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]

Damn, I did as well. I'll go fix that.

And here's some more.

Chapter 5-Disguises

After Caius had given me the vague instruction of 'Get a job' I was left feeling slightly in the dark. However, I had been sent on a mission to find employment, and so I popped into the local bookshop and picked up a book entitled 'A Guide to Vvardenfel.'

After half an hour of reading in one of the bookshop's comfortable seats, I learned a few things about Vvardenfel. The entire island was ruled by three great houses, which anybody could join, as well as a few other guilds and organisations for somebody to join. There were fighters and mages guild branches here, but I immediately struck them off the list of places to go-I wasn't any good with a sword and magic had always been a closed book to me.

That left the Great Houses. House Redoran was immediately taken out of the equation for the same reasons as the fighters guild (I was neither honourable nor a warrior), and House Telvanni for the same reason as the mages guild. So that left House Hlaalu, described in the book as 'a house of merchants and salesman.' Seeing as all books like this would put a rosy tint on everything it spoke of, I mentally rewrote that with a description of 'a house of crooks and bent businessmen.' If that was the case then I would be right at home.

I discovered that House Hlaalu's headquarters were situated right here in Balmora, and so after asking a few directions I found myself standing outside the largest building in the town. I pushed the door open to find myself in a large atrium, a spacious room with several desks and tables scattered around the edge.

A dunmer woman, wearing an expression of disdain for the world in general, noticed my arrival and hurried up to me in the way all impatient people in authority do.

“What do you want?” she asked rather sharply.

“I was hoping to join the House Hlaalu,” I said, deciding to adopt a tone of voice suited to somebody who desperately needed some work in order to kindle some sympathy (which was true, in some respects).

“Oh really?” the woman asked. “If that's the case then speak to Nileno Dorvayn. She's over there.”

She pointed at another dunmer woman, this time wearing the robes of some important official.

I hurried over to her, and said; “Madam Dorvayn? I was told to come to you if I wanted to join the house.”

“You were told correctly,” Nileno Dorvayn said. “So, you want to join our house, then?”

I nodded.

“Very well then,” she said. She grabbed a piece of paper from a desk next to her and a quill. “Your name?”

“Iocus Magna,” I replied.

“Good, good. Trade?”

“Looking for employment.”

I gave her a slightly pointed look to emphasise this.

“Any current address?” she asked.

This gave me some pause for thought, before I said; “I'm renting rooms at the South Wall Cornerclub.”

I really, really hoped they had rooms to rent.

“Very good,” Nileno said. “Everything seems to be in order.”

“I'm glad to hear,” I said. “I'm willing to get to work whenever you want me to.”

“Really?” the dunmer woman said. “Could you say that again?”

“What?” I asked, somewhat put out. “I'm willing to work whenever you want me to?”

“Yes,” Nileno said. “But can you make it more dunmerish? You know, a bit raspy.”

“I'm willling to work whenever, you want me to” I said, still feeling a bit put out.

“That's perfect,” Nileno said.

“Is it?” I said. “What for?”

In answer, Nileno took a helmet, made of some strange amber coloured material, and shoved it into my hands.

“Try this on,” she ordered.

Still baffled, I slid the helmet on.

“Perfect fit,” I announced, my voice rather muffled by the thick visor on the helmet. “Now can you please tell me what this is for.”

“Yes, yes of course,” she said. “The thing is that you sound just like Felsen Sethandus.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Felsen Sethandus,” Nileno said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He's one of House Redoran's warriors. He was wounded in a battle and so wears a helmet just like that one to cover the scars on his face.”

“So you want me to pretend to be Felsen?” I said. “And do what?”

“Go to the town of Ald Ruhn,” Nileno said. “I want you to go the Ald Skar there, that's the giant crab shell in the middle of town, you can't miss it, and speak to Neminda there. Tell her that you're an orphan of Arnesia and she aught to give you some instructions to deliver to somebody. Simply take them back to me and then I can give you your pay.”

“I see,” I said. It sounded simple enough.

After I left the council hall, I decided that it would look rather odd if I marched into this Ald Skar place wearing just a helmet, and so I decided to invest in a full suit of armour. After all, Caius had told me to get some more equipment.

After an hour's searching, a good deal of paying up and some arm twisting of the smith in the Fighter's Guild building, I eventually managed to procure myself a full suit of bonemold armour. Feeling that it was a good a time as any to go, I took the silt strider to the town of Ald Ruhn.

It was a damn lucky thing I took my helmet off quickly once I was aboard the silt strider.

#

I arrived in Ald Ruhn in the middle of an ash storm and with a plan. While I waited out the stinging hail of ash in a local tavern, I went over it again, just to be sure.

I wouldn't enter the building like any old warrior would, loud, proud and full of myself, but more like somebody who had some discreet business and didn't want to be noticed. Of course, I was good at not being noticed, but I guessed logically that as Felsen was a warrior, and therefore somebody most likely to be inclined towards the loud and proud spectrum of society, he was logically not very good at being inconspicuous (the secret, of course, was not to try). So, trying my best to be inconspicuous, and being conspicuous at the same time, I would enter the building and get the papers from Neminda, convincing her I was Felsen with my best dunmer voice. Child's play compared to some of the things I had done in my time.

As soon as the ash storm had blown itself out, I hurried from the tavern, slid my helmet on and entered the massive shell that dominated one half of the town (Nileno was right, you couldn't miss it).

After I crossed a complex series of rope bridges that spanned the cavernous shell, wandering all the time what the hell could be so big to fit in here, (unless it was a very territorial hermit crab) and reached the three joint doors that led into what I guessed were the main rooms of House Redoran's administrative centres.

I looked for any likely candidates for a Neminda, and guessed that, as Neminda was a redguard name, Neminada would most likely be the redguard woman sitting at a desk.

“Greetings Neminda,” I called, adopting my best dunmer voice. I looked furtive before continuing. “Any work for an orphan of Arnesia?”

The redguard woman looked up as she heard me, and smiled broadly.

“Ah, Felsen,” she said. She grabbed a sheaf of papers from within her desk, bound together by a piece of string, and handed them to me. “Deliver these to the usual place in Vivec.”

“Very well then,” I said, before inclining my head and leaving.

As I reached the door, another man dressed in the same armour as me walked up to Neminda and said; “Neminda, do you have any work for an orphan of Arnesia?”

I legged it.