In Progress: Refaelia and the Dremora (A Morrowind Fan-Fic)
It was one of the many warm, balmy days of a summer in Balmora, the clouds overhead keeping in the heat, while the heat kept the clouds growing. It would begin to rain by nightfall, not an uncommon sight in this part of Vvardenfell in the summer. And on this warm, humid day, scampering up the slope of the large hill that marked the western edge of Balmora, was a young Dunmeri girl. Her face was flushed, and large, angry tears fell down her face as she continued west, up the hill; too frustrated to think about anything but those damn boys.
Those damn boys being the group of boys, almost entirely Mer, who thought themselves awfully slick, waiting outside of the corner clubs for a drunk to stumble out just so they could see if that drunk would buy them Sujamma, Matze, or possibly even Flin. Those boys, who got into trouble, or narrowly avoided trouble; going on all sorts of adventures to places that they shouldn’t be going to. Those boys, who deeply, in her heart, the girl, Refaelia wished she could join, no matter how many times she tried to dismiss them. Those boys, led by none other than Refaelia’s own brother, Lleverri; and a bizarre young Almer named Louisji, who thought himself something at Magick, though Refaelia reckoned that him with his parlor tricks couldn’t Magick himself out of a potato sack.
She envied them, for their adventures, and spited them for forcing her to be on the other side of the river when they were all outside, as apparently twin sisters weren’t allowed. Refaelia had tried her own adventures, but her mother wanted Refaelia to be a proper lady; and would go into a fit if she caught Refaelia coming home with her dress covered in dirt, or with a rip. And even when she felt completely ready to disobey her mother, Refaelia knew it would be so much better if she had friends... The only girl in town Refaelia’s age who was her friend was one of the Legionnaires’ daughters, and her father had been relocated to a different fort, somewhere in the Ashlands.
Refaelia got into fights with the Balmora boys often, as she had just before hurrying over the hill. This one hadn’t ended so well and that fetcher Luigi had said all sorts of things he had never said before to her, things that offended her deeply. And now, the anger still fresh, the words still burning in her mind, Refaelia continued on, into the wetlands just west of Balmora, not caring about where she was going, how she was going to get back, and what her mother was going to say. She switched directions several times, and snagged one of her two ponytails in a bush, causing it to come undone; and generally lost track of just where she was, before sitting down, to calm down and think.
“That… That N’wah Louisji! Who in oblivion does he think he is? Dumb men. Dumb Mer. I hate Mer!” Refaelia fumed.
Something small in the back of her head gave her a soft nudge, implying that fuming on a hot and humid day like this day was absolutely no fun at all. The girl scowled off into the distance. She didn’t know where she was, but she could see the trees and ponds of the bitter coast swamps not too far from where she was. The ground here was much firmer than that of the wetland, though it was covered in moss, and a few odd, peat-covered shapes rose up from the ground ominously.
“Like a place where a witch might build her house… Or smugglers keep their den…” Refaelia whispered, anger fading into curiosity.
She got up and padded around the mossy field, pondering why such a place would occur, and what the objects poking from the ground were. And why weren’t their any animals about? Surely Nix-hounds and wild Guars would find the firm, dry, moss-covered ground a nice place to nap… Refaelia meandered over to one of the objects; it looked like a sphere with two horns. She began to pull moss from the shape, in an attempt to find out what it had been, and was rather surprised when she found the maroon, engraved kind of stone that was used for building Daedric ruins.
“An old Daedric ruin? Maybe it sank into the swamp years before… Interesting…” the girl mused.
Maybe I can uncover it! It’s been buried for years, so probably no danger from scary things like Clannfear. And maybe the mages guild will give me something nice… It might even impress the boys… Refaelia thought, grinning and rocking back and forth on her haunches. I should hurry home and grab a shovel—wait no, Mom will be furious. Best to buy a new one from a trader…
Refaelia got up from her crouch, and began looking for the hills which marked the direction of Balmora. When she saw these, she began to hurry in their direction, much happier with her discovery. Unfortunately, she stepped on a soft patch of earth, which looked no different from the rest of the field, and it caved in below her, dropping her about ten feed down, landing on cracked, maroon tiles in a painful heap.
