Madness Helps Me Save Myself Options

[Jacki Dice]

Hello again. Thank you all for reading my previous thread, Champion of Madness. As I posted before, I felt the story was in need of a lot of work. First off, titles are one of my weakest points. I have to admit, it took me hours to come up with "Champion of Madness" (sad, I know) but it just didn't feel right, not to mention the fact that it didn't work with the upcoming Oblivion Crisis. Other than that, there were characters issues, plot holes, and world building issues that I felt could only be dealt with by starting fresh, with a better idea of where I was going.

That said, I'd like to welcome you to the revamped version. I hope you all enjoy it ♥

PS....I made a typo in the title... I sure feel silly now -_- Please ignore it.

~~~~~♥~~~~~

Prologue

Wrothken didn't even flinch as a deafening roar erupted from the arena. He remained in his seat at the bar, his head slumped over a cup of tea that had long since gotten cold. He sat listening to the dull buzz of quiet conversations, his ears searching for specific words. He knew he shouldn't. If he happened to overhear something that he didn't want to hear it would send him into an even deeper pit of despair or rage, like when that jerk the other night asked Kirsty if Wrothken's "Uncle Flo" had been in town. Wrothken knew what that implied as did the rest of the bakery. And many people found it hilarious up until Wrothken nearly beat that man to death with a chair.

Chop. Chop. Chop.

He could tell Kirsty was right in front of him. He could smell lavender lingering under the scent of fresh bread, cinnamon, and ham. He heard her sigh softly. He knew she wanted to help. She even tried getting him rip roaring drunk and then taking him to a brothel. Oh, what a fiasco that had been. The drink only magnified his sorrow, causing him to bawl like a baby in the middle of the street and then once he was with the working girl his body wouldn't cooperate, no matter what she did. Though she had shrugged it off, claiming to have seen that a thousand times, it wasn’t exactly something that a man ever quite lived down, drunk or not.

Kirsty sighed again. "You're only letting them win."

Wrothken raised his head slightly. Behind his curtain of Bravil-water blond hair, he saw her tiny hands holding a large knife and slicing up some ham. He brushed the hair from his face and looked up all the way. She was such a mess, but cute in a way. When she opened up that morning she had been wearing a nice, clean turquoise blouse. Now, even though she wore an apron, it was covered in white and brown powder. Her dark brown hair wasn't long enough to braid, so she wore it in a simple ponytail, though as the day went by the short locks that were once bangs escaped. Her cool brown eyes were on the meat, though she occasionally glanced up at Wrothken.

Wrothken stared at the ham. Its scent was suddenly the most captivating thing in the world and his stomach announced it loudly.

"What was that?" Kirsty asked, setting the knife down. The bright blush across his face told her the answer. "What have you eaten today?"

Wrothken shrugged. He hadn't been feeling hungry lately but when he had, the thought of food sickened him. The very act of chewing and swallowing seemed like just too much effort.

Kirsty huffed and set a cinnamon apple muffin in front of him. The crumbly top beckoned him, the sweetness he knew he would find seducing him. Yet the thought of eating turned his mouth sour. Still, if he didn't eat it, Kirsty would probably jump over the counter and shove it down his throat. He bit into it, trying to catch the crumbles before they hit the floor.

"That's better," she said, continuing to chop up the ham. "You look like you've lost weight actually."

Wrothken grunted. Atrea had been pestering him to lose weight for years. He was broad-shouldered and a bit "snuggly," as Kirsty put it. It was almost funny how the pounds began to shed after he caught his intended in bed with another man. A thigh slapper really.

"Great," he finally said. "Now if I could just lose all my body hair, maybe I could win her back."

Kirsty crinkled her nose. "No, don't do that. That's just...weird. Have you ever seen a hairless Nord? It would look off and I bet you’d hate the feeling. And besides," she looked at him, wagging her knife as she spoke. "If you take that girl back, so help me, Wrothken, I will beat you with my rolling pin until the sense comes back in your head."

