Franz and Herschel go to Vvardenfel

Each event is preceded by prophecy. Yet without the hero, there is no event.”

-Some philosopher. Don't look at me, I'm never any good with names!


The hold was dark, lit only by a candle, held in a lantern, around which three figures were huddled. One of them was dozing, but the other two were awake.

“This is worrying,” Herschel said. “We're on a ship. What are we doing on a ship?”

“Most likely doing a Nerevarine story,” Franz said. “Seeing as we're on a ship and all.”

“Oh bloody hell,” Herschel murmured. “Another one. You would've thought people have had enough of them by now.”

“Obviously not,” Franz said. “I mean, there is a lot of good Nerevarine stuff knocking around, in all fairness.”

“I know, but its still a bit much,” Herschel said. “And Bean does have Iocus Magna, and Grey Knight on the go-which you should go read, as soon as you've read these. Go on, you know you want to.”

“Herschel, that just sounded wrong,” Franz said.

“What, the shameless plugging or the 'you know you want to?'”

“Both.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Franz, let's not go there. We all know it's going to end up with us trying to murder eachother. ”

Franz sighed and slumped backwards against a crate.

“You're right,” he said. “It always does. So, any weird dreams lately?”

“Nothing for me,” Herschel replied. “Not yet, at least.”

“So Azura has yet to reveal which one of us will be the Nerevarine,” Franz said, adopting a mysterious sounding sounding voice. “A shtartling development indeed.”

“What was with the Sean Connery accent just then?” Herschel asked.

“Oh, that? Just felt like speaking in a Sean Connery accent,” Franz replied.

“Fair enough.”

Franz continued to slump against his crate, and sucked his teeth, before he noticed the third person in the hold stir into wakefulness.

“Morning Jiub,” he said amiably. The dark elf gave him a groggy look, before wiping his eyes and returning the greeting.

“I heard one of the guards say we've reached Morrowind,” he said. “I'm sure they'll let us go.”

“How?” Herschel asked. “You were asleep.”

“I'm trying to stick to the damn script,” Jiub snapped. “Unless you can be so good to do the same, then I'll take my business elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“I work part time as that annoying Dark Elf who's in the cell in Oblivion,” Jiub said.

“You do?” Franz said. “Then I must say you've been a great inspiration to me.”

“Why, thank you very much,” Jiub replied then he glanced around the door. “Quiet, here comes the guard.”

Right on cue, a guard appeared at the doorway.

“You two are to come with me,” he announced. “Don't try anything.”

“Oh yeah, because we can take on a ship full of armed guards with just our bare hands,” Herschel muttered sarcastically. “Especially seeing as the hand to hand system is utterly rubbish on Morrowind.”

“None of that lip you,” the guard said. “Follow me.”

So, getting up from their places in the hold, Franz and Herschel followed the guard.

“I wish he would walk faster,” Franz muttered to Herschel. “When can we sprint?”

After an agonisingly slow walk, Franz and Herschel finally reached the upper deck, where they were greeted by a redguard.

“Head down to the Census and Excise office,” he said. “Follow the guard.”

And so, Franz and Herschel did as they were told, and followed the guard.

“You've finally arrived,” the guard said, before being interrupted by Franz asking, “You were expecting us?”

“Yes we were,” the guard replied icily. “However, our records don't show from where. If you will follow me, we will get the necessary paperwork filled out.”

So, now sprinting, Franz and Herschel made their way into the office, to be greeted by an elderly Breton.

“So you've arrived,” he said. “Please fill out these papers, before you are given your release fee.”

Franz and Herschel did as asked, before taking the papers, and leaving the room. Turning the corner, they stumbled across a room full of rather valuable items.

“Alright,” Franz said. “The loot room. Dibs on the dagger.”

“Oh come on,” Herschel said. “I'm the combat class, I should get it.”

“So I suppose I'll have to be helpless until I get a bow then?” Franz replied. “You want that? You want me to die out there?”

“Oh stop being so melodramatic,” Herschel said. “I'm keeping the bloody dagger.”

With that, he pocketed it, flashing Franz a smirk. Franz just huffed and grabbed a lockpick lying on the table.

“And I suppose I'll just have to hope I can gouge somebody's eyes out with this,” he said bitterly.

“Oh stop being difficult,” Herschel snapped.

