User:Vanguard/Fanfiction/Frostmourne in Morrowind

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Frostmourne in Morrowind

Part 1

Randa stepped from the silt strider ramp, into Gnisis. It had been a few years since she had been in Morrowind, due to her leg and arm injuries from a previous battle that has shifted into the back of her mind and is borderline irrelevant.
She wandered the market for a short time while an agent of the Legion informed her that she can, indeed, have a spot back in the legion. But previous rank and experience are stripped. This was understandable. She wasn't very highly ranked and her experience has been rendered null because of her injury, and it would be worth her effort to work back up.
She retained a small limp, but a kind of limp that one can eventually get better from. She walked slowly into the recruitment center.
Her first few tasks were simple, which made perfect sense to everyone involved. A couple of years gone, files get lost. People forget. And Randa, while a fine warrior herself, was never an exceptional person. She often drifted the backlines and helped finish off wounded enemies. She liked being in the background.
Using a small bit of diplomacy and reusing her sword arm, Randa managed to take out a small cult based in Gnisis. She ached afterward, and hoped this faded as well.
A day after this event, Randa heard rumors of a fort called Fort Frostmoth, based in Solstheim. She had never heard of this place before, but to the commoner's knowledge, they seem to be having problems. How such information could leak from such a secluded island, she'll never know. But she took immediate interest, as she enjoyed the snowy mountains of Bruma back in Cyrodiil. After spending a few days in Gnisis, she asked to be transferred there. This was confusing to the Guardsman, as Fort Frostmoth seemed to be used as punishment for failures. Randa didn't care, she liked the snow. And who knows, maybe she could help.
She hauled into Khuul and rested for a night. That morning, she took the rather poorly-kept boat to Solstheim.

Part 2

Randa enjoyed Solstheim more than most. Even when she is not of nordish descent (Randa is a humble human imperial), the cold never bothered her much. It probably was because she wasn't a complete idiot, and layered her clothing properly without being uncomfortable.
She did not do much work there, there was very little TO do. And even the more mediocre of tasks, many soldiers performed admirably. So, Randa took the isolation to her advantage and sparred with her fellow legionnares, informing them of her injury and how it would do her a lot of good to get back into practice.

This went on for approximately a month. And at the end of it all, she was still debateably pathetic on terms of battle. Her pain faded, and that helped. Overall, she was still able to refine the most basic of battle needs. However, it's amazing how seasoned the soldiers are in Fort Frostmoth, and a wonder what they could have possibly done to be sent here as a punishment. They all seemed like wonderful people to Randa.
But a time finally came, the Captain gave her a simple job of helping out with morale. This offended her at first, but it wasn't that kind of morale they needed boosting. There was a shortage of alcohol (but oddly enough, plenty of women so the 'other' kind of morale wasn't an issue). She took a few hours and traced this to a grumpy priest.
She too, proved that she could perform tasks admirably. This chimed in her head, that every soldier had something to contribute despite the fact they were sent here on purpose. In the hostile conditions of Solstheim, the soldiers made do with what they had.

As Randa became stronger, she attained some very strange dreams. Randa dreamed of a rune blade, with ice encasing it. The styles of the dreams vary but for the most part, it centers around the strange sword. It's a very beautiful weapon.
Randa shrugged the weirdness off, and figured it irrelevant. After a small while she was, at least, being sent on a mission of vague importance to the fort. Weapons had been smuggled out of the fort and Randa, along with two others were sent to deal with the problem however they saw fit. A man named Lusius prefers Diplomacy, while a battle-hardened woman named Gaea Artoria is content with bashing skulls and asking questions later.
But the mission was potentially dangerous. It was special enchanted weapons that had been smuggled out, and it was annerving to not know what manner of magic that would be used against them.

