Chapter I



The smell of sand baking in the sun? The sight of large black birds diving towards the ground, intent on feeding? the feel of the dry wind rushing through his fur? Such things only exist to him in dreams any longer, and so it was. Only in sleep could he escape the torment of the whip, fist, and never ending saltrice harvests.

***

It was not to last. N'virr was brought out of his slumber by the persistent clanging of a pot and spoon.

"Get up, you filthy dogs. You don't get to come back until it's all finished, so get out there now," a gruff voice said, thick with disgust and scorn. With a small growl, N'virr sat up in his hammock, leaping on to the dirt floor of the slave cabin. He pulled on some simple, tattered pants and grabbed a rotten piece of fruit from a bin by the door.

"Hey, I hear they let us have fire tonight, if we work good. Sounds nice, doesn't it?" Gih-Mas, the Argonian in his barracks, asked.

"Yes, fantastic. Our one for the month." He let out a mournful sigh, characteristic of one who has lost everything. "Don't let it sway your thoughts of them. They only do it to keep us from revolting."

"I don't understand. They let us have fire. That good, right?" She asked, obviously non-comprehending of what he was saying.

Once again, N'virr sighed, more out of frustration than anything else. He was about to reply harshly, but then softened. He still could not get used to the utter stupidity of his fellow slaves. "Yes, it's good. Let's work hard so we can enjoy it." He left the cabin, and was grabbed roughly around the wrist by a well-armed Dunmer. The elf led him through a small courtyard, and placed a bag over his head; a precaution to keep the slaves from escaping by not allowing them to know where to go. He was led like this for several minutes. When they finally stopped, the bag was pulled from his head, and he was thrust toward a field of tall, green, segmented stalks.

The area that was previously harvested was obvious, even though grass had already begun to grow in the unplowed land. A good sixth of the field still remained to be harvested, a task for twenty laborers given to a mere seven. N'virr doubted he and his fellow workers would have the luxury of a fire that night.

He set himself upon the daunting task, grabbing a dull sickle from a rack of tools, and slung a bag across his shoulder. The work was tedious; swipe, grab, slip into sack. Swipe, grab, slip into sack. N'virr quickly fell into rhythm, the work passed much more quickly with an inactive mind.

Before long, he felt a light tingling in his chest. He paused for a moment to feel his left torso, and the sensation faded. How odd, he thought. He shrugged, and returned to his work.

Several minutes later, the feeling began again, and he once more touched it. However, this time it began spreading to his neck, and up into his head. As it reached the top of his head, he heard a low buzz in his ear. Suddenly, he began shaking, losing control of his muscles. He doubled over, vomited, and blacked out.

He could smell salt upon the air. His eyes slowly opened, revealing the deck of a ship a-sail in calm waters, mist clogging the air. The light played upon the water that formed pools on the deck, casting eerie sparkles across the boat sides. Oddly, the whole scene appeared black and white.

N'virr looked around, and saw little of any interest. The only thing different about the ship was the presence of an additional green lamp hanging from the bow, as opposed to the normal count of one.

The sight was rather disappointing; there was little excitement to be found in staring at a lamp, as out of place as it may be. Looking around, he spotted a shadowy figure standing at the stern, outfitted only in a hooded robe. He approached the figure, who seemed to disregard his presence.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where I am?"N'virr asked, thought he was confident he would not receive an answer. He was correct, for the figure turned straight around and advanced toward the steering wheel. He only received a brief glimpse of the figure, but he could tell it was a young Imperial male, no older than 20. N'virr walked over to the Imperial and studied his face. The Imperial obviously could not tell that an unfamiliar Khajiit was aboard his ship, and his eyes remained focused on the small amount of water visible through the fog.

As N'virr began to walk towards the lamps on the ship's bow to get another look, the boat began emitting a bright light. N'virr squinted his eyes at first, but then completely closed them as it seemed like he would go blind. Suddenly, he felt himself lying on several short stalks. Moments later an armored boot connected with his face, causing him to howl at the sky. He was yanked up by the shoulders and slapped across the face.

