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]

SubRosa~ That feeling with Dolce is easy to recapture. All I've got to do is look at her picture or think of what I would do with Melaina ♥ And would it be girlsville or curlsville?

haute ecole rider~ Ohh not to worry, Dolce is a tough cookie

King Coin~ Well, ingame, I had her go this way. Its up the Gold Road, then the lower half of the Red Road then up the Blue Road to Cheydihal. It may be the way the roads all point to the Imperial City.

mALX~ Thank you! Its my favorite one to use, as its gotten me out of quite a bit of trouble at times

Captain Hammer~ By Lilitu's standards Wrothken is indeed fair game so long as he doesn't join the Thieves Guild... He may want to consult a certain other blond Nord about sleeping with Dunmer women before he acts though. Seems they have a tendency to wear people out!

Grits~ Dogs are like that. If they just do not like someone, I've noticed there may be a reason for it. And oh I can attest that curls do not want to be straight! They're about as stubborn as a certain Nord...

TheOtherRick~ I understand completely ♥ In fact SI's ending is quite a twist so I wouldn't want to ruin it for you ♥

~~~~~♥~~~~~

Chapter Seventeen: Heading Home, Part One

Lilitu awoke with the arm of the Colovian draped over her chest. She gently moved it so she could sit up. She silently dressed and took her bag. As she opened the door, he awoke.

"You leaving?" He asked.

Lilitu turned. "Yes, my dear Jodin. Duty calls."

"Duty calls?" He echoed. "What are you, in the Fighters Guild?"

Lilitu smiled. "Sure," she said with a wink.

When she entered the washroom, she lowered her hood and loosened her hair so she could recomb it. She sighed a little feeling the slight grit and slickness of unwashed hair. She supposed it could wait a bit longer. It wasn't like she was heading out for a date. Then again, she hadn't been looking last night either...

"N'chow!" She swore, noticing that she had forgotten to bring her make up with her. "Wonderful," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Gods, I've been out of practice for far too long." She looked at herself in the mirror and pressed her lips together and pinched her cheeks until they were slightly reddened. Of course, that wouldn't last all day. She decided to buy some lipstick and maybe some khol once she reached Cheydinhal. Sure, she was just going for another long walk to her destination, but there was something about a coat of lipstick that made her feel better. Not to mention it kept her from habitually licking and biting at her lips. She didn’t want them chapped, which would only cause her to lick and pick more. It was a cycle.

She left the inn, purposely avoiding the gorgeous eyes of the Colovian boy, who was eating breakfast. As much as she would have enjoyed a morning delight, she needed to be on her way.



The sun was high when Lilitu reached Cheydinhal. It was her favorite place in all of Cyrodiil. The buildings were elegant with their white walls trimmed with burgundy and straw roofs. Best of all, there was a romantic river in the middle of the city. Many couples spent weekend afternoons having picnics and during the summer, several weddings took place on the banks. Ever since she was a child, she had sworn her own wedding would take place there as well.

Across the river, she headed for her grandparents' shop, Little Vvardenfell. Even from afar, she could always point it out. It was the only store that always had a steady flow of mainly Dunmer patrons.

Her grandfather was the first one she saw. He was on the yard, sawing some wood for what looked like a cabinet. Her heart sank as he had noticeably aged since she last saw him. His bald spot had gotten more prominent and the stubborn brown patches of hair around his temples were finally giving into the silver the rest of his hair had become. His face, even though he was relaxed, was creased deeply with wrinkles. When elves began showing signs of age, they were really old.

She approached cautiously, not wanting to startle him, especially while sawing. When he saw her, his eyes lit up and he hugged her warmly. He stepped back, taking a good look at her. She couldn't help but smile. He made several signs with his hand. She had never learned all of his signs, but she got the drift of what he was communicating.

He looked toward the back door to the shop and called out. "Mamamamama!"

A chorus of snickers caught her attention. A group of boys pointed and laughed at the old man. A flash of anger swept over Lilitu. She balled her fists and was about to go see what exactly was so funny, when her grandmother came out.

Mindyne was a large woman dressed in a bold red blouse with black and gold trim and a deep red skirt that swished when she walked. Her dark brown hair was stylishly flipped at the edges.

"M'ija!" She said, wrapping her arms around Lilitu. She leaned into her ear, whispering, "Ignore those s'wits. Just come in and we'll talk inside."

Lilitu glared at the boys, who were imitating her grandfather's call. She was near trembling with anger.

As Lilitu was led into the store, her anger vanished almost instantly. Though she had only known Morrowind for five short years, the very scent of the store filled her heart with a burst of comfort and home. The shelves were lined with bottles of matze, shein, greef, jars of scrib jelly and kwama cuttle, and even a few bottles of Telvanni Bug Musk. Boxes holding ash yams, hackle-lo leaves, marshmerrow, saltrice, racer plumes, scrib jerky, sat in neat aisles. Chitin shields bearing the crests of the great houses sat along the walls. A flag decorated with a scarab beetle, the symbol of House Redoran, proudly hung above the counter.

Mindyne sat down in a cushioned chair, sighing loudly. "Those boys are nothing but trouble, M'ija." She shook her head. "Your cousin got into a bit of a scuffle with them the other day over the things they say about your grandfather."

