Disclaimer: I don't own The Elder Scrolls 3: Morrowind, related characters, titles, creatures, events, or ideas, Bethesda Software and Microsoft do. My character for the Nereverine and my other ACC are the only ones I may call my own.

----------------------------------------------

Crash Ichimonji of Mammoth Picture Productions presents:

"Awaken"

(Part Two)

Waking up exhausted is the worst feeling in the world. It makes one feel that their efforts at sleep were in vain and that they have to start all over again at the process. This was how Bal Or felt as he sluggishly rolled out of his bed and onto the bitter-cold stone floor of his newly-acquired home. As he looked outside through the window, he noticed that the sun shone quietly as it rose from the eastern horizon, over the peaks of the mountains bordering Seyda Neen.

"Ugh…" he groaned as he stretched his arms out over his head, hoping to relieve some of the tiredness in his body. No luck. All it did was make him more lethargic. "Perhaps a brisk walk will do the trick…" he said to himself as he put on his expensive shirt and netch leather boots, heading outside and smelling the sweet dewy air. He had been to the Bittercoast region a few times when he was a boy, just before he left for Cyrodiil, but the majesty of its simple beauty still captivated him each time he looked at it as the sun poured over the land.

"Good morning," an Imperial guard said as he passed by the Dunmer, typical of his duties of the morning watch.

"Good morning to you too," Bal Or finally smiled as he headed to Arrille's Tradehouse for something to eat.

"Ah, welcome, sera," the Altmer smiled as he stocked his shelf with another set of the iron frying pans he had too many of. "What can I get for you today?"

"Well, first I'd like a small kwama egg," the Dark Elf said as he brushed his long spiked hair back, smoothing out all of the misplaced bed-hair.

"Alright," Arrille nodded as he went to a lower shelf and took out the ivory pod, placing it on the counter. "That will be 5 septims. Anything else?"

"The next thing I'd like is some…information on someone," Bal Or whispered as he paid for the egg while leaning close to the High Elf.

"Well, certainly," the golden elf smiled slyly as he took the money. "Who are you looking for information on?"

"A guy named William Bathon. Heard of him?"

"A Dunmer, like you, right?"

"Yes."

"Of course. Everyone's heard of the Nereverine William Bathon!" the Altmer laughed with joy.

"Oh, could you tell me where he lives?"

"They say he lives somewhere in Balmora. What house, I don't know, but it's DEFINITELY in Balmora," Arrille said proudly.

"Thank you, sir," the Dunmer smiled. "What's the price for that info?"

"No charge for common knowledge, sera. But, I am curious, why do you need to see Mr. Bathon?"

"Well, the Emperor's very interested if he actually became Nerevar Incarnate and asked me to interview William to write a book on his adventure."

"Sounds boring. I hear his trials and adventures took over half a year to complete alone. And that's excluding the Daedra fighting and traveling he did on the side. Yes, he certainly did do a lot."

"Well, for me, that makes it all the more exciting. I love my profession. Now, I must be going now; thank you for the egg and information."

"You're welcome sera. And good luck to writing your book," Arrille waved as the Dunmer left the building.

After his breakfast, Bal Or gathered his essentials for writing: his inkwell, his quill pen, and a good 10 sheets of parchment. It was time; no lolly-gagging around. And so, he set off from his house to the nearby silt strider, where a female Dunmer stood at her post, awaiting passengers.

"Welcome, sera," she said happily as the Dunmer man approached the edge of the dock and replied back to her.

"Hello there. I'd like to know if you can travel to Balmora."

"Certainly, sir. That will cost 30 drakes."

"Oh, alright," he shrugged as he pulled out his gold and paid the driver.

