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]

Thanks for the compliments. Be warned though, this update can be a bit chaotic, what with all the lore being thrown into a blender.





The man instantly brought his staff into a position where he could lean on it. That still didn’t change the way he looked at me though.
,,Why did you do that?” He asked in a deliberately neutral tone. No gestures or pointing fingers were needed. I knew he was referring to the little scuffle I had with those Redguards.
,,They attacked you. I don’t tolerate people who try to kill those who cannot defend themselves.” I replied evenly. The man’s answer was rather odd.
,,Then do you tolerate yourself?”

He didn’t wait for me to say anything before he pressed on.
,,They are unarmed and untrained in the art of the mind. Yet still you struck them down without any hesitation and there they lie now, bleeding to a tortuous death. So I repeat, do you tolerate yourself?” Unarmed, and I struck them down. I told myself they were evil, but was there really any difference? Dagoth Ur, was he evil? Most people would say so but from his point of view, he was on the side of good, no matter how twisted it might seem. I killed Dagoth Ur, but why? Simply because a false god and a true goddess had told me to do it, which instantly made me seem less like a hero or good person. The time of killing had come to an end, yet I did not stop. I killed because I didn’t know better and justified it somehow. They killed because they didn’t know better and justified it themselves. Was I really any less evil than they were?

To put it more simply, I didn’t tolerate them because they attacked a man who couldn’t defend himself or his wife. And what did I do? I destroyed their swords so they couldn’t defend themselves and then struck them down. Like cattle. How was I any different?

Without a word, I turned and emptied my Magicka reserves into the three Redguards. Entrails crawled back to where they should be and the wounds healed, leaving only three clean scars as a reminder. Their mouths hung open in dazed confusion.
,,Go, before I change my mind.” Was all I said to them. A cloud of kicked up dust at the horizon was the last thing I saw of them. I then turned back to the Elf.
,,I guess I don’t tolerate myself. Just tell me what year it is and where I am. I’ll leave you alone after then.”

The High Elf muttered something to himself which was probably along the lines of ‘why doesn’t he know what year it is’.
,,The year is 2920, and you are just west of Mournhold, home to the Tribunal, praise Their names, ALMNEVI.” At the mention of the tribunal, his eyes shone with devotion. I noticed but was more hooked up in the details. 2920, I was sure I’d read that date on the cover of a book. Wasn’t it the one where an Akaviri became emperor of Cyrodiil or something? And what about ALMNEVI, wasn’t it supposed to be ALMSIVI?
,,Sorry for busting a promise about going away within the first ten seconds, but what does ALMNEVI stand for?” I asked the scholar.
,,Why, the names of our gods of course. Almalexia, Nerevar and Vivec.” His wife answered for him.

I must have made a really dumb expression, for she then shook her head in pity.
,,Ah, you’re an outlander. Allow me to explain. Almalexia is our Queen-mother, who cares for the people. Vivec is the great poet and scholar, as well as my husband’s patron deity. Nerevar, He leads our warriors into battle. If you ever see a man in golden armour, wielding a sword of fire, run. No one has ever stood against Him and been victorious or even survived.” She then added, which in turn told me nothing I didn’t know already except for two very critical facts.

One, Nerevar had not died at Red Mountain but was very alive. Two, Vivec would later add Nerevar’s role to his own after the Tribunal betrayed him. But, Nerevar was one of the Tribunal? It so completely turned history upside down, I had no footing left to compensate. I mumbled an indistinct farewell and then took off, heading east. I had only one foothold left. The Tribunal betrayed Nerevar. How, and when, that was what I had to find out somehow. If Nerevar was alive, then what was Sotha Sil’s role, and what was Dagoth Ur’s? I would have to find out, somehow.

I skidded to a halt as another thought struck me. I had been created to replace Nerevar. But if Nerevar lived, there would be no need for me. I would never exist? If he lived, would this mean I would just poof into nothingness? I shook my head to clear the mental fog.
,,I’m Telvanni! Temporal paradoxes be damned! It’s not as if my youth was so good. If I’m never born, my folks won’t have to die at the Empire’s corrupt justice! I’ll just warn Nerevar about the betrayal and see how history pans out. In the meantime, I have to find this dragonfire meeting.” I began to argue with myself.
,,Think, where could Nerevar be? He was, or rather, is Almalexia’s boyfriend. He’s also at the head of the armies. Almalexia has a big palace in Mournhold in the third era. So if anyone knows where to find him, it’s her and she’s probably in Mournhold. Not to mention the scholars who can bring me up to speed about the current procedures for Daedra summoning. Ok, plan made. Time to get moving.”