"Sleeping on the job, eh? 30 lashes, and only water for your evening meal," a gruff voice said in his ear. Another hand grabbed him, and before he knew it, he was being dragged across the field.

Ooohhh, Awesome start!

Well, quite a good hook for the introduction, and you waste no time telling us the setting, implied or otherwise. I'll try to keep this brief

First of all, the number one problem I noticed was that the pace was just too fast. You cover a very important and potentially great introduction in such a small space, when it could be so much better fleshed out more. I don't know why you would condense this, but it deserves to be let out and free to roam (much like the protagonist ). Use more descriptions, of the setting and the character, and try to get us connected more. You do a pretty good job so far of developing the protagonist, but N'virr still feels kind of flat. It is the introduction, and I don't expect to know everything about them in one post, but I think a little more couldn't hurt.

Beyond pace I found little wrong: the descriptive phrases were good (if a little foggy; I didn't always have a clear picture in my head). Something you might also want to try is write like the audience has never played Morrowind. You talk about this field of saltrice, when several of your readers won't even know what it is, and the rest only have a pixelated view of it in their inventory's. Be creative, if the protagonist is picking it for a long time they are sure to notice what it looks like

The switch to dream (or whatever it was) and back were a little iffy, they could use a bit of clarification, but be sure to keep it vague enough. Another thing before I go, describe the other characters and the scene a bit more physically. This goes with "Show, don't tell" a little bit (as it applies to just about everything), and is one thing everyone needs to master. The reader always wants to be able to envision the scene withing his or her head.

Other than that it was a superb intro, with an excellent hook. Thanks for writing, and keep it up :goodjob:

Why thank you. Yeah, I thought I had screwed up pretty bad as far as description goes. It seems to me, though, that N'virr wouldn't really notice the Saltrice if he had been picking it for a long time, just like I hardly notice the swirls on my wooden wall, after having seen it so much. That's just what it seems to me, though, and you're right, I should write for the reader. Thanks for the read, and help.

I wouldn't say screwed up, but it could use improvement. As could we all, no?

That is a fine line with writing descriptions; sometimes you want to describe things in detail, while other times you only want to describe them as the protagonist sees them. It is really a style thing, and it might come down to how close your point of view is. If you want to characterize more, I'd go for seeing things through his eyes, but if you want to describe a scene, then go with further out third person. I tend to go for further out view, using dialogue and some showing to get my characters across. In fact, it can also come down to your pace- how fast you want to scene to read. Since it is an intro, I advise a slower pace, but it all depends.

I realize I'm being a bit ambigious, but what I'm trying to say is that you should at least try some descriptive, distanced writing, just to see how it works out. If you find yourself too far away from the character, keep adjusting until you get your balance right. In the end it's your call; I've seen it work both ways.

Hmm... Thanks for the idea. Never really thought about it that way.

I personally do not have a problem with the pace but it's probably because I played Morrowind for several years and was quite sympathetic to the slaves. Also, my own style is one that tends to push things along.

Storytellers have been around for thousands of years but it's only in modern times that we have almost codified the process. Don't be afraid to color outside the lines.

True, very true. Many great works of literature got shot down in their times because they didn't follow the norm back then, and now we view them as works of art. The Greeks thought a "Deus ex Machina" was a good idea, when now we find it to be tasteless and unconvincing. (For those of you who don't read Wikipedia frequently, that would be a wrap-it-up ending that doesn't really make sense logistically, but it makes everyone happy and solves all problems. Several of these came in the form of divine intervention, thus the phrase, which is roughly translated as "God from the machine")

Everything I say is usually a style thing, and I tend to advertise my own style more because I understand it better. I can't even remember how many fan fics were completely sound, but they didn't "seem right" to me, and I told them things that were entirely optional and stylistic. This is one of those times

I have little to no knowledge of Khajiit culture, so I hope what I have as far as their friendship practices and the like go is fine. Then again, I don't recall it ever being extensively mentioned, so I guess it's a shot in the dark anyway. Here's chapter 2:




Spikes of pain lanced into N'virr's back as he laid down on a cleared patch of earth outside of the cabin. His punishment had been severe for his "laziness" as they called it, as if he had even been responsible for it. But who would believe that a stupid slave could have an otherworldly vision. It annoyed him to no end the contempt air with which they beheld him, as if every one of his kind were alike.