Part 3

Randa closed her journal, after accounting her first month in Morrowind. She slid it under her bed and smiled up at Artoria,
"Ah, thanks for coming. We need to get Lusius and we're set."
Gaea Artoria, while a big talker, didn't have much to reply to so she merely answered with a big grin and ran off, practically skipping (she enjoyed her work, no doubt).
The three trekked northeast of their fort, where they located the smugglers. Not at first, of course. It was a large and tricky cavern, and Lusius was hell on wheels against those rats. Lusius was more designed for diplomacy and Artoria would much prefer to bash faces. Randa, was somewhat in between which made this the perfect wrecking crew for any mission.
A few rats later they came across something that made Randa shiver with fear. The three spotted a large piece of ice. They slowly stepped to it and Lusius, who hasn't had the same dreams and thus doesn't have the same fearful thoughts, identified the ice,
"This is Stahlrim. It's used for ceremonial purposes, an unmeltable ice that protects ancient ancestors. Extremely valuable. Even more so, the bones it usually protects," Lusius gave himself a satisfied nod, feeling accomplished and proud that his scholarly affairs have not gone to waste. And Randa found this rather interesting, and edged closer to the ice case, the others followed behind.
They leaned over it, and found a skeletan, holstering a strange sword to its chest. Randa couldn't speak, but Artoria chimed in,
"Whoa, that blade isn't a joke. I bet it has a history."
Lusius agreed, "I must concur with our barbarian friend," (Gaea scoffed at this) "It's best if we leave it be. There's a reason things are encased in Stahlrim, it's almost always to be left alone."
Randa sighed, not speaking. Deep down, part of her wanted this sword. It would serve her much more than the pathetic iron sabre she's been using for the past few months. It's terrible, but it's loyal and has yet to break even through the armored assassins she's taken down recently (And that, is another story entirely).

The three trekked slowly through the wandering cavern paths, as rats have become scarce and that can only mean the presence of smugglers. They finally turned a path, and nobody was ready for what happened next.
Three versus five. Randa and her team wasn't supposed to be there, and the smugglers weren't supposed to be there. For once, the information was right on target, and everyone was paralyzed in shock only for a moment. But the smugglers thought fast and charged at them.
Randa was the first to be taken down by a skilled shield bash, but she was unharmed. Dazed only for a moment, she saw Lusius take a green-tinted axe (She figured it to be poison) to the chest. She couldn't scream out for him, but Artoria did. Artoria retaliated by chopping the throat of Lusius' murderer. Randa got back on her fear while chopping at some of the legplates. It was fruitless, her sword was worthless. The leader of the smugglers crushed her face with the butt of his staff, breaking her nose. Artoria fought on, and Randa crawled away.
They did not pursue her, figuring her to be useless at this point. A mistake they will soon pay for, with their lives.

Out of visual range, Randa could still hear Gaea fight on, along with the death screams of a couple smugglers. She stood up, barely, and slogged her way back to where they found the Stahlrim case. She pressed herself against it, letting its otherwordly breeze cool her off. If only, she thought. If only.
She heard whispers in her mind. It was faint and, possibly in another language. She was freightened at first but in the presence of this magic, she was strangely comforted. She heard more ghastly whispers in her mind, and one thought finally came to her, fully comprehensible;

"Break me."

She heard this while staring straight at the Stahlrim. She didn't know how, and Lusius had mentioned a special tool that was the only thing that could break this ice.
And, as if this dead swordsman heard her thoughts, there was a crack in the ice. The sound resonated throughout the cavern, making Randa cover her ears for a moment. It was amazing, and it was the only incentive she needed to take her sword and bash it against the cracked Stahlrim.
For several minutes she slammed her shield into it, in the back of her mind she wanted to quit. It was taking a massive load of effort on her part to have any effect, but she kept hearing "Break me, break it," and her arms seemed to have adopted a mind of their own and obeyed these thoughts.
Finally, the Stahlrim shattered into two, and a magical explosion blew the ice casing into pieces, leaving a limp and lifeless skeleton to flop onto the ground. The sword however, stayed afloat. It glowed a gorgeous blue, and Randa was mesmerized. For a while, all sounds drowned out. The battle in the background, the shattering Stahlrim. All she could hear was the faint humming of the sword, and the whispers.
With a testament of free will, she spurred herself to grasp the sword. It was then, she realized, it was not the dead swordsman who was speaking to her. The skeleton just laid there, all traces of magic gone from it. No, it was the Sword. It was only the sword that gave her the dreams, the thoughts, and the whispers.
Another comprehensible thought flooded her mind, "Feed me... Frostmourne requires... Souls."
Randa was all too happy to oblige, she had revenge to wreak.

