Chapter 01 [Morrowind Fan Fiction]

Morrowind: 1. Betrayal At The Border

Tykor

Graphic violence warning!

Do not read if squeamish or dislike bloodshed!         |

As Tykor looked out over the landscape from the inside of his tent, situated near the border of Skyrim, he let out a long, tired sigh, and wondered:

"Why am I so worried? I've done this a hundred times. Why now, do I feel as though I've a very big mistake?"

Hearing a horn outside blowing, he cracked his neck and went back inside of the tent and proceeded to shift shape. He became bigger, taller, more muscular and developed silver and grey fur all over his body. His face changed, his mouth and nose turned into a snout, his eyes turned to the side of his face and his ears grew wider and longer. His stature changed, as his back became much more flexible, his feet turned into paws and his fingers became more spread apart, to accommodate for the longer and sharper claws which replaced his nails.

When he finished changing shape, he bent down and picked up a claymore and a battleaxe, and strapped them to his back, making sure they wouldn't fall off and he would still be able to unsheathe them quickly enough. With one last thought of doubt, he walked out of his tent and let out his most fearsome war-howl, and charged off into the night...



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The general of the Imperial Legion's battalion, the Jerral Mounts, and his advisor, were pouring over the battle plans of the Cyrodiil-Skyrim Pass stated in the Jerral Mountains, talking over their strategy against the rebel barbarians in their tent, placed upon a hill for a high vantage point.

"The Skyrim people have assured me that they are not of their people, and that they are outcasts, wishing for freedom from us."

"Well if they want freedom, we'll give them freedom, just maybe not the freedom they want. So, let's send them a present to help them on their way to their new-found freedom."

The general turned to one of his soldiers and told him to sound the battle horn.

"Our mercenary should make very short work of them, thanks to his... brutal nature."

"What about his price? Although his services clearly explain it, we simply cannot afford him, and I don't think the Emperor will be very pleased about the fact we're spending over a seasons' worth of a legionnaires wages for one single mercenary, and for in such a small and insignificant battle. He'll be furious!"

And with that notion, they jumped when they heard their mercenary's war-howl, clearly signaling that death is coming for all those who stand in his way.

"The solution is quite simple: We won't."

"Betray our own mercenary? What about his reaction? He'll probably have our heads!"

The battle had started, with the sound of steel against steel, the roaring and cries and screams of the opposition, denoting that their mercenary was making quick work of the enemy.

"Your head, to be precise. But I have our battalion on standby, ready to detain him when we refuse to pay. And then, we'll throw him in jail for attempted assault on a high officer. And for being the way he is."

"And if the Emperor or any other high-ranking official find out?"

"They won't. Because no one other than you and me know of this, and my soldiers are loyal to me and will not ask questions. Besides, who's going to care if there's one less werewolf around? And to make absolutely sure that you won't talk, I am going to pay you and my soldiers a lot of septims to make sure yours and their loyalty remains assured."

Reaching to the inside of his purse, he realized that it was open. The money was still there in his purse but he noticed that out of the corner of his eye, his chests, that were placed inside of his tent, containing his clothes, jewelry and gems, were all open. He turned around and further realized that they were all empty.

Before he could scream in anger, his mercenary had just come in and was standing inside of the tent, completely naked. The general smiled wickedly and thought:

"Excellent! Two more things I can have him arrested for!"



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Within Frostcrag Spire, four miles south of the Cyrodiil-Skyrim border and three miles east of the town of Bruma, Ayviel was pondering over her knowledge on cures. Someone had asked her if she could make some strong cure potions for the Mages Guild, and being a Wizard and the proficient in the art of alchemy, she was only too happy to comply.

As she was firing up her master alchemy set, she heard a ferocious howl outside.

"Is that a werewolf? Sounds like a bloody big one!"

As it was just after dusk she decided that she would investigate the source of the noise herself, and charged her Flame Avatars to protect the tower while she was ascent. Using the teleportation system installed in her tower, she climbed to the very top of Frostcrag Spire, and looked out towards the north.

Her finely tuned ears picked up the sounds of the clashing of steel, roars, cries and screams, all indicating a small-scale battle was going on. Becoming ever so more intrigued, she transformed into a bat, and flew off to the north, in search of battle, and maybe even a supply of food.

When she finally arrived at the scene, she took a flap back by the carnage that was present, and landed on the ground, turning back into her normal form.

There was blood everywhere. Not a single soul had survived the battle. Anything and everything had been ripped apart: armor, clothes and the Nords, or at least, what could have been Nords.