She rubbed her head, cringing, and tried to focus her mind on calling the life forces of a healing spell to her. Warm blue light engulfed her briefly, and her bruises and scrapes began feeling much less painful. She sat up, and looked at her surroundings.
Walls of earth surrounded her, save for one side, where the maroon tiles she had landed on led to a ruddy red stone door, oval shaped, and only a little bit taller than a Nord.
“I was right… A Daedric ruin…” Refaelia said softly, with a shiver. “I just hope I was right about there not being any daedra left running around…”
Refaelia had always been fascinated by the daedra, and conjuration had been one of the first schools of Magick she had wanted to learn because of this. But even though she had looked through a picture book full of types of daedra, and thought some looked easy enough to get along with, looks were deceiving with daedra. Their behavior was known to be erratic, and often violent with mortals, especially when they had been left to guard a ruin. Refaelia’s own personal dealings with daedra were limited to her summoning a dremora, around three months ago. It had been quite an accomplishment for a Dunmeri girl of ten years, but the dremora had only lasted for a few minutes, and the calling of the creature had left her Magicka drained for days. But she had thought it was a polite enough creature, looking at her with a sort of confusion at first, and then slight amusement as she led him to her home. Her mother had been surprised, and revulsed, and surely would have given Refaelia a whipping had the girl not passed out from the drain on her energy.
I hope there is a dremora here, if anything… The book said they were honorable, and there is no honor in killing what cannot fight back, so maybe they won’t attack me on sight… Oh, why am a going in anyways? I need to find a way back out of this sinkhole, before I get myself killed. Refaelia thought dourly.
She decided there was no harm against looking for an exit to the outside from behind the door, so she seized the handle, and began opening the door slowly. It made a horrible din, shrieking like rusted iron scraping against itself, but it opened easily enough.
“Well, whatever’s in there has surely heard me now…” Refaelia said grimacing.
After a few minutes of nothing leaping out at her and ripping her head from her shoulders, Refaelia regained her nerve, and tiptoed into the dim ruin. It looked like the inside of a shrine room, wide with lanterns that poured mist into the room instead of light, and a large pedestal in the center. Whatever Daedric Prince the statue had been of was gone, marble limbs scattered about the room. Instead, resting upon the pedestal was what looked like a full suit of Daedric armor, but betrayed that it was otherwise by soft snores, which sounded more like a cat’s hiss.
“A stroke of luck…” Refaelia murmured, and crept towards the sleeping dremora.
It was unusual for any kind of daedra to be sleeping on the job, let alone one of the so-called ‘Knights of Oblivion’, but it; no, he lay, spread-eagle on the stone slab where apparently a statue of Dagon had been before, as his ugly stone head was lying beside the sleeping dremora. Not surprising that there was a dremora hanging around in a Dagon shrine in the first place, but Refaelia wondered why he had stuck around in the first place... The shrine was almost entirely destroyed, so why should he still be guarding it?
Refaelia knew that it would be a bad idea to bother the dremora while it was sleeping, but she didn’t know what else she could do. This room didn’t appear to have any exits to it besides the one she had come through, and death by this creature would probably be far more swift and painless than starving to death. The Dunmeri girl sat herself beside the dremora, and cautiously placed a hand on his armored chest. When he didn’t respond, she softly poked it a couple of times…
The dremora snorted, and a brilliant red eye snapped open, accusingly. When he realized something was there, he sat up quickly, and began to glare at the girl.
“Err… Umm… Hello…” Refaelia stammered, immediately disliking the look that the daedroth was giving her.
“What do you want, mortal?” Growled the dremora, who was already looking tired of the girl.
