing much about your meteoric rise through the enlisted ranks. You’re becoming quite the soldier, aren’t you?” She smiled at me.

“I…do my best, ma’am,” I replied, rather sheepishly.

“Every soldier worth his salt gives his best for the Empire, Knight Errant,” she said. “It takes a special talent – and a decent amount of luck – to be recognized for it. Now, then, what business is it that you wish to discuss?”

I cleared my throat and answered. “Just simple accommodations, ma’am. I need a place to rest before I head back to Fort Moonmoth, and I would like to know whether any bunks are available for the night.”

“Well, you’re certainly welcome to bunk here. We should have several beds available. Let me check the Quartermaster’s Report…” She rummaged through the stack of loose parchments that lie on her desk. “Well, it looks as though we have enough room, and enough beds. I’ll get a few of the men to set something up for you. I hope you don’t mind sleeping with the enlisted men.”

“Not at all. Thank you, ma’am.”

“No need to thank me. You’re welcome to bunk here whenever your duties require it.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

I started to turn to leave the room when she interrupted me. “Oh, and while you’re still here, soldier, there’s something rather personal I’d like to ask you, if you don’t mind. May I ask it?”

“Hmm…I suppose I wouldn’t mind too much,” I replied after a brief silence. It wasn’t as though I had any pressing or embarrassing secrets to keep from the Empire.

“Good.” She smiled briefly, and then looked me straight in the eye. “Now, I want you to tell me honestly, one Knight to another…”

I stood stiffly, nervously anticipating the question she was about to ask.

“…how do you feel about being promoted so quickly?”

I was somewhat taken aback. This wasn’t the sort of question I was expecting. “How do I feel about it?”

“Yes. Are you comfortable with it? Do you feel it was right to make you a commissioned officer after a little less than two years? Are you worried about what the other men might think about your swift and relatively painless ascent to the officer’s quarters? How do you feel about it?” She stared piercingly at me, awaiting my response.

“Well, uh…” I mumbled as my mind grasped frantically for the right words. “I…can’t say I don’t like being an officer. I mean, I find commanding and coordinating squads on patrol to be more rewarding than standing still outside a door for hours on end.

“Still…I did notice that I was given active beat duty and special assignments more often than the other men. I did ask General Darius why that was, and he said it was because I was one of his best and most promising young soldiers. The other soldiers didn’t complain much…well, not to my face, anyway. Some of them were more than a little resentful, though. I tried to ignore them, and assuage their bitterness by being the best and most trustworthy leader I could be. This certainly helped for the men I was assigned to lead, but for the others it was a bit more…difficult.

“I think that resentment has a lot to do with my being transferred to other posts so frequently. The fort commanders aren’t sure what to do with me, and they don’t want to spread discontent among their own men, so they ship me off elsewhere. So life in the Legion has been a bit less…stable than I was expecting. Still, I fully believe that I’ve earned everything the Legion has given me. Does that answer your question?”

Imsin, who had been listening patiently and attentively as I spoke, considered my words thoughtfully for a moment. “You say that you feel you deserve to bear an officer’s rank. But are you ready to bear an officer’s burden?”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“The duty to their men, to their garrison weighs heavily upon every good officer. You’ve proven to me that you are excellent at following orders from your superiors, and you certainly know how to handle a sword…” She paused for effect. “…but can you fulfill your responsibility as a leader of men?”

“Yes, I believe I can, ma’am. I know I can,” I said firmly and with conviction.

“Then you must always be mindful of the soldiers under your command, for they are the greatest asset at your disposal. They are more important than your career, your rank, and even your life. As an officer, you must know their strengths and their weaknesses. You must gain their trust and respect. Most of all, you must be prepared to fight as one cohesive unit. In my experience, men who are promoted too quickly tend to be poor leaders no matter HOW good they are at fighting. And you’ve been promoted VERY quickly. No offense.”

“None taken, ma’am.”

She put one hand on my shoulder. “Good. Because I’m only telling you this because I like you. You must always remember that a good officer must take his responsibilities more seriously than his privileges. You’re a good soldier, Grignr. I know you will do your duty.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re free to go,” she said, “unless there’s something else you want to ask me.”

“Well, actually, I was going to ask for some archery training from the master-at-arms, but I see you’re rather busy at the moment.”

“True. It’s not like it’ll take me all night, though.” She smiled. “Meet me at the archery range at dawn tomorrow. I’ll give you a few pointers.”

I believe it was at that very moment – the simple promise of archery lessons – that I knew I was destined to be with her; that she was the love of my life. Or would be, as it were. It wasn’t so much concrete knowledge as it was intuitive – a fuzzy, vague…

…dull, throbbing pain that got clearer and more excruciating by the second. Then a cool, soothing liquid touching my lips…a slowly solidifying gray blur in front of my eyes…a familiar voice…

“Grignr! Lord Grignr! Are you alright, sera? Wake up!”

My vision (and my head) gradually began to clear. I could see Tedril Doren standing over me, holding one of my own home-brewed potions to my lips. I moved the flask away from my mouth and sat upright.

“It’s good to see you’re alright, sera,” said Doren. “You took a pretty nasty fall. Made a huge gash on the back of your head. We were able to take down the mer you were after.” He gestured toward the well-dressed smuggler’s lifeless corpse.

I rubbed my hand against the back of my head. There was still a muted, aching pain where I had fallen. “Is the cave secure?” I asked.

“All the smugglers are dead, sera,” he said. “Unfortunately, we’ve suffered a few losses of our own. Two dead – Arinith Sendal and Golam Vendal – plus three wounded, not counting you. They’re being tended to right now. One thing’s for sure, this wasn’t your usual den of run-of-the-mill drug runners. Sure, there were a few of your usual chumps, but make no mistake, these guys had professional help.”

“Camonna Tong?”

“Probably,” he answered. “It was a pretty big shipment of moon sugar – I reckon about two and a half tons worth, plus fifteen slaves for delivery purposes. They wanted to protect their investment.”

“That’s for sure,” I said. “Can I have a look at them?”

“A look at what, sera?”

“The slaves, Tedril. I’d like to ask them a few questions – see if they know anything.”

“As you wish. Right this way, sera.” He led me down a dim, torchlit passage to the pen where the slaves were kept.

Posted by: minque Jul 30 2008, 01:06 AM

Hah! Imsin the D Grignr's wife to be? Now that's very nice, I like her that Nord-ess. She has a role in my story as well.

Continue this please...it's very interesting! Me likey!

S.G.M

Posted by: Marcel Rhodes Jul 30 2008, 02:26 AM

I've seen a few theories about the whole Akavir debacle, but they don't always start this well.

I still haven't played through the Legion (I can't get used to having characters on the right side of the law) so this is a good new angle for me to read. Good stuff.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Jul 30 2008, 02:30 AM

The slaves, like most slaves kept by smugglers, were in pitiful shape. Their quarters were cramped, poorly lit, and filthy – the only sanitation afforded to them within their wooden prison was a single bucket in which they were allowed to relieve themselves. The emaciated frames and glaze-eyed stares of these miserable and imprisoned beast-folk indicated that they had neither eaten nor slept very much. Though they didn’t seem to be much in the mood for questioning, I proceeded anyway.

“May I have your attention, please?” I called out to the miserable crowd. I was met with silence. A few of the slaves turned their gaze toward me – the rest ignored me.

I knew that this was about as much recognition as I was going to get, so I continued. “Is there anyone here who can tell me anything about how they got here? From which city were you sent? Where the smugglers were sending the slaves for delivery? Any signs you might have read? Conversations you may have overheard?”

As I expected, none of the slaves had anything to say. They either didn’t know anything or didn’t care enough to tell me. “Thank you for your cooperation,” I said sarcastically, and started toward the wooden gate.

“Wait!” a voice behind me cried out. “Don’t leave, serjo! Ri’Darsha knows some things that might interest you…”

I froze in my tracks and turned to face the slave who had addressed me. “Really?” I replied coolly. “And what does Ri’Darsha know?”

The Khajit grinned. “The smugglers try to hide these things from Ri’Darsha. When they took Ri’Darsha off the boat with the other slaves, they put a blindfold over his eyes so that he cannot see. But Ri’Darsha does not need his eyes to see what is happening around him. Ri’Darsha still has his ears, his nose, and his whiskers. He smells the bitter swamplands and feels the wooden planks beneath his feet. Then, in the cave, he hears a few words and names that the smugglers whisper to themselves. Words like ‘Gnaar Mok,’ ‘Othran,’ and ‘Gro-Bagrat.’ They talk about the sugar, and about the plantation. Sometimes they bring a slave out with them when they empty the bucket, and Ri’Darsha never sees that slave again. Ri’Darsha thinks they were delivering the sugar from the cave to the plantation, and they would make the slaves do it. And when the delivery is complete, they kill the slave. He does not think that there was anyone in the cave named Othran or Gro-Bagrat. They are from the plantation, he thinks. This is what the Nord wants to know, yes?”

I smiled and nodded. In truth, although I did indeed want every bit of information I could get from the slaves, this was not the main reason I had questioned them. I wanted to see which ones were observant enough to pick up on such details. I wanted to seek out the ones who had the qualities of a good agent – one who could spy on the shipping routes of the Camonna Tong. In short, I was looking for slaves like Ri'Darsha.

Just by looking into his eyes I could see a certain energy, visible even in his physically weakened state – a “glow” that showed that a shrewd, intelligent mind lay behind those eyes. Yes, Ri’Darsha would make an excellent agent. I just needed to pry him away from House Redoran.

I thanked the Khajit for his help and turned to speak with the lieutenant.

“Tedril…these slaves are considered contraband, correct?”

“Correct. They are now property of House Redoran.”

“And what does House Redoran typically do with slaves that have been seized as contraband?”

“Well, they’re auctioned off – unless there are exceptional circumstances involved. Why do you ask?”

“I’d like to purchase these slaves, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Sera?” Doren stared dumbfounded at me.

“You heard me. I’m willing to pay 15,000 drakes directly to the House Treasury in exchange for these slaves. I can guarantee that House Redoran won’t be able to auction them off for nearly that much, because it’s considerably more than they’re worth. Since I don’t have that much money in my pockets right now, you’ll have to settle for this certificate that promises that I shall deliver that gold within two days time.” I pulled a scroll out of my pack and began to write on it.

“But…I’m not…it’s not w-within my authority, muthsera!” he stammered.

“Why not? Auctions of government-seized property are usually conducted by a military officer, are they not?”

“W-well, yes, but –“

“Then this is perfectly within the limits of your authority! Simply deliver this note to your bosses and tell them that the contraband has been legally redistributed.”

“But –“

“That’s not a request, Doren.”

The lieutenant hung his head in defeat. “Very well, Hortator. It shall be done.”

“Good. Now, how are we in terms of hauling capability? Do we have enough men to carry these goods back to Gnisis?”

“We should have enough to do the job.”

“Splendid. Let’s bag and haul this contraband and head on home.”

The men began the task of carrying away the narcotics, while the slaves followed behind. A furry hand tapped me on the shoulder. It was Ri’Darsha.

“So…you are Ri’Darsha’s new master?”

“No,” I replied with a knowing grin. “You will be free once the men and I are finished, as will all the others. However, I do have a job for you…if you’re interested.”

“Ri’Darsha is listening.”

My smile grew wider. He would be a great agent indeed – one among many under my employ.

My mind was now made up. There would be no more lives wasted on these pointless raids. I’d had enough. It was time for me to take a risk for the sake of my countrymen. I had a plan…one in which Ri’Darsha would play a small part.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Jul 30 2008, 02:40 AM

Thanks for the compliment! I've done some writing before (mostly for school and whatnot), but this is the first fanfic I've ever attempted. I'm glad that people are enjoying it.

I like to think of Grignr as a basically lawful guy who grew up as a thief out of necessity. One thing I'd like to point out is the passage in the first chapter (second post) that implies that he was born under the sign of the Tower (the part where he's able to detect an enchantment). Sometimes he works his way around the law (as the last update proves). But he values the basic spirit of the law, which is what really counts anyway.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Jul 31 2008, 05:17 PM

NOTE: Yes, I know Rethan Manor isn't as large in the game as it is portrayed here. I'm basing this off the Grandmaster of Hlaalu mod, plus the natural assumption that Grignr would expand upon the stronghold to fit his needs. This installment contains quite a bit of dialogue, an aspect of fiction writing with which I don't have a whole lot of experience. There's also some romance, which I have even LESS experience with. Anyway, I just hope you don't think it sucks.

Crossing my fingers,
BBQ Platypus




----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------





Dagoth Ur paused momentarily for effect. He raised his hideous, clawed hand in front of his face, turned his palm inward and brought his fingers in one by one to make a fist, with the practiced debonair style and grace of a well-travelled troubadour strumming his lute. And then he spoke, his voice carrying the same terrifying calmness that it had before.

“It will all be decided here. I believe I will prevail. But I cannot be sure, and I am vain enough that, should I fall, I would wish to be remembered in my own words. So, if you have final questions you would ask, ask them now. I have final questions I would ask you, if you would answer.”

”You and I and all of Morrowind have waited three thousand years for this moment. A couple of questions should be no trouble at all.”

"My first question is…are you really Nerevar reborn?"

His voice, normally so composed and self-assured, seemed to hold the tiniest bit of doubt as he asked this.

“Listen carefully, Lord Dagoth, because I will say this only once. I do not like to repeat myself.” I removed my helmet briefly, wiping the sweat from my brow before continuing. “I am a self-made hero. I follow my own path and make my own destiny. I am no mere puppet of fate, prophecy, or the et’Ada. But the prophets have said that the spirit of Nerevar will return to inhabit a champion who shall defeat you in battle and bring an end to your reign of terror. And I AM going to kill you, Voryn, whether you believe it or not. Therefore, I AM Lord Nerevar reborn. And I shall prove it to you, to Morrowind, and to all the world on this day. The gods and fate have deemed that it is the destiny of the Nerevarine to kill the devil and sunder the false gods from the source of their unholy power. But it is by my hand, and NOT the gods and fate, that you shall fall.”

Chapter III

It took me but an instant to teleport from Gnisis back to Rethan Manor, my home; the first true home I had ever known in my life. And what a beautiful home it was – a practical castle in the true Dunmer tradition, unadorned as it was by unnecessary spires, staircases, or any of the typical signs of Imperial excess – just a few economically placed sentry towers that loomed overhead. It rose above the lush, verdant ocean of grass that blanketed the Odai Plateau, watching over the land – an oasis of justice in a desert of Hlaalu corruption. To see the sun set upon it, as it was doing now, was truly a marvelous sight.

But I had no time to take in the sunset. I materialized just inside the outer walls of the stronghold and made my way to the manor proper, leading Ri’Darsha by the wrist. Guards, both Hlaalu and Imperial, greeted and saluted me as I passed. In addition to being my home, it also served as a headquarters of sorts for all my political and Legion business. The compound was usually quite busy as a result, and today was no exception. Soldiers, nobles, merchants, and commoners alike walked about the courtyard, going about their business even as the daylight waned.

“So many people working for you, sera…” Ri’Darsha whispered into my ear. “What is it you want from poor old Ri’Darsha that all these men cannot do? Nothing illegal, he hopes…”

I cracked another smile. This Khajit never ceased to amaze me. “Not exactly,” I said quietly. “We’ll discuss it in my chambers when I meet with my advisors.”

“Ah, a very secretive Nord, this one…”

We entered the manor itself and made our way to the Legion office, where Imsin the Dreamer, my wife and second-in-command (as a Knight of the Garland), worked. From there, she dealt with garrison business for the House and Imperial troops stationed here, and also took over my duties while I was away (as I did for her while she was away). However, she had been confined to her office more often than usual lately, for she was with child, and had been for almost six months now.

The sentries at the door parted to let me through. I turned back to Ri’Darsha. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“As you wish, muthsera.”

I stepped into the office. Imsin was at her desk, dutifully looking over and filling out forms. Paperwork: the bane of every officer’s existence. She looked up from her work to see who had entered.

“Good evening, my dear,” I greeted her.

Imsin practically leapt straight from her desk into my arms to embrace me. “It is good to see you again, darling,” she said. “I’ve missed you so much. I wish I could go on these raids with you...”

“So do I,” I said softly. “But we cannot risk the child.”

“I know.” She looked down and put her hand on her pregnant belly. “I probably wouldn't even be able to make it that long without food. I can feel it moving and growing inside me more and more as the days go by. Listen…”

I bent downward and put my ear against her stomach. I heard a single soft thump…and then a second…and a third in quick succession. The baby was kicking – and it was kicking pretty often, too.

“Well…this seems to be quite the energetic little one. I know it will grow to be strong.” I slowly rose to look Imsin in the eye. “Like her mother.” I kissed her on the lips. We smiled at each other.

“So…how’s business with the Legion?” I murmured, still embracing her.

“Oh…nothing much…of interest,” she whispered to me in between passionate kisses. “General Darius says that they’ve brought in…Imperial geologists…to map out the…cave system…on the River Samsi. At Fort Moonmoth…they’re dealing with a gang of…highwaymen based outside Balmora. In Ebonheart it’s…business as usual, but Fort Wolverine…is noticing more smuggling…activity…going on lately. Raesa Pullia at Fort Buckmoth says that they just took down a…group of…stop it! That tickles! Necromancers.”

“Yes…she seems to have done a pretty good job over at Fort Buckmoth since I stole you away from there…”

But as I moved in to kiss her again, she backed off slightly and looked over my shoulder. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, gesturing toward the door.

I looked back and saw a fairly embarrassed-looking Khajit peeking through the door, which he was holding slightly ajar.

“He’s a new associate of mine,” I said, barely managing to stifle my laughter. Then I called out to him. “You might as well come on in, Ri’Darsha!”

He slowly slunk into the room looking rather sheepish, with his ears sinking downward and his tail twitching nervously. “Ri’Darsha is sorry for intruding, milord.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for, my friend,” I assured him.

“Speak for yourself,” Imsin muttered under her breath.

“Now now – let’s be nice to the poor fellow,” I chided her. “It was an honest mistake. Still, I am curious…how did you manage to get a peek at us without the guards noticing?”

“The sharpest eye can be stricken blind by the right distraction, sera.” The Khajit grinned mischievously.

“Hmm…I think we’d better leave it at that. I get the feeling I don’t want to know. Regardless, I think I’m going to have a talk with those guards on the basics of sentry duty.”