Hearing a howl, she focused on a certain part of the battlefield, were it was omitting from. Something was moving. It wasn't a werewolf, but what looked like a naked, male Dark Elf. Now this was interesting. Either the Dark Elf was a scavenger or, which she would love to find out, he was the werewolf and had control over his lycanthropy. With that, she thought to herself:

"This will be a very interesting find! ... Wait,... do I smell... cat?"

She turned to look at the hill overlooking the battlefield, and noticed something else was sneaking about. Hard to spot, but had the same form as a Khajiit. More obviously than the Dark Elf, this was a scavenger. And she leapt towards him, as silent as a hunter would stalk her prey...



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Two miles northeast of Bruma, something unusual was moving and then not moving. If one wasn't concentrating, one would ignore it all together, rather than investigate if one did notice it, as the world can be cruel and unfair.

Of course, that's precisely what Za'hirr wants, and why he paid so much money for his cuirass to be enchanted with chameleon, so he could move around without attracting too much attention. Or hopefully, no attention at all, which makes his job all the more easier.

And today he would need all the luck he had, as nearby, there was a small-scale battle going on. And where there's war, of any scale, there are items to be stolen, as there are fewer people around looking after them. Thankfully, he got the information from his fence that there was money to be made there, as long as he doesn't stray too close to the battle, because although he's hard to spot, that doesn't mean an axe might not cut his head clean off. Or any other body part, which he wouldn't like to lose either.

Something else that Za'hirr was particularly good at, other than parting people from belongings they don't want to be parted from, is being able to 'smell' when there's riches nearby. And that's exactly what he 'smelt'.

Spotting a nice and rather large tent on the hill near the border, he quickly and quietly moved his way towards it.

Stopping outside the tent, he heard voices, and realized that he would have to be very quite and sneaky not to be detected. And he slithered inside the tent, making it seem like a wind had blown against the opening of the tent to the occupants.

There was richly dressed Imperial, who was talking to another Imperial wearing a chest plate, and while they were pouring over a map placed on the table, they were completely oblivious to the fact a Khajiit was sneaking right under their noses and opening all the chests he could get his hands on, which were all, stupidly for the Imperials, but lucky for him, unlocked.

"The Skyrim people have assured me that they are not of their people, and that they are outcasts, wishing for freedom from us."

Za'hirr almost jumped but kept his cool and proceeded to loot everything of value inside.

"Well if they want freedom, we'll give them freedom, just maybe not the freedom they want. So, let's send them a present to help them on their way to their new-found freedom."

The armored Imperial, which Za'hirr guessed was the commander, turned to one of his soldiers and told him to sound the battle horn

"Our mercenary should make very short work of them, thanks to his... brutal nature."

"What about his price? Although his services clearly explain it, we simply cannot afford him, and I don't think the Emperor will be very pleased about the fact we're spending over a seasons' worth of a legionnaires wages for one single mercenary, and for in such a small and insignificant battle. He'll be furious!"

Za'hirr perked his ears up at hearing the sound of money and moved towards the commander, hearing the clink of coin in his purse, and had almost slipped his hand inside when he heard the most ferocious howl he had ever heard in his short life, and jumped up with all of his hair standing on end. Thankfully, the two Imperials didn't notice him, as they also had jumped. Settling down, the commander said:

"The solution is quite simple: We won't."

Za'hirr felt a hint of pity for their mercenary.

"Betray our own mercenary? What about his reaction? He'll probably have our heads!"

Za'hirr thought to himself:

"Za'hirr would be furious as well, but Za'hirr would steal everything from you two cowards."

The battle had started, with the sound of steel clashing against steel, roaring, cries and screams, denoting that the mercenary, whoever he was, was making very short work of the enemy. This was Za'hirr's cue to hurry up.

"Your head, to be precise. But I have our battalion on standby, ready to detain him when we refuse to pay. And then, we'll throw him in jail for attempted assault on a high officer. And for being the way he is."

Za'hirr now started to feel very sorry for the poor mercenary, and he prayed that he would rip them both apart, as he hated these kind of people, since he himself once had a customer that refused to pay him for all the hard work he had done.

When Za'hirr had finally sneaked out of the tent, the last thing he heard was:

"And if the Emperor or any other high-ranking official find out?"

Trying to move as quickly as possible, so he could get back to Bruma and away from the battle, which had just stopped. However, his ears pricked up, as he heard something strange. Wind was luckily blowing behind him, but some of it was blowing faster than the rest. He stood up and broke into a run when he was suddenly jumped on from behind.