"Thank you sera, now, hop aboard," the Dunmer woman smiled as she hoisted herself onto the hollowed out carapace, with her passenger following shortly. Silt striders were something Bal Or briefly remembered as a child. When he went to visit his paternal aunt and uncle who lived in the glorious city of Vivec, Bal Or's mother and father would use the silt strider service. The silt strider trips were always something fun to him because it gave him a sense of being untouchable as they passed over the roaring rivers, the wild kagouti, or even passing by cliff racers. As he thought more, Bal Or remembered a time when his maternal grandfather still lived with him, during the time he was playing close by a silt strider when he was but a mere child of four years old.

"Grandpa, Grandpa! Look at me!" young Bal Or called out to his grandparent as he somersaulted forward on the ash-covered grounds of Ald'Ruhn.

"Careful, young scrib," his elderly grandfather chuckled as he followed his grandson to the city limits. The old man was wearing nothing more than a brown pair of pants as he watched his young grand-progeny scamper about the city. The old man was in his middle fifties at the time, but could still keep pace with his rambunctious grandson.

"Looky looky, Grandpa," the youngster cried with joy as he pointed to a nearby creature. "What's dat?" he asked as he approached the black, insectoid creature with great interest.

"Little scrib, stay away from that!" his grandfather called out as he ran at full speed to the creature, only to be too late. Instantly, the shalk spat its own bio-chemical fire at the boy, lightly burning his grey skin, forcing a loud scream of pain and terror to fly from his lips. The boy fell to his back, conscious enough only to see his grandfather defending him.

"Die, fetcher!" he yelled hoarsely as he took out his enchanted chitin dagger and stabbed it through the space between the insect's compound eyes, forcing amber resin to seep out of the wound as the creature to fall over in its death. His strength renewed from the magic of his weapon, the old man ran to his grandson, picked him up, and carried him off to the Dunmer healers that resided in the Guild of Mages, hoping to save his grandson's life.

"Sera? Sera, we're here," the Dunmer woman announced as she gently nudged her passenger's shoulder to wake him from his trance.

"Hm? Oh, thank you," Bal Or said as he shook off his dreamy state of mind. He had never been to the city of Balmora before, but he had heard that it was a beautiful city. However, it was far more than beautiful as he gazed at the city's sourthern entrance. There before him was the second largest city in all of Morrowind, the pride of House Hlaalu, and home of the famous Nereverine William Bathon.

'This is where it will all begin…' he thought to himself as his silt strider parked and positioned itself up to the side of another of its own kind, where the brown-haired Dunmer left it with his traveling sack and hopped down to the manila platform where another male Dark Elf awaited to assist the newly arrived Imperial Scribe.

"Welcome to Balmora, sera," he said to Bal Or. "Will you be staying in our wonderful city today or do you need to head over to another town from here?"

"Oh, no thank you," the Scribe smiled back. "I'll be here for a few hours today." He then looked up at the sky to see that it was around two o'clock in the afternoon, which gave him several hours to find this Bathon fellow and then write as much as he possibly could for the day before heading back home. The brown-haired Dark Elf waved goodbye to the silt strider rider and headed down the stairs into the gorgeous and prosperous town.

Not knowing where to go, he ventured around the entire city for an hour or so, remembering the locations of shops and guild locations. Now that he had figured out what was where, he could now investigate for information on his target. Bal Or decided he'd ask the townspeople first, as they were all nearby and outside, which made the situation of locating someone for help rather easy.

'Let's see what this man has to say…' he thought to himself as he walked up to fellow Dunmer. The elf was wearing a green common robe and had short brown hair, and the left side of his face was scarred up to his eye.

"Excuse me, sir," he said as he tapped the mer's shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Um, excuse me, but would you know where I can find William Bathon?"

"Of course!" the Dunmer beamed as he put his hand over Bal Or's shoulder and walked him over to a small stone bridge in the middle of the town, all the while, chattering to him. "A real nice fellow, William is. A true friend. Why, he had it in his heart to forgive all of us Sleepers after the Devil's spell over us was broken. Why, if it wasn't for him, I'd probably still have soul sickness and be blabbering about such ignorant gibberish. Ha ha ha ha!" he chuckled as he pointed to a house in the northeastern most corner of the city. "That's where he lives. Tell me though, why do you want to see him?" the Dunmer asked the other with interest.

