It was that weird dream again, flying across an unknown landscape as the world below raced below him. Images of strange animals and demons, a room of people just staring at him and that strange golden figure, a swirling vortex into nothing. Never speaking, that piercing gaze, that golden mask, that nameless terror-
"Hey, wake up! Wake up!"
Neros Orr woke up with a start, breathing heavily as if he had stayed under water too long and came up for a gasp of breath. Cold sweat rolled down his forehead in giant beads, his damp bed sheet now flung to the side as he scanned wildly from side to side to see if the golden-faced figure was still there. All he saw was his friend Adeptus Seritius standing over him, and Neros realized he was back in the barracks. Around him he saw other Imperial troopers moving about, some of them turning their attention towards Neros.
"Neros, you alright there buddy?" Adeptus placed a hand on Neros' shoulder, who could only respond by shaking his head yes. Both men were Imperials, a race of humans hailing from Cyrodill, the home region of the Tamrielic Empire and rulers of most of the world. Both were of medium build, although Neros was slight taller then Adeptus and had brown eyes instead of blue, and both are members of the Imperial Legions, the military force that exerted Emperor Uriel Septim VIII's will. Currently they were in the town of Gnisis as part of the Imperial Legion garrison stationed on the island of Vvardenfell, a district of the Imperial province of Morrowind.
"Must've had too much drink last night, that matze stuff the locals brew has quite the kick."
"Well, get dressed, General Darius wants to see you at his office in fifteen minutes."
Neros swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, wiping his brow off with his bare forearm and slipping his undergarment on. His armor was simple to get on, the chain mail cuirass and greaves slipping on smoothly, and the twin pauldrons and gauntlets a quick tightening of the leather straps. His boots, at least half a size too small for him, took some struggle to get on, and pinched at his toes as picked up his spear and short sword. He went to stand up only to fall forward and barely catch himself on the bunk next to his, slowly pulling himself up and making sure no one else saw the spectacle. The task of suiting up had become so automatic to him, not even the after-effects of a heavy night of drinking could make a dent in his routine.
Through sheer exertion of will Neros forced himself into the mess hall in a very stumbling, unprofessional manner. He was glad to see the occupants here were few and far between, he being hardly in the mood to exchange pleasantries or explain the blood-shot eyes and alcoholic breath. He fell down on the nearest chair he could find with the resounding bang of metal on wood and clumsily grabbed at the half-full pitcher of water left on the table. He poured it into a nearby goblet until it was almost overflowing, caring not if it had been used before, and brought it to his open mouth as quickly as he could, a large excess spilling all over the front of his cuirass. He had hoped that the water would somehow lessen the effects of a really bad hangover, forgetting the past hundred times it had not, wishing now he had stopped the barmaid from pouring him another glass of matze after the fifth time.
Realizing the other soldiers were starting to stare at him Neros forced himself back up, nearly tipping his chair over backwards and, taking a big breath, did his best impression of walking in a straight line back out into the main hall. It was a circular hall dug into the earth, various alcoves set aside for equipment storage and bunk beds, with hallways branching out to more storage rooms, the training room and the mess hall. In the very center was a wide staircase leading up to the first floor, which acted as a sort of lobby and meeting area. The flight of stairs up to the main floor was barely surmounted by the aid of the handrails, and Neros banged his head against the frame of the small front door before ducking down and pushing his way out.
The bright sun greeted Neros most harshly as his eyes slowly adjusted to the outdoors, a "scenic" view of the town of Gnisis spread before him. A mountain range surrounded the town on the north, east and south sides, the west falling off a cliff into the river below. There were openings in the north and south side of the mountain wall which allowed travel by foot into and out of Gnisis, Fort Darius (named after General Menelaeus Darius, commander of the regional Deathshead Legion) guarding the southern approach. Near the river was located the silt strider port, where the giant insects rested and dropped of their passengers from other inland towns. The majority of the village was made up of dozens of small mud huts, most occupied by miners of the local Kwama egg mine located within the mountain range. The center of town was dominated by the Temple, where the locals worshiped their gods and a makeshift bazaar of shops were set up ringing the outer wall of the holy sanctuary. It was also the resting place of some important holy relic the natives made pilgrimages to, some holy mask worn by the local deity-king. Neros never did read any of those books about the locals like he was supposed to, reasoning that if there was a clash of cultures good old Imperial steel could solve all problems.
