A little ficlet that popped into my head while browsing a Skyrim forum. I decided it was decent enough to post as my first story. This is just a oneshot. I haven't played Morrowind recently enough to write much more. Maybe other little snapshots of my Nerevarine's life may get written and posted if there's a positive response to this one. Or maybe one set during Oblivion or Skyrim. But I'm going to stop talking and let you read.

The wind roared through the foyada as I carefully shuffled closer to the looming bulk of Dagoth Ur. The thick ash laid in a thick layer on the ground and walls of the volcanic trench. Going was slow, but the high embankments on either side provided valuable cover from the wandering Ashlanders and plagued beasts that infested the area inside the Ghostfence.

I raised my hand to wipe some of the gritty ash off of my face but decided against it when I saw the guar blood coating my gauntlet. I knew from experience that a mudlike mix of ash and blood would be more trouble to clean than it was worth. Instead I pulled my mask tighter to my face to block the invading dust and resumed my journey to Red Mountain.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I had learned long ago to trust this instinctive sixth sense, and scrambled for cover behind a large rock on one side of the ravine. A quick glance back the way I had come showed the empty path back to the distant Ghostgate. I leaned around the side of the rock and more carefully examined the path ahead for signs of a waiting ambush or other traps, but my practiced eyes didn't notice any such clues. I also quickly checked the rim of the ravine, but still no danger had revealed itself.

Shrugging to myself I rose from my place of concealment and prepared to resume my journey, albeit more cautiously than before. I had just taken my first step when I saw a shadow flash across the ground in front of me. My eyes shot skyward and what they saw made my mouth go drier than the ashstorm already had. Through the whirling clouds of dust I could make out the shape of a massive flock of cliff racers.

Now I pride myself on being a man who doesn't shy away from a fight, but at this point I decided to embrace the ancient and noble Dunmer tradition of discretion rather than valor.

Quicker than Riekling from a horny werewolf, I made an about face and sprinted for the relative safety of the Ghostgate. The fate of Morrowind and the Heart of Lorkan could wait until another day. Thinking quickly I flung Eleidion's Ward to the ground before me and dove onto the impromptu sled. The walls of the ravine flew past as I hurtled toward my goal. A glance behind me showed the cliff racers in pursuit.

And they were gaining.

Making a split-second decision, I carefully rolled onto my back while trying not to upset my delicate balance on the shield/sled. Once I was facing the sky, I quickly channeled my magicka into flames that I began to fling into the sky hoping to at least deter the cliff racers from approaching much closer. Unfortunately, the teeth-rattling ride on the shield threw off my aim so much that I only succeeded in hitting one of the dozens of racers that were following me.

Frustrated, I pooled my magicka into a single massive blast of fire, deciding that such a large fireball would engulf at least a few of the beasts. I drew back my hand and flung the orb of searing heat toward them just as the careening shield bounced over a large rut in the foyada, sending me and my shield flying through the air and my spell into the wall of the ravine.

The crash back to the earth knocked the breath out of me. Nevertheless, I quickly rose to my feet and glanced around for my shield. I spied it laying on the ground farther up the foyada. I started back up the way to grab it but a low rumble drew my attention yet farther up toward the mountain.

My eyes widened in shock as I saw that source of the noise. Apparently my fireball had knocked loose enough rock to produce a massive landslide that was now roaring down the foyada. Vowing to return and retrieve my shield another day, I spun around and scrambled toward the Ghostgate which was now only a hundred yards away.

The loud rumble of the landslide was apparently enough to wake the previously sleeping sentry on top of the gate, who jerked out of his seat as I ran as quickly as I could in my heavy Legionnaire armor. His eyes popped out at the sight of the landslide and he turned around and kicked open the hatch behind him. Hearing his shout of "Open the gates, you s'wits!" I sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever ancestors were watching me. The door at the base of the gathouse popped open to reveal a Dunmer woman who began frantically gesturing for me to run faster. I poured on a burst of speed and was perhaps 10 yards from the door when I noticed the woman's expression of agitation turn to outright terror as she wordlessly pointed behind me.

"I know, a landslide!", I roared. Her only reply was a frantic scream of "CLIFF RACER!" I only had a brief moment to wonder what she was talking about before something hit me in the back, knocking me to the ground. As I tumbled forward, I saw that the swarm of cliff racers had not forgotten me and had snuck up on me while I was distracted by the landslide. I leapt to my feet and turned to run into the gate when one of the swooping racers looped its talons through the straps of my armor and lifted me off of the ground like I was nothing.

I reflexively reached for my sword but my hand only met empty air. Apparently it had come off in one of my tumbles. Luckily I kept a small knife in my boot for occasions such as this. I pulled it out and jammed it into the foot of the cliff racer which released me with a pained screech. Now free from the clutches of the avian menace, I was faced with my next obstacle. I was hundreds of feet in the air with no magicka to cast a levitation spell, and I knew from experience that Dunmer, especially the ones in plate mail armor, do not bounce very well.

Bounce. With that epiphany, I slipped a hand into the small bag I kept my scrolls in and pulled out the sheaf of papers. Tossing them into the wind as I shuffled through them, I finally found what I was looking for: Icarian Flight.

I began to speak the incantation on the scroll when a flash of talons tore through the paper in my hands. Furious tears welled up in my eyes as the ground grew closer and the cliff racer flew away with a mocking cry.

Smug little bast-

Well there it is, kids. If you liked it, please leave a review telling me what you liked. If you disliked it, leave me a review doing the same. And if you noticed something really teensy-tiny like a misspelled word, bad grammar, or even something like a sentence that doesn't seem to flow right, then tell me!