The Unlikely Incarnate, The Tale of Iocus Magna Options

[Colonel Mustard]

Okay, since everyone else seems to be doing a Nerevarine story I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon and do my own one, with a character who is rather different to the other ones knocking around. It probably won't be as long as the others around, but hopefully it will be as enjoyable to read.

Oh, and don't worry Grey Knight fans, I'll have that going at the same time, too.

The Unlikely Incarnate-The Tale of Iocus Magna

“Iocus Magna, I sentence you to be hanged by the neck until dead, for the charges of embezzlement, fraud, theft and the evasion of tax,” the judge announced, banging his gavel. There was a murmur around the courtroom as the crowd that had drifted in discussed the sentence. None of them knew me, and as far as I could tell they were glad to see me go-the idiots had lapped up every word the judge had said.

My guard grabbed my shoulders and led me away from the courtroom, back to my cell in the Imperial Prison, where I would once again have to spend my night with whatever drunks the watch had dragged in. The guard holding me pulled me down the prison's corridor, surprisingly, to a different cell from the one I had been held in for the last few days.

“Condemned cell,” he announced impassively. “Have a nice night.”

It was comfier than the one I was in before-instead of wooden benches there were proper beds, and the jailers here had actually made a decent attempt at keeping the place clean. If it wasn't for the bars across the window and replacing a wall, it could almost have been a room in a good inn. On one of the beds, a Nord, was snoring loudly, a tray with a plate and a mug on it on the floor beside him. I guessed it was the man's last meal.

I slumped down on one of the beds, thinking through the developments of the day. I felt numb-at the behest of a judge, no doubt being told to have me killed by whoever he answered to, I would be hung. I couldn't imagine a worse way to go, with a noose strangling the life out of you while you kicked uselessly, like some practice dummy in a breeze.

“What're you in for?” It was the Nord, still on his bed, his voice cutting through the haze of my despair. “Well, lad?”

“Me?” I asked. “I'm in for theft.”

“Theft?” the Nord seemed puzzled. “Seems a bit harsh, doesn't it?”

“Not when you con a tax collector out of ten thousand septims,” I replied. Strangely, the Nord laughed, and even stranger, I joined him, laughing hard for almost a full minute. After our burst of macabre hilarity had subsided, I asked; “You?”

“Murder,” the Nord said. “I caught a man with my wife so I killed them both.”

I wasn't surprised he'd done that-the Nord was built like a castle wall, and it wasn't hard to detect the palpable air of aggression surrounding him. He got up and extended a massive paw in my direction.

“Sven Strongback,” he said. I shook it gingerly.

“Iocus Magna,” I replied. I appreciated the gesture of companionship Sven offered, and suddenly felt better. I may well have had my last night in the company of a murderer, but at least it was company of some sort.

We talked for the rest of the evening-Sven about his life in Bruma, and me about my childhood as an orphan in the Nibenay Basin, and my constant obsession with getting some more coins to fill my purse. We ended up talking about just about everything we could.

But we never talked about the hanging tomorrow. I reckon now that even Sven, with his attitude of aggressive bravado, feared his death. I didn't blame him. However big and muscular you were, there was nothing you could do when you began to dance the hemp fandango.

That night, I barely slept, entertaining the thought of the hanging with a sick dread. Though when I did, I had the strangest dream.

I was in a void, shrouded in complete blackness. There was no light, not even enough to see my body. I felt like a ghost, floating in the afterlife. Perhaps this was just a taster of what was to come? I didn't know.

Then the voice came, ringing out from the darkness with such such clarity that it seemed to brighten the void around it. But then, it was a dream, and these strange things always seem to happen in dreams.

“Do not fear, Iocus,” it said. “You shall have salvation.”

Then the voice faded and I was left alone in the dark of unconsciousness.

#

The staccato drum beat of the warden's baton drumming across the bars of some poor bugger's cell woke me, as it did every day. I wiped sleep from my eyes, and then with a sick feeling of fear, remembered what day it was.

The die I was destined to die.

“Food's up, you two,” one of the guards said, holding a tray with two large sandwiches on it. “Enjoy it.”

For a last meal, it could have been worse. Sven and I ate in silence, Sven devouring his sandwich like a wolf would, me taking slower bites, savoring the flavour of the bacon filling and hoping that I could somehow stave off the inevitable. But the inevitable came.

Sven and I were shackled and led from our cells, into the courtyard of the Imperial City prison. The gallows had been set up, and a sizable crowd had gathered to watch it. I had sweet talked one of the guards into getting me a copy of the Black Horse Courier, and I remembered that my trial was mentioned in the news-scroll. I couldn't help but feel flattered that my crime was heinous enough for them to mention it. Still, ten thousand Septims was a lot of money.