After a little more rooting around (read; stealing everything not nailed down), Franz and Herschel headed to the second building, stopping off to hide their loot in a barrel and discovering a ring inside it, which Franz took, giving Herschel a smug look in the process.

Inside, a man wearing in heavy armour and a rather bored look, was waiting for them.

“I am Sellus Gravius,” he announced. “And I am here to welcome you to Morowind. My background is not important. I will give you your release fees, but first I must tell you about your duties.”

“What's your life story then?” Herschel asked.

“Stop being difficult Herschel,” Franz snapped. “So what's the work you want us to do?”

Sellus Gravius handed them a package.

“I want you to take these to Caius Cosades,” he said. “I do not know what is in the package, but if you attempt to open it you will be punished. His house in Balmora-you can find it by asking Bacola Closcius at the South Wall Cornerclub.”

He handed them a handful of gold coins, the ushered them out of the office.

“What a supremely boring man,” Herschel said. “I mean, I know the NPCs in these stories will stick to the game script to a certain extent, but, I mean, come one.”

“He's just a guard,” Franz said. “I bet he does that sort of thing all the time.”

“Yeah, but it's still a bit rubbish,” Herschel said. “I mean, could you have a more boring or two dimensional character about.”

“Probably,” Franz said. “Still, let's go sell this stuff we picked up.”

And so, with a few coins in their pockets and nothing but a dagger for protection, Franz and Herschel headed towards Arille's tradehouse, ready to face the big, mean world of Vvardenfel.

It was in for one hell of a surprise.

And now for part two. I'm afraid this'll be the only update for the next two weeks, as I'm then going away to Austria to go skiing. However, as being away from home seems to help my muse, I ought to have several updates for this, Grey Knight and Iocus Magna!

Auf Viderschen, all.

Part 2

“So what's the plan then?” Franz asked Herschel as they left Arille's Tradehouse, fully loaded up with weaponry. Franz had gotten himself a bow, arrows and a chitin breastplate that was in fairly good condition. Herschel, on the other hand, had gotten himself a claymore and an iron one.

“Well, I was thinking that if we found what was at Fargoth's stash, then we could sell it off at Arille's or keep it,” Herschel replied.

“Sound's like a plan,” Franz said, before straightening up, pointing at the lighthouse and declaring “To the Lighthouse!”

Herschel just rolled his eyes.

#

“Herschel, I'm bored,” Franz said, leaning against the lighthouse pillar. “I've read this Wraith book about a million times now. When's Fargoth gonna come?”

“At ten-ish, according to UESP.net,” Herschel said. “God bless that website.”

“God bless it indeed,” Franz replied. “Now if we only had that wait function in this story.”

“You know,” Herschel said suddenly. “If we had silly hair and moustaches, this would be just like a seventies police action drama.”

“You're right!” Franz said. “We're gonna have to try that sometime.”

“If we ever get another stakeout mission, we are so getting wigs for it,” Herschel said.

“Agreed,” Franz replied. “And doughnuts.”

“Of course you've got to have the doughnuts-what kind of police impersonation would it be without doughnuts?” he yawned, and slumped back against the wall. “ Well, I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me when you see Fargoth.”

Herschel was woken up by a jab to ribs, making a noise that sounded fairly similar to a chicken being stepped on.

“What was that for?” he hissed furiously.

“Well one-I wanted to hurt you,” Franz replied, earning himself a glare from Herschel. “And two, Fargoth's just appeared.”

They watched the wood elf's progress across the town with a critical eye.

“Who's dumb enough to sneak through the middle of a town while in plain sight,” Franz said despairingly.

“And with a flaming torch,” Herschel said. “Doesn't he know anything about sneaking?”

“Obviously not,” Franz replied. “Still, at least he's making it nice and obvious-that's kind of him.”

They watched Fargoth's progress for a while longer as he dumped a large bag into a hollowed out, rotten treestump, occasionally tutting disapprovingly, before finally seeing him leave. Hurrying down the stairs and out of the lighthouse, they hurried to the log and opened up the sack.

“Let's see,” Herschel said. “A lockpick and three hundred gold pieces. Nice.”

“Shall we do what Hrisskar asked and give him the money back?” Franz asked.

“Nah, let's keep it,” Herschel replied. “We could do with the extra cash.”

“Alrighty then,” Franz said. “So, shall we head over to that bandit cave Arille mentioned? Bound to be something worth taking there.”

