Oasis 2, Free from Destiny. Options

[jack cloudy]

Here is the link to: Jack Cloudy's Other Stories


Ok, I've got to be crazy. Starting a third one before finishing the last two? Yeah, definitely crazy. More crazy than Tarhiel, Curio and M'Aiq combined. Ah well, I guess I can't be stopped. (Note to self: Make an Agent update tonight.)





Oasis 2: Free from Destiny.

The task I’d been sent to do had been finished. No, I hadn’t just been sent to do this, I’d been made for it in a quite literal way. Yes, that task was the only reason for my existence. Now that I’d completed it, what was left?

Anyone in my position would probably try to retire and live the remainder of his or her life at peace, preferably with the comfort of nearby friends. I had friends and I could retire easily enough. During the course of my life, I’d amassed a large amount of wealth, including a house big enough to accommodate a whole village. In fact, my house was a village. Then why did I leave? Why was I walking here at this moment, so far away from civilization?

The truth was, I couldn’t. I hadn’t realized at the time, but the reason why I fought was because my friends needed me as much as I needed them. I’d fought to protect them, to keep them near. Yet what should have been my moment of everlasting glory was my moment of defeat. I could no longer see those I considered friends. It would undo everything I’d done.

The sun began to sunk beneath the horizon and I sat down next to the nearest shrub. A small wisp of fire, and I had created a small circle of light to keep me company. The fire was bad company if it was the soul that required comfort instead of the body. Nothing opposed my train of thought. I relived the last moment, the moment it all became clear.

I stood on the slopes of a mountain. Beneath me, several tents had been placed in the ashcovered ground. People milled about like ants. Banners flapped in the gentle breeze. A smile crept across my face. These were the people of Vvardenfell, my people. Most were unknown faces to me but that didn’t matter. In the end, they were all a part of the island. And I would be their hero. Society had been at the brink of collapse but now, everything would be fine. The Houses had united, the Ashlanders received the respect they deserved. The time of politics and struggles for power had ended. There was nothing left to fight over. And I would be right in the middle of it all, basking in glory, everyone would call me their greatest hero. Like a child’s dream come true.

The smile vanished. It would not be fine. There was still something for them to fight over. Ironic as it might seem, that something was me. To win the favour of the land’s champion, the Houses would return to their internal strife, bloodier than before. Those around me would be the victim of it all, as they would be pulled into this conflict. Politics was a plague, hard to control. There was only one thing I could do to prevent this from happening. I would have to leave, vanish into myth.

And leave I did. I never even took the chance to properly say goodbye. I couldn’t say goodbye. If I tried, I would end up staying and make my nightmare into reality. It was a bit of an anti-climax. Whenever I thought about what would come after defeating my enemy, the only things I saw were scenes of fame, glory and perhaps even a bit of worship. I couldn’t let any of that happen though. It would be as destructive as having let him have his way.

Perhaps this is how the guy who killed Jagar Tharn felt after he’d claimed victory in the Imperial palace. He too left right after his greatest moment. To this very day, no one knows his name, or his race, or even his gender. I say guy, but it could have been a woman for all I know. I’ve heard a few stories, but they’re quite conflicting. Some talk about a Redguard pirate, some about an Imperial Battlemage much like Tharn himself, yet others about a scarred Orc or your stereotypical knight in shining armour. Then there are those who take it into the extremes, saying that this nameless champion was none other than Tiber Septim himself or Akatosh or a spirit of death or even a Goblin, though I seriously consider that last one a joke. Well I knew one thing for certain, Akatosh was not involved there. Because Akatosh, that’s me.

Whatever is the case, the champion vanished and I was about to follow his or her example. Where would I go? If I had taken the time to think, I would have concluded that leaving Tamriel entirely would have been best. The legendary continent of Akavir would be a great place for a fallen hero to hide. But I decided otherwise. Instead of going east to Akavir, I would go west, to the place where I was born, all the way on the other side of Tamriel. Despite my achievements, which happened to include the killing of a supposedly immortal being, my fame was still only local.

Hammerfell would be the perfect place to make a living. There, no one would care about Luper Alkad, Nerevarine, the godslayer. There I would be just another Redguard, albeit one who was in possession of several unique artefacts. Yes, Hammerfell would be perfect. But how to get there? Vvardenfell had been saved of the Blight, a horrible disease that turned everything it touched into a raving monster. There was the Corprus which was even worse but likewise, its threat had ended. Despite that, the island was still strictly quarantined. No one could enter or leave, at least not through legal channels.

I knew that there were plenty of smugglers and pirates. I could try to make contact with them, see if they were willing to transport me. While the idea appealed to me at first, I soon changed my mind. So far, the smugglers I met here were a lot more aggressive than the bunch that had raised me. I was unlikely to get a single word out of my mouth before I was parrying daggers, clubs and whatever they were using to kill people. No smugglers wouldn’t help.

