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~ If only Lilitu had more time, then maybe she could have worked with Llevanna and come up with a fitting punishment.

haute ecole rider~ Well, originally it was Leland's son, but some other guard...but I wanted to tie in the corruption in Cheydinhal and he was a good fit.

mALX~ She certainly does, and its not always the most legal way in the world, but it gets the job done

King Coin~

Grits~ Complicated indeed, but aren't all families to some degree?

Everyone~ I'm sorry its been so long. I got burnt out on it and once I was ready to continue writing, I got writer's block! Here's the update ♥

~~~~~♥~~~~~


Chapter Eighteen: Heading Home, Part 2

Lonely. Secluded. Isolated.

Words that should never describe the warmth and comfort of home, yet Lilitu could think of no other ones as she headed up the path toward the Serano Manor. It was three miles north of Cheydinhal and a mile away from the nearest neighbor.

She wanted to go get Savilla's Stone before going to visit, but her plans changed when a small figure came running toward her. It was almost like a black-clad skeleton with a head of unruly, dark brown curls.

"LILITUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"

She couldn't help but smile. Relemus caught her. She would have to stay for at least a little bit.

She remained in place with her arms out as the young Dunmer crashed into her. She wrapped her bony arms tightly around her waist. Lilitu smoothed her hair, smiling softly. "I missed you too. Have you been behaving yourself?"

She looked up at her older sister with impish brown eyes, her smile not even trying to hide. "Maybe," she said.

"Maybe," Lilitu echoed. "I see..." She attempted to run her fingers through her curls, but was halted by knots. She frowned. "When was the last time this was brushed?"

She shrugged and looked around. "Where's Dolce?"

"She's at home."

"Oh." Her face fell, her eyes lowering to the ground. "So you're not moving back?"

Lilitu sighed, kneeling to the ground. "I know you don't understand now, but eventually everyone moves out and starts their own lives. It’s what adults do."

Her brows furrowed. "Then why hasn't Titi moved out of Grandma's house?"

She blanked. Relemus did have a point. "Come on, let's go see Vardas," she said, changing the subject.



Lilitu crinkled her nose at the sight of the house. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in days! Dirt and muddy snow was tracked from one side of the house to another, stamped with footprints, large and small, and paw prints. Stacks of books sat in disarray on the table and on the floor, one dangerously close to the roaring fireplace. The Redoran flag, their father's pride and joy, hung crookedly above the mantle. Dishes were everywhere and a pile of animal bones remained by a dog bed. "What happened? Did a drunken troll run through?"

"No," Relemus said, bounding up the stairs.

"Where's Mama?"

"Chapel."

Of course. Lilitu buried her face in her palm. Where else would she be? "And Papa?"

"He left for Morrowind a few days ago."

"So its just the two of you, then?"

"Yeah." Relemus stopped at a door and began pounding on it, unnecessarily loud. "Hey fat fetch! Quit choking your chicken, and get out here!"

Lilitu's jaw nearly dropped. Was her mother insane, leaving the two of them alone together?

The door burst open, Vardas like a giant with his fists up, ready to knock Relemus into a wall. He was a large man, and his gut spoke of a love of sweet rolls. He face was much rounder than common Elves, though it was just as likely that was due to his mixed heritage as it was from his weight. His eyes, chocolate brown like his younger sister's, were blazing with rage. His wild look was matched by near-black curls tied back in a long, messy ponytail. Luckily, Relemus was quick enough to slip out of reach of his swing.

"Ahem!" Lilitu cleared her throat loudly.

Vardas dropped his fist and smiled. "Oh, hi Lilitu."

She sighed exasperatedly. "Relemus, apologize for that."

"What?" Relemus folded his arms. "It’s true! I caught him reading a dirty book and his hand was on his pants!"

Vardas went lavender, though Lilitu could tell it was more out of embarrassment than anger. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't care and would rather not hear about that sort of thing. You've been told about making fun of his weight, haven't you?"

"Yes.... Sorry Vardas."

"And you," she looked at Vardas. "Do be a little more discreet for goodness sake!"

Relemus stifled a laugh, clapping her hand over her mouth as her older brother and sister cast her glares.

Vardas looked back into his room. "Saint, come here, boy!"

