TES3 Fanfic - Blood in Seyda Neen

Fan fiction, poetry, and lore. No adult content, please.

TES3 Fanfic - Blood in Seyda Neen

Postby Nhog » Sat Nov 09, 2013 5:21 am

Edit: I'm preparing to add the next section, though I haven't spent much time on Morrowind, lately. I've been too caught up in roleplaying.

Hello! I'm Nhog and I've often posted fan-fiction over on the Planet TES forums as well as some immersion mods. I just bought the Elder Scrolls Anthology and wanted to get back into writing -- starting by doing something for NaNoWriMo -- so killed two birds with one stone. This is going to be the start of a series of continuous stories, inspired by my play-through of the games in no particular order. As a side note, be aware I've used the "Dunmeri Language" as it's defined here, I don't know how much of it was created by those maintaining that website and how much is canon. The wiki is under a CC-by-SA license, so I borrowed their vocabulary.

Please critique, especially if you have the experience! As an aspiring author, I ask that you hold nothing back in your criticism -- it's been a long time since anyone read my works (and a long time since they've been anywhere public. :unsure: )

Without further ado, permit me to present to everyone...


MOLKHUN gher SEYDA NEEN
Blood in Passage True

A Nhogfic.

SOMEWHERE in the BITTER COAST of VVARDENFELL.
14th EVE of LAST SEED, 3E427.


Squish. Squish. Squish. A well-dressed man cautiously climbed the knoll, soaked muck muffled his steps yet suckled at his feet with each he took. The skin of his face seemed aglow with an orange gleam, his features made dramatic by the light. Every step was careful. Each taken on the muddy slope threatened to throw his foot backwards and send him sledding on his belly to the water.

Squish. Squish. He stopped, put his weight on a boulder and peered around. Satisfied with his isolation, the Imperial pulled his cloak off and tossed it into the clearing. It would get wet, but that was unimportant. His mouth stretched in glee as he stabbed the torch into the ground nearby, just before reaching toward a fern growing between the rocks.

“I knew it, you fetcher!” a gravelly voice exclaimed.

In alarm, the Imperial turned around, hastily jerking his hands away from the plant. He didn’t call out to his stalker, only wrenching the torch up and holding it high. In the swiftness of his movements, a rolled-up scroll fell from his tunic. It landed with the softest of noises, unnoticed.

The voice’s owner emerged from behind another of the rocks. His fists were shaking with rage and the redness of his eyes gave him a more monstrous visage than usual.

“What are you doing, following me out here?” the Imperial demanded, “I’ll have you reported to the Legion!”

“You’re reporting nothing!” answered the red-eyed elf, lunging forward and drawing his elbow behind himself. The Imperial dropped his torch and raised his arms defensively. He wore the look of a man who knew the inevitable was upon him.

Cast against the rocks, two shadows collided. Both went down.

Over the noise of the swamps, no one could hear flesh connecting with flesh or the grunts of pain. No one could hear the impacts becoming wet, over the noise of the crickets’ chorus. No one could hear the weakened voice of a man begging his attacker to stop – not over the distant song of the toads and tree-frogs.

Only one shadow straightened up again as the sounds of conflict gave way to breathless panting. The elf looked at his hands. They still shook. “An…ancestors, protect me,” he stuttered on what little breath he regained. Before he could properly breathe again, the elf turned and rushed off into the darkness.

Squissssh-splash! “Shit!”

The Imperial watched, unseeing and unmoving, as his torch burned itself out beside him.

SOMEWHERE ELSE, in the INNER SEA, near the BITTER COAST.
MORNING of the 15th of LAST SEED.


“Wake up.”

Red. Everywhere. And the shadows of an unfamiliar place. Someone’s voice came from out of nowhere, but no matter how much searching there was, the voice’s owner couldn’t be found.

“Get up. Why are you shaking?”

There it was again. But where did it come from? And where in Nirn was this?

“Are you okay? Wake up.”

A dream. Lilith opened her eyes, able to make out the ashen, blue-tinged torso of a man. She felt her excitement grow. “Where… am I?” she softly murmured. The blurriness of her vision slowly cleared and she realized…

The red-eyed elf staring down at her was so scarred he barely had a face anymore. Her dreams of waking up in the embrace of a fine, fine man were shattered and the shock of impact snapped her awake. She shrieked.

Her concerned companion drew back sharply, startled. He nearly lost his balance and smacked against the wood of the cabin’s wall. Despite all this, he chuckled. “I see you’re okay, after all.”

