Tides of Oblivion, Running never solved anything, but it sure puts it off Options

[liliandra nadiar]

With the several other high quality fics floating around the board, I thought I'd give a shot at one of my own.


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1:1 - What do you do with a drunken sailor?
27th Last Seed, 3E33

The poundings pulled me from Vaermina's grip; sadly, I was familiar with each one. The pounding behind my eyes was the wages of stupidity for accepting Filch's challenge of a drinking contest at that cheap tavern behind the Docks. The pounding along my hands and arms would be from the brawl that Filch started after losing said contest to some brown-haired Bosmer girl. I think I saw her lift his coin purse as well. The last pounding was along my jaw from the fist of some guards arriving to 'restore peace'. I'd felt the first types of poundings several times in the year I had been aboard the Seatub Clarabella though not the last since I left Water's Edge.

Feeling the inside of my mouth with my tongue, I assured myself that the oh-so-important Imperial's steel fist hadn't removed any teeth while I sat up to look around. This is not a guard lockup, I realized with a hiss. From a narrow window set well above easy reach of all but the tallest of Nords, light danced along molding stone. Of course that could just have been an effect of the hangover that was making things hard to see. Across the room a rickety table, more like a stool with ambitions, held an earthenware pitcher, cup and plate. Rolling off what felt like hay under a coarse cloth, I got to my feet, very aware of the hangover pounding behind my eyes. I absently managed to notice I was no longer in the simple olive vest and leather pants I had on the night before. Someone had put some prison clothing on me, a thought I dearly wished I hadn't had. A metallic rattle followed a bump to my shoulder and, with growing feeling of dread, I looked over to see two pairs of very rusted chains hanging from the ceiling, an obscenely cheerful torch burned my eyes behind them, prompting a spin that also didn't help my head. Still, one thing managed to percolate up from my mead-soaked mind.

"Cacat." I exhaled. How, in the name of the Nine, did I end up in a fetching prison?

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"I must surely be dead, and in the halls of Azura to look upon such a vision." A voice sounded from beyond the bars that made up the door of my new room. I, slowly, turned my head and pushed a lock of flame-colored hair behind an ear. It seemed my neighbor was a Dunmer as well, between my blurred eyesight and the shadows he was in, I couldn't make out much. I didn't really want to; his voice was sending waves of revulsion down to an already rebelling stomach. "You are so beautiful, my dear Dunmer maiden," He cooed, which sent a fresh wave down, "One of the guards owes me a favor, you know. I could get us put in the same cell. Would you like that? You should have some fun before the end." This time I had to keep my mouth closed and force the nausea back down. Fun? With him? I'm pretty sure he's older then Minx, probably even dad. The idle thought of my elder sister helped settle my nerves some. Even though I hadn't seen her since she took off one night, memories of her had helped see me through the long days in the small village before I left myself. The mer's invitation, as well as any others, was something I had managed to avoid. It helped that the crew of the Clarabella knew I was a Witch, it was, after all, the reason I managed to get hired. It was also something they spread about at every port we stopped in. The reputation was good to avert unwanted attention, but it was also very problematic in getting wanted attention.

"Yeah, you heard me. No matter what the law says. No matter what they told you. You're going to die in here! You're going to die!" The hysterical, vindictive laughter brought me back to the present and I sent an irritated glare to the mer. Really, yelling around a hung over sea Witch was not the best of ideas. Or maybe it was, I certainly couldn't focus my thoughts well enough to do anything to him anyways. Deciding to ignore the perverted, crazy old mer, I trudged over to the stool and gracelessly flopped down and put my aching head in my hands. Maybe in an hour or so I'd be able to focus enough to cast some healing and recovery spells.

I had no idea how long I sat there, could've been hours or seconds for all I was aware of the rest of the world. I just kept practicing the mind exercises Gaspar taught me before he left for the Imperial City.

"What's this prisoner doing here?" A strident and very annoyed voice shattered what peace I had managed to gather. It seemed my cell had become a popular place, three humans in armor and a fourth in the over-embellished robes of a noble stood on the other side of the bars. There was a minor protest from one before the woman cut him off.

"Prisoner! Stand back, we won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way!" The woman, a Breton if I was hearing her accent right, demanded. Wait... they're coming in here?