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Ayviel was catching up on the Khajiit, thanks to her unholy speed, and jumped on the back of him, pinning him down to the ground with her strength, rather than her weight, as she didn't weigh much.

"Got you, pussy cat!"

Squirming under the strong female, Za'hirr tried to escape, but was thrown onto his back so Ayviel could get a better look at her catch, and Za'hirr gasped in fear and begged:

"Please, pretty Breton no harm Za'hirr! Za'hirr has information useful for pretty Breton, I think."

"What possibly could interest me so much as to spare your life?"

"The big fat Imperial plans to betray his mercenary, and hide the information from the Emperor and anyone else. Za'hirr thinks that this information could be valuable and bring rewards for pretty Breton if she would tell someone very important for lots of money!"

"Money is always useful. ... And this information about the mercenary interests me greatly. I'll spare you... this time. ...and you can take your hands out my pockets! I'm only wearing a robe!"

"Sorry. Awful habit, Za'hirr has."

Ayviel got off Za'hirr and let him run off into the distance, hearing the amount of loot he was carrying, he was obviously going to live quite relaxed for a while.

Hearing more talking from the tent, she returned to the top of the hill, where the tent was stationed. Hiding just outside the tent, she smelled and heard some legion troopers approaching the tent. Realizing that Za'hirr's information was indeed true, she also realized that she couldn't help the mercenary, if she tried to charge in and kill all of the Imperials, for risk of being captured arrested for murder, or even be thought hostile and attacked by the mercenary, who she intended to help.

Silently listening, after a lot of commotion, the legionnaires charged in and managed to detain the mercenary, whom they dragged out, unconscious and his face covered in blood. She had to hold herself back before striking in her anger, but she managed to control herself for the time being. Sneaking past the retreating legionnaires, she went inside of the tent and confronted the two Imperials inside.



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Just before Tykor jumped into the fray, he realized that they weren't any legionnaires fighting against the barbarians. Thinking that the commander, whom he told that his price was five thousand septims for the battle, might have decided that he would be enough, and so he didn't think twice about it. Especially that he was about to enter battle and needed all of his concentration.

As Tykor was ripping apart the Nord barbarians with his claws in his blood lust, he still was distracted, although he wasn't sure why. Something was deeply disturbing him about this whole ordeal. Sadly, he was so distracted, he failed to notice someone who was behind him.

Roaring in pain as one of the barbarians got him in the back with a silver axe, he proceeded to knock the axe out of his hands and rip his head off with his bare hands, roaring furthermore, trying to warn the others it was useless to fight him, as they would all be dead sooner or later if they kept fighting.

But because of the blow to the back, they were driven on, thinking that they could win if they kept striking at his weak point However, they failed to notice that Tykor had already regenerated his wounds, and proceeded to throw the battleaxe that was strapped on his back like a boomerang, slicing almost all of them in half, finally landing in the chest of one of the Nords. Unsheathing his claymore, he struck down on the second-last Nord in front of him, splitting him in two, blood spraying everywhere.

Fleeing in terror, the last Nord tried as hard as he could to get into cover. But to no avail, as Tykor swung his claymore behind his head and threw it at the fleeing Nord, skewering the Nord in between the shoulder blades, and pinning him to the rock in front of him that he was about to jump over, ending the battle.

With one last howl of blood lust, Tykor shifted back to his normal form. Annoyed by the fact his clothes were up on the hill and the fact he still had to go and get his reward first, as it was so bloody cold. Nevertheless, he advanced up the hill towards the commander's tent. Although his eyesight wasn't good, he still heard and smelled that he and the battalion were not the only ones present and alive. Or rather not, as one of the visitor's heart's wasn't beating, probably a vampire, and the other heart was beating far too quickly, depicting nervousness and fear.

Still he went up the hill and entered the tent, completely naked, standing before the Imperial commander, who was wearing a very smug looking grin on his face.

"Well, well, well,... managed to take care of those savages? You still missed one, and he's standing right in front of me."

Tykor was really fed up with his dumb remarks and only took the contract because he needed the money. But something in his instincts ticked and signaled him something really bad was about to happen. Without drawing attention, he let his claws grow longer and sharper, dulled his smell and hearing, wired his muscles up to act like whiplashes and regrew his teeth to be slightly shorter than in his werewolf form. Sighing for effect, he told the commander:

"The job's done. I want my money."

The commander was almost jumping up and down with glee, and retaliated with:

"Oh, but I'm not going to pay you. You see, as a werewolf, you have no rights, and I additional proof that you have stolen from me, and that you murdered a small tribe of innocent Nords in cold blood. So, you see..."