I went through a few more ideas. I was too well-known among the mages and the independent ones were usually Necromancers who would rather have me as their next test subject than give me a quick teleport to the mainland. Buying, building or stealing a ship wouldn’t work. For one thing, ships weren’t for sale here and I would be hunted by the coast guard. Waterwalking might work, but I had no real idea of just how far it was to the mainland. It would be rather embarrassing to run out of Magicka and get devoured by Slaughterfish and Dreugh. In the end, I knew of only one organization that could give me a quick and secret way to the mainland. The Blades, the spy service of the Emperor himself.

I waited till dawn before continuing my trip across the island. I took my time because this would likely be the last time I would see Vvardenfell, the island that had become my home. There was a silent beauty in the Ashlands, now that the dreaded storms which plagued this region had fled. The transition from dry ash to a swamp teeming with life was quite sudden, only a single mountainous ridge between them. Like everything I saw, it brought back memories. Memories of fighting against slavery, getting my leg cracked by a Mudcrab. It had been less than two years, yet it felt like eternity separated Luper Alkad, the badmouthed prisoner who was all bark and no bite, from Luper Alkad, the badmouthed hero who is even more bite than he is bark.

I walked up to the nearest Mudcrab and placed a single hand underneath its shell. With a simple flip of the wrist, I threw it upside down and sent it sliding down a hill. It was a feat of incredible strength I wouldn’t even dare dream about in those early days. I’d definitely changed, beyond recognition. The everburning flame of the Lighthouse told me I was nearing my destination. Seyda Neen, where my journey began and where now a new journey would begin.

[jack cloudy]

Now now, Blockie. Remember what Azura said? Power and responsibility. I'll keep him under control, though I can already tell that the lore will be adapted quite a bit.




The whole timewarp episode swept by without any conscious registration on my part. It could have taken a second, it could have taken a thousand years. To me, it all felt the same, too short to notice. At what I assumed to be the end of my trip, I found myself standing on a grassy hill, close to a farm. A lone High Elf stood behind a plow drawn by a Guar. The ground looked like a mess though, so unlike the hill I was standing on myself. It was cracked, filled with rocks. Man and beast struggled as they pushed the plow in a jagged line. I felt that whatever he would seed, its harvest would be barely enough to survive.

I scratched the back of my head. Why would anyone take that as his land when a perfectly fertile hilltop was a stone’s throw away? Also, why would the farmer be a High Elf? I thought the goldskinned definitions of arrogance considered themselves too high and mighty for that kind of stuff. I hesitantly made a step towards the farm but stopped when my boots clunked on smooth rock rather than grass. I looked down and saw, much to my amusement, that I was standing on top of an altar.
,,Well, that explains why no one puts his farm up here. Sacred ground and all that stuff.”

I jumped off the altar and walked towards the man and his Guar. As soon as I was in shouting distance I called out to him.
,,Hey, you there! Can I talk to you for a while?” I shouted. The High Elf looked up at me and his hand reached for a small axe hanging at his belt. A High Elf with an axe? What happened to their love of standing back and making people explode? I raised my hands in the universal gesture of goodwill.
,,Geez, calm down fella. I’m not here to hurt you. Say, you tell me where I am and I’ll help you plow. How about that? I’m stronger than I look.” I said.

The axe turned out not to be meant for me. Instead, he cut the lines tying his Guar to the plow after which he ran off with his beast in a frantic panic. Again I scratched the back of my head in utter confusion.
,,What in the? Wait, don’t tell me. There’s a big beast standing right behind me, isn’t there?” I mumbled, spinning around and drawing my sword at the same time. The only thing behind me was the altar. With more force than was strictly necessary, I sheathed the blade.
,,Hey, come back here! I’m not that scary! Or did I grow horns all of a sudden?!” I shouthed at the two figures far away. Just to make sure, I ran a hand through my hair. No horns. With a resigned shrug, I walked to the farm and then followed a muddy path which had to lead somewhere.

Ten minutes later, I came to wonder if he even knew what I’d said. I spoke third era Cyrodiilic. But Azura had said that big high and mighty Daedra like her couldn’t reach Nirn in my time. I hadn’t heard of any succesfull Daedric prince summonings either during the history lessons at the Mage guild. Nerevar summoned Azura for council regularly according to some stories, but he was a man from the first era. So I reasoned that I was now either at the first or the second era. Heck, perhaps even the zeroth era, if that was even possible. What if modern Cyrodiilic was too different from the current language to be understood?

I thought on the subject some more. Cyrodiilic was a bit of a mess, but mostly inspired by ancient Nord languages and Aldmeris, I think. Linguistic history is not exactly my strongest point. I put the subject away for the moment. I would simply try again next time I met something sentient.

Next time was roughly four hours later. The first sign of people was some heavy shouting punctuated by the clash of steel. I sighed as I realized the kind of situation I’d walked into. No matter what year it was, there would always be people trying to kill other people. I broke into a jog so I could approach the tangled group faster.

