Part 4 Chapter one: The weight on his shoulders

Vanir had been through wars. He had seen blood and tears and steel for 37 years. His life was dedicated to his men and Morrowind. This day he would fight and lead his men to death or victory. This was his day. He would fight and return home. He searched throughout the ranks. He saw those that he knew when he was young. Orgok, Darius, Hard-Heart. He saw those who he had met in recent years. Sylvestor, An-Jar, and even some Redorans. He knew he would lose some of them, if not all. He kneeled down, grabbed some of the soil/ash in a hand, and rubbed it between his hands. It not only roughened his hands to apply a better grip, but he wanted to feel the land that might hold his blood in the coming hours. He was worried. Everyone turned to him to lead them to victory, to inspire them. He had the fate of Morrowind weighing down on his shoulders. I suppose I need to rally them, he thought to himself. He mounted his horse and rode up to the front.

"Soldiers of Morrowind! This day is the day that you will see the more blood spilled than in the slaughter at Ald Ruhn! This is the day that we drive the Nords out! A week from now, I will be watching my daughter grow! I dont know about you, but I'm going to win this and go home. Fight for your lives, fight for your families' lives!" He heard weapons drawn, "We may not win this battle, but we will fight to the last man! No retreats, no surrender, no mercy!" The men cheered.

"Many of us will die out here. Many of them will die out here. They are going to stop at nothing to see all of us dead. Do we let them succeed? Do we let them destroy all that we stand for? No! We stand here and fight! I cannot, and will not, say that we will win, nor that we will lose. I cannot promise you that we will all survive. This is the risk that we took. We are soldiers of the Empire, and its time to make that known. What we do in this life will echo. We will be remembered. Even if we lose, let us make it so they remember the 21st Legion of the Empire. We will give them hell if we must die! Enough of me going on though. Prepare yourselves!" He drew his swords. Turning his horse, he stared at the oncoming army.

Part 4 Chapter 2: At the end of all things

The army stopped. Some of his soldiers commented, but he silenced the army with the raise of his hand. The Nords were pulling around them! They could not stop them from surrounding them without splitting the army, thus losing power on each side and losing the battle.

"Do not be distracted! Pay attention only if those not in front of us make any signs of attack!" Vanir ordered. Banners rose in the Nordic ranks. This was it. He dismounted, whispering for the horse to leave. He stood by Sylvestor, who was in his battle armor. His swords drawn, he took a few steps forward. Vanir gave a small grin to Sylvestor, turned around, and charged. Sylvestor followed closely behind. Their raw throated battle cries had roused the other soldiers, who also followed. Sylvestor and Vanir, both equally fast, made the first contact with the enemy. Vanir took down three Nords in quick succession with his swords while Sylvestor, in a fluid motion, shot two arrows out of his bow in one shot, took an arrow out of the body, and stabbed it into another, killing him instantly. Sylvestor then switched to his Elven shortsword, which might have even been deadlier than his arrows.

Vanir had pushed ahead, away from his ranks. He was searching for their leader, which the scout described as wearing Nordic Mail and wielding a Stahlrim longsword. Fighting about and still scanning over the area, he soon found his target. He was on a high ledge, shouting to the ranks. This had to stop. Vanir fought his way to foot of the path to the ledge, and yelled out." Turn, Nord!" The leader drew his sword, facing his opponent. Vanir charged, and the swords clashed.

Vivec was still standing on the hill. He felt guilty for not coming to the battle in the first place to support Vanir. He should have known that he needed to be there and give hope to both Vanir and the army. His duty as a living god was to help his people, and he had almost failed it. He now stood, overviewing the seemingly hopeless battle. Should the army fall, he had Ordinators and Bouyot Armigers ready to defend the pass until help arrived. He still wondered if this would make a difference, however.

Sylvestor slashed twice more at a Nordic warrior. His fur was matted with sweat and blood. He had taken a blow to the arm, and his left arm hung uselessly at his side as he fought. He turned just in time to see a Nord that had somehow caught fire rush towards him. He raised his sword to block, and fell after the blow. The warrior raised its axe, but a horseman rode by just in time and slashed at it, severing the spine. Sylvestor did a quick flip, landed on his feet, and continued fighting for his life.

