Hello. The following piece is a very short introduction to what I hope to be the first new series I've started writing in a long time. For whatever reason I have not been able write, fanfiction or otherwise in the past two or three years, with every single time I manage to sit down and write, I am unable to start. This is the first time in a while that I have managed to start and finish a section of anything, so while it may not be that great, it is merely a stepping stone for me to expand into a real story. Thank you. - Gehenna79
Nymandris "Nym" Orianos would have been by all accounts an average criminal. Born and raised on the streets of the Imperial City, he never had the luxury of knowing the identity of his father, and his mother died at the mere age of twelve.
It would not be long after his mother's passing, that the young Dunmer would find theft preferable to labor. He would join a gang of similar youth, orphans and vagabonds, out on the prowl to steal from unsuspecting citizens walking by the docks after the sun had set.
However, despite a few years of success, he eventually ended up in a cell of the Imperial Prison, where he figured he would rot for the rest of his life, or at least until they had common sense to remove his head from his shoulders. But fortunately for him, as well as the world, this would not be the case.
One morning, a pair of guards escorted him out of his cell and transported him to a horse-drawn carriage on the outskirts of the city. He sat in the carriage for days, not knowing where he was going, for all attempts at conversation were ignored by his captors.
They traveled through quiet forests, over raging rivers and through steep mountains. And eventually, they came to a port, where Nymandris was made to exit the carriage and get on a boat, once again without explanation.
This transport was much less enjoyable, for storms wracked the vessel constantly, shaking the boat to and fro without cease. Many of the sailors prayed to the Nine Divines for salvation, others to the figures of the Tribunal Temple or the Daedra, but Nymandris knew not which god to pray, for he had never been taught of any.
On the third night, long after he had laid his head down to sleep, he began to have strange dreams, in which a female voice spoke to him. The words he could not remember clearly when he next woke up, except for the last phrase he heard..."I will be watchful."
"Wake up," a rough voice called to him, "We're here."
Nym slowly rose up from his hammock and wiped the crust off his eyelids. "Have we arrived?" he asked his companion, another prisoner by the name of Jiub. Jiub was old, with a long scar that ran down the right side of his face, through a blinded eye.
Jiub nodded, "Yes. They'll be sure to let us go now."
Nym wasn't so sure of that. But soon enough, a bearded guard came upon them from the upper decks. "This," he pointed at Nymandris, "is where YOU get off." The guard glanced sideways at Jiub who frowned, "Come with me."
Nym took a last look at Jiub and walked away with the guard through the lower and upper levels of the decks below. It was a cramped, tight ship. The air was close, with every available space taken up by either hammocks or supplies. Throughout the journey, Nym had been restrained by cuffs made from cheap pig iron, but now they had been unlocked.
"Get yourself up on deck, and let's keep this as civil as possible," growled the guard roughly. Nym didn't need to be told twice. He opened up the hatch and came outside, the first chance to stretch his legs in a good long while.
What he saw before him was the first glimpse of his people's homeland. Vvardenfell, the principal territory of Morrowind, homeland of the Dunmer, better known to humans as the Dark Elves. In front of him was a large, two story building from which a long wooden pier extended out into the shallow bay. Nearby were titanic trees with wide trunks made of many roots, their palm leaves longer than a man and nearly three times wider. But the most strange thing of all was a great creature whose long, stick-like legs were wading through an inlet that cut into the nearby town. The creature's main body was made of hard, dark chitin but it appeared as if somebody had placed a saddle into a natural crevice on its back and was riding it like a beast of burden! Never before had Nym seen such a thing, causing him to stare in wonder.
"Get a move on!" shouted the guard from behind him, forcing Nym to snap back into reality and push towards the pier via a thin board.
Another guard was quick to take him into the building, where a customs official had him fill out paperwork. The only thing out of the ordinary here was that the official asked him what stars he had been born under. Nym answered, "the Ritual", which is what his mother had told him. According to his mother, these stars would make his wounds heal easier, and as far as Nym was concerned, she was right, for he had never been seriously injured in his life. But that probably had more to do with luck than constellations.
Once the papers were signed, Nym was given them, and told to enter another room. Here, a soldier of considerable rank was waiting for him. He could tell because unlike the ones who had escorted him, his armor was ornate, custom-made. His cuirass was High-Elven made, a rich brass color that shimmered from meticulous polish. The soldier himself was tall and youthful, with a high-cheeked face and long, sweeping black hair.
The soldier regarded Nym for a moment, who was dressed in plain, dirty clothes that probably reeked of an unwashed body and the salt of the sea. In fact, the soldier seemed to wrinkle his nose in distaste for a brief second, before questioning Nym gruffly, "What do we have here?"
Nym handed the soldier his papers. The soldier glanced them over, "So, it would appear that you're the special case, the prisoner sent from Cyrodiil, correct?"
Unsure as what to say, Nym replied, "That would be me, m'lord."
"Hmph," the soldier was not impressed. "It would appear as if I have some orders for you. I have no idea why anybody would trust a petty thief to such a task, but this comes down from the Emperor himself."
"Orders?" Nym asked aloud, "What kind of orders?"
"The kind of orders that don't bear repeating. You are to travel to the city of Balmora and deliver this package," he handed Nym a scroll bound in a wax seal and tied with leather straps, "to Caius Cosades, and to report to him for further instructions."
"Why?" Nym asked.
"What do you mean, why? Were you not paying attention you oaf? Because the Emperor says so. And don't even think of shirking your duty, of running away the moment I let you through this door, or even opening those packages before Caius seems them, because we'll find out, and if we find out, there will be hell to pay."
Nym said nothing, merely looking down on the floor, with the occasional sidelong glance to the exit.
The soldier sighed deeply, "You want my advice? Take the Silt Strider. You saw that great creature when you came in, didn't you?"
Nym nodded. "What is it?"
"What I just said, a Silt Strider. A huge insect, used for getting around the countryside. There's a lot of danger in Morrowind, but you're a Dunmer. I'm sure you'll fit in just fine. Now here," he handed Nym a bag of golden Drakes, "Take this. Go get a weapon. Or some armor. Or if you know how to use magic, learn a spell. This place is not to be underestimated. I've seen too many good men, unprepared, be dragged down in less than a few hours of leaving the safety of the town."
Nym took the coins freely. "Am I free to go?" he said, finally.
"Yes, but remember your duties. You're the Emperor's now, boy. Don't ever forget it."