What I saw made my heart skip a beat. A High Elf woman stood with her back pressed against a tree, while a man of the same race fended off the assault of three Redguards with a simple wooden staff with steel tips more suited as a walking aid than for combat. Or at least, he tried to fend them off. Already he was bleeding from over a dozen wounds. Their nature confirmed what I could already see simply from the swordsmen’s movements. They were playing with him, like a Nix-Hound with a Scrib. I had seen scenes like this before. But never were the culprits Redguards. It went against our honour. Just why would they disgrace themselves by hounding a defenceless couple of elderly people? And again the apparent refusal to simply blast them to kingdom come amazed me. I mean, aren’t pyrotechnics the High Elf’s specialty?

My jog sped up into a sprint. I came closer, close enough to hear the words of my kin. They spoke something that felt similar to a Hammerfellian dialect. An older version perhaps? I also noticed that they all wore the same clothing, as if it was some kind of uniform. A chainmail shirt, brown pants with leather boots. A red sash. I was now close enough to call to them and be heard over the clanging of steel.
,,Hey, what’s going on here?!” I shouted, using the modern version of their language. With a bit of luck, at least the Redguards would comprehend me.

One of them broke off, the other two continued their game. I relaxed a bit. The guy who stopped behaved with the air of a leader. They wouldn’t dare to kill the old man out of fear of robbing him of his pleasures.
,,Ah, friend. It is as simple as you see. We are fighting the point-ears, as our contract says.” He spoke, spitting on the dirt at his feet. He had a dark stubble lining his cheeks and enough wrinkles to be considered thirty. I skidded to a halt two steps away. I’d just ran a threehundred metre sprint, but I was as fresh as if I’d walked that distance. From his words, I could make out he’d been able to understand my words.
,,What contract?” I asked bluntly.

,,Why, the contract with the Empire of course. This land, Resdayn. It shall be ours from that tree till the creek over there. As soon as the war ends and this land has been conquered for the Emperor. Where are you from? I don’t know your dialect. Learn some manners, you’re talking to a captain. What’s your name, kid?” The man replied and spat again, this time hitting the tip of my left boot. I deliberately ignored his attempt to anger me, even though I was becoming more annoyed by the second.
,,Morrowind. And my name is Luper Alkad. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?” I answered, still in the same blunt tone.

Now his sword went up into the air.
,,I said, learn some manners! I’m a captain in the Imperial legions!” He hollered.
,,If you don’t learn some manners, my men and I will gut you! We’re the best swordfighters in the land!” He added and then fell silent. I’d reached for the hilt of my own sword at his movement. He gestured with his free hand and the other two Redguards stopped their game to stand at their master’s side. The High Elven couple backed away, the man supported by the woman.
,,I see, you’re with them! You’re a spy for the pointears. No wonder you don’t have any respect!”

I looked at the three for a moment and then my hand dropped back to my side, leaving the Ebony saber in its sheath. The Redguards took this as their cue to laugh and spit at my feet in unison.
,,Ha, coward! You don’t dare to draw your sword and fight us? You lack the bravery to face death? Fine then, run! We’ll cut you down from behind, as befits a coward!” The leader taunted. I let out an extremely bored sigh.
,,As befits a honourless bully, you can’t back up your words with deeds. I haven’t fought Redguards in a while. Bad news, eh?” I then quipped, which caused more laughter and more shoespitting. Oh, they’d better clean up my boots later.
,,Yes, you don’t hold the skills to fight us with your sword! That’s why you haven’t drawn. You’re begging for mercy.”

I smirked, which took away some of their false courage.
,,Bad news for you. You see, lately I’ve only been fighting immortal gods, demons, untouchable assassins and elite of the elite bodyguards of gods. And I’ve been defeating each and every one of them. Simply put, you’re so far below my skills, any attempt at swordplay is an utter waste of my time.” I gloated and promptly used a trio of firelances to melt down their swords to three steaming puddles. The smirk vanished and my sword flew from its sheath faster than they could blink.
,,And this is how I deal with those who taint Redguard honour.” I snarled, disembowelling them all in a single stroke. I left them there on the ground, bleeding their lives away.

I scraped the spit off my shoes against a nearby rock. I refused to touch them in any way. I then turned to the two High Elves. The men pulled himself free from his wife’s grasp, I think they were married. He raised his quivering staff against me.
,,I’ll not let you lay a finger on my wife as long as I life.” He said. Bingo, married. I was however surprised to hear him speak in the exact same language as the Redguards. I took a better look at him as I resheathed my sword. A simple robe, a pouch with a sheet of paper dangling out, a quill tied to the side of his hat, several vials of ink tied to his belt. A scholar of languages? Why not?

,,Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” I vowed. I then remembered the allegiance the dying scum had claimed.
,,In fact, I’m not even involved with the Empire. Look, let me demonstrate where I stand.” I added and cast a simple healing spell on him which took care of those cuts in a moment. Too bad I couldn’t sew his robe the same way.