"Oh, I'm the Imperial Scribe," Bal Or smiled. "His majesty has requested that I write a book about Mr. Bathon's adventures as the Nereverine."

"Really? How wonderful! Now everyone can hear of his wondrous deeds and acts of bravery. Well, I won't keep you any longer, sera. Go right along and do your job."

"Goodbye, and thank you," the Scribe said as he walked off to the said house with much anxious joy. Here he would meet the infamous Incarnate himself: William Bathon; the man that conquered not only corprus, but the terrible Dagoth Ur and all his lunatic followers too. As Bal Or knocked on the door to the house, he prepared himself to meet a great warrior clad in Daedric armor and wielding a mighty axe of adamantium or something like that.

When the door opened, he was more than disappointed. There before him was a Dunmer man clad in nothing but a pair of black pants. His muscles weren't nearly as large as the Scribe had imagined they would be. Grant it, they were larger than his, but not by too much. The mer's face was normal and clean-shaven, its nose bent a little at the septum, and his black and silver hair was cropped just above his shoulders and parted down the middle, his bangs shorter than the rest of his hair.

The only hint of evidence that this Dark Elf was a warrior was that the front side of his body was covered in asymmetrical scars and burns, showing that he had seen battle many a time. Either he was very clumsy, or he had faced several fierce opponents.

"Yes?" he said sleepily and lazily with glazed-over crimson eyes.

"Um, are you William Bathon?" was all Bal Or could ask as he tried to collect himself from the anticlimax of seeing this Dunmer.

"Yes. Am I needed by one of the Houses again?" he asked as he leaned against his doorway.

"Well, no. I'm actually a Scribe of the Emperor and-"

"The Emperor? I'm terribly, sorry! Please, do come in," William suddenly awoke from his lethargic state and opened his door wide to let his guest in. As Bal Or stepped into the small house, he was surprised yet again by the interior. All around the walls were weapons of several makes; from Dwarven to Daedric, there were axes, spears, swords, hammers, clubs, swords, maces, and even a vast array of unique weapons. At each of the four corners of the room were full suits of Daedric, ebony, Orcish, and Indoril armors.

"Sorry about my attire, I just got back from Vivec early this morning before dawn and have been sleeping since then. Here, if you'll allow me to change, we can discuss the reason you're here." The Incarnate then faced away from his guest and took off his ebony-colored pants for a moment as he then took out a pair of indigo pants much like Bal Or's. Bal Or, at the time, watched the back area of William with interest. Not a single scratch was on his back or on the back of any part of his body, which gave his back side an almost perfect and immaculate appearance to it.

By the time the Scribe realized it, he was staring at the other Dunmer even though his back was no longer turned to him. He quickly snapped out of his stare and looked at the Incarnate in the face, who was now wearing a black shirt with his dark azure pants.

"Please, have a seat at the table over there," the silver-haired Dark Elf pointed to his table and chairs over to Bal Or's right. "So, you said you were sent by his Majesty Uriel Septim? What for, may I ask?"

"Oh, yes. I'm an Imperial Scribe you see, and his Majesty requests that a book be written about your adventures and exploits here in Vvardenfell. He's very interested to know how you defeated Dagoth Ur and saved the land," the brown-haired mer said as he took out his parchment, pen, and inkwell and placed them on the table, ready to write at a moment's notice.

"Ah, I see. Well, I should warn you, it's quite a long story."

"Oh, don't worry, I need as many details as possible. Where would you like to begin, Mr. Bathon?"

"William, if you'll please," the Incarnate said.

"Oh, very well, William," he smiled

"You know, I never did catch your name, sera."

"Bal Or. But I guess you could just call me Bal," the Scribe smiled back.

"Well, Bal, to begin with, I was an orphan raised by Bretons back in Cyrodiil, hence my name," he began.