Just then a passing group of natives, Dunmer or "Dark Elves", were giving him their typical glares of disapproval and hostility. Neros didn't need any book to tell him when a people were resentful of being ruled over by another, especially one as xenophobic as the Dark Elves. Purplish-grey skin and deep red eyes matched their grim personalities, bitter over their deity-king Vivec signing the peace treaty with Emperor Septim and handing over their lands to the Imperials for joint rule (as if the fools thought they could withstand the Imperial Legions Neros thought). The Dunmer were allowed to keep their traditions and customs, including the barbaric practice of slavery, while enforcing Imperial rule and allowing the exploitation of their land by the East Empire Company.
His boots slowly sinking into the mud, Neros began to walk to the only other building of importance in Gnisis, the Madach Tradehouse. Part of it functioned as the only bar and inn for the entire town, the place where Neros got plastered with a couple of buddies last night. The other part functioned as the office of General Darius, and it was by sheer luck in his drunken stupor that Neros avoided Darius coming back from his meeting in Ebonheart; his friends locked up in the Imperial fort were not as fortunate.
The inside of the tradehouse was similar to the barracks, with the exception of a second floor as the main bar area and kitchen. Neros took the stairs down to the lower level, was much more cavernous then the barracks and had many more side rooms, and stopped in front of the General's office. The quick knocking was responded with an "Enter!" from inside, and the heavy wood door swung open quickly as Neros marched to his fate.
Darius was busy scribbling a note at his desk on the one space not covered by books and scrolls laid across piles of paper maps. The messenger boy at his side, a little runt of a Dunmer, was quick to take the hastily-written orders and run out the door, trying not to look Neros in the face. Neros noticed the dim lighting in the tiny office/living quarters, a single candle on the desk complimented from the light reflecting off the general's golden Templar armor. Darius' black ponytail fell off his right shoulder, his face obscured by burly hands trying to rub a hard night out of his eyes before he looked up at Neros. "Trooper Neros Orr, I trust you were able to avoid any troubles while I was away?"
"Yes, sir," replied Neros, who couldn't tell if Darius really couldn't detect the signs saying otherwise, or simply chose to ignore them.
"Good, good. As you know there have been plans to help develop the West Gash economically," continued Darius, referring to the region where Gnisis and several other underdeveloped towns were located on the west coast of Morrowind. "These plans include building a port to connect Gnisis with the rest of the island by sea, instead of having to rely on caravans and silt striders. However the port will have to be built on the outskirts of town, and the only suitable location is currently occupied by the widow Vabdas. Widow Vabdas lives on a small plot of land outside of Gnisis, where she tends a small muck farm with her daughter and her late husband, an egg miner who died recently while in the mine. I'm sending you out today to serve her these eviction papers; she needs to be gone at the end of the week before the laborers arrive. Dismissed."
"That stupid n'wah, sending me out here to throw a little old lady out into the wilderness." Neros had spent the last ten minutes cursing Darius and the rains for making this day worst then it had to be. He knew this confrontation would get ugly, not only because it would just be another Imperial forcing his will on poor defenseless Dunmer, but the widow had been making a scene the other day complaining that her husband's death wasn't an accident, that it was the Deathshead Legion that had him killed. Neros could feel his headache grow worst as he came over the final rise to the old maid's small house.
It took a minute for the visual to register in Neros' brain: the Widow Vabdas laying face-down and half-naked in the mud; a male Dunmer standing over her, clad in chitin armor and wielding two short swords with his back to Neros; the door to her house broken in and the sounds of another woman's screams from inside. They could have been Ashlanders, Dunmer who lived like nomads in the vast wastes of Morrowind. They could've been simple bandits looking for easy money and free thrills. Hell, for all Neros cared they could've been Temple priests and Ordinators, scum such as them did not deserve to live. Drawing his Imperial broadsword and letting out a mighty cry, he charged towards the Dark Elf, turning around slowly to see his impending doom...