Imsin glared suspiciously at him. “So…Ri’Darsha, is it? What sort of duty were you hired for, I wonder?”

“Ri’Darsha is not sure. Master Grignr has not told him yet.”

Imsin redirected her steel-hard gaze at me. “You haven’t even TOLD this poor Khajit what he’s doing here?”

“I needed to wait for the correct moment to do so,” I explained calmly. “His work is going to involve some sensitive information, and I simply hadn’t enough privacy to tell him about it on the way here. I think now would be a good time, seeing as how there’s nobody else here.”

“Go ahead, then. Tell Ri’Darsha what he is supposed to do.”

“Very well.” I cleared my throat and addressed the Khajit. “Now, what I am about to tell you is highly classified information. It must not leave this room. Do not reveal it to anyone unless I say you can reveal it to them. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I'll get right to the point, then. I am an agent of Imperial intelligence – a member of the Blades. I am, in fact, the acting Spymaster of the Vvardenfell District. I’m not particularly active or involved as a spy – for the most part, my fellow spies go about their business autonomously. Still, I have the authority and responsibility to serve as the eyes and ears of the Empire, as a representative of law and justice. I also consider it my duty to monitor the activities of Imperial and Dunmer officials themselves, to ensure that they stay true to the ideals on which this government was founded, serving the people rather than themselves. I am the one who watches the watchers.

“I am telling you this because I wish to make you an associate of the Blades. I do not have the authority to officially make you an agent – only the Emperor can do that. Still, you will be an Agent in all but name, and you’ll be well-paid for your service – 300 drakes a week. Understand, however, that you will be putting your life on the line. Do you accept?”

Ri’Darsha bowed his head to me in respect. “Ri’Darsha already owes you his life. Ri’Darsha would consider it an honor to work for you as a spy.”

“Excellent. You will be assigned to monitor Camonna Tong activities and shipments in Telvanni country, under the guise of a slave working in the town square. Sadrith Mora will serve as your base of operations – I have many such agents working in other important port towns, and I already have a few contacts in Telvanni territory who will help you get started. You’ll have the authority to employ additional help should you need it, and will also be expected to make recommendations of the use of force against suspected hideout locations.”

“So…Ri’Darsha will be looking for the sugar and the skooma, yes?”

“Not exactly. While severely restricting the flow of narcotics into Vvardenfell is our ultimate goal, you won’t be looking for drugs per se. Moon sugar and other such contraband can easily be hidden among normal goods, and can even be sent in smaller shipments to areas of shoreline far from the cities while still remaining a viable enterprise. Instead, I want you to keep an eye on the slave trade. As you know, slaves are a vital part of the Camonna Tong’s delivery network. If we could follow the slaves that the Camonna Tong are using, we’d be able to find their hideouts much more easily. You’ll need to look for a few telltale signs – frequent repeat business at the slave market, members of House Hlaalu with no good reason to be in Telvanni country, boats docked either outside or in the most remote areas of the harbor – those sorts of things. Do you think you’re up to the task?”

Ri’Darsha nodded.

“Good. You will leave for Sadrith Mora in one week’s time. In the meantime, there is a special task that I would like for you to do for me. I will tell you what that task is when the time comes. Right now, however, I must leave. I will return later.”

Imsin spoke up. “Why? Where are you going?”

“I have to speak with a few important officials and schedule a meeting,” I replied. “I have important plans that I wish to discuss with them. Your presence will be required as well. You two can have dinner in the meantime – the servants can probably cook something up for you. I’m sure you must be starving.”

Imsin shrugged. “Well, I have been doing an awful lot of paperwork…”

“Ri’Darsha has not eaten in three days,” my new spy cheerfully interjected.

And with that, I left the room and made my way for Ebonheart.

Posted by: Black Hand Jul 31 2008, 06:08 PM

Wow. Just finished reading this thing, and its very good BBQ. I like Ri'Darsha, and Grignir isnt an uber-warrior nerevarine, I like that.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Jul 31 2008, 07:04 PM

Thanks. I like writing dialogue for Ri'Darsha - it's a lot of fun to do. But the encouragement really helps.

FYI, I do think that in real life (er, the "real" Tamriel, at least), Grignr actually WOULD be considered to be an uber-warrior (he's strong, intelligent, a master swordsman, and whatnot). But not even an uber-warrior is totally invincible, and there are limits to what a human can do. It's sort of like the movie Road House - there's this one scene where Patrick Swayze (a world-famous bouncer who by this point in the movie has established himself as an uber-badass) isn't able to take on a whole bunch of thugs at once, so he needs Sam Elliot to come in and save him. And then one of the thugs says to Sam Elliot, "You wanna fight, d*ckless?" and Sam Elliot says, "Well, I sure ain't gonna show you my d*ck." And then he roundhouse kicks the guy in the face and...

Whoa. Sorry. Kinda got a little off-track there. Road House is my favorite movie - I try to mention it or quote it at least once a day. Hell, I'm watching it right now. I know what you mean, though - it's very hard to avoid turning a warrior-type character into a Gary Stu.

Posted by: Black Hand Jul 31 2008, 07:34 PM

I mean the Dark Armor wearing person who breathes out frost on a hot summer day that never gets hit and deals out death like a gypsy deals cards.

That is I like characters with humanity and weakness.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 2 2008, 06:19 AM

You know, on that same subject I was ranting about, this story does bear a couple similarities to Road House. Grignr's kinda like Patrick Swayze's character Dalton, and House Hlaalu is kinda like the Double Deuce - a wretched hive of scum and villainy that needs to be cleaned up by a strong leader. And Orvas Dren is like Brad Wesley - the bad guy who makes money in an illegal fashion while the townspeople are powerless to stop him (his henchmen don't drive a monster truck, though).

Man, I'm sorely tempted to write a scene that begins with Grignr saying "I'm gonna give it to you straight - it's my way or the highway." Or maybe he gets wounded and refuses treatment and says "Pain don't hurt." Perhaps he'll run into a couple of "trustees of modern chemistry" who are "too stupid to have a good time."

A polar bear fell on me!

Posted by: Black Hand Aug 2 2008, 07:25 AM

Interesting points...does that have anything to do with your new avatar?

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 2 2008, 07:54 PM

Yep. The pic you're looking at right now is that of the Swayze-monster himself.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 3 2008, 09:40 AM

NOTE: A reminder that this story sucks and isn't worth your time.

Love and hugs,
BBQ Platypus




---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three days later we gathered in the Grand Council Chambers in Ebonheart – Imsin and Ri’Darsha were there, along with the two Hlaalu Councilmen I felt I could trust completely – Duke Vedam Dren and Crassius Curio. All of them sat at a simple round wooden table that had been brought in for the occasion. The doors surrounding the chamber were locked, and the sentries on the staircases stood guard just outside of earshot. This meeting had to be conducted in absolute secrecy – I couldn’t risk tipping my hand.

I was the last of the people assembled to take my seat. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Councilman Cur – er, I mean, Uncle Crassius. Your Grace.” I gestured toward Crassius and Duke Dren as I acknowledged them.

“Oh, it was really no trouble at all, pumpkin,” the flamboyant Imperial replied. “It’s not like I live very far away. And it’s HIS castle, after all!” He beamed widely.

“What’s this about, Grignr?” the Duke inquired with one eyebrow raised. His very expression made it clear that he was in no mood for such frivolities.

“Your brother, milord. And the Camonna Tong in general.” I addressed the Duke with the reverence and respect with which subjects traditionally give royalty, even though I held at least as much power as he did. The fact that I respected him so tremendously as a person probably had something to do with it.

The royal stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm…well, I can see why you wanted to keep this meeting a secret, then. Still, I thought my brother effectively handed control of the Tong over to you.”

“Officially, yes. Effectively, no. He still controls and coordinates all of its operations.”

“Ah. It figures that he would make such an arrangement. Frankly, it would have surprised me more if that weren’t the case. Now…what about the Camonna Tong do you wish to discuss, sera?”

“Well, as all of you know, I’ve been coordinating a series of House and Legion raids along the coast of this island, looking for smugglers caves. These missions are basically being conducted on a search-and-destroy basis – we look in a vague general area and hope there are caves there. As you can guess, it hasn’t been very effective.”

“Patrols along the Bitter Coast by the Moonmoth Legion alone have gone up 300 percent, and we’re not even making a substantial dent in the drug trade,” Imsin piped in.

“Demand has a tendency to create its own supply, sweetie,” Crassius said, shaking his head sadly. “Anyone who's ever taken a look at all the streetwalkers in the St. Olms Canalworks could tell you that. Not that your old Uncle Crassius would know anything about it…”

“True. We’ll never be able to truly stop the flow of illegal moon sugar into Morrowind. But we CAN stop the intrusion of the Camonna Tong and their ilk into the upper echelon of House Hlaalu. And Orvas Dren is the key to stopping it.”

The Duke looked at me with a skeptical expression on his face. “Really? And how’s that?”

I smiled. “Blackmail. You see, a couple nights ago, I had my personal courier here run a little errand for me in Suran...or thereabouts. And wouldn't you know it - something very interesting happened along the way. Perhaps Ri’Darsha would explain this best.” I gestured toward the Khajit.

“Certainly, milord,” Ri’Darsha said, his usual devious smirk spread across his face. “Ri’Darsha was returning home from...buying some fruit...when he passed by the Dren Plantation. But Ri’Darsha was getting lonely and wanted someone to talk to, so he started up a little chat with an Argonian slave returning from the fields.

“The Argonian invited Ri’Darsha to come into the manor and enjoy his master’s hospitality. So Ri’Darsha let himself in. He also recommended a very interesting letter for him to read, so Ri’Darsha went to the basement and brought it home for the Grandmaster. The Grandmaster is quite a bookworm, you see. Such a shame, though – the Argonian’s master did not show Ri’Darsha any of the famed Hlaalu hospitality. They never even noticed he was in the house.”

“Thank you, Ri’Darsha.” I cleared my throat and pulled a parchment from the folds of my Grandmaster’s Robe.

“Ranes and Navil,
You have served me well over the years. My brother has been trying to stop our business. We've lost over half our shipments recently. The Duke may be my brother, but if he keeps interfering I am afraid he must be killed. I will be next in line and can consolidate my power before the Redorans even come up with a candidate. I am telling you this so that you know the risks you may be taking. If you are unwilling, I will accept your word of honor not to speak of our business. If you stay, I will reward you.

~D”

“Lovely little note, isn’t it?”

The Duke stood out of his chair and pounded his fist on the table in anger. “That fetcher! I’ll have his HEAD for this!”

I raised my finger at him. “Ah, but then we wouldn’t be able to bring down everything he’s worked so hard to build. I plan on blackmailing your brother into telling me everything he knows about the Tong. I’m placing particular emphasis on the names of major members and associates with positions in major organizations. The Fighters Guild, for instance. Faced with being executed for treason and conspiracy, he’ll have no choice but to offer his full cooperation. Now, I’ve personally written two exact duplicates of this letter, one for each of you. This is in case anything goes wrong with the negotiation process.”

“And what are we going to do with the members that he identifies?” Imsin inquired. “We won’t be able to arrest a lot of them – they hold too much power!”

“I’ve already thought of that. We will deal with them the way the Dunmer have always dealt with such matters – through the Morag Tong.”

“Hmm…I like many things about this plan,” said the Duke. “And I don't think Dram Bero will have any problems with it, either. But what about Nevena Ules and Velenda Omani? They are Camonna Tong as well, and they represent damn near half our council!”

“Ules and Omani are cowards. When they see what has happened to the mer who bullies them around, they will capitulate immediately. Still, it would be a good idea to expel them from the council. I would suggest House Brother Relen Hlaalu and House Cousin Hlodala Savel, my savant, as replacements.”

The table fell silent.

“Look, I know this plan carries many risks. But they are the sort of risks that every leader must take. Those who stand for justice will always have many enemies. By standing against them, there is a possibility that we will make new enemies in the process. But I would rather have many weak enemies than a few powerful ones. Right now, we have in our hands the weapon that could wipe out corruption in this district. Without a leader, the Camonna Tong would collapse under the weight of petty squabbles between would-be kingpins. No longer will criminals hold sway over this Great House! The people would finally be able to trust those who have tasked to protect them and honor their laws! We may not be able to put a stop to trafficking, but we CAN stop it from permeating our government! Who among us is willing to actually FIGHT for that which they claim to represent!? Have we NO courage at all?”

For a few agonizing moments, all was silent. And then, finally, Imsin spoke up. “I will do whatever your plan requires, Grignr. You know that I would follow you through nine hells if you asked it of me.”

After a brief pause, the Duke rose from his seat. “I will go along with your plan, Lord Grignr.”

“As will I,” Crassius interjected.

Although my expression remained grim and determined, I could feel the faintest hint of a smile begin to creep across my face.

Posted by: canis216 Aug 3 2008, 08:26 PM

Nice work. I'm always a little slow to review new stories and new writers, so my praise always come in a little late, but I must say that you've got a good thing going here. The writing is tidy and organized, the story intriguing. I'm looking forward to following this.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 6 2008, 04:38 AM

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Seriously, why are you still even here? I've already told you I've disowned this story..


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


"Go ahead. Stare. Marvel at my own mortality – the way I defy your preconceived notions, but then, when you REALLY look closely, turn out to be everything you thought I’d be. Feel free to state your thoughts out loud. Tell all your friends that there’s just something special about me – you can just see it. As if you would have noticed had you passed me on the street back when I was just a young, wet-eared pauper.

'Is that REALLY the Nerevarine?'

'It can’t be – the stories say he is eleven feet tall, with the glowing bronze skin of our ancestors.'

'They say he can kill a man jes’ by starin’ at ‘im. And he jes’ stared at YOU.'

'No, that’s him. Has to be. Look at him…the way he stands, walks, wears his armor…that man was born a Hero.'

Yes, it is true. I was born the incarnation of Lord Nerevar. But do not make the mistake of thinking that I was born a Hero. I did not always possess the innate qualities that you claim to see in me.

Nobody, not even Lord Nerevar, is born a Hero – you will never find a Hero within the soul of a newborn. This is because the Hero is not born from the womb as mortals are, nor is he defined by his personality, his character, or even his soul. In fact, it is best not to view the Hero as a man at all, but as an ideal – a path to be walked down. For the Hero, being and becoming are one and the same, for it is not the mortal soul that defines the Hero, but his deeds. Once the Event has come to pass, the world will know of the Hero and his greatness – because he has become the Hero, he always was and always will be. But he never would have been had he not brought himself into being. As the proverb says: 'Walk like them until they must walk like you.' The Hero did not exist until someone took on his mantle by imitating him.

The Hero is naught but legend; yet the stories of his exploits describe him better, and will last longer, than the mortal who carries his legend ever could. More people will know the Hero than will ever know the man. So if you have seen me in person, let your friends know the truth.

Tell them I am eleven feet tall."

- Excerpt from Collected Wisdom of the Nerevarine


Chapter IV

I strode toward Dren Plantation in full armor, with my sword by my side. There was no point in adhering to the usual softness and niceties of negotiation here. I meant business, and I was prepared for war in the event that my offer was refused. And I had a sneaking suspicion that Orvas Dren did not want me here.

I had hired a few scouts to case the place the night before. It seemed there were fewer guards than usual present in the compound, likely due to the increased security required in the far-flung smuggler's caves along the coast. The Tong's shipping operations were decentralizing, and the time to strike, it seemed, was right now. However, I did not expect to walk in there unopposed.

And sure enough, as I approached his villa, I was accosted by two angry-looking Dunmer, each dressed in black from head to toe. Both of them carried what appeared to be enchanted glass shortblades.

“You are not welcome here, outlander,” snarled the one on the left. “Leave this place now, or you shall die where you stand!”

I stared deeply into the mer’s eyes, maintaining an expression of complete calm. “I only wish to discuss business with the master of this plantation.”

“And yet you come dressed for war,” he noted.

“I am a soldier by vocation. War is my business. Will your employer speak with me?”

“Orvas Dren does not wish to speak with you. Go away.”

“Hmm…pity. Perhaps I should send someone else to deal with him, then. Someone carrying a different sort of contract…” I glanced knowingly at the Dunmer to my left (as he seemed to be the brains of the outfit), making sure he got a full grasp of my meaning.

“You seek to threaten Orvas Dren?” The Dunmer’s red eyes flared.

“I don’t make threats, sera…only promises.” I subtly moved my right hand toward Trueflame. I could sense that this would not end peacefully.

I snuck a glance at the thug on the right. Although his physique was tough and brutish, his body language was submissive, with just a hint of insecurity about it. I knew his type well – sycophantic, dim-witted, and easy to prod into foolish action. I put on a smug sneer. “Well, what say you, friend? Do you do any talking, or do you just follow him around like his little pet? You wouldn’t happen to be sleeping together, would you?” I asked in the most mocking tone I could muster. Even the feeblest and most juvenile of insults can hurt like a thousand daggers when it is well-delivered.

He hissed with rage and drew his shortblade. Exactly the reaction I was hoping for.

Fortunately, I was prepared. By the time his hand had reached his sword, I had already drawn mine. I made short work of him, slicing open his stomach. He writhed in pain as Trueflame’s fire enchantment boiled away his innards. Now I had only one adversary to deal with.

The other Dunmer proved to be more of a challenge, however. He dodged and darted around me swiftly, making quick jabs at me with his shortsword before ducking out of range. We moved back and forth across the grounds in front of the villa, with me only having enough time to deflect his strikes.

Then, as he leaned in to attack me again, I parried his blow with such force that I knocked him on his back. I took advantage of the opportunity as best I could and swung my sword downward toward his heart. Unfortunately, he was able to roll out of the way, and he somersaulted back onto his feet.

Still, I struck quickly, thus seizing the initiative. The Dunmer had only barely managed to escape, and he was now on his heels. I now controlled the direction in which the battle would go. Slowly, through precision strikes that took advantage of my own momentum, I was able to back him against the wall of the villa. Though he tried as best he could to block with his glittering jinkblade, I needed to get through his defenses only once to run him through.

With the way now clear, I dusted myself off and entered the villa.

Posted by: mplantinga Aug 7 2008, 07:14 PM

Interesting story so far. I really like the idea of filling in the Nerevarine's story during this time period, and I think you're off to a great start. Your Nerevarine is bold, confident, intelligent, powerful, yet vulnerable, which makes for great depth of character. I'm certainly looking forward to his confrontation with Dren.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 9 2008, 06:28 AM

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Suck suck suck suck suck. Ass ass ass ass ass.