"You! Prisoner! Stand aside. Over by the window." One of the two armored men demanded as he slipped a key into the lock. Yep, they are. Just what I need. A rutting noble to deal with in addition to everything else. Never the less, I staggered off the stool, banging my knees against the solid wall as I pushed my back into the stone under the window. Apparently now satisfied a ragged teenaged Dunmer girl in equally ragged clothing posed no further threat to three armed and armored men, the procession filed in, the gate opener standing right in front of me with a further admonishment to not move. The noble, a white haired Imperial, passed by and what at first was an idle curious look, rapidly turned into such a razor sharp focus I almost jumped back from it.

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"You ... I've seen you...You are the one from my dreams..." Great, another perverted old man I thought, right before the gleam of red on his chest finally registered. Wait... that's the Amulet of Kings... he... this is... Cacat! It's the fetching Emperor! Oddly the fecthing Emperor(!) seemed to be waiting for a response from me. What did he want? Should I bow or curtsy? Oh I hoped not, if I bent over I was going to be sick on the ground and that would definitely be a bad move.

"W-what's going on?" I managed before a quick glance at the irritated face of the Imperial watching me had a tentative, "Sir?" added to the end.

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next." Oddly, he didn't seem too bothered by the latter as I would've thought. "My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell." Of course it did. A cell I was apparently just tossed into a few hours before. Insanely, for a moment I wondered if Lord Orius had arranged this to get back at me before I cast the thought away. It was followed by an equally insane urge to ask the fetching Emperor(!) why I was in his prison. As if he would know, or care, about what some unnamed guard did to an equally unnamed sailor in the hind-end of one city in his empire.

Before I could have anymore 'bright' ideas, the Breton pushed at an apparently random stone next to the bedding and I felt a surge of magicka being released. I gaped dumbly as the bedding stone sank and the wall behind it ground open.

"Better not close this one, there's no way to open it from the other side." The Breton instructed the other two Blades; they had to be Blades, the Emperor's personal guards. The Imperial growled at me once more while the other man, a Redguard I noticed, said something about it being my lucky day. I'm pretty sure he was being facetious. I stood there, blankly looking at the hole in the wall before looking back, they had closed the gate out, and the pervert in the other cell was back at his and... Okay, not staying here to look at that. Down the hole with the heavily armed and nervous humans and the fetching Emperor(!) it was.

With only a slightly halting stride, I set off after the humans.

This post has been edited by liliandra nadiar: Nov 11 2011, 07:20 PM

[liliandra nadiar]

And I'm back from Skyrim, Star Wars: The Old Republic, an annoying run of writer's block and a week long illness. Time management for the win I hope, I'll probably be down to once a week at best in updating since the initial rush has now worn off.

@McBadgere: Huh, how'd that make it through two different edit runs? o.O I always felt the cavern/goblin portion of the Tutorial was nothing more then a game mechanic/gear up opportunity and felt rather over contrived. So for Myrin, I cut it out totally.

@King Coin: It's those half-reman novellas she isn't reading. We have the GUI telling us this guy is Baurus, that guy is Glenroy and so forth, Myrin just has what she sees and hears, and the Blades didn't exactly introduce themselves at any point.

@SubRosa: Glad you like my (and by extension Myrin's) rather odd sense of humor. The 'mystery' around her father and his words will be cleared up, but not for until what I tentatively have listed as chapter 5. No, not those watchmen, though that would make for an interesting crossover fic.

@Acadian: I'd have to agree with you on the take of magic. Of the four long running fics I've read/been reading so far, each have a bit of a different take on it.

@treydog: Thanks for the kind words and I apologize for the errors, I've got a friend doing beta reading, but neither of us are professional writers or English majors so I regret I’ll probably be inflicting more on you.

@mALX: I'm afraid I can't offer much in the way of hints as most of her path isn't clear to me either just yet. Still working on several points.

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2:1 The Kindness of Strangers
27th Last Seed

As much as I would've liked to spend several hours letting the motion of the water and breeze play across me, I did have at least a few things I had to do. Well, after a dip under the water to clean my 'clothes' (Need to replace those rags, literally, soon!), my hair, and my skin of at least most of the gunk and grime from my surprisingly eventful morning and afternoon. While the rags were on some mostly flat rocks, I indulged myself in a swim. Though I saw the snake-like forms of slaughterfish in the water, they must have eaten well enough to not consider charging me. Still, no point in tempting things, I kept well clear of them. Even better, I spotted several clam beds fairly close the shoreline with a few pearls I could sell next time I was in a city, or at least one that wouldn't throw me back in prison.