Tykor wasn't really shocked at this news, as this was triggered his instincts He also smelt and heard the missing legionnaires from the battle outside, obviously getting ready to apprehend himself before he had a chance to kill them all.

He wasn't going to go without a fight.

"... you are going to go to jail, and you are going to get a lifetime sentence, or maybe if you're lucky, they'll just give you a death sentence"

Passing his breaking point, Tykor became enraged beyond endurance. His eyes changed from a light royal blue to a bright artic blue with a hue of red, his stature became bigger and he let a out a fearsome roar:

"How dare you, you puny, pathetic sack of meat!"

Tykor had almost launched himself at breakneck speed at the commander, before he felt a blow to the head, and thought to himself just before falling unconscious:

"Silver.. using... bas..... "



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"Who the hell are you?!"

The commander was startled by the fact that there was a pale looking, and yet still very beautiful, Breton woman standing just inside of his tent, without him even realizing she was there, until he glanced out of the corner of his eye.

"Explain yourself, or I shall have to arrest you!"

Ayviel just laughed mockingly at his reply.

"You? Arrest me? If it takes you your whole battalion just to apprehend a werewolf, then you definitely won't be able to handle me!"

Ayviel realized that she would have to hurry up, as dawn was approaching.

"I'll have you known, peasant, that I am a high-ranking officer in the Imperial Legion and..."

She had enough, especially since she was wearing one single item of clothing, which was worth more than his yearly wages. She sped over to the fat Imperial, before he even had a chance to realize, so concentrated with his monologue, and placed her hand on his head, discharging a powerful spell that made him lose consciousness. Turning to the other one, she simply threw a spell at him, which knocked the wind out of him and sent him flying backwards.

"Time to have my fun with you two..."

After grabbing hold of both of the Imperials, she teleported herself and her baggage, back to her tower. Taking them into her underground foundation, which was frozen all year round, she dropped them down and deactivated the teleporter, cutting off anyone trying to come down.

Focusing on her powers, she began to construct a jail made of ice by focusing the frozen air around her, so she may be able to interrogate them properly, and also have a new source to feed from. Speaking of whom, the two Imperials started to come to, and realized they were no longer warm and in the safety of their tent, but rather cold and in the hands of, what they thought, a cruel and sadistic vampire, and started to panic, searching for a way out, which there was none, as they cave was deep underground. When they tried to stand up, they realized to their horror, that their hands were attached to the ground, seemingly frozen. Although, this was a simple illusion Ayviel was playing in order for them not to try anything more stupid than they had already done.

"Good morning, my little toys. I trust you are unwell?"

Ayviel had just finished constructing the small cell, reaching all the way up to the three-story high ceiling, and was rather small, only four by five paces, but she wanted to make them feel as uncomfortable as possible, so she also made they ice walls partially see-through, so they would be scared at night by the pet imps she had who maintained a large part of the magic in the tower, and they liked to be very cheeky.

Turning to her prisoners, she cast a spell which made them rise in the air, unable to move, and transported them into their new cell, melting the wall down so they would land inside the cell, dropped them carelessly, and resealed the wall until there was just square hole with sharp ice shards, so she could talk to them and they at least wouldn't suffocate, which was more merciful than what was going to happen to the werewolf. Thinking back on him, and realizing why she was doing this all, she told her prisoners, with her voice dripping with malice:

"I hope you're proud of yourselves, as you both are now my new pets. You're going to tell me where the werewolf is going, how he's being taken and how I might get him out. Or else..."

"You will never get anything from us, you wretch!" The fat Imperial, although clearly in the worst situation he had ever been in his life, was still acting all pig-headed and defiant. "You will be sentenced to death for doing this to us, and you will beg for mercy when I get through with you!

"You filthy pig! Even though you are in my hands, and no-one else knows you're here, you still insult me!?" With a burst of anger, she let loose a shock spell, that although was not very strong, even by normal mage standards, reflected off the ice walls another enchantment she placed on the cell, striking the two multiple times, burning the flesh until it started to crack and bubble, giving off the smell of cooked meat, the two Imperials screamed liked banshees and Ayviel watched in pleasure as they writhed in agony, and after about a minute, which seemed like an eternity to them, it was finally absorbed by the walls, as it was too weak to rebound again.

"You two will get to know pain very well throughout the time you remain here..." And with that final note she reactivated the teleporter and went back upstairs, afraid that her anger would become too powerful and she would kill them before getting a word out of them. Deactivating the pathway to the cave again, she thought sadly:

"I'm so sorry, but you're going to have to get through this without me for the time being..."