“I’m sorry to bother you… But I’m kind of lost…”
“Hmph. Not at all my problem… Annoying mortal…”
Refaelia snorted; “Well, it will become your problem, if you just ignore me; for I, the annoying mortal, cannot exactly leave you in peace currently, as this particular annoying mortal does not know how to levitate.”
“I could always eat this particular annoying mortal if she became too cocky.”
“Alright… Look… I didn’t want to bother you with my annoying mortal antics; but I just happened to fall into here, by chance… If you could just tell me if there’s any way out if this place, I’ll be happy to leave you alone, like you want to be.”
“Who says I want to be alone?” The dremora said quietly.
Refaelia looked confused. She wasn’t aware that daedra needed companionship, and if they did, she highly doubted they would want the company of any mortal.
“Are… Are you lonely, Mr. Dremora?” Refaelia inquired.
He looked away, grumpily.
“I long to be with my own. Too long have I sat here, guarding this ruin, for my… Employer… I was here when this place sank into the ground, and I still remain here, for some reason. The spell binding me to this place has not worn off, and I have not been killed. I wish it were otherwise, for this mortal plane is… Abrasive…” The dremora explained irritably. “And do not call me ‘Mr. Dremora’, for I find such a title grating. You may call me Ezra, if you must call me by name.”
“I think I understand now… You’re homesick! And there isn’t a way for you to go back to your home… You must be very lonely, indeed.” Refaelia mused.
“So lonely, I must be, that I have lowered myself to talking freely with a mortal whelp.”
Refaelia shot Ezra a nasty look for this comment, though what else could she expect from a daedroth? Dremora were famous for despising mortals, and she was actually rather surprised that Ezra had not cracked open her head for disturbing him. But if the dremora was willing to talk, then perhaps she could feed her fascination with all things Daedric.
And have some knowledge to boast to those boys about.
“Serjo Ezra,” Refaelia began, as politely as she could. “Could you tell me about your home, and your people? I promise not to interrupt!”
He eyed her thoughtfully, and sighed.
“I might as well. But you would be a fool if you were to believe every word I were to say. But what I tell you will not be much, if anything, for our policies are held in secrecy. First of all, I will clear up something for you, a common misconception you mortals have. Dremora were not created by Dagon; we work for him by our own choice…”
Those damn boys being the group of boys, almost entirely Mer, who thought themselves awfully slick, waiting outside of the corner clubs for a drunk to stumble out just so they could see if that drunk would buy them Sujamma, Matze, or possibly even Flin. Those boys, who got into trouble, or narrowly avoided trouble; going on all sorts of adventures to places that they shouldn’t be going to. Those boys, who deeply, in her heart, the girl, Refaelia wished she could join, no matter how many times she tried to dismiss them. Those boys, led by none other than Refaelia’s own brother, Lleverri; and a bizarre young Almer named Louisji, who thought himself something at Magick, though Refaelia reckoned that him with his parlor tricks couldn’t Magick himself out of a potato sack.
She envied them, for their adventures, and spited them for forcing her to be on the other side of the river when they were all outside, as apparently twin sisters weren’t allowed. Refaelia had tried her own adventures, but her mother wanted Refaelia to be a proper lady; and would go into a fit if she caught Refaelia coming home with her dress covered in dirt, or with a rip. And even when she felt completely ready to disobey her mother, Refaelia knew it would be so much better if she had friends... The only girl in town Refaelia’s age who was her friend was one of the Legionnaires’ daughters, and her father had been relocated to a different fort, somewhere in the Ashlands.
Refaelia got into fights with the Balmora boys often, as she had just before hurrying over the hill. This one hadn’t ended so well and that fetcher Luigi had said all sorts of things he had never said before to her, things that offended her deeply. And now, the anger still fresh, the words still burning in her mind, Refaelia continued on, into the wetlands just west of Balmora, not caring about where she was going, how she was going to get back, and what her mother was going to say. She switched directions several times, and snagged one of her two ponytails in a bush, causing it to come undone; and generally lost track of just where she was, before sitting down, to calm down and think.