"Yes."

"And, well, I was always getting into trouble back in the city. Drinking, wenching, and even playing tricks on guards," Bathon laughed. "And so one day, I finally got caught when I was trying to steal some raw ebony to make some money. I was about 22 at the time, and was forced to do hard labor in prison for about a year. After that, that's when the Emperor sent me here to Morrowind. In any case, the ride over wasn't pleasant for me. Every time I shut my eyes to sleep, I had the most frightening dreams."

"What were they about?" Bal asked, curious to know if they were anything like his.

"Well, I kept seeing red images of the Ashlands and the Red Mountain Region. Also, a woman's voice kept calling to me, saying that she was watching me. I later realized that it was the Daedra Lord Azura herself.

"Are you serious? How do you know it was her?" Bal Or asked in shock.

"Well, I'll jump ahead to where my adventures pretty much ended. After I finally defeated Dagoth Ur and destroyed Akulakahn, I met Azura face to face."

"What did she look like?"

"She appeared in the form of a Dunmer woman. But I'll explain that later. So anyways, I was woken up by a fellow prisoner as we docked into Seyda Neen. One of the guards from the ship then escorted me to the top deck and over to the dock. From there, I went into the Census and Excise building where I was registered and freed."

"Hm, not too different from what I had to go through when I came," Bal mentioned as he ended the last sentence with a period. "So, what happened next?"

"Well, you don't have to write this down, but as soon as I was allowed to leave the main building, I…took a few items," William smiled.

"Took a few items? Like what?"

"Well, all their plates, a dagger, some alcoholic drinks, and just about everything they had in the rooms that weren't being watched by guards."

"So YOU'RE the one they said took all their belongings. That's quite humorous!" the brown haired Dunmer laughed.

"Well, I was really concerned about making money here, and always was until I was strong enough to raid Daedra shrines. But anyways, I sold all of the items at Arrille's in Seyda Neen, and bought a few weapons too."

"Boy oh boy, that's quite amazing. I kind of figured you were this perfect embodiment of good and virtue. Tell me, have you ever considered joining the Thieves' Guild?"

"Not only that, but I eventually joined them a month or two after I made it to Balmora."

"What were you doing until then?" Bal asked curiously.

"Traveling and increasing my skills in combat," William responded. "Part of my deal of being released from prison was that I was to work for Caius Cosades as a Blades Operative. You do know what the Blades are, correct?"

"Oh, well, I've heard that they're a secret group of agents for his Majesty. Should I know more about them?"

"Oh, well, that's essentially all you'll need to know for now. When I first met Caius, he told me that I would be reporting to him for orders on missions, however, he told me that I should spend time joining guilds and strengthening myself. So, I did some traveling around the island, doing a few odd-jobs and favors for random people while living out in the wild in between time in the cities. Well, maybe it would be best to say that I went to cities in between the weeks I spent in the wild," William laughed.

"Heh heh, you sound like you really had an enjoyable time doing that," the Scribe laughed along with the hero.

"I most certainly did. After about two months of roughing it, I returned to Balmora to be cured for all the diseases and blights I had acquired in my journeys. Needless to say, no one wanted to deal with me until I had that done. I had even begun to smell like an Ogrim from that whole time out in the rain and ash storms."

"But, you don't smell bad now," Bal Or said.

"Well, that's because when everyone didn't want to deal with my stench, I went down to the middle of the Odai River, stripped myself of all my clothing, and bathed using up two whole bars of soft soap for about five hours. It was nightfall by the time I had finished, and unfortunately for me, a group of bandits decided to ambush me and take all my bonemold armor and gold."

"Well, what did you do?"

"The only I knew I could do: beat them."

"How many were there?" the brown-haired Dunmer asked as he scribbled down more and more of William's words.