When what was passing for my clothes were dry, though the skin they were resting against wasn't quite as much so, I felt elven enough to start on my task. First I just had to figure out how to get there from an island. Swimming was possible, though risky with the slaughterfish around Rumare, waterwalking would be a better plan. Next issue, do I cross here and go the opposite direction of Chorrol or walk around Imperial Isle and hope there aren't any curious Legionaries or 'helpful' citizens. I shrugged and set north along the lake shore, I'd have to walk along one edge or another anyways and I was already here, besides, if I remembered right, I might find some help further up north.

I gave the distant arches of white stone on the far shore a passing look as I set out. I had only occasionally seen any of the infamous Ayleid ruins along the coastline of the Niben River, Captain Patneim was very paranoid about them and utterly refused to let me be on deck when one was in sight of the ship. I guess some Imperials believed that any elf looking at one would... what... go enslave every human she saw and string their innards for decoration? I shook my head at the stupidity mortals were always willing to place on themselves and moved on. I had time now I think, maybe I'll go looking at one sometime.

Magnus was settling himself comfortably beyond Hammerfell when I found what I was looking for. A campfire was burning softly surrounded by several tents set a few paces in front of a cave. The camp was within sight of the Lake and a small dock stretching into it. I could make out two forms moving around the camp, one obviously a bes by their tail, a Khajiit probably. The other was a slender figure with pale skin, a Nord or Imperial woman by the sway of her hips.

The Imperial Isle smuggler camp. I nodded, The Captain had made good business with smuggling and was on good terms with the black market suppliers. Now the question was, was he on good terms with these ones and, much more importantly, would they care that I had been. I kept kneeling in the grass while I tried to work out if the risk was worth it.

I apparently took too long, the Imperial archer facing me when she shouted and pulled the bow from her back, the Khajiit was on the far side of the camp and running, a very large iron hammer being pulled from behind his back. So much for talking. I pulled the sword out and called a shield up as I surged away from the rock I was kneeling by.

As I moved, the Imperial fired an arrow at me, fortunately her aim was off from my movement and it snapped against the boulder behind me. I dodged the other way as she swore, and then stumbled back from my charge. She tripped over a tent rope and sprawled on her back in the dirt, emitting a string of unladylike oaths. However, the Khajiit moved faster then I had hoped and he was there cutting me off before I could deal with the archer, his hammer swinging toward my gut.

The wind exploded out from me, even through the flashing gold of the shield, and sent me to my knees. The bes growled as he lifted his hammer for an immediate meeting with my skull. Forcing my way past the horse sitting on my chest, I desperately jerked my left arm up at him. My boney elbow impacted on him, and from the sudden squeak, I doubted he would be making kittens anytime soon. The dirt thumped from the impact of his dropped hammer behind his back and I launched myself once more toward the Imperial woman.

She had managed to get to her feet before me, but her bow staff was not in her hands, instead she was pulling out a dagger. My sword crossed the distance first and with my charge, broke any plans she might have had as the blade cut into the thick fur armor she had as protection across her chest. With the energy from my lunge, the two of us fell back down, though I managed to turn it into a roll and keep the handle in my hand. I owe Dahlia a drake it seemed, didn’t think that trick would actually work. Wasn’t a good roll though, I ended up stretched out on my back instead of on my feet. Need to tuck in tighter next time.

The roar of a very angry lion lanced behind me while I was still on my back. Looking 'up' I saw the Khajiit had recovered and was bringing his hammer down once more. No way would my shield stand up to a blow like that. Bringing the sword up, I spared a very brief prayer that I had judged right. My arms rocked as the song of metal against metal pierced the late afternoon air. Rather belatedly, I realized holding the other end of the sword, while good for blocking, was bad when both sides had edges. I felt the length bite into the heel of my hand as the shield weakened.

"This one will powder your bones for what you did." I never really appreciated Khajiit's teeth; they really were rather intimidating to see up close. Trying to dismiss the irrelevant thought, I found I was not going to be moving my hands unless my furry friend moved his hammer. And it seemed he was happy to let things stand as I cut my own hand off.

Where the idea came from, I have no idea, but I was not in any position to dismiss anything. I called some runes up into the palm of my bleeding hand and dumped as much magicka into it that my frantic mind could pull up. There was crack and the air singed as the Khajiit seemed to jump back with a yowl. My arm was totally numb from the backlash of the shock grasp that had connected our two weapons. Don’t think just do it, you s'wit. I rolled over and scrambled up, ignoring the blasts of pain and only hearing the thunderous pound of wind cracked sails in my ears and an overly white world as I lashed out with my sword in wide arcs. I felt resistance on the second and third swing but nothing on the fourth.