I entered slowly, carefully surveying my surroundings as I crossed the threshold. Turning my head slowly and deliberately, I scanned the entirety of the entry room for guards and traps – from the pale stone floor to the lofty ceilings, to the unassuming corners, behind the ornate wood furniture and the brightly colored tapestries. Strangely, no weapons of any kind - living, mechanical, or magical - were there to welcome me. Most people would find this to be an encouraging development. Not me. I smelled an ambush.

So I inched my way across the foyer and ascended the staircase to Dren’s chambers with even greater caution than usual. Yet I still encountered no resistance on my way up the staircase, from Dren’s thugs or otherwise. And the door that led to Orvas’s chambers – where he himself was no doubt waiting for me – appeared to be unlocked! I checked the mechanism three times for traps before I opened it. I practically tip-toed my way through.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I could see it – a glint of black. A razor-sharp ebony blade making a beeline for my throat. Time seemed to slow down. An eternity seemed to pass before…

CLANG!

In a split second, I had somehow managed to duck and bring my shield just high enough to re-direct the blow toward my shoulder, where my Daedric pauldron was able to absorb the damage. Had this battle taken place but a year before, I would have been a dead man. Fortunately, blocking was practically a reflexive action for me now. Even so, I was lucky to have survived.

I turned to face my assailant. It was Orvas Dren himself, clad in a full suit of orcish armor. “Prepare to die, meddler!” he snarled, brandishing his longsword with an elegant flourish.

I took advantage of his posturing, however, knocking the now-unbalanced weapon out of his hand with a single blow and sending it flying across the room. I then shifted weight and kicked him to the floor.

I planted my foot on his torso and sneered at him. “If you were planning on killing me, serjo, you should have just done it and dispensed with the showboating.” I leaned in closer, preparing to start my interrogation, when I noticed something. He wasn’t glaring or grimacing at me – he was smiling…and staring over my shoulder…

I did an about face, expecting to see the whole of Dren’s guards come to face me. Instead, I saw a single guard wearing ebony armor and hefting a Daedric shield.

Almost in spite of myself, I laughed. “What? There’s only ONE of you?”

Leaning forward, I charged (or rather, walked briskly – I was indoors, after all). As formidable as my opponent was, I was really more annoyed (yet at the same time, excited) than I was frightened. I don’t know why this was – perhaps it was the famed Nordic thirst for battle awakening within me. Or maybe I was simply tired of having to deal with thugs like him. Whatever the reason, I attacked with more energy, more aggression, and less restraint than usual.

The guard seemed quite taken aback by this. I imagine this was because he was not used to fighting someone who wasn’t intimidated by him – he was well-armed and incredibly muscular. But as strong as he was, I had fought many stronger enemies, and after a disappointingly short period of time, the battle was over.

As the guard’s head rolled out the door and down the staircase, I again turned to face Dren. As I suspected, he was crawling quietly toward his weapon. I walked over calmly and stepped on the blade just as he was about to reach for it.

I looked down at the drug lord and smirked. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you. You could hurt someone.”

The Dunmer glared at me, his eyes seething with boundless hatred. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get on with it, s’wit! Kill me!”

“Kill you? Why in blazes would I want to do that? I have a business proposition for you, Sera Dren.”

“Whatever it is, my answer is no.”

“Really? That’s a shame. I was really hoping you’d say yes. If only there were some way I could force you to cooperate…for instance, if I were somehow able to implicate you in some sort of crime. Conspiracy to commit murder, perhaps? Throw in a bit of treason…maybe a dash of attempted fratricide? Why, I’d be able to get you to do anything. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

Dren’s eyes widened with fear. “Y-you can’t…you have no proof…!”

“I can and I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. One of my associates took the liberty of rummaging through your personal correspondence, and found a most interesting letter. I have a duplicate right here, if you’d like to read it. But then again, I suppose you already know what it says. You wrote it, after all.”

“Fine! Tell my brother all about it! I don’t care! I’m prepared to go into hiding! I’m even ready to face the executioner! But I will NOT cooperate with you, you Imperial dog!”

“As it happens, I’ve already TOLD your brother. And yes, it’s true that I am authorized to use lethal force against you if absolutely necessary. But we don’t plan on killing you, Orvas. After all, that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? No, we’ll just put you to sleep…” I pulled a sedative-laced dart from my pack, “...and we’ll take you away, leaving you at the mercy of the Duke’s guards. You’ll experience pain as you’ve never experienced it before. They’ll do things to you that you can’t even imagine.” I drummed my fingers and paused for effect. “Or maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll just strap a pair of bracers on you and send you to work in the mines, alongside the beast-folk and outlanders you hate so much. Perhaps they’ll do both. Whatever suits the Duke’s fancy.”

"N-no...this can't be happening..." The Dunmer’s face quivered with panic for a moment before exploding with rage. “You...you BASTARD! You lying, scheming son of a snake! I KNEW I shouldn’t have trusted you! I should have KNOWN you were lying when you promised to drive the Empire from Morrowind!”

I grinned. “Why, whatever are you talking about? I made no such promise, serjo.”

“Yes you did! It was the only reason I agreed to name you Hortator!”

“Oh, you’re referring to that little incident. Well, you should really learn to listen more carefully, serjo. What I said was that I would rid the land of Imperial corruption and oppression once and for all. Completely different from Imperial control itself.

“But I wouldn’t expect you to know the difference, Sera Dren. To you, control goes hand in hand with corruption and oppression. You derive your very power through fear, crime, exploitation, and death. Face it, Dren – you don’t hate the Empire because of your pride in Dunmer tradition. You hate them because they’re cutting in on your action!”

“LIES!” he screamed. “And besides, I can never talk! People will suspect…they will come after me!”

“Well, then, leave the island. As a matter of fact, I recommend you skip the province entirely. I have a few shares of an ebony mine up in Raven Rock that I’m willing to sell you. Solthsteim is really quite nice at this time of year. A bit chilly, of course, but quite lovely nonetheless. How does 500 drakes sound?”

Dren stood there, fuming silently. Then, after about a minute, he finally spoke. “Fine. Hand me a quill and let’s get this over with.”

I have killed gods. I have survived Hircine’s Hunt. I have saved all of Morrowind twice. But of all my accomplishments, none felt as satisfying as sitting in that room, watching Orvas Dren sign document after document, compiling list after list, destroying his entire criminal empire with a few strokes of his pen. And then, after it all was over, to have HIM hand me a sack of gold…I could not help but grin like a Scamp.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 10 2008, 06:10 AM

Okay - I was originally going to divide this story into two parts (hence the reason for the "Part One" in the title), but I've decided against it. Still, the end of this chapter is probably where the "END OF PART ONE" break would have been.

So feel free to comment on what you think of "Part One." I will begin "Part Two" soon.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 12 2008, 06:58 AM

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another bowl of dick cheese soup. At least this isn't a long update.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


By the time I returned to Rethan Manor, dusk had already fallen. The sun had set, and the busy shuffling of the various guards, soldiers, and officials was slowly beginning to subside. There would be no reception or grand celebration to greet me upon my return – only the quiet comforts of home and hearth: a hearty meal, a bottle of well-aged brandy, and the tender embrace of the one I love most. It was all I needed.

We ate and drank and chatted amongst ourselves and our closest friends. And when the meal was finished, we discussed business. I described my triumph that day in great detail. And then, when the day’s work was done, we retired to our chambers and made love until well into the night. And when we could take no more, we each drifted off to sleep.

And as I slept, I had a strange dream. I dreamed that I was lying there in bed next to Imsin, when suddenly a bright beam of light shone on me, seemingly from out of nowhere. I could feel my soul leaving my body, and I watched it rise through that beam of light as though that light were a keyhole to Aetherius itself. And I saw, from the perspective of my body, that my soul did not take the form of my own countenance, but instead that of a mer, dressed in a full suit of Indoril armor. I reached out to try and stop it from leaving, but instead found myself pulled along with the spectre! I swiped desperately downward, trying to grasp onto something, but my hands gripped nothing but air. The room – indeed, everything around me – seemed to be evaporating into a thick gray mist. I called out to Imsin, but she could not hear me – she, too, seemed to be fading into nothingness. I screamed louder, but my voice rang hollow, like that of a child who has fallen into a well. Finally, I began to fade, and all that was left was the gold-skinned warrior floating above me. And then I awoke.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 13 2008, 12:41 AM

Can't...continue...without...feedback.........ego...starving........GAH!!!

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 14 2008, 01:37 AM

WARNING: This update contains copious amounts of HOT COUNCIL ACTION! People with heart conditions are advised to avoid reading this update, as its exciting nature may lead to a sudden cardiac arrest! WATCH with great anticipation as a meeting is held! THRILL as the minutes are read! This update is so action-packed that you may FALL ASLEEP from sheer excitement! Consider yourselves WARNED!

ADDENDUM: Even back THEN I knew how boring this was!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



”Neither blight nor age can harm him
The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies”

Chapter V

I was nervous. In the eleven weeks immediately following my successful “negotiations” with Orvas Dren, all had gone according to plan. The list he had given me was genuine, and all Camonna Tong members who held positions of power had been honorably executed. Safehouses were raided, shipments were severely disrupted, and Dren had taken a slow boat to Solthsteim. I would also soon be a father. But I was not at ease.

Part of this may have been due to my sense of duty. After all, I still had a job to do and many enemies to worry about. But that didn’t explain the dreams I had been having – disturbing dreams the likes of which I had not experienced since my brush with Dagoth Ur. Dreams of loss, loneliness, and sorrow; dreams of Lord Nerevar. Sometimes I would dream that I was a bonewalker, standing guard over a tomb whose occupants grew to include everyone I had ever befriended or loved. They would come on a nightly basis, then subside for a while, only to return more vivid and frequent than before. It was like soul-sickness all over again. I was more afraid now than ever of the possibility that I would lose everything that mattered to me.

No one else knew of these dreams except for Imsin. I knew I could confide in her; tell her anything – my deepest fears and anxieties. She would listen and offer words of comfort and support, despite the fact that she, as a mother-to-be, needed it as much as I did. As bad as I still felt about it, there is no doubt in my mind that I would have gone mad were it not for her.

I could not permit anyone else to know of this. Especially not the Hlaalu councilmen who were presently gathered before me.

And so I entered the council chambers as I always did: last, and to little fanfare. “Sorry I’m late,” I said as I walked through the heavy oak door. If I showed any signs of nervousness, the Council didn’t seem to notice it.

“How nice of you to join us, Grandmaster,” Duke Dren said drolly. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes,” I replied as I made my way toward my seat. “This meeting of the Grand Council of Great House Hlaalu is hereby brought to order. First, I’d like to welcome two new members to our ranks: Relen Hlaalu and Hlodala Savel. I assume my late arrival has given you more than enough time to become acquainted with them, so let’s just get right to going over the minutes from our last meeting. Kinsman Salobar, if you please.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.” A stately dressed Dunmer woman holding a long scroll that unfurled nearly to the floor stood and began to read an account of the events of our last meeting.

For those of you who have never attended a Grand Council meeting, allow me to enlighten you on the experience: it is without a doubt the most boring thing that can possibly be endured. The reading of the minutes is a large part of the reason why. It is virtually impossible to retain interest while listening to a recap of political issues and disputes that you have already dealt with and are thus already familiar with. And it’s not like many of them were very interesting the first time around. So, naturally, Salobar recited them with all the passion and excitement of an old man muttering in his sleep. Even the two new members, to whom all of this was completely new, seemed bored out of their skulls.

After what seemed like hours, the minutes finally concluded. I yawned and rubbed my eyelids, doing my best to rouse myself from the dreamlike stupor clouding my mind, and continued. “Thank you, Kinsman. And now, for our first and most pertinent order of business – our struggle against the Camonna Tong. I believe Councilman Hlaalu has compiled a report for us.”

“Indeed I have, serjo,” the Dunmer replied.

“Care to read it for us?”

“Certainly, Grandmaster. As everyone here no doubt knows, a recent string of drug busts and assassinations has all but eliminated the Camonna Tong’s presence within the upper echelon of our House. Over a hundred of their supply lines in Hlaalu territory alone have been successfully interdicted, resulting in the seizure of millions of septims worth of contraband. It seems that, within our own borders at least, the wisest course of action is to continue doing exactly what we are doing right now.

“Turning our attention outside our own House tells a somewhat different story, however. Although Imperial and Redoran cooperation in pursuing Camonna Tong officials and shipments has been outstanding, participation within House Telvanni has been sorely lacking. Far fewer stings and seizures are being reported in Telvanni country, even in the parts of it that are most suitable for smuggling activity. Judging solely from correspondence between our leaders and theirs, this seems to be more of a matter of indifference than outright malevolence. Regardless, I think Legion interven-“

His speech was interrupted when a tired, winded-looking Imperial guard burst into the room. “Pardon…the interruption,” he wheezed. “I have…urgent news…for Lord Grignr.”

“Well, what is it?”

“It’s your wife, sir…she’s gone into labor.”

Posted by: minque Aug 15 2008, 11:39 AM

Your opinion of Grand Council Meetings are just like mine! I wrote about that in my last chapter..hehe. Fact is I attend to a helluva lot of meetings in my profession so believe me ...I know all about meetings!

You continue to impress me with your writing. Keep up your style, it's good! The ending of this latest update is indeed intriguing....Are you going to describe the child birth? I'm very interested because....oops nope I won't tell it would be a spoiler!

So my friend....go on please! (It's an order from your chorrol-moderator )

Posted by: mplantinga Aug 15 2008, 05:16 PM

I really enjoyed the way he dealt with Orvas Dren, and I'm glad to see that his plan has paid off so well. I also empathized with the description of meetings; while I haven't been to as many as some other people I know, they do have a bad habit of getting boring very quickly. My gut tells me there will be something special about this childbirth, but I guess I'll have to wait to find out.

Posted by: The Bean Aug 17 2008, 10:55 PM

Very interesting indeed. You have a different place for the Nerevarine, instead of doing the old 'how can I warp Morrowind's storyline this time?' and the addition wife and soon-to-be-born child make it all the more interesting. And the meeting's description was brilliantly accurate. This shall be followed.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 19 2008, 01:23 AM

While you wait for the next chapter of this Nordic saga, please enjoy http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kdp9M9tJx1I.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 19 2008, 06:04 AM

AUTHOR'S NOTE: You really should know what I think of this story by now.


I teleported home and made my way inside, nearly tripping over my own robes as I ran. Three guards were there to greet me.

“Where is she?” I demanded. “Lead me to her!”

“Certainly. Right this way, milord.”

They led me downstairs down a broad hallway toward where my healer worked. As I got closer, I could hear the sound of pained moans and labored breathing. It seemed as though I had arrived just in time.

“Leave me,” I commanded the guards. They turned and headed back up the corridor as I entered the room.

Imsin lay on one of the many simple brown cots that lined the side of the room, panting and groaning, her legs spread and her back periodically arching back. The healer, a Breton woman by the name of Edrene Sylbor, stood over her, patting her forehead with a dry cloth.

Edrene turned her head to face me with a visible look of concern in her eyes. “Thank the Nine you’ve arrived,” she said. “The baby is coming any minute now, and the birth is not going to be an easy one. Your wife is in a great deal of pain – even more than you’d usually expect. I’ve given her some marshmerrow extract to help relieve the pain, but she’s still in pretty bad shape. The good news is, our mystic’s determined that the head’s facing the right way, at least.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“I think so…but I’m not sure. You never can tell with this sort of thing.”

I walked closer, right beside the bed where Imsin was. She was staring at the ceiling, her eyes vacant yet wild and feverish at the same time. She didn’t even seem to notice I was there. Almost instinctively, I brought my hand down beside her face and stroked her hair gently. “Imsin…” I murmured.

“Grignr…” she whimpered softly. “I…n-need you…” Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she screamed in pain. Her breathing and convulsions began to grow even louder and more rhythmic.

“It’s coming!” yelled Edrene. “Breathe, Imsin! Breathe! Slowly…slowly!” She turned her head. “Get ready, Grignr! You’re going to deliver this baby! Do exactly as I say when I tell you to! Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Alright. When the head appears, I want you to use your hands to guide the baby out. Do NOT pull it out. It’ll come out on its own. Just sort of slowly help and guide it along. Got it?”

I nodded again.

“Good. Now brace yourself. This is going to be messy.”

And indeed it was. The next few minutes felt like an eternity. Imsin’s contractions gradually grew more frequent, and her cries of pain grew louder. Then, she gave out an ear-shattering scream. The child’s head was now visible. I reached out to guide it as I had been instructed. Then, another thrust, this one even more forceful than the last. Imsin’s screaming conveyed more sheer agony than I had ever heard before, even from my many foes on the battlefield. There seemed to be a sort of desperation to them that I wasn’t expecting. Was something wrong?

Time slowed down with each contraction. And then, as the baby finally came out, it literally stood still. All sound and motion ceased – from the baby, from the healer, and from Imsin. I looked at the child…and then I looked in her eyes. There was no trace of life to be found in them. She looked as though she had died…

And then, I heard a voice echoing inside my head. It was distinctly feminine, yet with traces of masculinity, dripping with bass overtones. It was a voice the likes of which I had never heard before. And yet, it felt strangely familiar. My mind reverberated with quiet thunder as the heavens opened and spoke to me.

”YOUR VISION FAILS YOU, MORTAL,” the voice said. ”YOU HAVE FAILED TO SEE YOUR TRUE DESTINY. HEARKEN NOW, AND I WILL BRING LIGHT TO THAT WHICH LIES HIDDEN TO YOUR MORTAL EYES.”

”What is this?” I inquired silently. ”Who are you?”

“I HAVE MANY NAMES, NONE OF WHICH I AM AT LIBERTY TO REVEAL TO YOU. BUT MY NAME IS NOT IMPORTANT. WHAT MATTERS IS THAT YOU ARE NOT FULFILLING YOUR DESTINY.”

“What are you trying to say, spirit?”

“THAT YOU ARE NOT MEANT TO LIVE A MERE MORTAL’S LIFE. YOUR FRIENDS AND YOUR FAMILY CANNOT ENDURE LONG ENOUGH, NOR NEARLY ENOUGH. YOUR WIFE IS NOW DEAD, AND VERILY YOU SHALL SEE THE DAY WHEN YOUR CHILD HAS GROWN OLD AND YOU HAVE NOT. YOU SHALL BURY THEM BOTH, AS YOU SHALL ALL YOUR DESCENDANTS. FOR YOU SHALL OUTLIVE THEM ALL.”