"Hm…I think it was somewhere between four and eight…" William scratched his chin in contemplation. "Wait…him, him, him, her, him, her and that one guy with the Dwarven axe…" he ticked off the people's faces in his mind. "I believe there were seven. Yes, seven was how many there were. Anyways, I quickly grabbed my steel dai-katana and fought buck-naked against all of them until they were all dead."

Bal Or tried to imagine William in sans-clothing wielding such a powerful weapon and snickered to himself as he quickly wrote down the image in a few seconds, filling up his first sheet of paper front and back. He then grabbed a fresh sheet and dotted his quill pen with fresh ink and looked up at the Incarnate to relay that he was ready for more information.

"So, once they were all dead, I grabbed my clothes and armor, and then took anything they had that was valuable to sell back here."

"Which included what?"

"Um...I think there were a few enchanted items that could inflict fire damage on enemies, and then there was one that made a temporary shield. I forget. I've found and sold literally hundreds of bandits' items in all my adventures."

"Interesting. So, what about the Thieves' Guild? What was it like working for them?"

"Well, if your skills in sneaking and breaking locks are low, it's VERY tiresome and dangerous. I've had bounties put on me for stealing and even for having to kill some people in my missions for the Guild. But the best part of being in the Thieves' Guild is that you can pay to get your bounty off your head."

"Intriguing," Bal Or noted with finishing writing the last statement.

"Well, I think that's enough of my regular adventures for you to write. I'm sure you're aching to know about my trials and tribulations of becoming the Incarnate, yes?"

"Certainly," the Scribe smiled as he took out a fresh sheet.

"To begin with, let me say something about Dagoth Ur," Bathon mused with a serious look on his face.

"Oh?"

"To begin with, I actually felt sympathy toward him."

'He is lying…' a voice whispered inside the writer's mind, causing him to scratch his pointed ear for a moment.

"My predecessor, the original Nerevar, was a dear friend of Dagoth Ur, and visa versa. However, Nerevar slew Dagoth Ur when he wouldn't relinquish the Tools of Kagrenac."

"Which are…?"

"The hammer Sunder, the short sword Keening, and the gauntlet that protects its wearer from being fatally wounded by touching the said weapons: Wraithguard."

"I see. Please, continue," Bal Or smiled.

"In any case, this is where the story of Nerevar becomes confusing."

"How so?"

"Well, I don't really have much recollection of being the original Nerevar, only a few flashes of images. And, this part of the story has two sides to it. The first is one that Vivec himself recorded," William told his biographer the tale of how the Tribunal was created from Nerevar dying shortly after defeating Dagoth Ur. Then he recanted the Ashlander account of how Vivec, Almelexia, and Sotha Sil betrayed Nerevar and made themselves gods.

"Incredible!" the Scribe exclaimed after finishing the two accounts, detailing how William did not know which one was true.

"Yes, either way, I still had much sympathy for Dagoth Ur because I understood how he felt about the Tribunal making themselves gods rather than destroying Keening, Sunder and Wraithguard. The fellow wanted to see to it that the foreigners of Morrowind be driven out and that the Empire cease its grip on the Dunmer. To this date I sometimes wonder if he and I could have been friends had I not destroyed the Heart of Lorkhan. He was driven mad by the tools, you see."

"Oh?"

"Yes, exposure to the Heart and the Tools had driven him insane with the power, deluding his mind and making him a deified lunatic. I've read his plans over and over, and somehow I still keep thinking that there was some good in his heart somewhere, that had I simply destroyed the Heart and not him, that he would become a good mer once more. It's very complicated, you see," the Incarnate sighed.

"And the Tools? What became of them after you defeated Dagoth Ur?" Bal Or asked.

"I threw them into the fiery pit where Akulakhan once was."

'NO!' roared the same voice that had been whispering to Bal Or earlier, forcing him to flinch and grasp his sinuses.

"Are you alright?" Bathon asked as he came to the Scribe's side and held his shoulders concernedly.