The urgency of the moment left me then and things began to clear up. The Khajiit was sprawled out in front of me, a long cut along one arm and another across his throat. The sword thumped onto the ground next to me as I tried to remember how to breathe. It took several tries before I was able to still my mind enough to cast the needed healing spells. I licked my lips as I looked between the two bodies and my trembling hands before tears blurred the world once more.

I don't think I cried too long, though with Magnus on the other side of the city and its walls, it was rough to guess. I felt, calm at least, not better, but calm again. I was alive, they weren't. Deal with the rest later, I probably wouldn’t be alone long. As I got back to my feet, I caught sight of something tossed against the side of one of the tents. The tanned leather cuirass wasn’t a perfect fit, but it was close enough and was worlds better then the rags 'protecting' my modesty already.

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Picking the sword up and returning it to its sheath, I set off north once more with a very determined stride. I don’t believe I’ll make any more stops at smuggler camps, I thought. Just get to the northern bridge and get into the Great Forest. Then I can pretend I’m a red headed wood elf or something.

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2nd Heart Fire

I ran down the hallway with the creature behind me. My feet were striking the bone-like material that made up the keep. The crimson tinged light flickering through the air was oppressively hot and moved through the tunnels as though it was some gigantic beast. There was a bright light from up a room ahead; a yellowish white beacon that flickered slightly in time to the tortured scream of thousands of souls. Spines of black bone thrust through stretched red flesh every dozen feet in the corridor of black bone while ghost images of horrific beasts and men marched with malicious intent toward the light.

I really wanted to be somewhere else, but the only ways I could go was to the screaming light or behind me and into the waiting embrace of the beast behind me. The crack of breaking bones to my right was all the warning I had before a taloned hand wrapped around my throat and jerked me into a side room and cast me onto the unyielding floor.

"This one wondered how long the prey would run." The voice of the Khajiit sounded oddly hollow as his shadowed bulk stood against the muted light from outside.

"Everyone gets here eventually; it was just a matter of having patience." A woman's smooth voice came from my right. "But I think the poor dear's frightened. Be a good lad and make a light would you?" There was a rasping chuckle from my other side followed shortly by a flash of light that soon settled into a steady torch flame. The Khajiit gave me a double grin from his muzzle and the jagged hole across his throat that was still seeping blood.

My startled cry and scramble lead me against a wall as an Imperial woman, blood pulsing out from the smooth hole through her heart spraying the air before her, smiled pleasantly at me. "Now dear, no need for that. Why we're all friends here aren't we?"

The rasping chuckle came again as a young Imperial boy, his neck a mass of singed flesh just slightly thinner than it should be, stepped up holding a torch made from someone's leg, the purple cloth burning merrily. "Don't be so cold." He hissed at me, "We're going to be spending a long time with each other; you'll warm up to us eventually." All three shared a laugh as the boy tossed the burning leg on me. I screamed as my clothes ignited followed by my hair and skin and there was nowhere for me to go.

I pushed off against the tree and rolled across the dirt before I finished waking up and realizing I wasn't burning. My breath rattled in my chest and my hair clung wetly to my skin as my arms trembled.

"Cacat..." I bit out as I rolled to my back and looked at amethyst light of Masser filtering through the scattered tree limbs. It was the fifth night I had that nightmare and I was seriously starting to consider forgoing sleep ever again. Most of the tatters of the dream always faded when I woke up, but the flesh and bone keep with its screaming light was always clear. I would be quite happy to never see that place again, in dreams or otherwise. I doubted I would be so lucky though, the dream had too many elements I was sure was coming from my mysticism.

Pulling myself to my feet, I walked back to my sort of camp and leaned against my pillow tree and looked over eastern Tamriel. Thankfully, the trip west had been far quieter after my encounter at the smuggler camp. After I crossed the north bridge I set my path straight west and stayed off any roads or paths, a few scrapes with a pair of wolves was the only problem. The less said about my bumbling attempt at dressing the wolves for meat and pelts the better. As it was, I had been fairly hungry since yesterday. Unless I missed my guess, I would probably get to Chorrol at or a bit after sundown tonight, find an Inn and get my first real meal since this insanity started almost a week ago.

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As I leaned against the tree, I spotted the faintest hint of Magnus dusting the sky with his return. Pushing off with a sigh, I set about gathering parts of my pathetic little camp. No way I was going to be getting any more sleep now, might as well start the last push to Chorrol, Weynon Priory and Grandmaster Jauffre.

This post has been edited by liliandra nadiar: Jan 18 2012, 01:51 AM