“That… That N’wah Louisji! Who in oblivion does he think he is? Dumb men. Dumb Mer. I hate Mer!” Refaelia fumed.
Something small in the back of her head gave her a soft nudge, implying that fuming on a hot and humid day like this day was absolutely no fun at all. The girl scowled off into the distance. She didn’t know where she was, but she could see the trees and ponds of the bitter coast swamps not too far from where she was. The ground here was much firmer than that of the wetland, though it was covered in moss, and a few odd, peat-covered shapes rose up from the ground ominously.
“Like a place where a witch might build her house… Or smugglers keep their den…” Refaelia whispered, anger fading into curiosity.
She got up and padded around the mossy field, pondering why such a place would occur, and what the objects poking from the ground were. And why weren’t their any animals about? Surely Nix-hounds and wild Guars would find the firm, dry, moss-covered ground a nice place to nap… Refaelia meandered over to one of the objects; it looked like a sphere with two horns. She began to pull moss from the shape, in an attempt to find out what it had been, and was rather surprised when she found the maroon, engraved kind of stone that was used for building Daedric ruins.
“An old Daedric ruin? Maybe it sank into the swamp years before… Interesting…” the girl mused.
Maybe I can uncover it! It’s been buried for years, so probably no danger from scary things like Clannfear. And maybe the mages guild will give me something nice… It might even impress the boys… Refaelia thought, grinning and rocking back and forth on her haunches. I should hurry home and grab a shovel—wait no, Mom will be furious. Best to buy a new one from a trader…
Refaelia got up from her crouch, and began looking for the hills which marked the direction of Balmora. When she saw these, she began to hurry in their direction, much happier with her discovery. Unfortunately, she stepped on a soft patch of earth, which looked no different from the rest of the field, and it caved in below her, dropping her about ten feed down, landing on cracked, maroon tiles in a painful heap.
She rubbed her head, cringing, and tried to focus her mind on calling the life forces of a healing spell to her. Warm blue light engulfed her briefly, and her bruises and scrapes began feeling much less painful. She sat up, and looked at her surroundings.
Walls of earth surrounded her, save for one side, where the maroon tiles she had landed on led to a ruddy red stone door, oval shaped, and only a little bit taller than a Nord.
“I was right… A Daedric ruin…” Refaelia said softly, with a shiver. “I just hope I was right about there not being any daedra left running around…”
Refaelia had always been fascinated by the daedra, and conjuration had been one of the first schools of Magick she had wanted to learn because of this. But even though she had looked through a picture book full of types of daedra, and thought some looked easy enough to get along with, looks were deceiving with daedra. Their behavior was known to be erratic, and often violent with mortals, especially when they had been left to guard a ruin. Refaelia’s own personal dealings with daedra were limited to her summoning a dremora, around three months ago. It had been quite an accomplishment for a Dunmeri girl of ten years, but the dremora had only lasted for a few minutes, and the calling of the creature had left her Magicka drained for days. But she had thought it was a polite enough creature, looking at her with a sort of confusion at first, and then slight amusement as she led him to her home. Her mother had been surprised, and revulsed, and surely would have given Refaelia a whipping had the girl not passed out from the drain on her energy.
I hope there is a dremora here, if anything… The book said they were honorable, and there is no honor in killing what cannot fight back, so maybe they won’t attack me on sight… Oh, why am a going in anyways? I need to find a way back out of this sinkhole, before I get myself killed. Refaelia thought dourly.
She decided there was no harm against looking for an exit to the outside from behind the door, so she seized the handle, and began opening the door slowly. It made a horrible din, shrieking like rusted iron scraping against itself, but it opened easily enough.
“Well, whatever’s in there has surely heard me now…” Refaelia said grimacing.