The drum that signaled the hanging began its slow, relentless beat, beaten by an blank faced man in cheap clothes. I saw a man prepare the nooses, sizing us up and making adjustments to our nooses. So, that man was to be my executioner.

Without a word, Sven and I were herded up the steps, and placed on a stool next to our respective nooses.

“Do either of you have any last words to say?” a man dressed in the robes of a priest asked. “Any regrets?”

“My only regret is I never got a chance to spend a penny of that cash,” I announced, to a ripple of laughter. Despite my fear, I wasn't going to let the crowd see it. Give the people a show, that had always been my philosophy, and I wasn't going to abandon it now.

The priest gave a disapproving frown, but then asked Sven the same question. He simply shook his head.

“Very well then,” the priest said. “Let justice be given.”

I wondered at how many times the priest had given this ceremony, before marveling at the brain's ability to distract itself from its imminent demise.

I suppose I hadn't lived a bad life-comfort wise, of course. In the terms of morality, I had been mired in poverty, but I always managed to keep enough cash to get by and get on. And now, at the hands of a length of rope, I would die. I mentally corrected myself-rope didn't have hands. Just because I was about to die I wasn't going to allow sloppiness.

Sven and I were stepped onto our stools after being prodded by a guard, and the nooses were fixed around our necks.

The drum beat on.

At a command, two guards, holding hammers, knocked our stools loose.

At first, there was the feeling of my throat being grabbed, as I felt the noose constrict, before my vision began to be tinged by red as the blood in my head began to get cut off. Vaguely, I heard the priest give some sermon about how this was an example to all law breakers, and to all other sinners, but I wasn't really able to listen.

Gradually, the thudding of my heart slowed. I didn't bother trying to breathe-it was pointless and I barely cared.

Dying is a strange feeling. I didn't feel afraid now that it was happening, I could shut out the pain of the noose and felt strangely peaceful.

Soon, my vision began to darken, the world become unfocused and the priest's sermon just faded.

The blackness came slowly. I suppose I could describe it as similar to watching a snail crawl across a rock-you turned away for a minute and it had moved slightly. It wasn't surprising as such, just to be expected.

Then the blackness descended fully and wiped everything out.

[Colonel Mustard]

Good news everyone, I'm restarting this! I've written about a bajillion parts while away, and so I'll get them up while still writing more for you. Enjoy!

Part 2-Dreams

I was in a valley, its steep sides cutting off all view of the world outside them, and the only part you could see was, surprise, surprise, more valley. The ground was barren and dust-grey, with a few exotic looking rock formations scattered on the valley floor. Yet the most noticeable thing about the place was the ash.

It whipped and stung as it was blown through the air on a howling wind, and was so thick it almost blotted out the sun, and a more distant light, one that tinged the sky red, and seemed to swell with threatening energy. Occasionally it rumbled threateningly.

Where am I? I wondered. Am I dead?

If this was the afterlife, I had to conclude that it was somewhat of a disappointment-from what I had learned from a various priests, the afterlife for sinners, one of which I most certainly was, was a place of fire, damnation and eternal torture. Unsurprisingly, I was relieved it was not the case.

I took a quick glance around my surroundings again, before deciding to strike out along the valley, towards the strange light. Along the way, I noticed several hardy bushes and scrubs, clinging next to the rocks that protruded from the valley floor. Occasionally, a large and threatening shape swooped overhead, causing me to duck in fright.

Then, a soft, blue glow permeated the redness of the sky and the darkness of the ash, and as I approached, it formed into a wall of shifting blue light. Cautiously, I touched it, and watched, fascinated, as it rippled like puddle would. I noticed letters form on it, symbols written in a language I couldn't understand, and I doubted anyone else would be able to.

Then the voice that had haunted my dreams the night before my hanging spoke.

“Iocus Magna,” it announced. “You have been taken from the Imperial Prison, first by carriage, and then by boat, to the east, to Morrowind. But fear not, for I shall guide you.”

It faded, but the illegible writing remained. Then some of it shifted around, transforming into the words 'Many will fall, but one remains.'

Then, the world faded into blackness, and a rocking feeling overwhelmed my body. By then I'd formed the opinion that being dead was a very odd experience indeed.

“Wake up,” I heard someone say, in the characteristic rasping of a Dunmer. “You're shaking. Wake up!”

A crack of light opened, and widened further, causing me to see a rather alarming looking Dunmer shaking me awake. His face was gnarled, and a deep scar bisected one half of his face.

“Am I dead or not?” I asked immediately, somewhat startled, before suddenly clutching my throat and choking in shock. By the Nine, it hurt!

“You're not dead,” the dark elf replied, shaking his head and laughing. “Far from it.”

