Preface
What are our lives but what we make of them? Are we always in complete control of out destinies? Are we ever the masters of ourselves? Or, in the hidden corners of our lives, are there others that pulls the strings, others that, ultimately, tells the story of our lives?
I use to regard the latter as complete nonsense… use to.
The first twenty eight years of my life have been denied me. Under unknown circumstances, the previous years have been wiped clean from memory. As far back as I could remember, I was inbound on a congested refugee boat, headed to the strange, alien island of Vvardenfell. There, my life, in essence, had to begin anew. With nothing on me but what was provided, I was thrust into this strange place, where it seemed its inhabitants, a race of elves named "the Dunmer" had an eternal hatred toward my people (the Imperials.) Thankfully, though, I was fortunate to find the friendship of kind souls: an Argonian mage by the name of Hui and a blinded male Dunmer nobleman by the name of Varon Varvur. Then, shortly after our encounter, I met who would one day become my wife: a beautiful yet complicated female Dunmer by the name of Zela.
There, in this island of Vvardenfell, I crawled my way up the ladder of success, the beginning of my success starting with the Fighters Guild. There, scrounging off the supply of mediocre quest that were bestowed upon me, I barely made a living. Were it not for the encouragement of Hui and the compassion from the one I loved, I would have ended my life then and there.
Then, one day, I was captured by operatives of the Blades and was brought before a goddess of perfect beauty: Azura. It was her that confessed to me a shocking tale, a tale of an evil lord dubbed Dagoth Ur, a legendary hero named Indoril Nerevar, who fell beneath Dagoth Ur's might, and her proclamation that said hero would be rebirthed and finally put an end to the evil that plagued the land.
She said that I was Indoril Nerevar's reincarnation.
Thus began a great journey, one that would send me across the entirety of Vvardenfell. Along the way, I bared witness to what blighted the land, and slowly, I began to comprehend my destiny: to slay Dagoth Ur and set forth peace to Vvardenfell once again.
Through many sourced did I become stronger. Through the combat training of my Fighters Guild master, the magecraft of my friend Hui, and the bestowing of artifacts of power from the gods, I became Nerevar, savior of Morrowind.
On that faithful day, the day I spent many months in preparation for, I enter the realm of Dagoth ur, a blighted land of ashstorms and demonic beings. With a Holy Army of 300 at my command, we drudged forward into the unknown and reached the dwelling place of the dark lord. Alone did I enter that place, and there we exchanged blows for the fate of Vardenfell and the world.
In the end, it was I that was victorious. With the dark hand of Dagoth Ur diminished, the prophesy was fulfilled and the world was safe from evil.
Now, many months after that day of days, I left the island of Vvardenfell by boat, now in search of something even more precious to me: my past. Through randomly occurring flashbacks, small fragments of my past would flood back into my mind. With nothing to go on but those fragments, I was determined to seek out my family and my parents.
Do I believe in fate? Do I see my life as nothing more than predetermined choices that are out of my control? Perhaps so, perhaps not.
Only time shall tell.