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]

Lol, yeah. There are two ways to look at it.
In-story: Luper remembered how utterly devastated he was the first and second time he killed someone. He now realizes that using violence without thinking about the consequences puts him at risk for turning into a monster.
Out of story: I figured I had to put further limits on Lup. If he was allowed to continue his ways, he would godmode through every guard and Chimer that even looked at him funny. It would be a senseless bloodbath.

And Caius Cosades was a coincidence. I was looking for a good name to use and that one just popped up. Hey, it works and it sounds Luperish to boot. It's perfect.

And now we stop my babbling and go on with the update.




My plans were simple, but their execution wasn’t. All I needed to do was to meet Almalexia, make her tell me where Nerevar was, then hike over to him and convince him that his gal is shacking up with Vivec and that they’re planning to kill him. Simple, but how to actually do it? I’d already decided to get face-to-face with the goddess without decimating her entire city full with fanatic worshippers. This however, brought a new problem to the foreground. I remembered that it had been awfully hard to get to Vivec. I had to disguise myself as an Ordinator first for that. No Ordinators here however, and gold-coloured skin is a lot harder to duplicate than ash-coloured skin. Not to mention more expensive. There was simply no chance whatsoever that they would permit a stranger, who was a member of a hostile race, to meet their queen. Then how should I continue?

The war, that was the key. One of the quickest ways to achieve the full trust of someone high up, was by turning spy. Was I willing to betray my own people? I thought about it and then shrugged. It didn’t matter anyway. As far as I was concerned, there was no such thing as ‘my people’. Only friends, neutrals and enemies. None of my friends had even been born yet, so I could scratch that part from my list. That left my loyalties completely free to do whatever I wished. Alright, spy it would be. It would be hard perhaps, but I would manage somehow. Now I suddenly felt myself wishing that I’d actually done some real spy-work while under good old Skooma-head’s wing. Caius had been a nice spymaster, for an Imperial Blade, who knew how to handle me. But as a result, I’d only done some public questioning on subjects any tourist would likely bring up. And after he left, I’d been anything but subtle while going about my business. Nope, I wasn’t much of a spy, despite my semi-official title as one.

The skyline of Mournhold was dominated by two buildings. One had many intricate spires and banners emblazoned with ALMNEVI. This was the temple and palace of Almalexia. The other was darker, less elegant. I figured that this was the castle. To get to Almalexia, I could go there and get the ear of the current ruler. I made my choice and strutted towards the castle. It was no surprise that the guards at the gates tried to stop me. Believer or not, I was still a Redguard and no one had great love for that detail. Not now anyway. Not later either.

,,Halt! State your business, man!” Again it was a man with a red scarf who was in charge here. I slipped into a short silence as I figured out how to reply. Blurting out more insults didn’t seem like a funny thing to do. If I had to resort to mindgripping everyone I came across, I would go nuts.
,,Business, you ask? Well, I am sure you can ask your lord all about my business and he might even tell you. But are you willing to lose your tongue?” I said slyly with what looked like an all-knowing grin. The captain stiffened visibly.
,,I asked for your intentions. If you don’t answer me, you will see the power of Mournhold’s guard. Even you dark-skinned demons fear us.” He boasted, very agitated. I flicked a finger in the rough direction of the west.
,,Perhaps some of my less-skilled kin fear you. Perhaps. But know this, my good captain. Battles aren’t only fought by muscle and steel, especially if the muscle is somewhat lacking.” I told him, then moved that same finger to tap my forehead.
,,Know what I mean?” I asked, demonstratively moving to pass him even before he had answered.
,,I see. Pass. You have our silence.” He conceded with an utter show of disgust. Ah well, no one likes a spy, not even those who hire them. Trust? Yes, if proven. Like? Never.

Inside, I was met with looks of disdain all over. The Chimer might not look like it in colour, in spirit they were Dunmer through and through. I was surprised no one called me an outlander. It was also somewhat surprising that no one tried to stop me. Apparently they put great trust in the guards at the gates. Misplaced trust. No one worth his salt should have caved in that quick. What if I wasn’t a spy? He would be the laughingstock of the century. Wait a minute, I wasn’t, I was only pretending to be one! I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from laughing and fall out of my role.

The only ones who came even close to slowing me down were the guards standing at each side of the doors leading to the throneroom. They didn’t speak or make any overly obvious gestures, apart from the halberds crossed before me. They only glanced at my sword which got the point across. With a sigh of resignation, I unbuckled the swordbelt and put it in a basket. I could understand the need to keep swords away from their lord, but it still got on my nerves. The halberds rose.
,,Don’t lose it, fellas. Last time I came here, it got stolen and boy, was I pissed!” I quipped. The joking tone was only to take the sting out of my words. I was completely serious at this point. Though I had to give them points for how they carried themselves. Professional, yet not downright rude like Helseth’s thieving captain. Man, it made me realize how far their successors would fall.