“Dead? No…no…spirit, this cannot happen. I cannot allow it.”

“IT DOES NOT MATTER WHAT YOU ARE WILLING TO ALLOW, MORTAL. THE HEART OF THE WORLD HAS GIVEN YOU A BLESSING INTENDED FOR YOU AND FOR YOU ALONE. IT IS NOT YOUR GIFT TO SHARE. EVERYONE YOU NOW KNOW – YOUR FAMILY, YOUR TRUSTED FRIENDS, EVEN YOUR ENEMIES – SHALL AGE BEFORE YOUR EYES WHILE YOU REMAIN THE SAME. WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE IF YOUR WIFE DIES TODAY, TOMORROW, OR A HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW? IT IS INEVITABLE. YOU WILL OUTLIVE HER.”

“It makes all the difference in the world to me, spirit. It means the difference between merely surviving and truly LIVING. I don’t expect you to understand, but…I beg you. You must have great power to stop the hands of time. Please…don’t let this happen.”

“VERY WELL, MORTAL. I WILL PREVENT HER DEATH JUST THIS ONCE, FOR YOUR RECENT DEEDS HAVE GAINED YOU MY FAVOR. JUST KNOW, YOUR WIFE SHALL LEAVE THIS MORTAL PLANE LONG BEFORE YOU DO. PERHAPS SHE WILL DIE TOMORROW. REMEMBER…YOUR FINAL DESTINY LIES FAR FROM HER.”

“We’ll see about that, spirit. But thank you.”

Time resumed. The baby began to cry. I could see Imsin opening her eyes and taking a deep breath. Her vitality had returned – the sickness in her eyes had gone.

I looked at the child. “It’s a girl,” I said, handing the baby to her mother. We smiled knowingly at each other as she cradled it gently in her arms.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 20 2008, 01:30 AM

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JshcuLgIalM

Yeah...this is a thread bump. What of it?

Posted by: Black Hand Aug 20 2008, 07:07 PM

**Rushes in with Ego Burn Balm!** Sorry man been busy!

Uh, read one or two, but not all of the updates, but what I read is excellent, and it keeps me wanting more, if I werent so danged busy, Id be more commentative. I wonder if thats even a word?

Posted by: minque Aug 20 2008, 09:42 PM

Uhhhh, bbq! That was a bit unexpected! I liked it very much, the description of it I mean, not the fate of poor Grignr...

Then I wonder about the child of course but I am sure we will learn more....right?

The birth was nicely described, indeed it was!


S.G.M

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 20 2008, 10:36 PM

Just be thankful I didn't describe the afterbirth.

And as for all your questions, don't worry. All will be revealed...eventually. *laughs deviously*

Posted by: minque Aug 20 2008, 10:43 PM

Oh? Hmm I have three kids....I think I could handle any description of afterbirths....or did this one get exceptionally nasty?

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 20 2008, 10:50 PM

...Possibly. Possibly not. Wouldn't YOU like to know?

In any case, the fact that you can handle it doesn't necessarily mean you'd particularly care to read it. It would ruin the dramatic pacing in any case without adding anything to the story. It was just an off-hand remark, really.

Posted by: minque Aug 20 2008, 10:54 PM

Oki...I'll stay put waiting for the next update then!

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 27 2008, 03:46 AM

NOTE: It only gets worse from here folks. Disownment doubly applies.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We named the baby Svetja, and spent most of the next two weeks taking care of her. Between the crying, the feeding, and (at certain times) the smell, neither of us slept very much. It was enough to make me forget about the spirits, visions, and horrific dreams for a while as I took on the blessings and responsibilities of fatherhood. To feel this burden lifted was a relief and a joy the extent of which I cannot describe in words.

And then, almost as quickly as it had left, it came back to me as I drifted to sleep in the midnight hours. Once again I dreamed of a previous life, of my days as warrior-king of Resdaynia. I was standing before a great altar alongside my trusted friends and advisors, the Tribunal. We were all four of us dressed in fine silk robes, and the strong smell of incense filled the air. Vehk began to read from an ornately engraved scroll. I could hear a crackle of thunder as he finished his invocation.

Suddenly, I felt a terrible pain. My flesh felt as if it was burning, corrupted by a caustic toxin that covered me from head to foot. And then…a sharp, sudden sting in my back. I turned around…and saw Vehk, holding the ceremonial dagger, twisting it at the hilt. I fell to my knees and cried to the heavens in anguish. The rest of the Tribunal just looked on, completely expressionless, as the life slowly drained from me.

“My…my friends…” I gasped. “My Queen…” I had been betrayed.

I woke with a start, in a cold sweat. I looked to Imsin. She was still asleep. Slowly and carefully, I sat up, and the terrible thoughts that had lain dormant for all this time now flooded my consciousness.

I had thought about my quasi-immortality before, but never in great detail. I reasoned that there was no sense in worrying about it, for there was nothing I could do. After all, worrying could do nothing but keep me from living a happy, fulfilling life.

But I could no longer simply sweep this issue under the rug. The mysterious spirit had awakened all the questions and fears that I had harbored for so long and brought them to the foreground. I began to wonder how I would explain to little Svetja why her mother would die while her father would not. I wondered what it would be like to watch her, and generation after generation of her descendents, grow older than I was. Finally, I wondered what sort of ethereal being would be at all interested in such a quasi-mortal’s plight. The fact that divine intervention was once again creeping into my life made me feel uneasy. I now feared that my duties and my destiny were putting my family in danger.

Finally, after much deliberation, I gave up trying to answer these questions on my own. To do so would require the counsel of someone wise – someone who knew what I was going through. And so I resolved myself to leave in the morning. Vivec and I were going to have a little chat.

Posted by: canis216 Aug 27 2008, 04:42 AM

Ah, of course. Who better to speak with than the one with CHIM, eh? I imagine this should be an interesting conversation.

Keep up the great work.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 28 2008, 07:46 AM

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Duuuuuuuumb. Oh, God, how was I so duuuuumb Jesus Christ


“You can hear the words, so run away
Come, Hortator, unfold into a clear unknown,
Stay quiet until you've slept in the yesterday,
And say no elegies for the melting stone”
- Excerpt from The Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec: Lesson Five

Chapter VI

The gondolier stared at me, his eyes wide with nervous excitement. “Y-you’re him, aren’t you? You’re the Nerevarine…”

I nodded.

The Dunmer fumbled around with his hat for a moment before removing it and giving a slight, jerky bow. “I…really can’t tell you what an honor it is to be of service to you, serjo,” he said haltingly, his voice seeming to grow quieter and more sheepish by the second. “Listen…you’ve probably heard this before, but…well…I really can’t…say…”

“You don’t have to say a word, friend,” I assured him. “Just take me to the Temple Canton, please.”

“Yes, right away, sera.” His expression instantly shifted to one of intent focus as he fastened his hat, reached for his pole, and led me down the wooden stairs to the gondola.

I had almost forgotten what a truly magnificent sight the city was. The sky was clear; the waters shined with a bright reflective light, illuminating the stone walls and foundations of the city with a faint bronze-tinged glow. The multi-tiered cantons towered majestically over the broad central canal, each of them symmetrically aligned down to the last tapestry. Statues of the twelve saints of Dunmer tradition lined the avenue, each one appearing to be subtly angled toward the center of the High Fane. It was pure and elegantly simplistic beauty.

“So...if you don’t mind me asking, sera…” the gondolier said as he quietly pushed the boat forward, “…what brings the Hortator to our fair city?”

“I’m here to meet with an old friend,” I replied. “I’d prefer not to have to elaborate any further.”

“Certainly. I understand.”

From there we continued in silence. Several minutes later, we finally arrived at the foot of the Temple.

“Here we are. That’ll be six drakes, muthsera.”

“Alright.” I fished ten drakes out of my sack of coins and handed it to him. “By the way, what is your name, friend?”

“Dalse. Dalse Adren.”

“Well, you can keep the change. Three blessings, Sera Adren.”

“Home and hearth, Lord Nerevar.”

And so I made my way through the Temple Canton, passing beneath the Temple prison of Baar Dau, crossing the small footbridge between the two buildings, and ascending the tall, imposing staircase that led to Vivec’s doorstep.

Breathing deeply, I turned the key and entered the palace.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 28 2008, 07:48 AM

AUTHOR'S NOTE: You know what? [censored] it. You get the point by now.


Vivec was sitting cross-legged, as always, levitating and meditating in the center of the room. His eyes were closed and his brow furrowed in deep thought.

Just as I was about to announce my presence to him, he spoke in his distinctively dreamlike, whistling baritone. “Ah…Lord Grignr. I suspected we might meet again. I sense you have come seeking my council.” The corners of his lips turned upward in a rather whimsical grin. “What have you come here to talk about?”

“Dreams. Dreams and visions.”

“Dreams of Akavir?”

“Akavir? No…why?”

“I have heard the name whispered among the flowers blooming over the wind-swept hills of Veloth. I whisper the name back to them and they speak of you. Perhaps you do not listen closely enough.”

“Perhaps not,” I replied. “Still, I’m hearing quite enough as it is. It seems as though every night I am dreaming of loss, suffering, death, and betrayal. I believe my fears stem from my divine gift. Surely you, in your long lifetime, have experienced something at least partly similar to this.”

“You forget that I am a god,” he said. “Or what remains of one. You cannot hope to compare the experience of godhood to anything you know, nor even comprehend what it is like.

“Still, I am well aware of how and why you suffer. You bore this gift – one that no mortal was meant to take on – out of necessity, to save the people of Morrowind. Because you walked the path of the Hero, which had been detailed by prophecy, you were able to retain this gift without being consumed by it.

“And so you have a mortal’s hopes, desires, and aspirations, but not his lifespan. You will endure only to lose everything, for the days of mortals are few and miserable. It is very sad that this must be. But it must. All that can be done is to count and cherish what little time you will have.

“But you already know this. There is something else that troubles you, otherwise you would not have come to me.”

“Yes…that is true.” I told Vivec about the voice – how it had halted time and brought my wife back from death.

“Interesting…the et’Ada are most certainly involved. The clouds of deceit linger like vapor over the Mundus. Threads are woven and unraveled, scores are settled through secret murder…the Webspinner is again at work.”

My face blanched white as I realized the truth. “Mephala…”

“Yes…and probably Boethiah as well. Treachery and murder…one tends to accompany the other. Your visions are messages from the depths of Oblivion. The only way to end them is to listen closely to whatever they want you to hear. Find out what they want from you. I am afraid there is no other way.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“I am sorry, my friend, but these are your visions to deal with, not mine. The meddlers of Oblivion have something in mind for you. It is not wise to defy one Daedric Prince, let alone two. I know from experience, and though I have no regrets, I do not think things would turn out well for you. You must heed their words and follow them wherever they may take you.”

“Even to Akavir?”

“If that is where they would have you go. Of course, you could always opt not to and see what happens.”

I rolled my eyes in disgust. “You know, for a god, you are extraordinarily unhelpful.”

Vivec glared at me, his eyes flaring bright red. “I have nothing more to say to you, Nerevarine. Leave me. NOW.”

I turned around and stormed out the doors. The good news was, my questions had been answered. Unfortunately, a multitude of new ones had taken their place.

Posted by: Black Hand Aug 29 2008, 07:34 AM

All caught up! Very nice. Bringing my Matron into the fold, how fitting. Mephala is intrigue itself after all, and I am quite intrigued now!

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 30 2008, 04:28 AM

Thanks again! To have your encouragement really helps, since your writing provided me with the impetus to start on this story again!

Posted by: bbqplatypus Aug 31 2008, 08:40 AM

”I am an atlas of smoke.”
- From http://imperial-library.info/mwbooks/lessons.shtml#17

Chapter VII

Vehk burst through the ornately engraved wooden door of the King’s palace, clutching in his arms the book of Tsaesci Secrets of War. He dashed across the courtyard to the slope-roofed pavilion where I and our horses were waiting as at least half a dozen serpent guards chased after him.

“Go! GO!” the thief-prince cried as the fiery red hail of Akaviri arrows filled the air behind him. For a moment, the projectiles seemed to hover in the air beneath the midday sun. Their red volcanic glass tips glowed orange from the light of Magnus as the volley took the countenance of a great black-striped dragon. The creature opened its maw and devoured the pavilion in an instant before turning to bear its teeth…

A loud thump against the hull stirred me awake. I slowly sat up and looked around to see what the matter was, but things seemed pretty quiet below deck. A few of the men were talking quietly and playing a game of cards. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t too significant – probably just a large piece of driftwood from one of the many shipwrecks along the rocky Telvanni coast.

We were getting close to the rumored “hotspot” Ri’Darsha had mentioned in his report – a small island that the locals liked to call Shroud Rock. Sailors made a point of avoiding the place – it was frequently covered in a heavy fog that ships had a tendency to never come out of. Even when the skies were clear, the waters around the island were treacherous and unpredictable. It was rumored to be haunted, cursed, or protected from intruders by magic. But Ri’Darsha had overheard several different freighter captains talking about a suspicious-looking boat docked nearby - probably a Camonna Tong remnant. So I was now leading a detachment from Fort Wolverine to investigate.

I fell back in my cot and stared at the ceiling. I did not particularly want to go back to sleep. I had been dreaming about Akavir more and more in the past few weeks. Akavir...it was a word that now seemed to occupy my every thought. The dread curse of Akavir hung over me like a dark cloud. The dreams held sway over my future...and even my past. I remembered reading something in one of the Thirty-Six lessons about Vivec and Nerevar traveling to Akavir to learn the ways of the East. But I wasn’t sure how much of his account (if any) could be believed.

In fact, I was beginning to regard virtually everyone and everything with suspicion. I had nearly doubled the number of guards protecting Rethan Manor. I was going through the personal correspondence of my secretaries and advisors. I was more fearful and paranoid than ever – the fear that something might happen to my wife and my daughter weighed heavily upon me, as did my own destiny.

I began to reflect back on what Vivec had told me: “The meddlers of Oblivion have something in mind for you.” But what exactly was it? My dreams and visions were even more vivid and frequent than ever before. Yet I still was no closer to finding any answers.

As I pondered over this, the hatch opened. A stocky, ruggedly-built Imperial with gray-flecked hair stepped down from above deck.

“Knight Grignr?” he called down from above. “We just dropped anchor, sir. We’re here.”

Posted by: Black Hand Sep 2 2008, 09:18 PM

Ill make this quick: you're freaking poet man!! Please, keep it coming!

Posted by: bbqplatypus Sep 2 2008, 11:03 PM

Garth...that was a haiku.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Sep 8 2008, 07:39 AM

I stepped off the boat and surveyed my surroundings as I waded toward shore through the shin-deep water. It was a craggy, miserable little rock – ill-suited for habitation, or for any purpose for that matter. We had disembarked near the least steep and most approachable part of the island. Where the rest of the island was surrounded by sheer cliff faces, this area was more of a steep, graduated incline, with a modestly-sized flat section near the water’s edge. Further north, the shoreline indented inwards to form a sort of miniature bay spanned by a crude, arch-like rock bridge.

“Their hideout is probably near that indentation over there.” I motioned for the Legionnaires to follow me.

But no sooner had we started toward the bridge when a wrinkled, white-haired Dunmer in fine robes made his way over the top of the hilltop and into our line of sight. The archers noticed this quickly and readied their weapons, arrows primed to fire.

“Hold!” I ordered. Then, I called out to the Dunmer. “Halt! Identify yourself!”

The mer laughed and began muttering something under his breath. Then there was a brief crash of thunder. Suddenly, a massive shockwave of magicka exploded from out of the ground itself, knocking me off my feet and onto my back. By the time I got back up, the island was quickly being enveloped in a thick fog. Within seconds, I could not see past my own outstretched hands.

“It’s a trap!” I gasped. “We have to get out of here!”

One of the soldiers behind me spoke up. “How? We can’t even see where we’re supposed to – AAAAAAAUUUUUUGH!” He let out a piercing scream and fell silent.

For a few agonizing seconds, all was silent. And then, nine hells broke loose. Terrified shrieks of agony and death filled the air, accompanied by the distinctive sound of sword slicing through flesh, and punctuated by the loud CLAK! of heavy boots against the ground as the Legionnaires desperately tried to flee. This was no battle – this was a slaughter.

I tried to focus my innate Tower-sense upon my surroundings in an effort to search for traps or enchantments, but it was to no avail. The wizard had silenced me.

I had to think fast. The lives of myself and the men under my command were at stake. I could not see the end of my own sword, but I knew that I was dead if I just stayed where I was. I needed to dispel the wizard’s curse.

Just then, I could feel a faint, rippling breeze coming from behind my neck. Realizing what it was, I ducked and dove out of the way. A split second later, I felt the cold WHOOSH! of a blade passing over me as I hurtled through the mist. Unfortunately, my momentum carried me over the edge of the narrow path on which I was standing. I tumbled down the steep slope onto the rocks below.

I landed with a mighty crash. Winded but alive, I slowly got to my knees, reached into my pack and groped around for the potions. I rummaged through the bag, squinting hard to read the labels on the vials. Finally, I was able to find what I was looking for – a Dispel potion. I quickly drank it and stood up as I grabbed a potion of levitation from the bottom of the bag.

I could feel the magic of the Tower flow through me and everything on the island as I focused my inner eye upon my enemies. There were about twelve of them near the shoreline, each of them armed with poisoned shortswords, plus enchanted amulets that presumably allowed them to detect us. The wizard was higher up, near the top of the hill at the center of the island. I had to kill him and lift the fog.

I floated silently up to one of my assailants. I knew he could see me as well, and had my sword at the ready. I could sense the location of his short blade as he moved to attack. But I knew quite well how to fight in the dark – Imsin herself had trained me how to do it, back in the days when she was master-at-arms, and I her pupil.

"Make contact...maintain balance...keep moving...let the enemy's blade move with yours...make use of your senses!"

I no longer needed to remind myself of these things. They were now second nature to me.

My sword met his, and then swiftly swung around to strike at his torso. The invisible assailant blocked my strike just in time. However, he had left his flank wide open. I kicked the hazy expanse where I knew his stomach to be. My left foot connected with his stomach, and he fell back, dazed and short of breath. I plunged Trueflame into his chest and charged up the hill.

