The story of Ann Thraxx, a survivor of Kvatch Options

[Lady Saga]

Good day fellow Chorrolmates. I am Lady Saga, and today I'd like to talk about the saga of Ann Thraxx.

I originally posted all of the text of posts 1 and 2 over at Bethsoft's Oblivion: general area. Forgive the crudeness of some of the early text, for I was not originally writing Ann's tale as a true story yet. In Post #2, this starts to change. Post 1's text was originally in the Where are you Now #7 thread, and Post 2's text came from my own thread in OB: General.

This character is probably my deepest Oblivion roleplay to date. Originally I wanted her to be "Renee Gade III", which means she'd be some sort of heroic figure. But as Ann Thraxx evolved, it was apparent she's going to have a story much different from what I had originally conceived.

Although I'm on PS3, I performed a couple little tricks which I like to call pretend-mods. I used another character's game save, so that Ann never had to go thru the Tutorial part, then I fast-traveled her to just outside the Imperial City...Chestnut Handy Stables, to be exact. I had no idea why her game started here, though. That was not made known to me, yet. I also didn't know who Ann was, exactly. All of this becomes apparent during the massive text below.





Name: Ann Thraxx

Race: Imperial

Sex: female.

Class: peasant (custom).

Starsign: Atronach

D&D alignment: Chaotic Neutral


Ann Thraxx the wayward peasant has just arrived at Chestnut Handy Stables outside the Imperial City. She arrived here by carriage, and it is nighttime...dark and rainy. She's wearing nothing but one of those horrible Cyrodiilic bras and some sack cloth pants. No shoes, no shirt.

Ann has heard there's a place to stay in "some house on the Waterfront" * so she's walking there now.

* I think there's a free bed in one of the houses on the Waterfront. if there is, no problem. A "friend" told Ann there's a place she can stay. But if there is no free bed, Ann will have no place to stay.

Her family is no more, and she is sad. I'm thinking she was a farmer of some sort, perhaps, and lost her farm. Her husband got killed perhaps, and Ann is right now in serious depression, serious culture shock. She's been to the I.C. before, but never actually lived here. She's used to the wide open plains of the West Weald.

She is poor, but she is also fortunate to have 58 gold in her pocket, along with a soul gem and a few minor things which can be sold. How she got all this stuff? We shall find out, won't we?

Ann Thraxx arrived at the Abandoned Shack, which is anything but abandoned! It was about 6am Cyrodiilic time, and Hillod the Outlaw and a dark elf male (forget his name) immediately rose as Ann walked in the door. Oops...

"Please, I didn't mean to startle you" she said to the dark elf. "I am Ann Thraxx. I have been sent here and was told I could spend the night. I've lost my home and my family..."

What was interesting was the dark elf's greeting had something to do with losing his job or being out of work or something. This fit right in, so that Ann and the dark elf had a short conversation about finding work.

The situation in the Abandoned Shack was awkward as the 2 males stood around staring at Ann. This isn't what she expected! Ann "got to know" Hillod and dark elf, and gave them more than half of her 58 gold (she basically bribed him so she can stay in the Shack). But the guys wouldn't leave!

Ann took a short walk outside, deprived of sleep and getting dizzy. She found a couple beggar beds which were open, but there's no way she's gonna stoop that low.

Finally she made her way back to the Abandoned Shack. It's now 8 am and Hillod + the dark elf are both gone. Finally.

Ann sets off to sleep. When she wakes, she's going to see about looking for work in the Imperial City.

.

This post has been edited by Lady Saga: Apr 12 2012, 07:45 PM

[Lady Saga]

I thank you all. Hee hee, I feel like I'm one of those poets or story-tellers I've seen at a nearby coffee shop. There's never more than 10 or 12 people to listen, if that. It's a small, cozy place, well-painted and "kitchy" <however you spell it. If I were to tell this story over at Bethsoft, it would be more like talking at a sports bar!

Andrea: Really? Jessika also got the brush-off from Luther? It's funny, I don't remember him being so rude when my earlier characters have run into him. Glad it's not just Ann who's getting the brunt of his annoyances.

Acadian: coming from you, that means so much! Master storyteller, thou art. And I am your young grasshoppa. Or one of your young grasshoppas.

McB: hearty thanks to you too. *clink*

I like the mudcrab test. If mudcrabs are still considered awful, then things must be all right.

Hee hee thought you guys might like that. "she's never been so glad to hear a mudcrab conversation in her life" bit...


Listen. This story is moving along. The next few chapters are already basically written in my head, and I need to get them put to virtual paper. So without further ado...

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CHAPTER VII


Heartfire 5, 3rd Era, Year 433, 8:26 pm

"Any news about that certain task we discussed?"

Jensine looks at Miss Thraxx plainly, without hesitation or haste. She simply wants an answer. Once again, Ann is speechless for a moment as she realizes this woman is serious. She wants Ann to get involved. Jensine is unconcerned with Ann's slovenly appearance, her unkempt peasant's clothing, or her unconfident demeanor. She simply wants an answer.

Well okay. Here goes...

"Listen Miss Jensine. I did speak to Thoronir yesterday, he's out to deny any sorts of involvements with what you, as a concerned merchant, have been implying upon him."

As Ann speaks to Jensine, she notices what looks to be some sort of a wart or disfigurement on her face, just underneath the lower-right side of her lip. She catches herself staring at this wart or bump or whatever it is, and immediately wards her eyes away, looking towards the countertop instead.