The throneroom was large, lit by torches and sparsely decorated. The eyecatcher was the throne at the far end of the hall. To get there, I had to pass between two lines of guards. The result was nice and intimidating, for a peasant. As I strode up towards the throne, for once I refused to let my eyes wander. It would be taken as a sign of weakness, of being unable to bear the sight of the guy on the throne. Speaking of that guy, I wasn’t sure what to think of him. All rulers I’d met so far had been wearing full armour, with the exception of any Telvanni, who were mages anyway. This one didn’t, instead opting for a comfortable and horribly expensive robe bespeckled with gemstones. He looked like a weakling compared to the likes of Dren and Sarethi. I began to count the stones and came to the conclusion that together they weighed as much as a decent suit of armour, as well as offering reasonable protection to light weapons. Perhaps not so much of a weakling.

Again a pair of halberds were lowered once I came close enough to the throne. I took this as my cue to keep standing. The lord looked at me and I looked back. After a few moments, he lost the staring contest and had to look away. As he did so, I could see the confusion upon his face. He wasn’t used to meeting people who weren’t in awe of him. Score one for the Redguard without a sword.

,,And what would bring you here, man?” He asked me in a dignified tone. This time, he kept his eyes levelled at my chest. While covered by a brownish fabric, the Lord’s Mail shone through the tattered threads. I made a mental note to do some sewing later. I’d learned that being a shining beacon is rarely healthy, especially on a battlefield and the like. It was one reason why generals in their shiny and overdecorated armour always stuck behind the lines. If they moved to the front, they would be cut down in moments.
,,Caius Cosades, serving under captain Lenos, milord.” I replied and snapped a salute which made me feel rather silly. Saluting people was so not me. People saluting me was more common, in the third era.
,,That is late captain Lenos. He unfortunately died during an ambush at he Argonian border.” I added.

The lord turned to the advisor standing to his left. I hadn’t noticed that Chimer yet, standing there in the shadows.
,,Is what he says true?” He asked at a loud enough tone to make me hear it. I swore inwardly. If that advisor had ridiculous knowledge on every detail of the Chimeri army, I was screwed. If he hadn’t and brought someone in who did, I was screwed. If he did neither of those, I had to keep bluffing and hope it worked out, or I was screwed. If I was screwed, they would likely order me arrested or executed. Sword or not, either arrest or execution would lead to a slaughter. Their slaughter.

Fortunately, the advisor gave an apologetic shake of the head.
,,I do not know a captain Lenos, sire. However, our detachment near Argonia has indeed been wiped out recently. There were no survivors. Perhaps he works for the enemy, although Lenos sounds Chimeri to me.” He said. Whew, actual facts backing up a lie. That was insane. The lord turned back to me.
,,You served captain Lenos. How exactly?” He inquired. This bit was easy. I’d studied it for five minutes now.
,,Intelligence.” Yeah, that was one word and it took me five minutes. But it is all about the tone. Too fast, and it is obvious it was a deliberately studied response. Too slow, and it would sound made up.

,,A spy.” It wasn’t a question, more like a confirmation. The lord let his eyes wander slowly. I resisted the urge to move and scratch my nose.
,,You don’t look like a spy. Heavy armour, a sword deposited at the entrance and you walk into my throneroom just like that. What is there to prove that you are one, and one good enough for my needs at that? Obviously you are here to be hired.” The man jumped to conclusions rather fast, but he was mostly right.
,,If I looked like a spy, I wouldn’t be one. Besides, how do you really prefer to meet me? Here, surrounded by your trusted men, or finding me standing beside your bed in the middle of the night?” I answered.

,,True, very true. I see. You are a traitor of your own kin. Tragic, very tragic. Still, I have need of one like you. Alright, I believe I can hire you.” He mumbled. I frowned, one motion that got past my guard. I didn’t correct it. My slip went unnoticed that way. But still, he went overboard too fast, just like the guard at the gate. Were the people here really that meek, or was there more to it? Maybe they were just too damn used to having gods make all the important decisions for them?
,,But what if you are a counter-spy? I must verify so I will send you out on a simple mission.” He continued and snapped his fingers. A test of loyalty, that was more like it. I’d been doing those kind of things dozens of times. Now however, I began to see why people had always insisted on giving me these things.

A page passed a scroll into my hands.
,,A permissal to remain at the Dancing Guar tavern at no cost. Go there, ask for room three and wait for further instructions which will come later tonight. Till then, you may go and prepare yourself with the supplies available in this city. The scroll also includes an letter which provides you a budget of a hundred mountains to fund your needs. Now go, I am a busy man.” I turned away instantly and walked back at a casual pace. At first my mind went over the word mountains, but then I decided it was simply the local currency. Obviously, without Septims on the throne having the Septim as currency would be a bit weird. I wondered if a hundred mountains would be a lot or spare change. I settled on spare change. At the door, I picked up my sword again and left the castle. First up on the list was the sewing. I had to repair a few things. But Velas’ cloak would remain how it was. A torn cloak was less suspicious during a war than one that looked new and fresh.