He believed her. She didn't like Atrea much before but now it was full on hate. The feeling was mutual. Not that she ever admitted it, but he knew Atrea was insanely jealous of Kirsty. He didn’t think she should have been, but he could understand why. Kirsty built herself up from a grape picker for Tamika to a little pastry cart by the markets to an upscale bakery. She was as strong, persistent, and smart as she was beautiful, and Wrothken happened to work late with her most nights. Not that anything happened. He had honor. He was faithful.

"Have you given any thought to my idea?" She asked.

He had, but he didn't really want to go through with it. "I won't run away," he said quietly. He would rather drop dead than give them the satisfaction of knowing they ran him out of town, tail between his legs.

"I never said to run away," Kirsty said. She glanced back at an hourglass atop the oven. The pink sand was almost all the way at the bottom. She swore under her breath and began chopping faster. "I said take a break. Go on a trip for a while to help clear your head. Maybe meet some new people while you're at it."

"But they'll think I ran away!" He protested. He could imagine them laughing about it after a good romp in the sack. His stomach churned at the thought.

Kirsty set her knife down again, exasperatedly saying, "Who gives a flying guar what they think? They aren’t worth the filth under your boots. Why are you going to let them control your well-being?" She chopped furiously. "Do you really think it’s healthy to just hang around here forever? Or avoid places because you're afraid to run into them?"

She had a point. Kirsty always had a point and she would nag and push and prod until the point was not only seen, but agreed with.

"Where would I even go?"

"Well," she looked at the hourglass. It was empty. She opened the oven and pulled out a batch of flaky croissants. "You're from Bruma. Why not start there?"

Wrothken's slapped the counter. "I'd sooner hunt mudcrabs while skyclad!"

Kirsty laughed a bit.

"I'm serious!" Wrothken said, shoving the rest of the muffin in his mouth. "If I set foot there, my ma will bludgeon me with 'I-told-you-so' until my ears bleed! No way am I going back there like this!"

"Okay," Kirsty said taking out a bread knife. She took each croissant and cut it in half before slathering on creamy butter. "How about the Imperial City? There's lots to offer there. In fact, I'd like to move there one day..." She trailed off for a moment as a slight smile grew on her lips.

He agreed on that point. The Imperial City was the center of everything. A man could make his fortune there just as easily as he could lose it. All kinds of opportunity was found there.

"And I'm not saying forever, either." She continued, placing the sliced ham on the bottom halves of the croissants. "Just a week or two. Just enough time to clear your head."

"But what about you?" He asked.

"I'll be fine," she said as she started to slice bright tomatoes. Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop! Wrothken was amazed that she never sliced a finger off with how quick she was with her blade. "If I could get from Valenwood to Skingrad on my own, I'm sure I can handle a few drunken oafs. Besides, it’s just for a little bit. Worst case, I can see if Yyaevannte can come by now and then. He’s not as big as you, but he’s Fighter’s Guild."

Wrothken could see that she wasn't going to let up. As much as he wanted to just go back upstairs and sulk in bed, she would just push it later, over and over and over until he went mad. Women. Why did they have to be such nags?

"Fine, fine," he sighed, getting up. "I'll get my gear then."

"Hold it," she said. "It's not enough to just go. This is a chance for a new beginning. Once you leave those gates, I want you to think of it as the first day of the rest of your life. No thinking of her. No thinking of him. Now, you are going to reclaim your dignity. Just promise me that."

He nodded. He didn't remember ever seeing her so serious before. "Alright, I'll do my best."

"Good! Now, come see me before you leave. I'll pack a lunch for you. And write to me once you get there."

"I will."

"No, promise me. I know how you are. You'll forget the moment you find something interesting. In fact, I'll even write a little reminder for you."



This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Dec 23 2019, 07:29 AM

[Jacki Dice]

Thomas Kaira~ I think there was a show or a movie in the 90's where someone would say "Bonerific" I believe Jayred would describe it that way And I love writing Haskill. His sarcasm and seriousness in the Isles is pretty hilarious.