A large black dog with a white muzzle and white going down his chest came running down the stairs. He jumped onto Lilitu, sniffing her, then licking his nose. Lilitu smiled and scratched his ears. "Oh, what a good boy! Though I see someone needs a diet!"

"He's not the only one..." Relemus muttered.

Vardas responded with a swat on the head. "Aren't you supposed to be practicing?"

Relemus sank. "Yes..." He groaned.

"Then get to it!"

Muttering strings of swears under her breath, she went down to the basement.

Lilitu cleared a pile of wrinkled clothes from the couch and she sat down. "I see not much has changed."

Vardas didn't bother moving the clothes. He plopped right on them. Lilitu was about to say something, but stopped herself. They weren't her clothes after all. Saint curled up on top of them, his head resting on Vardas' lap. "Nope. Mama spends all day at the chapel and when she gets home late at night she's up in her room buried in Lessons of Arkay." He rolled his eyes. "She still quotes that damn book every chance she gets! Sometimes I just want to toss it in the fire but it would do no good. She's got it memorized!"

Lilitu sighed deeply, looking up at the wall where a portrait of the Divines hung proudly. It was the only one in the house that wasn't crooked, caked with dust, or both.

"Papa is still making deliveries for Grandma's shop," Vardas continued. "Ever since you left he's been home more often, just to make sure things don’t get too out of hand. Relemus never listens to me anymore. Of course that means he can't pick up as much so it limits the money the shop makes. Not by too much, but enough for mama to complain. She says it’s your fault."

"Oh? My fault?" Lilitu said through clenched teeth. "Of course. Everything bad that ever happens around here is my fault. And I bet she wonders why I never come to visit."

"She says it’s your pride."

"Oh yes," she said her cheeks flushing. "Never mind that every chance she gets she has to start a fight. Or that she always has to throw everything in my face." She folded her arms, willing her heart to stop pounding.

"So what brings you up here, anyway?" Vardas asked, sensing that it was past time to change the subject.

"Gray Fox wants me to get something called Savilla's Stone." Lilitu leaned back on the couch. "It’s in a monastery up north."

"I thought you were a fence."

Lilitu smiled. "I am...but the Gray Fox asked for it in person."

Vardas gasped. "You actually saw him?"

She nodded.

"Did he have the Cowl?"

"Of course he did!"

Vardas suddenly sprang to life. "Lilitu, do you even know where he got it?"

She raised an eyebrow. "He stole it from Nocturnal, didn't he?"

Vardas nodded his head. "It’s an actual Daedric artifact!" He paused, calming down some. "Then again, I'm not sure if that one would be a good one to have. She cursed it, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"You see, whoever wears the Cowl no longer exists."

"What are you talking about? Of course he exists! I saw him the other day."

"No, no. He exists in the physical sense, but that's all he is. When he takes off the Cowl, he is no one."

"Of course he's no one. He wouldn't want to stand out."

Vardas sighed. "Lilitu, I mean he is no one to anybody. His wife, his kids, his own parents won't know who he is, even when he's not wearing the Cowl. Its like he never existed. He could stand in front of his wife with his name written above him in flames and still nothing. She would have no idea who he is. The curse wipes whoever wears it from history."

Lilitu looked down. "My goodness...." She looked back up at Vardas. "And to think at one point I wanted that Cowl." She chuckled a little. "I had little daydreams of swiping it from him and gallivanting around Cyrodiil, even robbing the Emperor..." She didn't include the part of the fantasy where she was subdued by a handsome guard and taken to be locked away, though not in a jail cell. She smiled, thinking about it. When she saw Vardas staring at her she cleared her throat. "Anyhow, it hardly seems worth it."

"Lilitu, I'm done," Relemus returned to the living room. Her plump cheeks were faintly violet.

"Done with what?"

"She's supposed to be practicing her fireball," Vardas said.

"Oh. Can you do it?"

She pursed his lips and looked away. "Not really." She sat on the couch, like Vardas, on top of the clothes. "Fetch it."

"Do you talk this way in front of Mama?"

"Are you kidding?" Relemus asked with wide eyes. "She'd kill me!"

"Alright, now let's see if we can help you with the fireball."

Relemus groaned loudly. "Do I have to?"

"It’s the law. Everyone had to learn it, just like everyone has to learn to heal themselves. You can't always count on weapons and potions to keep you safe."


This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Dec 23 2019, 07:45 AM