Ice clashed with steel. Vanir and the Nordic commander had fought their way across to the other end of the ledge. No soldiers dared interfere with their duel. He had to use every move, every tecnique, every skill he had to keep alive. This Nord was the most powerful warrior he had ever faced. It almost seemed like he could predict Vanir's every move. He countered with ease, and his blows were staggering. Mustering his strength and speed, Vanir stabbed, pulled back and spun, and slashed outward. He looked to see what had happened, and was amazed at what he saw. The Nord's nose had been split in half from left to right, and blood poured down. The amazing part was that the Nord took hardly any notice to it and slashed onward like a madman. Vanir decided to make a trick move again. He ducked and jump-kicked at the Nord's chest. This caught him by surprise, and sent him pummeling down the ledge. The only problem was that he took Vanir with him.

Sylvestor was getting tired. The Nords seemed to never stop coming. He'd have to do something if they were to win this battle. Vanir wasnt in sight. This distracted him though, looking for Vanir. This also gave enough time for a Nord to come up behind him and slash across his back. Sylvestor did something that he hoped he'd never have to do again. He lashed out with his tail, and wrapped it around the Nord's neck. He twisted around and slashed at the neck, missing his own tail by centimeters. He turned again and slew a few more before seeing an extremely strong looking Nord with a darker skin tone than the others approaching. He held an Ebony Claymore in one hand. He raised it up and slashed down. Sylvestor, getting impatient, rolled sideways and made a lightning quick strike at his back. He used the opportunity to plunge three poisoned knives into the beast of a man. It fell, and he went back to fighting.

Vanir and the Nord tumbled down the slope, fighting when they could. It was a short way to the bottom now, and Vanir had to stop his fall. He thought quickly, and had an idea. He pushed himself away from the cliff face, slashed at the man, and kicked upward off his shoulders. The Nord landed on its back and stopped to recover from the pain of the fall. His attempt to recover failed when Vanir landed feet-first on the Nord's chest. Vanir heard ribs crack before a hand grabbed his ankle and threw him away. The Nord got up and, weapon in hand, jumped towards Vanir. He parried and swung, parried and sung. Swing after swing he blocked or dodged, counterattacking after each move. He could see the Nord getting tired. This was good. Soon there would be a weakness exploited. They exchanged blows for a short while longer before the Nord got a devastating blow on Vanir. He had punched Vanir in the chest and slashed downward, cutting down the chest. He punched again, shattering a rib. Vanir yelled out in pain and got up. He feebly defended himself before getting thrown down again. The Nord laughed, but stopped when Vanir once more got up. He fought on some more, but was again thrown to the ash-covered ground. The Nord was amazed at how this Dunmer could endure so much pain. Vanir had one thought in his mind, one image. Indrilas and Indalse, and the small house in Seyda Neen. That's what kept him fighting. He got up again, fighting more fiercly this time. He was crushed down against the ground again, but the Nord was impatient. He raised his weapon for the killing blow, with a stare that could curdle milk. He made for the downward motion when he stopped. He fell to his knees, a blade sticking through his mid-section, and behind him stood a bloody and sweaty Kajiit.

The Nord turned, and filled with anger, attacked again. This Kajiit was fast though. It moved with more agility than even the Dunmer general. Sylvestor fought with anger unlike any he had ever fought. He didnt know what it was, but he used it and aimed it all towards the Nord's death. He fought harder than he had ever done. Slashing and blocking, and ignoring the abuse the body took. He flipped, rolled, slashed, blocked, ducked, jumped, and anything else he could do to avoid the blows. He pushed all energy into a flip, pounced clear over the Nord, and stabbed the sword as hard as he could through the Nord's flesh. He didnt bother pulling it out. He turned and knelt by Vanir. He looked into the Dunmer's eyes, and saw death in the man he had come closer to than any being in his life.