Lilith stood. She wrapped herself with her own arms. “S-sorry.”

Her fellow passenger nodded, “It’s all right. What’s your name?”

“Lilith.”

“You were dreaming. Not even the storm could wake you. I worried. I’ve heard the guards saying we’ve reached Morrowind.”

“Hey! If you’re going to ask me my name, tell me yours!” Lilith retorted weakly. She tried not to feel bad for shrieking in his face as gratitude for his concerns, but couldn’t help feeling a little creep’d out. Had he watched her sleep for the entire trip? Her own, blue-tinged face reddened at the thought. “It’s not as if there are floating labels to tell me what your na-“

“Quiet,” scar-faced interrupted her gently, “I think I hear the guards coming.”

Sure enough, the heavy thuds of boots closed in on them. Lilith turned her head towards the opening. She could see the approaching guard. Her eyes immediately shifted up to his fa—he was bald.

“This is where you get off,” he curtly ordered, “Come with me.” Not even waiting for her to answer, the guard walked away again. He was so bald.

A voice pulled her back from the mesmerizing sheen of the human’s head, “You’d better do what they say.”

Lilith dumbly nodded and stepped out. She followed the guard up the steps at the far end and then past the bunks and tables. The guard stopped by another set of stairs. He turned to face her with a scowl. “Get yourself up on deck. And let’s try to keep this as civil as possible.” Lilith disliked his tone and frowned, but decided he simply wasn’t a happy man. And he was so, so bald.

Another guard, a woman with red hair, impatiently adjusted her weight onto one leg and furrowed her brows, “The sooner you get off, the sooner we can go.”

With a snort, the dark elf girl climbed towards the hatch above her and pushed it up with both hands. A rush of humid, salty-smelling air pushed against her face. It took some effort, but once it was open, she went blind.

“Ah!” Lilith cried out. Trying to shield her eyes with her forearms and walk onto the deck at the same time didn’t go too well. She stumbled over the edge. Behind her, the falling hatch slapped her back and threw her forward.

“Whoa.” A set of powerful arms caught her, but her head rammed into leather. The leather jingled. Wait, what? The shadow cast by her new position helped her eyes adjust quickly to the sunlight. It allowed her to quickly realize the leather was only a square-shaped patch in the center of a series of belts, crossing over mail.

She blushed a little as the man, who held her, asked if she was all right. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Lilith pulled away from him and raised her eyes to dark-skinned human’s face. “Thank you for—“ her voice caught in her throat and she blanched.

With a head of graying hair and a wrinkled, bearded face, the Redguard before her nodded. “This is where they want you. Head down to the docks and they’ll take you to the Census Office.” He wasn't bald, anyway.

Lilith finished expressing her gratitude then descended the plank, where another Imperial guard wore a familiar expression of impatience. When he spoke, his voice at least seemed a little more cordial. “So you’ve finally arrived. Unfortunately, we weren’t told from where.

“Well, my family’s from Morrowind, but—“

“Great. I’m sure you’ll fit right in. Follow me to the Census Office.”

If you’re a s’wit to everybody you meet, then I sure as Oblivion will. Lilith’s thoughts seethed like acid as her jaw clenched and her tongue pressed against her teeth, fighting against the desire to hiss at the man like a wet khajiit. What a miserable place. She followed him to the door, getting feelings of déjà vu as she stared daggers into his back. Her hand reached up to brush one of her black bangs behind an ear, avoiding the Imperial’s gaze as he turned to face her from the door’s flank.

“Go inside.”

Gee, if it wasn’t for your sage advice, I’d never know what to do from here on! She pressed one hand against the door and turned the knob with the other, pushing it open and then stepping inside. Inside, the humidity wasn’t so bad anymore. Despite the less-than-inspirational way everything was going so far, escaping the wet air almost made it worthwhile. Scarcely five minutes of being outside in this place and she already felt a thin layer of sweat all over, just under her clothes. Those same clothes now stuck to her because of it.

She swallowed the profanities waiting to be unleashed and stepped forward. The door creaked shut behind her. Clearly, the humidity didn’t spare its hinges either.

A short and elderly man looked towards her. He adorned a fine robe and spoke with an unexpectedly squeaky voice, “Aah, you’re finally here.” Was that... excitement? “Now,” the man – which Lilith easily recognized as a Breton – started again. He pulled out some parchment, “Your release forms need to be filled out, but we can do this several ways,” the Breton dipped his quill into an inkwell, “The. Choice. Is. Yours.” His eyes raised expectantly to Lilith’s own.