“Let's go then,” Herschel said.

#

After a short walk, they found the cave entrance, covered with a rather rotten looking door. On it was a sign, saying 'Addamasartus-bell out of order, please knock.”

Herschel did so, and the door was answered by a dunmer.

“Waddya want?” she said suspiciously. “Who the hell are ya?”

“Hello,” Herschel said amiably. “We're here to clear out this cave and steal all of your things.”

“What in...”

She was cut off by one of Franz's arrows burying itself in her head.

“Nice shot,” Herschel said, rifling through the girl's pockets.

“Anything good in there?” Franz asked.

“Nah, just a dagger,” Herschel said. “That just sucks. Hold on a minute, she's got a key.”

Using the said key, Franz and Herschel opened a second gate, and entered into the rest of the cave.

Only to be greeted by a ball of fire rushing towards them.

It slammed into Herschel's breastplate, but thankfully the thick iron held firm. However, he was sent stumbling by the sudden attack. Franz nocked an arrow to his bow, and searched for the attacker. He found him in a moment-a dark elf dressed in rather dirty robes. He loosed his arrow, but it bounced off a magical shield the mer.

Hershel had regained his balance by then, and readying his claymore, charged in.

The battlemage's life ended with a 'squitch.'

“Right, that's one all,” he said. “Ooh, crates.”

After a quick search, they found a few items-some coins, some old clothes, which probably weren't much, and a battered helmet. Continuing on through the cave, they discovered yet another door. A large padlock had been put on it, but their recently acquired key unlocked it.

Inside were a group of beast folk-a few Khajiit and an argonian. They were huddled together against the cold that pervaded the cavern. They looked up at Franz and Herschel in surprise as they saw them enter.

“Don't worry lads, you're alright with us,” Franz said reassuringly. “We've killed the two slavers.”

“There were three, muthsera,” one of the Khajiit said. “You'll need...”

Just then, the conversation was cut off by a yell of; “Prepare to die, n'wahs!”

And then, no doubt surprised by the discovery of a semi-bisected corpse by his foot, their attacker shouted; “Bloody hell, what did you do to Melar?”

In an instant, Franz span round, nocked an arrow to his bow, drew it and let it loose. The third slaver tumbled to the ground.

“Nice,” Herschel said, before seeing what the slaver was holding. “He's got a katana! Sweet. I am taking that!”

“Hey, that's not fair,” Franz said. “I killed him!”

“Said it before and I'll say it again-you aren't the combat character,” Herschel riposted as he picked up the weapon. “So neer!”

Franz huffed in annoyance, but said nothing more of it, instead occupying himself with unlocking the slave's handcuffs.

As the group left the cave, the liberated slaves making their way to Seyda Neen and Franz and Herschel heading to the silt strider, seeing the slaves off with a cry of 'Beast folk power!”

At the silt strider station, the pair were greeted by a dark elf, who seemed less hostile than the ones at Seyda Neen.

“Where can I take you gents?” he asked amicably.

“Balmora, please,” Herschel said.

“Of course, sera,” the strider driver said. “That'll cost you a nominal fee, but we'll discuss that on arrival.”

Hopping into the hollowed out shell of the strider, and beckoning for Franz and Herschel to follow him, the driver began tapping a few buttons on a box mounted on a rim of the giant insect's shell.

“What's that?” Franz asked amicably.

“Mag-nav,” the driver replied. “Based on old dwemer magic, apparently.”

“Please state your destination,” the mag-nav cheerfully stated.

“Balmora,” the driver spoke.

“Did you say Ald-Ruhn?” the box asked in it's school-teachery way.

“No-Balmora,” the driver said again, more forcibly.

“Did you say Gnaar Mok?” the box asked.

“Balmora, you stupid machine!” the driver snapped.

“I'm sorry, but Balmora You Stupid Machine is not a destination available on my database,” the mag-nav said. “Would you like me to check for an update?”

“No,” the driver said. He tapped a few buttons on the top.

“Please state your destination,” the mag-nav said again.

“Balmora.”

“Did you say Vivec?”

The driver slammed his fist on the off button.

“Oh sod it,” he muttered. “I'll use a bloody map.”

The part about the navigation device was brilliant. And also, "God bless the UESP" was hilarious.

Good job mate.

hehehe! brilliant! Wunderschön