Every step up the rocky incline was a leap of faith; I had only my intuition to guide my footsteps. Soon, I was beset on both sides by no fewer than three enemies. With only my inner eye and sense of direction I thwarted their attacks, slashing, blocking, ducking, and dodging my way around and through them. One by one they fell until none stood in my way.

The wizard’s powerful staff betrayed him to me. But he was not blind, either – I felt him getting farther away from me as he fled down the other side of the little mountain.

“Come back here!” I snarled, unslinging my Daedric longbow. I focused my senses again, getting a bead on his spiritual aura and letting fly a bonemold arrow into the murky void. A whimpering cry of anguish let me know that my shot had connected.

I calmly strolled down to where the wizard lay, unable to walk. He had been shot in the leg.

“Please…” he pleaded. “P-please don’t kill me…please, I don’t –“

I didn’t allow him to finish his sentence, separating his head from his shoulders. Good men had died because of what he had done. Men whom it was my responsibility to lead. Some of them I knew quite well. These were my friends; my comrades-in-arms. It was nothing less than what he deserved. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been the executioner.

Gradually, the fog began to clear. As I stood there, carefully cleaning the blood off of my sword, I heard a voice cry out behind me. “Watch out, sir!”

I pivoted to face the threat, only to recoil in fear and surprise. Two tall figures were racing toward me, each dressed in black from head to toe, with a single glass eye gleaming on the left side of their faces. It couldn’t be…

They were no more than five feet away. I couldn’t stop them; there was no time. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the inevitable sting of their glass daggers…but the impact never came. One by one, I opened my eyes. The assassins lay face down on the ground, arrows sticking through the backs of their heads.

“The Dark Brotherhood…” I murmured incredulously. “They must have set this trap for me…” Then it began to dawn on me. “Imsin…”

“Is something wrong, sir?” a voice called out. I looked to the top of the hill. A Redguard in Imperial uniform stood there, his long braided hair flowing in the breeze.

“No…nothing. It seems I owe you my life, soldier. What’s your name?”

“Trooper Sadean, sir. I am…or, was…head of the detachment of archers you brought here.”

“I see…are there any other survivors, Trooper?”

“No, sir,” he replied grimly. “Just me.”

“Damn…we’ll need to report this to Fort Wolverine. You’ll have to do it yourself, unfortunately. I have to go. There’s…something I need to see. Oh, and by the way, congratulations.”

“Congratulations? For what?”

“Your promotion, of course. Best of luck to you, Agent Sadean.”

I slipped on my Grandmaster’s Signet Ring and teleported to Rethan Manor, terrified at what I might find there…

Posted by: mplantinga Sep 10 2008, 06:05 PM

That was interesting. A powerful wizard, and then the dark brotherhood. I await news of Rethan manor with great trepidation.

Posted by: The Bean Sep 10 2008, 09:48 PM

Mephala, heirs and the dark brothehood? This can mean only one thing-trouble!

Seriously, this is getting very good indeed, and I look forward the next part.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Sep 12 2008, 10:43 PM

Furious, I bolted upright and balled my fist in anger. ”And just why, pray tell, should I go along with the Emperor’s plans for me? What do I owe the man to whom I have already given two years of my life? Was my stay in prison not enough punishment to satisfy his sadistic desires!? What possible justification could I have for doing ANYTHING other than walking out that door and never coming back?”

Caius seemed to look right through me, directly into my soul as he made his calm and measured reply. “You have nowhere else to go,” he said plainly. “You are a stranger, alone in a strange land. You have no home, no family, no means of employment, no personal ties to Cyrodil. You cannot hope to survive here without the Emperor’s help. To serve the Empire – and above all to serve her people – is the greatest deed, and the greatest honor, that any man or mer could ever take on. It is a duty you cannot run from. You must go forth and face it like a man…no matter how difficult or painful it may be. As hard as it may be for you to understand, this is the reality of your situation.”

For a long moment, I sat there, deep in thought. Then, finally, I made my decision.

“Very well. I hereby pledge my life to the Emperor’s service, and to the people of Morrowind. This I swear by the deepest depths of my soul.”

Chapter VIII

I materialized once again inside the outer walls of my fortress, praying to any gods who would listen that it had fulfilled its purpose. Frantically, I ran across the well-trodden courtyard toward my home. But as I did, I saw something that made me stop in my tracks – a sight that I would never forget. Two of my guards lay face down outside the manor, their corpses riddled with arrows, darts, and other unidentifiable wounds. Though I had seen many dead bodies in my time, the sight made my face blanch with horror. The Dark Brotherhood had been here.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, I crept closer and closer to the entrance, as if tiptoeing near the edge of a cliff. Could my worst fears have been realized? I could not bear to find out…and yet I had to. Trembling, brought my hand up to the handle and pushed open the door.

Inside was more of the same. I could see a few surviving guards dragging around the dead bodies of other guards, along with the corpses of a few assassins. Fjorgeir, the captain of the guards, was the first to notice me enter the manor. He looked very distraught.

“Lord Grignr!” he exclaimed, with a wild but exhausted look in his eyes. “Th-there’s been a terrible attack on Rethan Manor! The Dark Brotherhood…just…there were just so many of them! So many dead…”

“How? What happened? Are Imsin and Svetja alright?”

His face contorted into a sorrowful grimace. “I’m not quite sure how it happened. One moment, it was a clear and sunny day over the plateau, and then…then a thick, damp fog just washed over us like a tidal wave. Men started dying left and right. And I…I ran away from them…back to the manor. I don’t know how I made it to the door alive, but…I had to warn the others. I had to save your family, milord…and…m-myself…” The proud Nord hung his head in shame. “Forgive me, sir. I’ve…never fled from battle like that before.”

“I understand,” I said. “Tell me what happened after that.”

“Well…I must have been able to escape their sight somehow, because I was able to get there about thirty seconds before they did. And then…then they came. There were just so many…there must have been at least two dozen by my count, maybe more. We fought and…slowed them down as best we could. Lady Imsin was able to take up her sword and shield to try and fight them off. She fought bravely, but…I’m so sorry…she…she was killed. Her body…it’s still upstairs.”

I swallowed deeply, struggling to hold back tears. “And what of Svetja? Where is my daughter?”

“I’m afraid we…don’t know, sir. Lady Imsin ordered Edrene to get her out of here and take her to the Chapel at Fort Moonmoth. But Intervention didn’t work here, so she had to run…jumped right off the balcony and just took off. We haven’t heard back from her yet.”

I stood there, unable to move. Then, finally, I spoke. “Show me to her body.”

Fjorgeir led me up the stairs and into the master bedroom. There, right in the center of the room, lay Imsin, still carrying Hopesfire in her right hand. Around her were the bodies of a half a dozen assassins.

“I am so sorry, milord…” Fjorgeir said despondently. “I have failed you…we’ve all failed you…”

“You are not at fault,” I said in the most stoic tone I could muster. “You’ve done all I've ever asked of you. Now I ask that you leave me in peace for a moment.”

“Yes, milord.” He turned and walked quickly out of the room.

I fell to my knees and wept bitterly.

Posted by: minque Sep 13 2008, 12:35 AM

Ah yes! A good piece of work really. I read the last parts with great pleasure. So continue please

Posted by: bbqplatypus Sep 14 2008, 08:04 AM

The funeral was held three days later, atop a grassy hill not far from the Odai Plateau. It seemed as though all of Morrowind had come to mourn and bear witness to her cremation. Duke Dren was there, as were Archmagister Aryon, all the Hlaalu and Redoran councilmen, and every Legion fort commander. There were even some people I did not recognize, presumably having come all the way from the mainland to pay their respects. Lord Vivec himself had come to preside over the proceedings (a fact which surprised even me, seeing how he seldom left his palace). Yet all the company in the world made little difference to me. The love of my life was dead, and I had heard no news with regards to my daughter. No amount of comfort or tears could bring either of them back to me.

In the center of the mass of humanity lay Imsin’s body, surrounded by flowers atop a simple wooden platform. She was clad in full uniform with Hopesfire in hand, lying across her chest. But her face was pale, devoid of the fiery spirit and energy that had seemed to course through her while she lived. She was not as I remembered her at all.

Appropriately, the day was cold, gray, and gloomy. A gentle rain was falling as Vivec approached, carrying a glowing ceremonial torch. He climbed atop the platform and delivered his brief elegy. “Count only the happy hours. A simple lesson, one that I have given before. But one that must not be forgotten when we consider and reflect upon the brief life of Imsin the Dreamer, warrior servant of the Dragon Crown, wife of the Hortator, and mother to his child. Pity that her hours were so few. But what few she had were memorable, and filled with heroics, virtuousness, and most of all love. She now returns to the Dreamsleeve, where kings and queens and peasants sleep and drift; where the cold wombfires purge the soul of memory and forge it anew. So do mortals die, and so are they reborn. It has been so since the foundation of the Mundus, and will be so until its end. You shall never see this woman again. One day, though, the same fate will befall you. Therefore, let us mourn this loss now, and express sorrow openly, that later we may weep no more. The ending of these words is ALMSIVI.”

And with that, Vivec dropped the torch upon the platform. The hungry, flickering flames spread like hot butter over bread, engulfing Imsin’s funeral pyre. The flame burned for hours, as the people there paid their respects, offered words of condolences, and paid homage to their Lord Vivec. In the meantime, I just sat there, staring at the flames, barely acknowledging the presence of the various friends and well-wishers who were there. One by one, they all left, until the fire died out (and only ashes and the still-intact Hopesfire remained), leaving me and Vivec standing alone.

He looked at me. I turned my head away and stared at the ground. For a minute, neither of us spoke a word. Finally, I opened my mouth. “It all seems so cruel, so…unfair. For all my time here, I’ve striven to protect this land from evil. I’ve been constantly struggling against it. And ever since the visions started, I’ve been trying - trying with all my might – to stop it from destroying my life. I have given my best, fighting with every bit of strength that I have to master my destiny and protect the people I care about. But the one thing that meant the most to me…I was powerless to protect.

"My heart, my soul…they are dead and missing. They have been stolen from me…and I cannot even name the thief. Do you know what it is like to feel so powerless, Lord Vivec? To know that you have lost everything…and can do nothing about it?”

“I know the feeling well, Hortator,” he replied. “For five hundred years my power has been slowly draining, and I have watched the country I once ruled over slowly deteriorate and fall to a foe that I, previously omnipotent, could not stop. Then I lost my sister to madness. Believe me, I have witnessed much sorrow over the course of my divine span of existence.”

“Hmm…maybe,” I said, stroking my chin. “But that’s still not enough to answer the other question I have for you. Regardless of how much you may relate to my predicament, you had no reason to come here. It could just as easily have been Archcanon Saryoni or even an Imperial Cult priest delivering that elegy. To be quite frank, I suspect you didn’t come to provide comfort or to mourn my dead wife. So, if you don’t mind me asking, old friend…why are you really here?”

“A fair question. You are as clever and observant as you were in your first incarnation, Lord Nerevar. The truth is, I have come to give you counsel.”

“Counsel? Counsel regarding what?”

“Regarding the path which has been laid at your feet. It has been set before you, and you cannot deny it.”

“NO! I have had ENOUGH of prophecy and fate! I’ve lost enough to them already! They just ruined my life! I’m tired of following rules set for me by some cosmic meddler!”

“Hmm…understandable. However, you’ll soon learn otherwise. What if I were to tell you that I can help you find the one who murdered your wife? And that the help would lead you toward your star-bound fate?”

“Keep talking.”

“Very well. The path you must follow will lead you to investigate a traitor in your midst – someone who has gained your trust as an agent of deceit.”

My brow furrowed in puzzlement. “But who could possibly…?” Suddenly, it dawned on me – the informant who sent me to Shroud Rock in the first place! “But it can’t be…Ri’Darsha?”

Vivec shrugged (a rare fit of expressiveness for him). “If there is no one else more suitable. I have meditated over this for several days and determined that there must be a spy. If it is vengeance you seek, find the Khajit and make him tell you everything he knows.”

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. “Believe me…I will.”

Posted by: minque Sep 14 2008, 04:45 PM

Ahh bbq! Wonderful...and I don't mean the fact that Imsin was killed (I use her in my story, but there she's very much alive!), no I mean the way you describe her death and now the funeral.

>Very good work, as Blackie said before "you're a frikkin' poet"

Posted by: Black Hand Sep 20 2008, 05:56 AM

Intriguing. Yet again.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Sep 21 2008, 06:24 AM

”Nerevar said, ‘I am afraid to become slipshod in my thinking.’
Vivec said, ‘Reach heaven by violence then.’”
- From http://imperial-library.info/mwbooks/lessons.shtml#16

Chapter IX

The central market in Sadrith Mora was busy as usual, even as sundown drew near. I watched from a distance as the workers, merchants, and slaves went about their duties. But my gaze was focused on one Khajit in particular – Ri’Darsha. He was doing the usual heavy work that slaves and beastfolk were typically expected to do – lifting and unloading crates and bringing in goods from the docks.

Then, a horn sounded, and all work came to a stop. The slaves finished their tasks, and the shopkeepers packed up their goods. The sun had nearly dipped below the horizon, and the open market was closing.

I watched carefully to see where Ri’Darsha went next. I nearly lost him amid the choked mass of people scattering about. He was headed north, toward Fara’s Hole in the Wall. I pulled the hood of my peasant’s robes over my head and followed him, taking great care to ensure that he did not see me tailing him. I ascended the spiral staircase and slid open the circular door, entering the tavern nearly a minute after he did.

I took a quick look around the room. It was filled with patrons, mostly Dunmer, who were drinking, talking, and making merry (well, they seemed less stoic than usual, at least). Ri’Darsha was sitting at a large table in the corner with a bottle of sujamma in front of him. He appeared to be waiting for someone.

I took a seat at the bar, as close to Ri’Darsha as I could get without getting suspiciously close. I stayed farther away than I might have otherwise, as I had great respect for the Khajit’s powers of observation.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

“Eh...make it a brandy,” I responded in a low, gruff tone, disguising my voice to avoid recognition.

The bartender handed me my drink. I drank slowly and quietly, waiting patiently and trying to keep a low profile. I attempted to blend in by striking up conversation with some of the more drunken patrons. None of them seemed to have much to say, however, so the conversations tended to be very short ones.

Finally, after nearly an hour of drinking and mingling, I saw four individuals approaching Ri’Darsha’s table out of the corner of my eye – two Dunmer, an Argonian, and an Imperial. They sat down and began talking to each other in hushed voices. I listened intently, but I heard little. I could make out the words “shipment,” “money,” and “boat.”

When their conversation had finished, the four of them left the table. Ri’Darsha sat there for a moment before getting up and leaving the bar. A few seconds later, I got up to follow them.

I looked out at the city streets from the top of the staircase, which the Ring of Azura enabled me to see without torchlight. There I could see four dark figures headed toward the city gate, as a Khajit followed closely behind them. Slowly and stealthily, I took off after them.

The Imperial pushed open the great stone disk that served as the gateway to the Telvanni city, and the rest followed. They were headed toward the docks – there could be no doubt of that. What they were doing there was unclear, but I had a feeling that I would have to move quickly. I crept through the gate just as it was about to swing shut.

The docks were illuminated by dozens of hanging lanterns, so I kept still in the shadows near the gate and watched them approach a large boat on the right side of the pier, near the Elf-Skerring. The people Ri’Darsha had been following climbed up the ramp and onto the boat. Ri’Darsha seemed to half-sneak, half-walk onto it. Then, I saw two of the four strangers get off the boat and stand still on the pier, as if guarding the boat. Suddenly, it dawned on me…Ri’Darsha was trying to escape under cover of night! I couldn’t let that boat leave the docks!

I walked casually down to where the ship was docked. There was only one narrow entrance onto the boat, so stealth was useless here. The Argonian and Argonian saw me and stood, posturing and crossing their arms in an attempt to look as intimidating as possible.

“What are YOU lookin’ at, Nord?” the Imperial snarled.

I decided it would be best to be as honest as possible. “I’m with the Imperial Legion. I’m the commander of this district, and I’d like to climb aboard your boat and look around a bit.”

“Do you have a warrant?” the Argonian asked, a skeptical expression spread across his face.

“Do I need one?”

“You do around these parts, pal,” sneered the Imperial. “This is our ship, and you’ll be playing by OUR rules.”

“You needn’t worry about my intentions, sirs. I’m not planning on arresting anyone. I’d just like to look around, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t give a damn WHO you are or WHAT you plan on doing. We’re NOT letting you on this ship. Now run along, Nord…or you’ll be FLOATING your way back home.”

Acting swiftly, I pulled out my sword. In a single motion, I sliced straight through the Argonian’s neck and brought the tip to the Imperial’s throat, holding it there. The Argonian lay writhing on his back in pain, grabbing his throat as it bled.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, in a tone that was equal parts mocking and threatening. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that. I believe you said, ‘Go right ahead, sir – we’ll stay out of your way.’”

“G-go right ahead, sir!” the Imperial stammered. “We’ll stay out of your way!”

“Good…now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He shook his head furiously.

And so, with a grim smile, I walked up the ramp and opened the hatch to get below deck.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Sep 21 2008, 08:39 AM

I peered below deck to get a good look at what was going on there. Ri’Darsha had his back turned to me, and appeared to be examining the contents of a crate of moon sugar. He didn’t seem to notice the hatch opening, so I crawled inside, crept down the steps and announced myself.

“Am I interrupting something, Ri’Darsha?”

“Gah!” The Khajit jumped in surprise, nearly bumping his head on the ceiling. He turned and bared his claws, his body coiled to strike. Then, he noticed who I was. “Lord Grignr…? What are you doing here?”

“I think you know perfectly well why I’m here, Ri’Darsha.”

“Milord?” Ri’Darsha stared at me with a puzzled expression.

“DON’T you play dumb with me!” I smacked him across the face with my clenched fist, sending him flying across the room. I walked slowly toward him as he backed into the corner. “You betrayed my wife and daughter to the Dark Brotherhood!” WHAM! I kicked him in the stomach.
“You tried to have me KILLED! What I want to know is…who paid you to do it?” I grabbed him by the collar and looked him in the eye as he clawed vainly at me. There are many occasions when being tall and burly can be advantageous. This was one of those times.

“Ri’Darsha does not know what you are talking about! Ri’Darsha did not conspire against you!”