"Sylvestor..." Vanir gasped, "You-you must not let Morrowind fall. Don't pay attention to me.... go back to the battle, "He paused once more to catch his breath, "If you dont speak to me again after this, promise me one thing. You will take care of my family, and be as a father to Indalse. You have gotten very close to my family, and have been a part of it for long. Just... just dont let my death ruin that connection." He stopped, gasped a few more times, and placed his sword on his chest. A fog of death was coming over his eyes, that empty glazed stare was already there. "My body is broken. I leave now and give the duties of Morrowind to other, younger people." He stopped speaking, and closed his eyes, never to open them again.

Vanir Dres, general of the 21st Legion, father of Indalse Dres, husband of Indrilas Dres, had died.

Epilogue

Sylvestor didnt remember much of the fighting. Some say he slew over three hundred Nords. They say he calmly led the Legionnaires into battle and won the battle for them. Personally, he didnt care. All thought in his mind was either bent on the death of the closest thing to a brother he ever had, or Ahnassi. When he returned home, he was greeted with a surprise.

"Sylvestor! You are home. Ahnassi is glad you are back, and has an important question. She was thinking, and wondering, and maybe even hoping that well... would Sylvestor like to be Ahnassi's mate?" Ahnassi asked.

Sylvestor was speechless. He sat for some time without speaking, and finally answered, "I would be happy to." From that moment on, those two spent as much time as possible together. The only time they ever spent more than a week apart was when Sylvestor had contracts for the Morag Tong. Eventually, he became Grandmaster of the Morag Tong. He occasionally visited Seyda Neen, and had grown used to being called "Uncle Sylvestor" by Indalse. She was much older than she had been when Sylvestor first saw her. As for Vanir... there's not much to be said. Over a thousand people were present at the funeral, and a statue was made in the rebuilt Ald Ruhn to commemorate his valor and sacrafice in battle. Indrilas was widowed, but Arille offered to support the Dres family and give half of his earnings from the shop to them. Vivec died of old age six years later, thus ending the reign of the Tribunal. With no new emporer crowned, the Empire had become a Republic until the Elder Council could elect a new Emporer. King Helseth banned slavery in Morrowind, and the Nerevarine had disappeared. It had been 8 years since a single Daedra had been seen on the face of Tamriel, summoned or permanant. An-Jar ended up taking a trip to negotiate with the Dark Brotherhood. His plans succeeded, and the Dark Brotherhood and Morag Tong were reunited. With the war between Dunmer and Nords over, and the Dark Brotherhood going only after official writs once more, there was finally peace throughout Tamriel for a time.

End of No Shoes, No Money, No Mercy

Thank you for reading my fiction.

Brilliantly written and simply stunning. Great work!

A very involved fan fiction, that was enjoyable to read. Very identifiable characters with their own belief and values and a bittersweet ending. Glad to see some peace after all the trauma that went on.

Just one thing that bothered me was a plothole, Nimbok warned the slavers that there were assassins coming after him and he told them that they were going to burn down the camp. Yet earlier you wrote that he didn't hear the plans made by the assassins. That's my only criticism. Then again, you can always say a wizard did it

Nimbok was a tricky character. He was always creating trouble for the protaganists, but I never bothered fixing that mistake. I can't say he was a wizard, but he did have extremely good hearing. When he became an assassin, he was proficent not only because of his experience in Black Marsh, but because of his gifted hearing. And what inspired me to write this was the story of Trey. I wanted to be able to write a story that could compete with it. Of course, I never came close to that kind of work, but I at least wanted to have it set in the fan-fiction area of the site.

Have to agree with the others.....very good story indeed!

I loved it, I would have like to see your take on the nerevarine more however, he/she is the protector of Morrowind afterall...

Great stuff

The Nerevarine was very busy at the time travelling elsewhere. I picture him as a Dunmer in some native armor such as Indoril or Chitin.

That makes sense, I guess its difficult writing about a person that most people on this forum played as for a long time, you have to create your own version and hope for the best!

Well, I tend to avoid making a single character for someone that millions of people have played differently as, so I don't describe the Nerevarine. Same with people describing Revan, the Hero of Kvatch, or the Jedi Exile in Kotor.