Lilitu gasped. "With all of them? Is he okay?"

"He's fine, you know him. He may be little, but he's smart. He could grow up to be head of the Fighter's Guild one day. Unfortunately for us, one of them is that fetcher, Ulrich Leland's son. Guess who got a five hundred septim fine over it."

Lilitu's jaw dropped. "Five hundred? Are they insane?"

She nodded. "They've been fining like crazy around here. It’s ridiculous. And does the count care?" She huffed. "As long as he has his suckling pig on the table, he doesn't give a damn." She looked outside for awhile before saying. "By the way, how is your store doing?" She said, obviously wanting to get off the subject.

"Good," Lilitu half-lied. "That's actually what brought me here. There's an item up north that a customer would like."

She shook her head. "Why don't you hire someone else to go get it for you? The roads are no place for a young lady." Lilitu silently agreed. What with all the marauders and bandits on the road, it was no place for anyone, really. "Or, better yet, why don't you open a general store like this one? People can still order whatever it is they want from you but then you'll have a steady flow of gold. I worry that you'll run out between orders."

"Well, actually, I don't normally go get orders anymore. It's a...special request."

"Hmm..." She said, still disapproving.

"Trust me, I'm doing fine."

"I know, M'ija, but I worry, not just for the money, but for you. You're all alone out there, all the way in Kvatch. I don't know why you didn't just stay in the Imperial City or move back home."

"I'm not alone, grandma. I have Dolce."

She snorted. "You have the dog still? Aren't you ever getting rid of her?"

"Never," she said defensively. She could understand not liking Dolce. The dog didn't seem to care much for Mindyne either, but she couldn't grasp why her grandmother was so vehemently against her.

"By the way," She said flatly. "Whatever happened to that young Imperial you were....seeing?"

Lilitu's insides went icy for a moment. She hated discussing him, especially with her family. "We broke up years ago. In fact, he's going to be serving time in the Imperial City prison for awhile. It’s one reason why I moved from there."

"Hmph. Good, I'm glad you're rid of him, M'ija. I was worried you'd actually marry him. Could you imagine?" She leaned in, lowering her voice. "What if you'd had kids with him? You turned out lucky, being able to pass for the most part, I suppose, but you've seen the teasing your brothers get for being obvious half-breeds. Not to mention what it’s cost this family..."

The ice inside of Lilitu turned to a quick fire. She hated that term. Yes, her mother was an Imperial and in the eyes of the census, Lilitu was as well, since children were marked down as the race of the mother. However, in looks, in culture, in her heart, she was was a Dunmeri woman. A whole person, mixed blood or not. Certainly not an animal that could be bred. Besides, it wasn’t her fault the traditionalists in House Redoran despised her father’s choice in marrying an Imperial and showed it. She certainly didn’t ask for it! Though Mindyne didn’t say it directly, Lilitu was always vaguely aware of the resentment held towards her birth. She took a sharp breath, wanting to say something when her cousin entered the store.

The boy grunted in greeting, heading straight up the stairs.

"He must still be angry," she said, forgetting the previous subject.

"Can't blame him," Lilitu said.

"You know the worst part? The fetchers that started this whole thing got a slap on the wrist. Three nearly grown men picking on a ten year old who just wanted to defend his deaf grandfather. Where's the honor in this place? I'll tell you, it’s in their pockets! So help me, if it wasn't for your brothers living practically by themselves in that secluded hole your father insisted on building, I'd pack my things and head back to Morrowind!" She stood up, as more people entered the store. "Why don't you go talk to him? Maybe you can offer some comfort."

Lilitu nodded. "I'll see what I can do," she said.



Mamisi sat on his bed, staring out the window. Lilitu couldn't see his face, but she could tell he was fuming. She sat next to him.

"It’s not fair," he said. "It’s because he's the captain's son. That's why he didn't get in trouble." He looked up at her. "And I heard Mama talking to Grandma... they don't know how they're going to pay for it. If they don't," his large red eyes welled up. "They might lose the store!"

Lilitu placed her arm around him. He was right. It wasn't fair. It was infuriating...but she had a plan. "Come on. Why don't you show me where those fetchers live?"



The following morning, the screams of three young men pierced the air, followed by those in their households. Not only had they been robbed, but each young man woke up with a knife planted firmly into their pillows, right beside their heads. Each knife held a note:

I could have easily done it. Leave the old man alone, or next time you will wake up in the void of Sithis.
Sweet dreams.

Though it was unheard of for the Dark Brotherhood to leave warnings instead of corpses, the Sithis warning left little doubt to who it had been. The Count insisted that crimes relating to the Dark Brotherhood be prosecuted if caught, but it was all talk. Nothing more, especially if it involved anyone seen in that supposedly abandoned house. Since there was no one to prosecute, Leland could only heed the note and move on. The boys didn't speak of it to each other, but they each knew they had all received the same warning. From then on, they wouldn't so much as look at the deaf old man without a chill running down their spines.

Meanwhile, a plump sack of gold sat on the counter of Little Vvardenfell. There was no note attached, but somehow, Mindyne knew that when she counted it out, she would find five hundred coins inside.



This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Dec 23 2019, 07:44 AM