"Ummmmm…" the other Dunmer groaned. "I have a rather harsh headache. I should probably go stay somewhere to rest the night…"

"Good idea, but, why not stay here? It's already late in the evening, so you shouldn't be out wandering Balmora to find a bed. Please, stay here and we can resume tomorrow when you're better," the Incarnate suggested.

"Well, alright," Bal Or smiled as his newfound friend led him into the single bed and tucked him in. "What about you?"

"Oh, don't worry, I've slept on harder ground with my travel bed-mat out in the wild, so it shouldn't be a problem. Please, get your rest," Bathon smiled.

"Very well. Good night," the Scribe returned the smile and drifted off into slumber. Hellish images plagued Bal Or's mind for hours, however, and he soon could not take it anymore. He awoke with a gasp, looking around at the weaponry and armor of the room, then at the still slumbering Incarnate on the floor.

'Now is our chance…' hissed the same voice as before. The Scribe took out his grandfather's dagger. It glowed a hellacious crimson light now, as if it was ablaze. 'Use the tool of my blessing…' the voice whispered more. Bal Or got out of bed and stared down at the sleeping Dunmer. With one great stab, or slit, he could cut William's grey throat and end his life with his own hands and weapon. 'This will avenge our cause…' the voice hissed on. 'He is our enemy…He will betray those of us that walk in the red light of truth and power…'

"What do you mean?" Bal asked the voice quietly as he continued to stare at the Incarnate. "And who are you?"

'I am the true Father of our people and our cause…The real question now is…Do you know who and what you are…?'

"Bal Or, Imperial Scribe of the-"

'No! You are not a dog for those mongrel Men…You are my Son…My chosen and blessed successor…The one that will rise and bring our people into a new age of freedom and livelihood…'

"I don't…I don't understand…"

'I know you are unable to comprehend this, but, think of me for now as someone who will watch over you from now on…Lie down once more, let me tell you of what must be done if you are to become greater than even Nerevar has become…'

Obeying the voice, the Scribe went back to bed, and prepared for whatever this voice had in store for him.

"Alright. What do you want of me?"

'You wish to become my Son, then?'

"I'm a writer, any story is a good story to me. I'm just going to humor you for now…"

'Very well, then…Do you know what your grandfather was?'

"Some sort of wise-man, right?"

'Not just any wise-man…He was a Dreamer…And he may very well be the last of the original ones that Nerevar has not slain…You must travel to your old home of Ald'ruhn and seek out a the Morvayn Mansion…There are corprus monsters there, but they will not attack you so long as you possess your dagger, an amulet, and the ring…'

"Amulet? What amulet?" Bal Or asked, only to receive his answer almost immediately. In the far corner of the room, a chest glowed with crimson light through its shut lid. Curiosity got the better of the Dunmer, and he tip-toed his way to the box and opened it. Inside were dozens of sapphire amulets glowing red, as well as a small ring glowing a more hellish scarlet. "One of these, I take it?"

'Yes…Keep the amulet and ring close to you, but do not let him see them. He must not suspect anything…'

"Why am I doing this?"

'Do you wish to become a savior? Are you tired of being the one who writes about the heroes? Now is your chance to become one yourself…'

Those words struck a chord with the writer. Yes, he knew in his heart that this was what he had dreamed of becoming: someone great and powerful, someone significant that OTHERS would write about for future generations. This was the dream of every writer, and now…Now he had the chance to live out his dream…

"I understand." With those words, the Scribe pocketed the trinkets and closed the box, which lost the crimson fluorescence of before, and headed back to bed. "Alright, I'm going to do this. By the way, just who are you?"

'I was known by many names, my Son…But you may call me…Dagoth Ur'

To Be Continued…

Well, sorry this took so long to update, I've had a lot to do since Chapter 1 was finished. I plan to update this as much as I can, what with my other works all being just as important. I already know what is going to happen inside and out of this story, so, writers' block shouldn't be an issue, just time. I wonder, am I the only Sixth House cultist here? lol