He had little to no skin left on his lower back. He had been whipped mercilessly, and if it were not for years of lesser punishment, he would not have been able to pull through with his sanity. He had then been deprived of his evening meal, and was being forced to sleep outside to boot. He also faced the scorn of his fellow slaves, whom he had deprived of a fire to bring a small amount of cheer into their miserable lives as slaves.

He had to sleep on his side, as anything even touching his back sent him into spasms of convulsion from the pain. He had lost so much blood as well; he had only been allowed to live due to his excellent laboring abilities. The more he thought about it, the more his situation reminded him of the past. He had frequently been punished for misdemeanors by being forced to sleep outside. So many times-("Why, you little cur! What's wrong with you, how could you do something like that?") he had been punished.

Tears began to flood his eyes as one particular memory escaped its heavily guarded quarters at the back of his mind.

***

"N'virr, would you like to come play?" A short light-tan furred khajiit female asked him through the open window of his family's clay house.

N'virr was startled, but pleased. "Of course, Ahdanji! Let me ask, okay?" N'virr ran through the house, dodging furniture with ease. He arrived in the kitchen, where his mother was preparing meat to be cooked. "Mother, may I please go play with Ahdanji?" He asked with earnest.

His mother turned to him, obviously agitated that he was interrupting her. "Yes, of course go ahead. Just be back before dark."

He thanked her quickly, yet with glee, and rushed out the door to greet Ahdanji. They embraced quickly, and dashed away from the village, towards the oasis, which held a small lake and plenty of trees for shade.

The sand beneath their feet was hot, blistering, but they moved with enough speed to avoid any damage. The sun was just beginning to dip out of its throne at the center of the sky, and the winds brought cool, moist air to them from the oasis.

It was not long before they arrived, panting from running the entire way. N'virr grabbed Ahdanji's hand and pulled her toward the shade of a group of palm trees. He flopped down, casting cool bits of sand into the air, which settled softly in his fur, and Ahdanji did the same. They laughed, the innocence of childhood emanating from them.

They lay there for a while, regaining energy from their run. After a few minutes, N'virr sat up, resting on his elbows.

"Ahdanji, let's go swimming." He said, his face radiating excitement.

Ahdanji turned her head towards him, still laying down, her face troubled. "But N'virr, my father always said never to swim here. He said there's a creature that lives in the lake."

N'virr laughed, bemused. "Oh, Ahdanji, do you believe everything your father tells you? There's nothing there, I'm sure of it. It's just a silly old superstition."

Ahdanji's mood lightened at this, and she laughed to, slightly uneasy. "Oh, you're right, it does sound rather far-fetched. Sure, let's go."

They stripped to their undergarments, so as to not get their clothes wet. N'virr finished first, and ran headlong towards the lake, reaching it in seconds. He jumped out over it, hanging in the air for an almost impossible amount of time, before striking the water with a resounding smack. Water sprayed up into the air, splashing Ahdanji where she stood. She giggled again, before slowly sliding into the water. She looked a tiny bit unsure at first, but grew in confidence as she departed from the shore.

N'virr was floating on his back near the center, his eyes shut, clearly pleased with the coolness of the water. Ahdanji slipped beneath the top, planning to surprise him. Silently, she glided beneath the surface, and drew near to him within seconds. Just as she smoothly slid to a stop beneath him, he paddled out of the way towards the shore. Ahdanji flew to the surface, letting her breath out violently, and began hyperventilating. She regained her breath and looked toward the shore, where N'virr leaned against a palm tree, laughing intensely. Ahdanji pouted, and began swimming to the other side.