“LIAR!” I screamed, smacking him against the wall and lifting him up by the neck. His squirming and scratching grew more frantic and desperate. “You told me to go to Shroud Rock, where I was AMBUSHED by the Dark Brotherhood. You MUST have been in on the assassination! Now tell me who hired you, and I MIGHT let you live!”

“Sh-Sh-Shroud Rock?” Ri’Darsha croaked. “Ri’Darsha – ack! – has not – gahh! – heard of any – koff! – such place! Much less…told…Master Grignr…to…g-go there…”

“Impossible!” I snapped. “It was in your report…delivered with the Imperial Seal no less! You know as well as me that it can’t be duplicated! Quit this pointless charade and give me the name of your employer!”

Just as I was about to deliver another blow, however, I heard the hatch opening overhead. “Hello?” a voice called down. “Is someone down there?”

I turned to see a Dunmer walking down the steps. He glared at me. “Who the hell are you?” His anger turned to puzzlement as he saw Ri’Darsha. “J’Shavir? What are you doing down here? Snooping through our merchandise?” His look quickly shifted back to a hateful grimace. “You’re a spy, aren’t you? I knew it was too early to trust you…” He called back out above deck. “Balam! We’ve got a couple of spies down here!”

I turned to look at Ri’Darsha. He seemed genuinely worried. Could he have been telling the truth?

A second dark elf came down to get a look at us. He looked at Ri’Darsha and shook his head. “You disappoint me, J’Shavirr. I thought we would make great business partners. It seems I was wrong. You have caused the deaths of two of my closest associates. And now, you and your friend are going to have to die.” As he finished his last sentence, he and his associate drew their swords and began to walk toward us.

I quickly drew Trueflame and began to parry and dodge their attacks as best I could. It was a delicate dance of steel and flesh, and I was the better dancer of the three. I was at a disadvantage, however – I was not wearing my armor, and they had the high ground. Slowly, I was being pushed back toward the wall of the storage hold.

“Ri’Darsha!” I cried, sidestepping one of the Dunmer’s swift thrusts. “Help me!”

“How, sera? Ri’Darsha has no weapon!”

“I don’t know! Find something! Anything!”

I saw Ri’Darsha lunge for one of the crates as I continued to do battle with my twin assailants. They were using a very simple but effective alternating strategy against me – when the one on the left went high, the other went low, and vice versa. Frequently, I was finding that the only way to avoid both was to step backward. And I was running out of room fast.

Finally, I was nearly against the wall. I was starting to get desperate. I was standing on my tiptoes, dance shuffling from side to side, spinning around, and flicking my wrists to move my sword fast enough to connect. This form of swordsmanship left no room for error whatsoever. Sooner or later I was going to get sloppy and a blow would get through. And when I had to jump to avoid a well-placed swipe at the knees, I thought that moment had come. I was off-balance, and my torso was vulnerable to attack. The Dunmer on my left raised his sword in preparation for the killing blow…

…only to suddenly go stiff and drop like a felled oak. A trickle of blood flowed down both sides of his face – he had been shot clean through both temples. Further left, I could see Ri’Darsha standing there, wielding a smuggled dwarven crossbow. The other mer instinctively turned his head to get a look at his fallen comrade. I immediately seized the opportunity to strike and sliced his body cleanly in half.

I turned to Ri’Darsha and put my hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Ri’Darsha. I apologize for ever doubting you, my friend.”

“Apology accepted, Lord Grignr,” Ri’Darsha replied. “Still, Ri’Darsha wonders what Lord Grignr will do to whichever man, mer, or beast he accuses of betrayal in the future. Ri’Darsha hopes that he is more polite to that person.” His voice conveyed quite a bit of resentment.

“Indeed…I’m really sorry about that, as well. I was trying to beat a confession out of you. I…thought you were trying to escape. Though, in retrospect, if you wanted to do that, you would have done it earlier. I...didn’t know you were doing an investigation. Again...I'm sorry.” I paused. “Who WERE those people, anyway?”

“Smugglers, of course. Ri’Darsha suspected they were quite high-ranking Camonna Tong remnants, and was trying to prove it. Word had spread that Lady Imsin had been murdered, and Ri’Darsha was very sad to hear it. Ri’Darsha’s first thought was of the Camonna Tong. So Ri’Darsha has been looking for smugglers close to Orvas Dren’s inner circle.”

“That makes sense. Unfortunately, we can pretty much rule out the Camonna Tong at this point. And Orvas Dren as well. Dren doesn’t have the resources or the guts to pull it off. His empire is crumbling, and he’s smart enough to know that I would kill him if he tried anything.”

“Ah, so he has nothing to lose, then?”

“True. But Dren is far too much of a narcissist and a coward to trade his own life and comforts for petty revenge. And then there’s the matter of the Imperial Seal. He may be the duke’s brother, but that’s not notable enough of a position to give him authority to use the Seal in his own correspondence. The Seal is a mark of high Imperial authority, and I can’t think of any major government officials who would want me dead, except for maybe…” My voice trailed off as it finally hit me. My eyes went wide as I suddenly realized the truth.

He had tried to kill me once before. I thought I had rectified any ill will he had towards me. I had bent over backwards to placate the monarchy…to ensure that I was never bothered again. And now, for reasons unknown, King Helseth had taken my family from me.

There was no question in my mind as to what the right course of action was. I had to go to Mournhold to find out why my family had been murdered...and to kill the man responsible. Even if he WAS the king.

Posted by: Black Hand Sep 21 2008, 11:41 PM

Another post machine??!!

Posted by: bbqplatypus Sep 22 2008, 12:35 AM

Well, not tonight. I've got a Philosophy paper to finish. I'd think "twist machine" is more like it.

Seriously, though, I've noticed a pattern where I pull off all these end-of-update reveals. It's purely intentional, but I find it somewhat amusing. Just take a look at the story so far:

"Mephala..."
(end chapter)
"The Dark Brotherhood..."
(end chapter)
"Helseth..."
(end chapter)
"METAL GEAR..."



I keed, I keed. I do enjoy being so cruel to you readers out there, though. Hopefully, it piques your interest...makes you squirm a bit.

Posted by: The Bean Sep 23 2008, 11:51 PM

That game has way too many cut scenes, I swear.

It's sad to see Imsin die, but hopefully vengeance will be had!

Posted by: bbqplatypus Sep 26 2008, 05:15 AM

The next morning, I left the Gateway Inn behind and prepared to leave. But before I did, I decided to bid farewell to Ri’Darsha. I approached him in the bustling, haphazard streets of Sadrith Mora. He was wheeling a cart of fruit down the street. I caught up with him and began to walk abreast with him.

“Good day, friend,” I said to him.

“Good day, stranger,” he replied in a nonchalant tone as he checked over his shoulder for eavesdroppers. He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “What is it that you wish to talk to Ri’Darsha about?”

“I just wanted to say goodbye…and also to thank you for all you’ve done for me. I just thought that, since this may be the last time we ever see each other, I would show my appreciation in case I don’t make it back.”

“You mustn’t speak that way, milord. You are quite capable of surviving greater peril than this. Ri’Darsha has great confidence that you shall return. And if you were to kill the king, there would surely be many who would be willing to accept you as their leader instead.”

“Maybe…do you really think I could do it?”

“You are Nerevarine, hero of Morrowind. For you, all things are possible.”

“I wish that were true, my friend,” I said. “But sadly, it is not. I cannot undo the past. I cannot get back that which I have lost.” We both remained silent for a moment. “I want to ask you a question, Ri’Darsha…a very personal one.”

“Ri’Darsha is listening.”

“Why did you agree to work for me in the first place?”

“You set Ri’Darsha free. He owes you no less than his service.”

“No…you don’t owe me anything. You never did. I would have freed you whether you were useful to me or not. You could have gone anywhere, done anything, after I freed you. You could have become a miner, a thief, or a paid laborer. You could even have returned to your ancestral homeland of Elswyr. And yet you chose to work for me, when all I did was ask. I did not force you to accept.”

“None of those jobs interest Ri’Darsha. Nor do they pay as well.”

“True…but a life of crime might. I am not the only one with money and power who would be interested in your services. You could have just as easily have taken my money and disappeared without a trace. My grief is such that I might not have noticed or cared. And yet, when my entire world – all that I’ve fought for, all that I’ve cared about – seems to be crumbling around me…the pieces slipping through my fingertips…you remain ever faithful to me. Though I have nothing left to defend…nothing left to fight for. Why are you so loyal? What reason do you have to serve as well as you do?”

Ri’Darsha’s eyes glanced sadly downward toward the ground. “Ri’Darsha has nowhere else to go, milord. Ri’Darsha is alone. When the slavers came to Elswyr, they took his family from him and scattered across the Morrowind province. He does not expect he will see them ever again. Ri’Darsha had almost lost hope…until you came and freed him from his prison. And there, as you stood in front of him, Ri’Darsha saw his future.” He briefly set down the cart and scratched his head. “It is strange…Ri’Darsha feels as though he was destined to follow the Nerevarine. It was a feeling that Ri’Darsha was meant for greatness of some kind…he has felt it all his life. And for some reason – though Ri’Darsha does not know why or how – he knew it led through you. It probably sounds so foolish…”

“No…” I said, stroking my chin in deep thought. “Not at all. In fact…I know exactly what you mean.” I looked Ri’Darsha in the eye. “You are being pushed, pulled…compelled by an invisible and irresistible force. There is a deep and powerful urge within you that compels you to continue…as though you are being pulled forward by your own viscera. It feeds your curiosity, making you anxious to know more. You don’t know what it is, but you will do anything to find out – to know what you were meant for.”

Ri’Darsha nodded in amazement. “Yes, yes…that is what it feels like…”

“Well…it’s good to know I’m not alone. We are kindred spirits, you and I. We have this impulse that drives us to make choices we might not otherwise make. Now, we can choose not to act on it. Some people spend their entire lives ignoring the call. They run from danger and hide from mystery. But it is not in our nature to refuse such a challenge. Instead, we want to face it. We demand to know. It’s why you agreed to work for me. It’s why I’m about to confront a king in his own palace. I know now that you will be loyal to me until the end…and that there is more at stake for me than revenge. I’m glad I talked to you, Ri’Darsha.”

“As am I, milord.”

“Farewell, my friend.”

“Goodbye, Master Grignr.”

I slipped on my signet ring and vanished without a trace.

Posted by: mplantinga Sep 26 2008, 04:27 PM

Very interesting update. It seems that Ri'Darsha and Grignr have come to a greater understanding of each other. I hope this isn't the last we see of Ri'Darsha; I was just starting to really like him.

Posted by: minque Sep 26 2008, 10:58 PM

Yeah, bbq! Excellent updates I have read with great pleasure. You really are getting better and better.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Sep 30 2008, 05:36 AM

I made my way through the euphoric throng of Ashlanders and toward the ashkhan’s yurt. Raising my hand, I motioned for the crowd to be silent. Then, I rapped gently upon the outer wall to ask permission to enter his abode.

“Come in,” I heard a voice call out from inside. I ducked beneath the low-hanging door and entered.

Sul-Matuul was sitting in his chair with his back facing the door. Neither of us said anything. We savored the glorious silence for a moment before the khan turned and faced me.

"You have passed the Third Trial. Before you lies the Fourth Trial, and the Fifth Trial. I have spoken with Nibani Maesa, and I know these Trials. You wish to be called Urshilaku Nerevarine. But first, would you hear the counsel of Sul-Matuul?"

I shook my head – not in refusal, but in amazement. “I spoke to her…to Peakstar. I spoke with all of them – the spirits of those who came before me and failed. They all seemed to say the same thing. That I am to unite the people of Veloth under one banner. That I am to be their war leader, not only on the battlefield, but in their hearts as well. That it is I, above all others, who is fit and destined to do this. I am a soldier, but…I’m only one man. I am not a demigod. To do this, I am going to have to be not just a warrior, but a diplomat as well. I have no idea of how to even begin going about this task. The weight of an entire nation rests on my shoulders. Of course I will hear your council. I need it now more than ever.”

"Good,” he said. “First, I would give you warning. When you are called 'Nerevarine,' the word must spread, and many must hear. Your enemies will hear, and come seeking your blood. And such friends as you may have among the Great Houses, those who heed the words of the Temple, they may forget their love for you. If you have business with the People of the Houses and Temple, you may wish to conduct that business first, before you are named 'Nerevarine.'”

“My business with them can be considered finished. Let them despise me if they wish. Whatever it is I must do, I intend to see it through. I will continue to push forward until none are left who deny me. All I ask is that you tell me where to push, and how…and I will be the leader you need.”

Chapter X

It had been three days since my confrontation with Ri’Darsha. I had taken that time to prepare my approach to the castle. I had gathered a small group of the best soldiers under my command. I had conspired with officials to keep it under wraps. But I could not do it through mere force of arms alone. I needed a sorcerer’s help.

So I decided to go to an old friend for help: Divayth Fyr. If anyone knew a way I could get an edge over the king, it was him. And so I made the long and arduous journey across the waters of Zafirbel Bay and up the great mushroom tower Tel Fyr. I floated up through the central shaft and landed gently on the top floor.

I entered quietly. He was sitting at his desk, poring over a piece of parchment that appeared to be several centuries old.

“Good day to you, Lord Fyr,” I said. “May I have a word with you?”

Divayth sighed. “More interruptions…who is it this time?” He looked up from his work, his eyes glaring with an obsessive passion that clashed with his weathered face. “Oh…it’s you again. I’m sorry, but I’m rather busy right now. Whatever you want, it’ll have to wait for some other time.”

“I’m afraid it can’t,” I said, reaching into my pack. “I have brought you a gift.” I pulled a copious number of Dwemer books and schematics out of my bag and set them on his desk. “I thought you might find these interesting.”

The old wizard looked over the ancient texts I had given them, briefly perusing their content. “Fascinating…these texts appear to date to the time of Kagrenac himself! Thank you very much for giving me these. I cannot refuse such a generous houseguest. Now, what have you come to talk with me about?”

“Do you know of any practical way to teleport large numbers of people all at once? Say…a couple hundred or so?”

“Hmm…might I ask why you would need to do such a thing, or would I regret asking?”

“Let’s just say that it’s some fairly personal business and leave it at that.”

“Very well. In any case, I don’t think it’s possible. Unless you had some sort of powerful artifact that had that ability to begin with, but I really don’t know of any with that kind of power.”

“Wait…I think I have something that might work, with a bit of tweaking.” I fumbled around in my pockets. “Ah…here it is! Barilzar’s Mazed Band! It’s an odd little artifact that I encountered during the…incident in Mournhold.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Lord Fyr replied. “Might I have a look at it?”

“Yes, certainly.” I handed it to him.

Divayth brought the ring up to his face to get a closer look at it. “Hmm…yes…a very interesting enchantment indeed. I can sense much darkness inside it…like the work of some unnatural force or revenant. Fitting, seeing as how that’s exactly what it is. As for the effects themselves, though…I’m not sure if they can be strengthened at all, I’m afraid.”

“Almalexia seemed to be able to do it.”

“Almalexia? What are you talking about?”

I told him the story of what had happened in Mournhold – the attack of the fabricants, her descent into madness, and the death of Sotha Sil. He just sat there, nodding all the while. And once I had finished, he still remained silent, quietly mulling over what I had just said.

At last, the wizard spoke. “Quite a fantastic tale, Lord Grignr. Rather difficult to believe, actually. But I believe it. And what’s more, I think I have the solution to your problem. I believe Almalexia must have used some of the remnants of her divine essence to imbue the Mazed Band with this power. Once she was killed, the essence and power of the artifact waned. My guess is that if we restore the ring’s connection to the divine, we can regain the power that it lost. If we obtain a substance of a divine nature – say, the blood of a Daedra Lord – it might be possible to recreate that bond, if only for a short while.”

“And how exactly are we going to go about doing that?” I asked.

“Leave that to me. You needn’t worry about it – I have everything I need right here.” He gestured toward an oddly-shaped Daedric axe resting on one of his shelves. It looked for all the world like a sharp-winged bat at the end of a rod. “Meet me here tomorrow. I shall have the Band ready for you then.”

“Thank you, Lord Fyr. You are a good friend.”

And so, I left his central chambers with a great sense of anticipation. My plan was slowly beginning to crystallize. Soon, my loyal troops would be materializing by the hundreds outside the King’s doorstep. Tomorrow I would have justice. Tomorrow, I would take my vengeance.

Posted by: Black Hand Sep 30 2008, 05:05 PM

Awesome. Divayth Fyr plays the Mad Scientist role quite well.

Posted by: Marcel Rhodes Oct 2 2008, 02:15 AM

I've got to say I'm glad to be back here on the forums, and one of the main reasons is this story. Keep up the good work, bbq: I really want to see how a showdown with Helseth would work out.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Oct 2 2008, 02:26 AM

Thanks. I'm just glad my story is entertaining people - especially good writers like you and Blackie (who, along with the guy who wrote http://forumplanet.gamespy.com/tavern_library/b49698/7299060/p1/?8, inspired me to start this). Rest assured that you'll see the rest of it very soon. I may even get an update in tonight, if I find the time.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Oct 2 2008, 06:43 AM

Down the streets of Mournhold we marched – down the white marble steps of the Temple and through the courtyard as hundreds of astonished onlookers looked on. It was a terrible and awe-inspiring display – three hundred soldiers marching beneath the banner of the Moon and Star, appearing as if out of nowhere. And behind them, the most terrifying sight of all – a horde of verminous fabricants, each moving in unison, row by row. A few citizens cheered. Most were dead silent. The Ordinators seemed indifferent. They all knew why I had come. And I had not come to negotiate.

We halted briefly before the gate to the palace courtyard. Four men – two to my right and two to my left, broke rank and moved to open the massive bronze doors.

“Hundreds of men…” I heard a familiar voice remark quietly behind me. “…simply walking right up to the King’s front doorstep. Not much for subtlety, are you, sera?”

Almost in spite of myself, I grinned. “Might I remind you, Doren, that you volunteered to lead this column?”

“Yes, I remember. And I am ready to stand and die in your service, before the enemy and before the executioner. And there isn’t a man here who doesn’t feel the same way.”

“I know, Tedril. I know. Let’s hope this plan works.”

Once the gates had been opened, we poured in and lined up in front of the palace, maintaining formation – shieldsmen in front, archers behind, with the mindless fabricants lined up to barricade the gates, their metallic bodies pressed together like a gleaming silvery mass beneath the midday sun.