"I told you he wouldn't cooperate!" says Jensine, " your best bet is to shadow him and see where he goes".

Again, Ann feels that same sensation: surprised. Surprised at being treated as a sort of "equal". Nobody had ever asked her to "shadow" anybody when she lived in Kvatch. Matter of fact, they mostly treated Ann just the way she presented herself: simply. "As simple flower/gatherer, that one is", Ann can hear them say.



"But what of his inventory? He says there's nothing unusual about it."

"His invntory must be stolen. It has to be! He prices lower than it takes to make some of those things! Go see for your self!" Jensine accuses.

"I see. Well, I'll try my best" Ann promises, unsure of what to do next.

"Thanks again for your help. We had no other place to turn..." Jensine offers.

So that's that.

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Heartfire 5, 3rd Era Year 433 7:40 pm

As she leaves Jensine's "Good as New" shop, Ann's head is a mixture of confusion. Jensine wants me to do this? She wants me to follow that compentuous little Bosmer? Why me?

As her head is in a small whirl, she literally is almost blind to a sight which would normally have made her gasp.



She looks to the plaza in front of her, only to notice a black-haired, white-faced woman...her arms outstretched, and her knees look as if they've been cemented into the very ground itself!

this is one of those odd glitches the game occasionally throws at us. Check out that lady's legs in the pic above. They're in the ground. Somehow

Ann stares at the woman, takes a few steps backwards, and then sidesteps off, keeping her eye on the strange sight she just witnessed. Cyrodiil was a place of magics and mystery, as was all of Tamriel. There was always something strange going on like this, something which could not be explained. As Ann walks away, she feels the urge to ask the woman what's going on. Was it a spell failure? A spell that was cast and did not work, perhaps? That seemed most likely.

"It's none of your business", she says, almost scolding herself. She won't get involved. There's a lady with her lower-legs stuck in the ground over there, but I've got more important concerns...she thinks.

...Her tummy now grumbles.

At the end of this corner of the Markets, the smell of baked goods starts to make Ann's insides protest. Had she eaten today? She couldn't remember if she had or not. So feeling for her coins, she can't help but enter this place she's sussed out.

She walks into an empty establishment, and the smell of food is almost too much. A dark elf with black skin greets her...

"Put on the Feed Bag! I'm Delos Fandas! We've got food and drink, and lots of it!"

He smiles warmly at her. Ann gazes at his friendly blackish face, and can't also help but notice his clothes. Why...he's wearing a scroungy, worn sack cloth shirt, just as Ann is. Ann takes an instant liking to Delos, but then remembers her stash of coins is running low.

But she can't help herself.

"So what have you got to eat, then?"

"May I interest you in some of my fine wares".

The selection seems overwhelming. He's got beer, and he's got wines. Mead and...of course....food. And lots of it. Her mouth waters as she buys a loaf of bread, with a bright yellow wedge of cheese on the side. Four gold. Now she's got just 13 in total.

"And if it's not too much trouble, could you melt that cheese upon the bread?"

"Another satisfied customer" Dralas assumes.

Despite his hospitable manner, Ann goes and sits as far away from Dralas as possible. For no reason other than she thinks she's imposing, somehow. But this is okay. It's getting dark outside, and all a sudden, there's a small rush of patrons coming in from the Markets to have some dinner.

"How are you?" asks a grizzly-sounding cat-person.

"Been better..." says Dralas.

"That's too bad"

"We're all talking about the Emperor's murder! We have no Emperor, and no heirs! That's never happened before! I suppose we should all be worried." Dralas informs, but his voice sounds casual, as if he's not really thinking about the Emperor's murder much at all.

"I just don't think about it. The Elder Council will take care of things, sooner or later"

YAAAWWWWNNNN, goes Dralas, confirming Ann's suspicion that he wasn't particularly worried.

..Maybe it was the "chic" thing (for lack of a better word) to do around here, Ann thinks. Pretend you're concerned about things such as this. How would any of these citizens react if a giant mechanical monster came crashing through the Market square, dozens of daedra and little magical creatures accompaning it? Would they scream? Would they shout for Mara as she had? Would they put up a fight???

...One thing for sure, this "chic" little attitude they were carrying, in which they pretended that no harm could ever come to them, would be dropped in an instant. Perhaps the citizens of the Imperial City (many of whom spent grand portions of their life here, without ever leaving) were all a little too cozy with themselves. "The guards'll handle it" was perhaps something they'd assumed one time too many in their lives.

Trust me, Ann thinks...those guards would not be able to handle anything from whatever Oblivion could present them.

"Bye!", says Dralas to the cat-person, who seemed to have no intention of going anywhere.

But the bottom line. There it was again. The Emperor had been murdered. This is the second time Ann has heard about it! She fights the urge to go over and ask some questions when, looking down, she notices a flier on the very table before her.

It's the Black Horse Courier. As she reads it, she learns the story, blow by blow.

Apparently, Uriel Septim VII had died. He was 87. He had been killed by some sort of assassins (no mention of daedra here, Ann notices). In fact, all of Uriel's heirs had also been killed. The story was in print, and therefore had to be true.

No wonder the "problem" in Kvatch had seemingly not been reported yet. Only the murder of The Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself could have overshadowed such important news as the sacking of Kvatch.

Ann's head spun as she read the article, the melted cheese upon her bread cooling to a gummy substance.

After reading the article again. And again, it was now 9:47 pm. Ann's bread & cheese was barely nibbled. She was trying not to cry.


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This post has been edited by Lady Saga: May 30 2012, 07:47 PM