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]

What would happen if he changes the past? I don't know. I honestly don't. In fact, I don't even know what he's going to change. I'm just going with the flow and stuff. Anyway, we're moving right along now.



I still had a habit of sleeping light, a leftover from the Nerevarine business. On top of that, I was always armed to the teeth as well. As such, it came as little surprise to me that I’d been able to react to the sudden intruder who had entered my room somewhere before dawn. By the time I’d actually woken up, we were already standing against a wall in the stinking corridor just outside my room, him with a dagger slotted between his ribs, me holding said dagger and grasping empty air with the other. A big axe fell out of the Chimer’s hand and bounced off of my armoured foot.

I let out a sigh after which I pulled back the dagger and lowered my empty hand at the same time. Without Chrysamere, my reflexes were all messed up. I still grasped for empty air all the time. This could have been a good thing perhaps. With how rickety these walls were and how far my reactions went, I would have cleaved the Chimer and the wall in two by the time I’d woken up. Explaining where I got the strength needed to do something like that, one handed of all things, would have been a bit of a nuisance. I pushed slightly and felt the wall give. Rickety indeed. It appeared as if only the walls of my spy-room had been given the proper treatment of money during their construction.

,,Ah, crap. The dagger broke. Meh, that’s what you get when you use Chitin, I guess.” I muttered and watched the downed Chimer, who was snoring loudly even as he gurgled from all the blood collecting in his lungs. That blade’s fatigue drain was as nasty as ever. No wonder the previous possessor had managed to kill several Ordinators with it. I sat down on the bed and kicked the door closed.
,,Brilliant, one of the lumberjacks. Must have felt the loss of his sense of manhood when I schooled him and his buddies. Bah, how could he possibly be so dumb to think that he would have better luck on his own than he had with all his buddies nearby? Blast them all. If I’m going to patch him up, he’s going to tell everyone about the Redguard mage and stuff. I haven’t seen any Redguards around in the city, so I’ll be the only one who fits the description. Azura’s big nose, why do these pointy-eared idiots insist on making it so hard for me to keep my cover?” I complained to myself.

I shrugged. I’d better focus on what I was going to do now. By now, the Chimer had taken his last breath. Guess patching him up was out of the question now whether I wanted to do it or not. Now what? I sighed and decided to focus on one thing at a time. I’d go through the standard routine of dealing with unplanned corpses. First step, loot the damn moron’s pockets. I didn’t find much. Some more of those Mountains, a toothpick and a brass key. I added the Mountains to my own and dumped the toothpick back where I’d found it. I then held up the brass key and examined the engraving on the shaft.
,,Almalexia’s plaza, southeast-23. Wonderful, they’re actually stupid enough to put the address on their keys? That’s just asking for thieves. Heh, thieves. Now that gives me an idea.” I snickered.

About an hour later and just before dawn, I unceremoniously dumped the dead lumberjack on the floor in his living room. This would have gone quicker if I’d just been allowed to walk in broad view with a dead Chimer. But that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe if I’d been perfectly disguised as a Chimer officer but as a Redguard? No, definitely no.

I looked about. The place was Spartan, which was no surprise given how the place’s late owner had to work part-time as a bouncer at a worthless inn. There was a table with a single stool, one cupboard, one improvised fireplace, a chest, a few racks with the tools of his trade and a bed. Oh, and there was a half-rotten rug made from a bear. Probably his prized hunting-trophy. I tried to open the chest and found that it had not been locked. Given the state of the lock, this wasn’t much of a surprise.

,,Now let’s see. What do we have here?” I whispered to myself and bent down.
,,Ooh, Moonsugar. So our friend was a drugaddict. Funny, this stuff gets blamed on the Khajiit later. Uhuh, booze, more booze. Wow, I must have done him a favour when I finished him off. No way his intestines were going to hold on much longer with that destructive life-style.” I opened a bottle and tried a sip.
,,Blegh, horrible stuff, better put it back before I get alcohol-poisoning. Ah, now that’s more like it. A map.”

I held up the parchment and unfolded it. It was a map, and a good one at that. Ok, so it was cheap and obviously mass-produced which resulted in vague and scribbly lines, but it did have all of Morrowind, or Resdayn as it was called here. There were some black crosses near Mournhold, made with Charcoal. I had no idea what they meant, but considering his job as a lumberjack, it had likely to do with where to find good wood or where he’d chopped everything down already.

And there was the Pryai. This would help me. I scratched my chin and thought hard. The map was good, but there was something missing. I smirked and dove back into the chest where I dug around till I’d found the piece of Charcoal he used to mark his map. I put down some more crosses, randomly yet mostly close to Mournhold. But some I placed along the river. After a minute or so, I was done. I held up the map again and admired my work. This would do, definitely. I looked at the corpse and at the room. People would start asking questions if they found him here with a single stabwound. Maybe I should add signs of a struggle. Or…

I drew my Ebony sword and stabbed him again, at exactly the same spot. I was in luck, the blood in his veins was still a liquid. I forced a few extra beats out of his heart with Telekinesis and watched the red liquid spill from the wound. This looked better. Death by sword instead of death by dagger. I rolled up the map and tucked it behind my belt. That was that. Now it was time for business.