Helseth’s guards were too few to stop us. We had come without warning – they had no time to prepare. But I knew they weren’t going to let us in if we asked politely. A few of the guards ran back inside, presumably to warn the king about the army standing right outside his palace. The handful of archers on the ramparts drew their bows and notched their arrows, but held their fire, as if expecting that I would not have the courage to fire first. Their naiveté would prove to be their undoing. I raised my hand to signal the archers to ready themselves.

This was it. I was about to break the law – commit treason against the crown, against the Empire. I hesitated only briefly. “Shoot to wound, if possible,” I said, my voice barely loud enough for my men to hear me. Then, I dropped my hand to my side. “FIRE!”

A hail of arrows flew toward their targets – both on the ground and on the balcony. They fired back, and a few of their arrows found their targets. But they were dropping like flies – this was a rout. I imagined that that would change once we got inside unless we moved quickly.

“Center column, FORWARD!” I cried. “Left and right flank, surround the castle! Block all exits! Move, move, move!”

I charged at the head of the column toward the entrance while the other columns moved abreast with us. A lone, disparate guard took up his sword in desperation, aiming for me. I cut him down with a single strike.

Helseth’s guards didn’t even have the time to barricade the front entrance. The way we walked in, it was almost like we had been invited.

“Alright, men, you know the drill. Most of you will be clearing out the palace and causing as much havoc as you can. You’ll do your damndest to make sure there is neither an escape nor an organized counterattack. All except Doren’s platoon. You will come with me. Understood?”

The men all nodded in unison.

“Good. Let’s move out then.”

We split up, and I began to make my way up the stairs.

Posted by: mplantinga Oct 2 2008, 08:56 PM

Bold, if risky. He has certainly already condemned Helseth in his mind, and many innocent guards along with him. I do hope he doesn't come to regret the choice he has made here today.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Oct 2 2008, 10:47 PM

Well, he'd hardly be able to get what he wanted otherwise. The king's surrounded by guards, after all. He wouldn't give him any straight answers if he weren't forced to. That being said, this is ballsy at best and foolhardy at worst. And Grignr certainly knows it. Crap, I've said too much, I think. I should let the story do the talking.

Posted by: canis216 Oct 4 2008, 12:38 AM

Very dramatic, but full of vitality. It lives! Keep up the good things.

Posted by: treydog Oct 7 2008, 07:33 PM

I'm reading as fast as I can, while still taking the time to savor the excellence.... This story has just been placed on my "Must Read" list.

I especially like the fact that you work within the framework of Morrowind, but deal with the "and what happened then" aftermath.

A joy to read.

Posted by: The Bean Oct 7 2008, 09:50 PM

Awesome update bbp. Only a nord would try and march an army by teleport. Only a nord.

Of course, if Ulf was doing this he'd probably butcher the entire garrison and then get overexcited and battleaxe Helseth anyway.

Posted by: minque Oct 7 2008, 11:22 PM

Me likey even more....being a "nord" myself I do enjoy reading about them.

Ehhh....More please?

Posted by: bbqplatypus Oct 13 2008, 07:29 AM

Three dozen men ascended the staircase behind me, marching three by three. To our left, I could hear frantic movement and attempts at preparation from behind the door to the Royal Guard’s quarters. Fortunately, I had prepared for this situation. I focused my mind upon the door lock and used one of the few spells I knew to engage the lock mechanism. It was a fairly feeble enchantment, but it would keep them busy for long enough to get the job done.

I signaled my men to keep moving. The entrance to the throne room was in sight when suddenly, the door opened. Out of it poured about dozen Royal Guards wielding ebony scimitars. Strangely, neither their captain nor their former champion was with them. This was a ploy to stall for time.

Sadly, these guards would have to die. I pulled out my Daedric longbow and strung my arrow. The bare handful of archers I had brought with me followed suit, letting forth a volley upon the advancing enemies. Sometimes, archers could be useful even in close quarters. This was one of those occasions.

The arrows struck their targets, easily penetrating the Royal Guardsmen’s armor. At least half of this token force had already been taken out. Now they were outnumbered six-to-one. The few that remained did not even pause for a moment. They charged head-on into certain death. Two of them seemed to be making a beeline for me.

It was their only option – the only other choice was to be mowed down by arrows. They chose to sacrifice themselves and take out as many of us as they could. It’s what I would have done. I raised my shield and prepared to face them with a mixture of admiration and regret in my heart. Such magnificent valor…

They came straight at me at full speed, paying no heed to their flank or defense. They knew they would be dead in seconds, so they went straight for the killing blow, attempting to take me out and end the threat. One tried for the head, while the other made a lunging downward blow in the direction of my midsection.

CLANG! My shield connected with the first blow. The other hit its target, but was ill-delivered and was absorbed by my heavy armor. Soldiers to my left and right quickly stepped forward and stabbed them in the back. The rest were finished off fairly quickly.

As soon as the battle was over, I made my way to the main chamber door. I tried to turn the handle, but to no avail. The door was locked. As I fumbled around in my pack, I turned to Doren, who was quickly looking over the men that had been wounded.

“How are we on casualties?” I asked him.

“Pretty light. One dead, three walking wounded. More than I’d want, but not enough to slow us down.”

“Good. If they can walk, they can walk alongside us. Here, give them these.” I pulled out three vials and tossed them to Doren.

I then pressed my finger to the keyhole. The blessings of the stars surged through my hand and into the lock mechanism. It opened with a soft click. Once again, the Tower gave me aid when I needed it.

I threw open the door and entered, while my men came pouring in behind me. At least sixteen guards waited inside, standing firmly with swords drawn, determined not to give up an inch of ground. At their head stood two formidable opponents indeed – their captain, Tienius Delitian, wielding a formidable enchanted dai-katana, and their champion, Karrod, standing as large and intimidating as always. No question about it – Helseth had left his best to try to fight us off. Victory was far from guaranteed.

I called back to the rear guard in the room behind me. “Send for reinforcements!”

The guards advanced in a line in an effort to encircle us and neutralize our numbers. We had them outnumbered, but only just. Not everyone could fit into the encirclement, and there was no room for archers. Delitian was walking directly toward me, staring intensely, his nostrils flared.

“This ends HERE!” he snarled.

“Well, there’s something we BOTH can agree on!” I shot back.

Delitian growled and let loose a mighty swing of his massive sword…

Posted by: canis216 Oct 13 2008, 06:14 PM

Bravo. An exciting update.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Oct 25 2008, 06:27 AM

Delitian's sword slashed into the soldier next to me, cutting clean through his bonemold armor…and the rest of him as well, losing not a bit of momentum as it did so. Fortunately, I was ready with my shield, leaning toward the blade to absorb the bruising heavy blow. The sound rose far above even the furious clashes of metal against metal that filled the room. It was rivaled only by the fast and desperate duel of Doren and Karrod to my right.

I lunged forward and made my counterattack while Delitian’s blade was still pinned down by my side. But the captain gracefully hopped back and out of the way…mostly. Trueflame scratched through the armor in his gauntlet and damaged his wrist. Small but intense embers engulfed his entire right hand. He released his grip with that hand and howled in pain.

But then, before I could capitalize, he gripped his hand around the hilt once more, his face showing more determination than ever. There was a look of madness in his eyes as he shifted to attack once more. He was operating on pure adrenaline now. Though blood now soaked the hilt of his sword, he continued to come out swinging.

I prepared to block his strike once again, crouching low to better be able to resist the impact. Almost immediately, however, I began to regret it. The captain was angling his strike – it was coming in too high. Instinctively, I recoiled, backing off as much as I could in the instant before the impending impact. The attack missed my jugular by mere fractions of a hairlength.

Suddenly, Tienius lost control of his sword. The blood from his wounded hand had made the hilt slippery and difficult to hold. It slipped from out of his hands and went flying off into the crowd of soldiers. The hilt struck Doren in the small of his back, causing him to stumble…right into Karrod’s protruding sword. I watched as my lieutenant and trusted friend dropped to his knees, his eyes filled with agony, shock, and horror…and then onto his stomach, right beside the massive dai-katana that had brought about his downfall.

“TEDRIL!” I cried. “NOOOOOOO!”

Furious, I swept my blade in an aggressive arc, slicing off the captain’s head and making a motion toward Karrod’s torso. The King’s Champion, however, was prepared. He held fast with his sword and parried my attack. Though I continued my aggressive and forward strikes, he would invariably block and counter with his own.

We continued to trade blows in this fashion for well over half a minute – an eternity in swordfighting. It seemed this duel between us would last longer than our previous one if one of us didn’t act soon.

I remembered what Imsin had taught me, back during my earliest lessons from the master-at-arms. It was a lesson I had heard before, but she taught it so well that it stuck with me through all my travels – like all my memories of her. ”A mighty warrior uses his own strength to overcome the adversary. A wise one uses his adversary’s strength and through it creates weakness.”

Another strike was incoming – aimed for my upper body this time. But rather than deflect it directly, I took a quick step sideways, ducking slightly, with my shield perpendicular to my chest. Almost like a dancer I got myself out of the chief target, as I moved my shield behind the blade, pushing it farther and faster in the direction of the blow.

Karrod stumbled – his stance was now unbalanced; his right flank exposed. I pounced at the opportunity, running him all the way through. He collapsed into a massive, wheezing heap, blood pouring from the wound. The rest of the battle was not going well for the king’s guards, either – to my left and to my right, my men had gained the upper hand. The battle would be over in less than a minute. But the King was nowhere to be found.

I looked down at the fallen Redguard. He was wounded and bleeding heavily, but still alive and conscious – a testament to his great strength. I thought, briefly, about striking him down - killing him in retribution for what had happened to one of the only true friends I had left; one who had fought beside me so many times. Or better yet, leaving him to bleed to death and suffer for what he had done. It would be so easy to do it now...

I knew, though, that it was not the wise nor the morally right course of action. This was a man who could tell me where the King was hiding. And I knew I wouldn't be able to torture it out of him, as tempting as it seemed. However little I knew of him, I knew that he was loyal and honor-bound. He reminded me, in many ways, of Doren - as well as Captain Carius, Percius Mercius and a host of other good and brave fighting men I had befriended. And Imsin...she, too was such a soldier. Too many such men had already died today. I could not let it happen. For in his eyes I saw his soul. And in his soul I saw my own.

I knew the extent to which Karrod would adhere to his promises. But I also knew that he honored those men he respected. And he seemed to respect me. I had to talk to him.

“Karrod,” I said to him. “I know that you do not speak. But you’ve spoken to me. I know you are a good and loyal soldier. I will save your life if you tell me but one more thing – where your King has gone. You can even keep your sword.”

“How…how do you know…that I won’t just – koff! – turn right around and…kill as many of your men as I can?” he croaked.

“Because…” I said, staring deeply into the man’s eyes, “…you’re going to promise me that you won’t. Do you promise, Karrod?”

“You…are an honorable man, Lord Grignr,” he said quietly. “And so am I. I promise…and I will…keep my…w-w…word…” His eyes began to become glazed and unfocused.

I knelt beside him and held out my enchanted shield. “Quickly, grab this! Do it now!”

Karrod clutched desperately to the side of the Ward.

“Focus…!”

He shut his eyes and furrowed his brow. Slowly, the blood flow subsided, and the coughing stopped. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

I gave a silent prayer of thanks to whichever gods were listening. I then proceeded to question him. “Now...there must be a switch somewhere around here that opens an escape route. Where is it?"

“On the bottom side of the throne, below the cushions.”

“Really…” I commented. “How prosaic.”

“It gets the job done…well, it used to, anyway.”

It was a joke, of sorts. I didn't laugh. Neither did he.

“Well...I have...business I need to attend to now. Farewell, my friend.”

“Good bye,” said Karrod. “And…thank you.”

I kept walking, ducking under the throne to flip the switch. But as I did, I couldn't help but think of Tedril Doren - of all the people who had died to help secure my vendetta, and I wondered...was it all worth it?

Posted by: Kiln Oct 29 2008, 06:25 PM

Good update, different than your usual writing but its good all the same. I will say I have two small gripes though.

During the fight it says that Doren became unbalanced and fell onto Karrod's sword...then the character cries out the wrong name...at least thats how I understood it.

Also, after losing such a close friend the end of this update seems too lighthearted, almost playful actually so I just found it a bit odd. Just my two cents mate, other than that it was written well and flowed smooth all throughout my guess is that you edited this quite a bit to get it how you liked it and missed a few minor details along the way. Am I right?

Posted by: bbqplatypus Oct 29 2008, 09:18 PM

Well, actually, Tedril is Doren's first name. So there was actually no error there.

And I think that ultimately, I wanted to show that Grignr is still, at this point, capable of some degree of compassion and respect - if only for a very few people. He wants to believe that things like law and honor still exist, at least in some places. Also, I just couldn't bring myself to kill off big, mute, lovable Karrod. Perhaps it's a character flaw on my part.

I took a look at your criticism, though, and I realized that I didn't really provide a reason why Grignr would keep Karrod alive. Apparently, I just felt it was a natural progression of how someone like Grignr would view that sort of soldier. In any case, I decided to edit the update to include that missing explanation in as non-intrusive a way as possible, and convey some self-doubt as well.

Not to worry, there'll be plenty of anger and righteous fury in the next update (whenever that comes - with my schedule, it could be tomorrow, or it could be three weeks from now).

Posted by: Kiln Oct 31 2008, 12:48 AM

Well I wasn't trying to annoy you mate, just thought I'd leave some feedback to tell you I like it. I don't know how I missed that guy's first name though...

*Goes to re-read*

Posted by: bbqplatypus Oct 31 2008, 06:51 AM

I know you weren't trying to knock me. I like constructive feedback, even if it has some criticism in it. Hell, your comments actually helped me out in this case. I realized the segment wasn't as complete as it should have been. And in all fairness, Doren's first name was only mentioned a couple times in the first and second chapter.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Nov 9 2008, 11:35 AM

NOTE: Big update here. I've chosen to split it into two parts for easier reading.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I walked, past the throne and over the bloody pile of corpses that were chaotically strewn across the floor, over to a section of stone that had pushed away from the wall. There I stood, for a split second that felt like an eternity, wondering if I ought to proceed. Of the thirty-six men I had brought with me to the throne room, thirteen were now dead. How many more would it be?

In the past, I would have looked to Doren, or even to Imsin for advice. But there was no one now. Any strength I had ever derived from them was gone. And this made me angrier than ever. I was motivated now only by anguish and rage.

I signaled for half my remaining men to follow me as I ducked beneath the entrance. It was a tight corridor, wide enough to accommodate only one man at a time, leading to a dimly torchlit staircase. Oddly, the passageway was bereft of even a single guard to slow us down. We must have caught the King so far off guard that he didn’t have any additional guards to spare from his escorts. We moved single-file, as quickly as possible. We could not let the King escape.

A short jaunt down the narrow staircase revealed…a dead end, except for a wooden hatch on the floor. It seemed the King was headed for the sewers – just as I suspected. Fortunately, I had prepared a surprise for him.

About forty-five seconds of work was enough to take care of the lock, and descend through the hatch. One by one we crawled through, and into yet another passage below. This one was even narrower than the last – so much so that I did not walk down it so much as I shuffled sideways. The collective breath of my men and I heated up the narrow space. I could hear footsteps interrupted by the clanging of swords from outside the hallway. This passageway was literally located inside the walls!

The shufflespace quickly gave way to yet another staircase; this one far longer than the previous one. The steps here were angled, clear-cut, uniform – unworn by the eroding influence of time. They were clearly much younger than the rest of the castle. Helseth must have ordered this escape route himself. In near-darkness, we descended. Well-cut stone gave way to smooth, worn rock. The air began to take on that familiar dank, stale feeling. We were entering the sewers.

A magical illusory stone wall was all that stood between us and the sewers. I quickly discovered its secret and passed straight through it.

And there, standing not fifteen feet in front of me, was King Helseth, crouching in terror before a host of fabricants, who stood in line in front of him, lined side by side, blocking his path. The entire host of bodyguards he had brought with him had been killed, presumably in an effort to break though their ranks.

“Ah…Your Majesty,” I said, mock-bowing to the wretched monarch. “A pleasure to see you.”

“Likewise,” the King replied sarcastically.

I turned back to my men. “Leave us,” I ordered. “Go back to the chamber.”

The men stared at each other for a moment, and then, slowly and reluctantly, turned back to ascend the staircase. Now it was just him and me.

“Well, why don’t we do a bit of catching up? Discuss your motivations…your ambitions…the incredibly short amount of time left in your life. Or better yet…let’s talk about my family, shall we? You know it’s been such a very long time since we’ve spoken…Your Majesty.”

“Not nearly long enough…Lord Nerevar,” he snarled.

“Really? Pity. You’d think we’d be on such good terms, given all the things I’ve done for you. The errands I’ve run, rivals and dissenters I’ve helped you put down…and I asked for nothing in return. Oh, wait. That’s not entirely true. I DID ask you to LEAVE ME ALONE!”

As I said this, I unsheathed my sword. “And you’d THINK that a sensible person such as yourself would realize the importance of KEEPING that promise! What I want to know is…WHY DIDN’T YOU!? WHY did my wife have to die? WHY must you toy with people’s lives? And most importantly, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY DAUGHTER!?”

Helseth glared at me, his eyes conveying an icy fury. “I do not know where your daughter is, nor do I care. I have nothing to say to you, s'wit. I will not answer the inquiries of one who betrays his country. You threaten my throne. You sow discord among the people of Morrowind. You would bring civil war to the doorstep of every citizen loyal to your usurpation.”

“If I sought your throne, Helseth, I would have brought seven thousand men, not three hundred,” I growled. “I seek vengeance – no, more than that. I seek justice upon a king who treats his subjects as expendable assets. And if I have to bring about your death to get it, then I gladly welcome it.”

The king’s nostrils flared – his blood now seemed to be literally boiling, his face twisted in a mixture of anger and thinly masked fear. “Back down, you rash, imprudent fool! For the sake of your worthless life, if nothing else! You are committing treason! Your thoughts, your actions, and your very breath defile the law!”

“To HELL with the law!”

I brought the full fury of Trueflame down upon him. But he was prepared with a sword of his own. Our blades clashed together and the battle began as the thoughtless fabricants looked on.

The King was a better swordsman than I expected. Not as good as I was, but he knew how to use his longsword. More importantly, he did not tire. I knew this would be the case – as long as he wore his signet ring, he was all but unbeatable. I would have to find a way to remove that ring.