Foxy~ Dirty Mind? Clean it up with Orbitz! -fanfare- For a good clean feeling, no matter what! What shall we call the outbreak of dirty thoughts? Maybe Foxy-flu?

Grits~ I'm glad you can imagine it clearly. I often wonder if I'm descriptive enough but your comment is assuring

Haute~ I thought the same thing when I first saw the Gatekeeper. I expected a person or something not a giant orange thing... That'll teach me to expect something reasonable while in the Isles...

mAlx~ Well, I was going to have him do worse with the bones.... but I decided to leave it to the imagination

SubRosa~ Aww there you go making me blushy... I've actually done the imagery with the lady sweeping garbage away when I can't sleep. It really helps! And the fetish thing...well, Wrothken does suspect something funny going on when he says he'll need a few hours alone with the bones



~~~♥~~~
Wrothken <---New picture

~~~~~♥~~~~~

Chapter Four: Gatekeeper Gets Boned

While Wrothken waited for Jayred to finish, he stared up at the sky. It was almost pitch black, spattered with clusters of stars of every color. He wished the sky in Cyrodiil looked that way. If only he could have shared it with-- No, her name is not allowed, he reminded himself. A deeper, uncontrollable part of his mind retorted with, Yes, but you can't stop me from showing you...

He saw her again. He always felt he was lucky to find someone ready to settle down so quickly. Elves especially tended to wait longer, since they had much longer to live. At first, they just seemed to fit. Sure, there were a few changes he had to make. She didn;t care much for his temper, but that was fair. And he worked on it. Perhaps too much. After all, he didn’t grab her lover and beat him in the streets as he would have done once upon a time. Maybe that was her real problem. Maybe she wanted someone she could push around.

He grunted, violently shaking his head. He didn't want to remember! He just wanted to forget it all and be done with it! Jayred's taken long enough, he thought.

After getting directions from Sheldon, who bragged that he knew where Jayred lived because he was the mayor, Wrothken headed straight to Jayred's house. He banged on the door.

"Uh... Who is it?"

"It's been hours," Wrothken snapped. "Are you done yet?"

"Oh, sure, sure!" Jayred opened the door and let him in.

Wrothken expected some sort of strangeness, but not to the extent it really was. Skulls, rib cages, and all sorts of other bones sat carefully arranged in bowls and on shelves. His table seemed to be constructed entirely of bones, along with a set of matching chairs. When he looked closely, Wrothken noticed that the bowls were actually skull caps. When his eyes drifted toward what he assumed to be the bedroom, Wrothken wondered if he would find a complete skeleton lying in the bed. He shuddered.

"The arrows are ready," Jayred announced, showing him the two bundles before sticking them in his quiver, on which Wrothken saw tiny bones forming a design of a larger bone. Wrothken had to admit, they looked pretty good.

"You don’t seem like an archer, so let me give you something else," he said, heading to a large chest in the corner of the room. He opened it and motioned for Wrothken to look inside. The chest held a full set of steel armor. "I was going to use it to model some bone armor, but since you'll be up close, I think you'll need it more."

Wrothken looked it over. It was in good condition. Since he and Jayred were a similar size and build, he thought it would fit well enough. He wanted to ask where Jayred had gotten it, but something told him it would be better not to know.

"Now, let's go kill the Gatekeeper. We might die. But there's worse things."

Wrothken couldn’t think of anything more horrifying than him dying and his bones becoming the immediate property of Jayred.

"Just remember to keep the Gatekeeper off me. The key to killing him are these precious bones."

Jayred led the way up the hill, just as a Dunmer woman in an extravagant black dress was walking the opposite way. She was sobbing softly into a napkin. Wrothken wondered if she had lost her husband to the Gatekeeper. She glanced at him and her molten eyes clearly said "Stay away." He did so, continuing up the path with Jayred.

The moment they crossed the invisible line that separated the town from the Gatekeeper's territory, they heard a roar. The Gatekeeper rushed toward them.