“Where am I, then?” I said, more quietly, so as not to awaken the sudden, throbbing pain in my throat. Could that be something to do with my hanging?

“We're on a ship,” the dark elf said. “We're bound for Morrowind.”

Morrowind? I remembered what the disembodied voice in my dreams had said about how I had been taken from the Imperial Prison. So did this mean I wasn't dead? And if I wasn't, then what on Nirn was going on?

“What's your name then?” the dark elf asked. “I'm Jiub.”

“Iocus,” I replied. “Iocus Magna.”

So, was I really dead? Or was something else, something more sinister, going on? The only real way to find out was to see where this, to be frank, utterly bizarre experience would go.

“I overheard some of the guards talking,” Jiub said. “They said we've reached Morrowind. I'm sure they'll let us go.”

I nodded in agreement, before a question sprang to mind.

“Jiub, how long have I been asleep?” I asked.

“Five days,” he said. “Maybe more-that's only how long we've been on the ship.”

Had I been unconscious for five days? And was I really dead? I'd heard of a few religions that believed a soul was reborn into a new body after it had died, but I was skeptical about it happening this way. And I doubted that if I was dead I would have one hell of an ache in my neck and be feeling slightly seasick (boats and I have never gotten on). But what Jiub said about me coming from somewhere to the boat added up with what the strange voice in the dream had said. This was getting more and more mysterious by the minute-as soon as I found someone who had some answers, I was going to give them one hell of a grilling.

“Enough chatter in there,” I heard someone call out from somewhere inside the boat, before a lantern, being held by a guard, appeared. He pointed at me. “You-you come with me.”

Gingerly, I got to my feet-my time unconscious had left me weak as a kitten, but fortunately doing hard labour at the Imperial Prison had improved my fitness somewhat. Hopefully, after my muscles had recovered from their atrophic state, I would be as good as new. I followed the guard at a cautious walk, not trusting my legs to support me if I tried running. We went up a few stairs, along a dark, low wooden room of some sort that must have been the lower deck and then stopped at the stairs.

“Up there, prisoner,” the guard said. “Don't try anything.”

I wondered why the guard had to be so impolite, and exactly what made him think I would 'try something,' but made nothing more of the issue as I cautiously climbed up the steps and blinked in the bright sunlight as I opened the hatch. The air that blew forth was salty, and smelt rather muddy, but compared to the stale air of the prison I had been staying in for the last few weeks, it was quite possibly one of the finest scents I had ever smelt.

“Head through down the walkway and speak to the guard there,” I heard someone say, rather more warmly than the guard had, and turned to see a redguard speaking. I can't say I am a massive fan of redguards-I'm no bigot, don't get me wrong, but they were honest and dependable, qualities that made them exceedingly hard to fool and that was always regarded as a black spot in my book.

Waiting for me at the bottom of the gangplank was another guard, wearing the armour of an Imperial Legionnaire.

“Follow me to the census office to get your papers signed and verified,” the guard said, sounding extremely bored. “Then you will receive your release fee.”

I followed him to a bland office, to be greeted by an elderly man-either an imperial or a breton, by my guess. There were various papers to be filled out, the usual sort of rubbish-name, age, birth sign. I got through those fine, but the small, innocuous line marked trade gave me pause for thought for a moment-I guessed that 'professional conman' wouldn't go down terribly well with the legionnaire standing at the exit, so I settled on 'specialist merchant.'

The census official checked the papers.

“That seems to be correct,” he said. “Go through that door and speak to Sellus Gravius. He'll give you a package to deliver and your release fee.”

I liked the sound of a release fee-money was always a nice thing to come by, and work meant more cash.

I went to the door, the guard unlocking it, and was through it. A quick right turn later and I found myself in a storage room of some sort. There were a few items of value in there-some plates, a book, and most importantly a lockpick and a dagger. Once outside, I searched through another barrel, finding an old ring. It was a bit battered, but I could feel there was a healing charm of some sort on it-I guessed it could come in handy.

I went into another outbuilding, where Sellus Gravius, dressed in an impressive suit of armour, handed me a package along with a small sack of gold coins.

“I want you to deliver this to Caius Cosades in Balmora,” he said. “Don't try and tamper with it-there's some kind of enchantment on it or something, it'll make a mess of you. Ask Bacola Clocius about where Caius lives. He works at the South Wall Cornerclub.”

“How can I get to Balmora,” I asked.

“You can take the silt strider,” he said. I wondered what a silt strider was, but decided that I would find out in time. “That costs a bit, but it's quicker and safer than walking. Or you could just walk-the route's signposted, so as long as you stay on the path you ought to be fine.”

I thanked him and left, out to the small town of Seyda Neen, and into the big, mean world of Vvardenfel.

I think, to be honest, that we surprised eachother.