N'virr's laughter drifted off, and he got back into the water, swimming after her. He caught her, and gathered her into his arms, embracing her with the love of an old friendship. "You're so funny," he said softly, and she let go of her disappointment, and hugged him back.

"I hope we stay friends forever," she whispered, her affection evident. The broke apart, and began a complex dance beneath and above the water. Neither of them noticed as the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, casting ominous shadows across the landscape.

The sun was disappearing below the horizon before N'virr noticed any change in time. The oasis was bathed in shadows, the murky depths of the water hidden by an impenetrable wall of darkness. “Ahdanji,” he whispered, “I think we should go.” Ahdanji turned her head towards him and whispered back,

“Wow, it's really late. How weird, I didn't notice.” She leaped to her feet, and N'virr did the same. He thought about the situation for a few seconds. They were on the opposite side of where they had come from, and that meant that their clothes would be across from them.

“I think it'll be quicker if we swim across,” He said, pointing a finger toward the other side of the lake. Ahdanji nodded, and then N'virr leaped out over the surface, stroking furiously to reach the other side. He got there in mere seconds. He sat on the bank panting, then looked back to see where Ahdanji was. She swam slowly but smoothly, almost at the center. N'virr stood, then leaned against a palm tree.

As N'virr watched, bubbles appeared around Ahdanji. The water surrounding her began shifting violently, sending ripples and waves across the surface. She quickened her pace, flailing her arms in a desperate struggle against the water. N'virr's stomach twisted as Ahdanji disappeared beneath the water.

“What? No!” N'virr shouted, taking a few steps into the water. A second later, Ahdanji appeared again, screaming. She lashed out with her arms, making no attempt to reach the shore. N'virr swung his head from left to right, searching desperately for anything that could help him rescue her. Ahdanji's screams were cut short as she dipped again under the surface. She again rose out of the water, gasping and coughing, as a large figure rose behind her. All N'virr could see was its silhouette, but he still was able to determine its overall shape. It appeared to be crustacean in nature, sporting claws instead of hands, and seemed to have two points jutting from the back of its head, not unlike horns.

N'virr could do nothing but watch as the creature grasped Ahdanji in its claws and lifted her into the air. It looked to be examining her, like a jeweler testing a diamond for quality. It must have decided that she had no use, for it tore her in two and cast each piece into the air. They landed in the lake, spraying columns of water into the air.

N'virr turned and ran, jumbled thoughts coursing through his mind. Denial, depression, regret, total fear, agony, even anger at himself for causing her death; all of these were his world.

* * *

The image faded from his vision, and N'virr lay trembling on the ground, weeping. He still could hardly deal with the memories, and tended to lock them away in the back of his mind. Yet that did not rid himself of them, and they continued to torture him, sometimes day after day, sometimes not for months, but they always returned.

It was almost an hour before N'virr could stop crying. Even then, his breaths were gulping, and a passerby would be able to tell he had recently emptied his tear reserves. He sat against the coarse wooden wall of the slave barracks, simply thinking about that day. His best friend, and only for a long time, had been torn from him because of a stupid desire to disobey his mother. If he had just listened, none of this would have happened, and he wouldn't be here, working day after day harvesting saltrice, receiving nothing for his labor but a roof over his head and meager rations of stale bread and old meat.

The dark was as thick as it was all those twenty-four years ago, and N'virr grew uneasy at the feeling. He knew it would be quite a stretch to attempt to go to sleep right now, but he had no desire to remain awake. At least in his dreams he could be happy, when they weren't riddled with the memories of not only Ahdanji's death but also the horror that was his current life.

A deathly chill crept through the air, causing N'virr to shiver. He figured it was just the frigid air of the night, but something began tugging at his mind about the vision he had had earlier that day. As he pondered the vision and what it could have meant, a large crack resounded through the air, and the sky seemed to light up with flames.

Can't wait for it to continue.

Your descriptions are great! Great Write!