After a few minutes of nothing leaping out at her and ripping her head from her shoulders, Refaelia regained her nerve, and tiptoed into the dim ruin. It looked like the inside of a shrine room, wide with lanterns that poured mist into the room instead of light, and a large pedestal in the center. Whatever Daedric Prince the statue had been of was gone, marble limbs scattered about the room. Instead, resting upon the pedestal was what looked like a full suit of Daedric armor, but betrayed that it was otherwise by soft snores, which sounded more like a cat’s hiss.
“A stroke of luck…” Refaelia murmured, and crept towards the sleeping dremora.
It was unusual for any kind of daedra to be sleeping on the job, let alone one of the so-called ‘Knights of Oblivion’, but it; no, he lay, spread-eagle on the stone slab where apparently a statue of Dagon had been before, as his ugly stone head was lying beside the sleeping dremora. Not surprising that there was a dremora hanging around in a Dagon shrine in the first place, but Refaelia wondered why he had stuck around in the first place... The shrine was almost entirely destroyed, so why should he still be guarding it?
Refaelia knew that it would be a bad idea to bother the dremora while it was sleeping, but she didn’t know what else she could do. This room didn’t appear to have any exits to it besides the one she had come through, and death by this creature would probably be far more swift and painless than starving to death. The Dunmeri girl sat herself beside the dremora, and cautiously placed a hand on his armored chest. When he didn’t respond, she softly poked it a couple of times…
The dremora snorted, and a brilliant red eye snapped open, accusingly. When he realized something was there, he sat up quickly, and began to glare at the girl.
“Err… Umm… Hello…” Refaelia stammered, immediately disliking the look that the daedroth was giving her.
“What do you want, mortal?” Growled the dremora, who was already looking tired of the girl.
“I’m sorry to bother you… But I’m kind of lost…”
“Hmph. Not at all my problem… Annoying mortal…”
Refaelia snorted; “Well, it will become your problem, if you just ignore me; for I, the annoying mortal, cannot exactly leave you in peace currently, as this particular annoying mortal does not know how to levitate.”
“I could always eat this particular annoying mortal if she became too cocky.”
“Alright… Look… I didn’t want to bother you with my annoying mortal antics; but I just happened to fall into here, by chance… If you could just tell me if there’s any way out if this place, I’ll be happy to leave you alone, like you want to be.”
“Who says I want to be alone?” The dremora said quietly.
Refaelia looked confused. She wasn’t aware that daedra needed companionship, and if they did, she highly doubted they would want the company of any mortal.
“Are… Are you lonely, Mr. Dremora?” Refaelia inquired.
He looked away, grumpily.
“I long to be with my own. Too long have I sat here, guarding this ruin, for my… Employer… I was here when this place sank into the ground, and I still remain here, for some reason. The spell binding me to this place has not worn off, and I have not been killed. I wish it were otherwise, for this mortal plane is… Abrasive…” The dremora explained irritably. “And do not call me ‘Mr. Dremora’, for I find such a title grating. You may call me Ezra, if you must call me by name.”
“I think I understand now… You’re homesick! And there isn’t a way for you to go back to your home… You must be very lonely, indeed.” Refaelia mused.
“So lonely, I must be, that I have lowered myself to talking freely with a mortal whelp.”
Refaelia shot Ezra a nasty look for this comment, though what else could she expect from a daedroth? Dremora were famous for despising mortals, and she was actually rather surprised that Ezra had not cracked open her head for disturbing him. But if the dremora was willing to talk, then perhaps she could feed her fascination with all things Daedric.
And have some knowledge to boast to those boys about.
“Serjo Ezra,” Refaelia began, as politely as she could. “Could you tell me about your home, and your people? I promise not to interrupt!”
He eyed her thoughtfully, and sighed.
“I might as well. But you would be a fool if you were to believe every word I were to say. But what I tell you will not be much, if anything, for our policies are held in secrecy. First of all, I will clear up something for you, a common misconception you mortals have. Dremora were not created by Dagon; we work for him by our own choice…”
.........
Started this today, probably gonna finish it soon.