"I'll take your bones!" Jayred yelled, as he started shooting his arrows.

The Gatekeeper howled as the arrows sunk deep into its flesh. It was a disturbing muffled noise, as he had no true mouth. As it turned toward Jayred, Wrothken struck its knee with his mace. Unlike last time, the mace made a difference. The Gatekeeper grabbed its leg, howling miserably. Before he knew it, Wrothken was hurled into the air. As he hit the ground, he saw the Gatekeeper running after Jayred. He dragged himself up, trying to focus. Thankfully, even with blurred vision, he was easily able to make out the giant orange mass.

Wrothken stood behind the Gatekeeper, beating its legs. He learned to duck underneath it anytime it turned. Eventually, he scored a lucky his and shattered one of its kneecaps. The Gatekeeper let out a piercing cry, so loud that all of Passwall emerged from their homes to watch.

Wrothken knew he had to hurry. He had no idea if Jayred was running low on arrows. He looked around, and suddenly had an idea. He ran to one of the trees and started climbing.

"What are you doing?" Jayred shouted.

"Just trust me! I need you to get it over here."

Jayred grumbled, but did as he was asked. He walked backwards, shooting hise arrows at the Gatekeeper, until it was close to the tree Wrothken sat in. When it was close enough, Wrothken jumped from the tree, grabbing onto the Gatekeeper's collar. He pulled himself up and used all his strength to whack the Gatekeeper repeatedly on the side of the head. As the Gatekeeper was falling, Wrothken realized that he didn't think it through enough. He had nowhere to go, except down with the giant.

The ground sent a flash of pain throughout his body. He sat up, throbbing. He desperately wanted to heal himself, but couldn't focus enough to do so.

"We did it!" Jayred cried. He slapped Wrothken hard on the back. "Congratulations! I was afraid it would be your bones coming out instead of his. Don't worry, though. I would have taken good care of them..."

Wrothken didn't answer, for fear of snapping at the Nord for hitting him so hard.

"Anyway, the honor of taking the keys from his corpse is yours."

Wrothken looked at the dead Gatekeeper. "Actually," he said to Jayred. "There are two keys. Why don't we each take one?"

"Sounds like a plan to me!" With gusto, and probably some bone fondling, Jayred ripped out a large turquoise key.

Wrothken was a little more hesitant, and even more so when the crying dark elf from earlier threw herself on the monster's body. "My baby!" She sobbed. "My poor, poor baby!"

He tried to be discreet as he reached in to drag the other key out. "You beast!" The dark elf fumed. "You'll rue this day, I swear it!"

Wrothken wasn't sure how to respond when she burst into tears again, cradling the Gatekeeper's head against her chest. He picked up the red key and looked at the two doors. He was about to go through one of the dark walkways when Haskill appeared behind him.

"So, you've managed to kill the Gatekeeper. Pity," he said, looking at the slain beast. "Well, you'll now be able to enter the Realm proper. You'll notice there are two doors. One leads to the lands of Mania. The other to Dementia. Your key leads to Mania, which is the door on your left. The lands are quite distinct, but both are Sheogorath's domain. You'll want to seek out Lord Sheogorath. I believe He has plans for you." He looked Wrothken up and down, adding, "Try not to disappoint Him. You will find Him in New Sheoth, in His palace. It is best not to make Lord Sheogorath wait. His whims are fleeting, and should He decide you are no longer necessary, it would be to your detriment."

Wrothken felt the urge to punch him, but he resisted. "Where can I find New Sheoth?"

Haskill sighed exasperatedly. "Must I do everything? Here, take this." He handed Wrothken a map. Passwall was on the western part of the Isles and New Sheoth was far to the east. "I'm sorry that it isn't colored. It's all I have."

Wrothken thought he saw a very slight smirk as he growled. He turned and entered the gates to Mania. It was time to see what Sheogorath had in mind for him.



This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Dec 23 2019, 07:32 AM