The Nerevarine's Revenge
Tap, tap, tap away to the deadline. It's only a few more months until he's got to present the book, and he's thinking that there might be something off about the new invasion plotline. Maybe it's the aliens. He's not sure. Only half of Cyrodiil has been lit aflame, so maybe it's a problem with storyline balance. If he ends up having to light the whole thing up it's going to take at least one more revision and he's going to have to ask for a deadline extension.
A few more paragraphs then it's time to stop for dinner; he grabs a sandwich, flips through a few pages on the Elder Scrolls wiki just to make sure he doesn't get rusty, and then it's back to work. Halfway down the page he realizes that the last time he talked with Todd, they'd had a chat about this character he neglected in the last book.
Neverclean? Nusticlats? Nuricles? Who the hell is it? he thinks to himself.
Oh well.
Then it's back to tap tap tapping until bedtime, so much so that he doesn't notice when goes from being alone to...not.
It's dark in the room, so the face is near to invisible; long hair, but no indication of race, gender, or even astrological sign. Narrowed eyes, determined brow, with fingers itching near to an indistinguishable weapon at it's genderless side, the thing takes quiet step by quiet step closer and closer to the industrious author.
"Hail," says the unknown person quietly. "Gregory, son of Keyes."
"Who the hell are you?!"
The only distinguishing characteristic is on the right hand - a ring, in the shape of a crescent moon cradling a five-pointed star. A shape that, with a mighty CRACK, leaves it's imprint on his face before he can finish speaking. The figure grabs his shirt by the collar and pulls him forward.
"Silence, s'wit! You and I are going to have a little talk."
***
"Um, Todd?"
The secretary is leaning into his office and she has a puzzled look on her face.
"Greg is on the phone. He wants to change the title of the book."
"Yeah?'
"He says he wants to call it The Fist of the Nerevarine."
***
Just to be clear: I do not wish any real-life harm on Greg Keyes. I do, however, think his book was awful and he deserves to be slapped around with so many dead fish, as I've heard rumors that he didn't even play Morrowind, so he didn't even know what he was destroying. At any rate, this was all meant very tongue in cheek and I don't want to hurt anyone, yada yada yada.
A few more paragraphs then it's time to stop for dinner; he grabs a sandwich, flips through a few pages on the Elder Scrolls wiki just to make sure he doesn't get rusty, and then it's back to work. Halfway down the page he realizes that the last time he talked with Todd, they'd had a chat about this character he neglected in the last book.
Neverclean? Nusticlats? Nuricles? Who the hell is it? he thinks to himself.
Oh well.
Then it's back to tap tap tapping until bedtime, so much so that he doesn't notice when goes from being alone to...not.
It's dark in the room, so the face is near to invisible; long hair, but no indication of race, gender, or even astrological sign. Narrowed eyes, determined brow, with fingers itching near to an indistinguishable weapon at it's genderless side, the thing takes quiet step by quiet step closer and closer to the industrious author.
"Hail," says the unknown person quietly. "Gregory, son of Keyes."
"Who the hell are you?!"
The only distinguishing characteristic is on the right hand - a ring, in the shape of a crescent moon cradling a five-pointed star. A shape that, with a mighty CRACK, leaves it's imprint on his face before he can finish speaking. The figure grabs his shirt by the collar and pulls him forward.
"Silence, s'wit! You and I are going to have a little talk."
***
"Um, Todd?"
The secretary is leaning into his office and she has a puzzled look on her face.
"Greg is on the phone. He wants to change the title of the book."
"Yeah?'
"He says he wants to call it The Fist of the Nerevarine."
***
Just to be clear: I do not wish any real-life harm on Greg Keyes. I do, however, think his book was awful and he deserves to be slapped around with so many dead fish, as I've heard rumors that he didn't even play Morrowind, so he didn't even know what he was destroying. At any rate, this was all meant very tongue in cheek and I don't want to hurt anyone, yada yada yada.