She stepped slowly and confidently, walking towards the scene. Adrenaline flowed through her and it was like time had slowed. The battle was over, Artoria had two swords shoved in her stomach. But she was a warrior, and in normal circumstances she could live to see another day, and several years if treated within that day. The surviving two smugglers stayed, taunting her agony.
Randa finally saw them when she turned that fateful corner, the same one that led her party to a failure. They turned in silence, and saw Randa sporting a new, rather large sword. They were intimidated, but charged anyway, thinking if she had showed the same battle tactics, she'd just be in for more facial restructuring. But, that was yet another strategical mistake. The sword seemed to have been made for her arm, like it was an extension of her very body. She gracefully slashed her sword onto the charging man's hip, and it slid through his body like it wasn't even there. His sides spewed blood from the openings in his armor, and the top half of his body flopped in another direction from his lower half.
It was the leader that was left. He was a mere smuggler, and never seen so much blood before. He dropped his bloodied staff, and went to his knees. He begged for his life, while Randa slowly stepped towards him. Artoria stared, amazed, not even paying attention to the pain. She couldn't in a situation like this.
Randa listened to the man's pleas, and she felt sorry for him. She truly wanted him to live. But the whispers were too loud, the sword's will was too great. It hungered, and she thrusted the sword right into the man's face. And due to the blade's size, his head practically split in two and a lot of blood and remnants of organs dripped out. Randa wanted to vomit, but it was held back.

The adrenaline waned, and her perception of time was normalized. She rushed to Artoria, not dropping her sword. With one hand, and the help of Artoria, they carefully remove the swords. She had already lost a lot of blood, so the bleeding wasn't as bad. But her greaves and boots were almost completely painted red. She spoke in a worried tone,
"Randa... that sword... You, were not like yourself." "I had to get it, Gaea, or we both would have been killed." "Look, Randa... I'm not the smartest soldier but I still know things. I saw your eyes... You.. enjoyed butchering them. That's not you," And with this, she bent over to grasp a weapon, already assuming the outcome of this disagreement. Randa took note of this,
"You're not my enemy, Artoria. Please, do not become one. Let us return to Fort Frostmoth, and report our victory here."
"I know you, Randa. You used to be shy, but skilled. But with that sword, even your speech has become different. I'm not a complete idiot, so I cannot let you leave with that sword," She scowled, and raised her sword defensively, but in a stance that would allow her to attack first if she needed.
"I cannot do that. It has given me power, a power that was able to save your life. Why can you not understand this?"
Gaea Artoria simply stared at her, foul judgment in her eyes.
"Don't make me do this."
No reply.
Randa spoke like a warrior who knew what they were doing, "So be it", and slashed.
Gaea's sword was no match for Frostmourne, and it split. Randa's new weapon went straight into Artoria' shoulder and kept going diagonally until it reached her previous battle wounds. Artoria chucked blood from her mouth, suffocating on it. She finally died, as her body had taken too much damage. And her soul belonged to Frostmourne.

Randa left the caverns and made her way up to Fort Frostmoth, where she found the fort had been attacked. Bombed, it looked like, walls were taken down. She rushed in through one of the fallen walls and was informed the fort was attacked by wolven creatures, and she was sent to the Skaal village in the north to attain information on it.
She would entertain all their needs, but the whispers have one goal in mind for her. She must attain the Lich's armor. And from what she found out, that can only be found in The Castle Kartstaag, a place she can only gain entry if she helped the Skaal.