Unfortunately, I could not seem to get a good attack in on his wrist. His hand just could not keep still. His wrist seemed to always be at an appropriate angle, bent inward or thrust outward in such a way that it could not be reached. It seemed I would never get a good shot at it…unless I tried something desperate.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Nov 9 2008, 11:40 AM

(continued from Pt. I on last page)

I had an idea. It was an incredibly risky one – one that could kill me if I didn’t do it exactly right. But I knew there was no other option. The king’s hand would stay still for only one thing – its target.

I eased back, keeping my blade solely on the defensive while the king struck forward. I moved backwards with each stroke, backing myself closer to a corner. Helseth now controlled the pace of this duel…or at least that’s what I wanted him to think.

I shifted subtly inside my armor, creating more separation between the greaves and the cuirass – a weak spot for him to exploit. It wasn’t much – just a few inches of unprotected flesh. But it would be enough for an observant mer such as Helseth. And then, I held my blade still.

The end of Helseth’s blade found its way through the newly created gap and buried itself in my midsection. I gasped in pain, doing my best to overcome the shock. I focused, concentrating through the mental haze on his wrist. Then, through sheer determination and willpower, I lopped off his hand with one fell stroke.

The king screamed in horrified agony. Clutching his stump, he fell to his knees. I did likewise, holding my stomach and gasping for air. With my last reserves of strength, I pulled the royal’s sword from my abdomen, his bloody hand still attached. It clattered to the damp stone floor.

Then, with my vision fading, I focused as hard as I could upon Eleidon’s Ward. It began to work quickly – in mere moments, my viscera had receded back to their proper places, and my wound had sealed itself. Slowly, I brought one knee to my chest, then pushed off the ground and stood to face the nearly prostrated king.

“And now, Your Majesty...” I said with a determined grimace, “…you shall die!”

Helseth looked up at me, still holding his stump, his glowing red eyes filled with terror. “Please, no…please…d-don’t kill me! Y-you’re making a mistake! You’ll start a civil war! I’ll do anything, just don’t-“

I kicked . “You think I haven’t thought ahead!? You think I’m some kind of idiot!? I don’t care a damn for your throne! I’m going to turn myself in, in exchange for my men going off without charges. And then I suspect they’ll hang me for this. And if that’s the case, so be it.”

Helseth stared at me, incredulously. “You mean, you weren’t after the throne?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “What would I want with the Throne of Morrowind?"

“But...I had reliable information that -“

“From whom? The same source you relied on the first time you tried to kill me?”

“This was different. He had witnesses, testimony, evidence.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Evidence?”

“Pages of it.”

“And who was your informant? Tell me, and I might ease your suffering.”

“No,” he said. “That I shall never tell.” His terrified face turned sterner and more determined.

I paused for a moment. “It’s your man in the Census and Excise Office, isn’t it? Sellus Gravius?”

The monarch’s eyes widened. “Gravius…how did you –“

“I didn’t. I guessed. Who else could have known I was coming to Morrowind? But your confession was quite helpful. Thank you for your cooperation.” I raised my sword, preparing to deliver the killing blow.

“Wait!” Helseth cried. “There’s something you should know about Gravius!”

I ceased the upward motion of my blade. “What? This had better be worth my time.”

“When I got the report…the information was good, but...” His voice trailed out.

“Spit it out, s'wit!”

“It didn't seem like Sellus had wrote it at all.”

“How so?”

"It was in his handwriting, but…there were so many words on there that I’d never seen him use before. Words it made no sense for him to use.”

“Like what?”

“He was talking about your Khajit informant, and he used this word – ‘Nemer.’”

“Nemer?” I had heard the word before. But there was only one person in the world I knew who had ever said it to me in person.

“Yes…I’ve never heard an Imperial use that word before. It’s almost…”

“…as if someone else were writing it?”

“Yes…” he said, nodding weakly. “I almost believe it now."

“Yes…” I said, stroking my chin in deep thought. “For some reason, I think I do, too.” I knew I had no reason to think he wasn’t lying, but there was something nagging inside me – a part of me that knew it to be true. It wanted me to continue searching.

I brought my sword back down to my side. “Well…today is your lucky day, Your Majesty. I think I’ll let you live. On two conditions.”

“Of course!” he choked. "Name them!"

“First, you let me finish whatever further investigation I might conduct on this matter. Second, you pardon all the men who took up arms against you.”

The king hesitated, visibly uneasy with the terms I had presented him with. Then, sighing deeply, he replied, “Very well." Weakly, he reached toward my shield.

“No,” I said, and turned to walk away.

“WAIT!” the king screamed. “Where are you going!? You said you’d spare my life!”

“And so I have,” I replied, and kept walking.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Nov 11 2008, 09:59 AM

” Boethiah and Azura are the principles of the universal plot, which is begetting, which is creation, and Mephala makes of it an art form.
For by the sword I mean the first night.
For by the word I mean the dead.
There will be a splendor in your name when it is said to be true.
Six are the guardians of Veloth, three before and they are born again, and they will test you until you have the proper tendencies of the hero.
There is a world that is sleeping and you must guard against it.
For by the sword I mean the dual nature.
For by the word I mean animal life.
For by the sword I mean preceded by a sigh.
For by the word I mean preceded by a wolf.”
- From http://imperial-library.info/mwbooks/lessons.shtml#6

Chapter XI

I stepped off of the silt strider into the pouring rain, my head shielded by the hood of my peasant’s robe. Dusk was approaching, but the sun was not visible. The heavy rain and darkness suited me well. I did not wish my business to be noticed.

“Twenty-three drakes, f’lah,” the driver said, not recognizing me. I handed him the fare. “You’d better get inside quick,” he said.

"I intend to," I replied.

I trudged down the damp, muddy hill that led into town. The thick swamp air swirled around, chilling, yet light and gentle somehow; carrying with it the pungent smell of moss, salt water, and rotted wood. Leaning into the wind, I crossed over the bridge into the town itself.

There was not a soul outside on the streets, save for a single guardsman who seemed to be standing outside the tradehouse. The street lanterns flickered in the wind and rain, providing wavering, sputtering glimpses of the few plain Imperial buildings that stood at the center of town.

It all seemed so familiar...and yet so strange. So inviting, and yet so harsh. So beautiful, and yet so horrifying. The sights, the smell, the sound of the swamp. I was now back where it all started; where I first stepped off the prison boat and set about my long journey…a journey that had led me right back here. It had started here. Now it may end here.

I walked farther down the lonely main street of the little town. The rain seemed to be getting worse. The mud in some places was reduced to an ankle-deep mire. The lights grew even dimmer, and the night more hostile. The once pleasant air began to grow solid, heavy, and dark. I began to question my decision not to come in armor. Whatever closure I sought here, I would find it in the worst way possible. I should have come more prepared.

I tried to convince myself that I was being paranoid. I had nearly killed the King of Morrowind – I needed to keep a low profile, and marching in wearing full armor and wielding a legendary sword was not the way to do it. And I had come only to speak with Sellus Gravius, whom I suspected to be innocent and cooperative. This was not the time for a show of force.

But I had hidden Trueflame beneath my robes. Clearly I did not have full confidence in a diplomatic approach.

Cautiously, I approached the entrance to the Census and Excise Office. My fingertips touched the iron handle and – BOOM!

A deafening crash seemed to come from out of nowhere. Startled, I jumped back from the door. It took me a few moments to realize that what I had heard had been merely thunder.

I felt fear - a fear as deep as the one I felt when I entered Dagoth Ur's antechamber. I dreaded what I would find behind that door. Some part of me – a part that had lain dormant for a long time – wanted to do something I had never done since my earliest days on Vvardenfell. It wanted me to turn back.

I swallowed deeply and resolved to bury that feeling. Whatever fate lay ahead of me, I had to know. I had come too far and lost too much to give up now. I needed closure – I owed it to myself, to my wife, and to everything and everyone that I had ever cherished. With great trepidation, I brought my hand to the door, opened it, and stepped inside.

There I was greeted by the sight of two dead bodies.

To the left, propped up against a bookshelf in the far corner, lay Sellus Gravius, with his throat slit and his sword still in its scabbard. There was no sign of a struggle – no overturned tables, no trail of blood across the floor. He was killed before he had the chance to fight.

In the center of the room was the body of Orvas Dren. His entrails lay beside him. In his dead hands he was still clutching an ornate Daedric dagger, which he held facing inward. In his mouth was a scroll, protected by a small brass sleeve.

The fireplace was still burning. These two had not been dead for more than an hour.

I felt a numbness inside me as I bent over to pick up the scroll from the dead kingpin’s mouth. I slipped it out of the sleeve, cracked the seal, and began to read.



Grandmaster –

It is for no selfish purpose that I have returned to you. For I come in the name of the Holy Matron (Praised be Her Sacred Name), whose Black Hand now guides me in all things.

For I was powerless, stripped of all I had valued, with no means of retaliation. And She granted me vengeance.

I was without hope; surrounded on all sides by obstacles and those who would deny me. And She showed me how to circumvent them.

It was on my sixty-first day in exile that She revealed herself to me. For eight weeks, I had prayed that I might obtain revenge for being shipped “voluntarily” to this thrice-forsaken wasteland. And She granted my wish – on three conditions:

First, that you would live. Second, that I would die. And finally, that I would serve Her will above all others.

This I agreed to, so boundless was my hatred of you.

I did all that was instructed of me. She showed me the herbs with which I could drug your spies working in the mines that they might sleep long and do little when awake. Her soundless Voice commanded me as I intimidated and blackmailed the chef, who placed them in their food.

She sent me visions of the beleaguered priest in the Imperial Fortress, who hated you as I did. She covered us in Her dark shroud as we raided the commander’s office and stole his Imperial letter mark, keeping us hidden from the watchful eye of the Captain.

My dreams guided everything I wrote. From the false charges, to the documents, to the name and location of that filthy beast you call a spy…all of it, divinely inspired. The Webspinner sent me these dreams, and then made me to put them to parchment in a hand that was not my own. The false report was shipped across the Inner Sea to the Mourning Hold, where the paranoid King was none the wiser. And from there, he did the rest. Then, because of your anger, he led you here to me.

While I know for certain that you believe every word I have said (for I know that She has spoken to you as well), I do not think you truly understand. Do not make the mistake of thinking this to be merely retaliation for the dissolution of a business. I once thought that way. But I now see the error of my ways. Her love and grace have caused me to see the light.

Every action I have taken, every agony I have arranged for you, has been another thread of the Webspinner. I have played my part in her Great Game. Only one task remains for me: to inform you of yours.

As you know, your presence in Morrowind has become a destabilizing factor. With your recent assassination attempt on the King, the threat of civil war grows for every minute you are alive and on this island. If you stay, you and thousands of my countrymen will die.

Normally, this would please my Prince greatly, but She does not wish to see Morrowind in chaos just yet. The time for that will come soon enough. She has a far more important task for you – one that She has instructed me to write down in the following words:

“In the East, the armies of the Dragon Emperor march and conquer all they encounter. Soon, he shall finish his conquest and turn his greedy eyes westward. If you value your people and wish him to be stopped, heed My words.

“Long ago, in Nerevar’s first lifetime, he visited the shores of Akavir. There he and his companions gained notoriety among the Tsaesci, and admiration among the Ka’Po’Tun. The tiger-men granted him sanctuary among their cities in exchange for some of the knowledge he stole from the snake people. It is from a Ka’Po’Tun port that Nerevar and his Tribunal left, under a promise that he one day would return.

“History mutated into legend, and then, into prophecy. It is now said by some that Lord Nerevar shall return to defeat the Tsaesci once and for all. This prophecy is now known only to those who preserve tradition, be it in their hearts or in their minds.

“Use the prophecy and your status as Nerevarine to your advantage, mortal. Gain the trust of the Dragon Emperor and then kill him. Topple the empire he has built. This alone shall please Me. Seek the historian living in the land once known as Ionith. He shall assist you. Do not fail, mortal.”

These are the words of the Webspinner. You have heard Her voice. You have seen Her in motion. You know now what you must do. It would be unwise not to heed Her call.

My duties are complete. I now march boldly into death. By now, the men shadowing me know I have left the island. It would only be a matter of time before they trace this plot back to me. I will not allow you or any of your hirelings the satisfaction of killing me. My time is finished. My role has been played. The thread has been cut.

All Glory to the Dark Matron!

~D



I stood in front of the dying fireplace for a long time, contemplating the words of Orvas Dren.

I did not want to leave. Mephala's story was insane, and no doubt full of falsehoods. If I left for Akavir I would risk death for myself and everyone who came with me. But staying would be even worse. And Helseth’s enemies would no doubt make a martyr of me if I were to commit suicide or turn myself in.

I sighed. There was but one course of action left for me.

I threw the crumpled scroll into the fire and watched it burn.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Nov 11 2008, 10:00 AM

Epilogue

I am leaving here – defeated, perhaps, for now…though I do not feel as though I have lost. The mortal life I once knew is gone…then again, it was never meant to last in the first place. My wife now waits for me in the halls of Sovngarde. And as for Svetja…I can always hope. Life in Morrowind will continue, with or without my presence. Things will happen as they are meant to.

But do not mistake my acceptance for fatalism. I am not a slave to events, nor to prophecy, nor to the machinations of the et’Ada. My destiny is mine and mine alone to accept or reject as I so choose. I could have refused to leave and stayed to face the fate that awaited me. I could just as easily have never delivered the package to Caius. I could have died – or even killed myself if I wanted. Or I could have killed Helseth where he stood and seized his crown for myself.

I certainly had enough supporters. After all, I was a reincarnated war hero who ruled over Resdaynia in a previous life. I was loved and respected. I commanded thousands of soldiers, and wielded significant political power. Three hundred men proved that they valued their loyalty to me above that to their country.

Most of them valued their lives as well, though. As promised, Helseth allowed them clemency – provided they got on their knees and begged for it. Some refused. The Redoran soldiers, to a man, chose exile instead, following me literally to the edge of Nirn.

And we will likely remain there for a very long time – years, in fact. Some might not return at all. And I suspect that the Webspinner may have set these events in motion that I may die far from home.

But I do not intend to die there. And I feel that her deception carries more than a modicum of truth to it (as all the best lies do). I will see this mission through to the end. And when I am finished, I will sail back across the eastern ocean, back to my homeland, to set right what has gone wrong. I shall topple the Spider King and watch over my people once more.

Morrowind will have changed. How or to what extent I cannot say, but it will change while I am gone. And I fear even more than death the possibility that something terrible shall happen while I am away; that the Black Hand of Mephala has snatched away my people’s greatest protector. In fact, I am becoming increasingly certain every day that calamity will strike Veloth ere I make landfall once again upon her eastern shores. But I do not despair. Change and catastrophe are inevitable – a constant throughout the Mundus. I will have no control over what my country will be like when I get back. But I take comfort in having affected how it will be when I leave it.

But what, exactly, have I left behind? Change – a House restructured, a demon defeated, a new peace established. But also ruin; the detritus and crumbling leftovers of my time here – a people’s faith falling apart at the foundations, the last shreds of my vain hope for a normal existence…and my own legend. The Legend will remain and take root in the collective imagination of Veloth. There it will grow until its vines strangle the last memory of my humanity. That which made me human, that which made me vulnerable, will be lost to time. I shall cease to be a Man and become the Archetype, an amalgamation of stories told around campfires. I leave my homeland a stately bird. I shall return a murder of ravens.

And that is why I also leave behind these memoirs – an account of my last days here, that all may know that I, too, was once human. I was not always a storybook hero. I have dreamed, bled, suffered, and loved. Read it. Learn it. And above all, remember it. I am Grignr Star-Mane, Hero of Red Mountain, Protector of Morrowind. I am mortal, like you. Do not forget me.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Nov 11 2008, 10:02 AM

THUS ENDS THE SAGA OF THE INTERIM

Posted by: canis216 Nov 11 2008, 04:47 PM

Bravo! Remarkable. These last two entries are fabulous! The note from Dren, Star-Mane's Epilogue... bloody brilliant!

Posted by: minque Nov 11 2008, 10:11 PM

I do agree with canis here! Wonderful story really! You did a great job BBQ.....maybe you will consider pleasing us with more examples of your talent??

Posted by: bbqplatypus Nov 11 2008, 10:42 PM

Well, there is this one idea that I have. It's really, really ambitious - possibly the most ambitious story I have ever seriously thought about writing. The structure is a bit like 2920, at least conceptually. I'm not going to promise anything yet (or give anything away about the storyline) - it's probably going to take a big time commitment. For a while I was considering making it an RP, but I had already decided on the characters and direction I wanted, and didn't want to sacrifice anything. Again, not promising anything there. If I can't do it right, I won't be doing it at all.

In the meantime, I've got an idea for a one-shot story - something much more lighthearted. I hope to have that up soon.

Posted by: mplantinga Nov 11 2008, 11:21 PM

An intriguing ending to an interesting story. I'm glad to see that he triumphed (sort of) in the end, and that he chose to spare Helseth's life when he realized that Helseth had also been played. Thanks for sharing this story with us.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Nov 12 2008, 05:33 AM

A story is worth nothing if there is no audience to tell it to. Thanks for reading.

Posted by: bbqplatypus Nov 22 2008, 01:21 AM

GEEZ! Writing my planned follow-up to this is going to be even tougher than I imagined. I was hoping the Lore sub-forum at the Bethesda boards might help, but those guys are master obscurantists. It might take a while.

I think I am very slowly getting the hang of things, though. I'm learning a couple things I didn't know or understand before. Just a couple, mind you. It's slow going, but I think I'll manage. Hopefully, I'll be finished before TES V comes out.

I'm posting this HERE because I don't know where else to put it.

Posted by: canis216 Nov 22 2008, 06:48 AM

Ah, I love the Lore Forum. I'm not terribly active in it anymore (nor am I especially active on the Bethsoft forum in general, nowadays, save for the ESF Artistry thread) but I do lurk around there still, on occasion.

Taking that next step up in writing is difficult. I've got nowhere on my most ambitious project of late, though I think I've managed to talk it up enough now to raise expectations for it... wait... dammit!

Posted by: bbqplatypus Nov 22 2008, 08:07 AM

Yeah, reading the discussions in the Lore Forum is a lot like looking at your own nose. You can kinda sorta vaguely see it, and you know there's a nose there. It's just obscured in your peripheral vision. And if you stare at it too long, you'll go cross-eyed.