Lilith met his gaze, then briefly dipped her eyes to his salt-and-pepper goatee rather than maintain it. “I’ll fill them out myself, thank you.”

He nodded and slid a document to her. The Dunmer scanned over it briefly, and then began scratching her information in. While she worked, the Breton put his attention onto another document. “The letter, that preceded you, mentioned you were born under a certain sign. And which would that be?”

“I was born under The Lady,” she answered. The question was a curious one. It caused her to look up from the form with wondering eyes. She saw him nod and scratch something into the form he held. Her attention returned to the document in her hand. Profession? Easy question.

The whole process felt like it took far longer than it did. With everything completed at last, the Breton looked over everything and nodded, humming out his acknowledgment. She saw his brow quirk, then averted her gaze as his lifted up to her again. “It seems everything’s in order. Have a look over these and make sure the information is accurate.”

Feeling impatient, herself, and getting tired of standing, Lilith glanced without reading over it. “It is.”

“Splendid. Now go through that door and to the next building.” He handed her the release form and smiled at her. Somehow, the smile seemed unsettling. “Welcome to Vvardenfell, Lilith.”

“Er, thank you.” Lilith turned towards the door he mentioned, then stopped.

An Imperial glowered at her, fully armored like the one who showed her in. “Go straight through to the next building and see Sellus Gravius.”

Thanks so much, I accidentally forgot there were fetchers like you here. She acknowledged him with a nod and went into the hallway beyond. As the door shut behind her, she shuddered and clenched her jaw again. Was everyone here going to be like this? Stepping through the building, Lilith found herself in a room where some silver dishes and a meal sat.

Her face lit up as her stomach noisily reminded her of its existence. You know, I bet they’re not all that bad. It’s probably just the humidity! As she approached the meal, she noticed a dagger stuck into the table, along with a very withered-looking note. She felt her stomach grow cold. “W-what is this, a threat?” Close enough to read it, Lilith peered at the note. It was addressed to somebody called Hrisskar and written with a firm, demanding tone.

I want this dagger sharpened, she read, moving her eyes to the bottom. Socucius Ergalla. The name looked Imperial and so she smirked vengefully, realizing the sharpened knife had been jammed into the table with all intents of dulling its tip. It made her realize this meal wasn't laid-out for her, after all, but probably for this Socucius Imperial.

Her fingers curled around the handle and she pulled the dagger out, carefully sticking it into the thin band around her waist. Not yet satisfied, she grabbed the silver fork and knife set around the plate and secreted them into her shoe. After covering them up with a pants-leg, she realized that the little wood-and-metal rod sitting near was a lockpick. This staunched her decision to continue her mischief. She picked it up, took a fancy-looking little liquor bottle and stuffed it away in her shirt, then turned away. Her eyes landed on some baskets and the shelf behind her, quickly noticing a little strongbox.

Heh-heh, idiot. Picking the lock was easy enough, so Lilith helped herself to the meager coins kept within. She then rifled through the baskets, finding them filled with jerky and a few large white eggs. Rather impressed with their size and unsure of exactly what they were, she picked them up.

Her smirk faded quickly. Wait. It’s going to look weird if I walk through the door with a couple of eggs in my grip. Especially these. Her eyes danced about, looking for something to store them in, inconspicuously. She bit her lip and came to the ultimate conclusion.




Sellus Gravius finished reading over the day’s reports. Nothing outstanding. The tax-collector was a bit late in stopping by, but it wasn’t unusual for him to take a while. Everyone in Seyda Neen seemed adamant about evading their taxes. He sighed and gathered up the papers, shuffling them together into a neat stack before reclining. Telltale sounds, of his doorknob being turned, quickly grabbed his attention. He exhaled through his nostrils and stood. This must’ve been the prisoner they were expecting.

The door opened. WHOA!
Last edited by Nhog on Sat Nov 16, 2013 1:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: TES3 Fanfic - Blood in Seyda Neen

Postby neildarkstar » Sat Nov 09, 2013 3:40 pm

Reading is very difficult for me at present, but I like the style and flow you give the story.It lends promise for the reader's future enjoyment.
"If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." - Movie "Flypaper"
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Re: TES3 Fanfic - Blood in Seyda Neen

Postby Nhog » Sat Nov 09, 2013 4:28 pm

Pleased to hear that! I'd heard you just went through eye-surgery, so I'm doubly appreciative that you decided to give it a look regardless. I'll be eager to know what you think of it!
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