Inheritance Chapter Three Options

[Zarrexaij]

I'll get some more comin' soon. Y'all just sit here and wait as I post more stuff. I won't edit this post to add more, though. I'll just post it.

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Inheritance
Chapter Three: Bark and Bite

Zarrexaij had just entered the famed meadhall of Thirsk when he had heard the guttural, accent-rich voice of a Nord barbarian.

“I heard from Isralla th’ other day there’s a werewolf runnin’ ‘round here. She said the wolf was unusual. He had jet black fuir and was ‘bout twice the size of a normal werwolf. She saw its shadow at the highest peak of Moesring Mountain barkin’ and howlin’ at the full moon. Somehow, the unholy beast saw her, and slid down the mountain sides t’wards her. Isralla reported that it seemed unusually intelligent... and, well... insane. Said it made strange sounds that sounded like laughter. Then, it disappeared into the night. That’s a bad sign. If it’s any smarter than the average werewolf, we have trouble on our hands.”

Zarrexaij was tempted to flee the place. He was a newcomer, and suspected they would find him a bit suspicious. Afterall, he was pretty damn tall, and his scales were darker than ebony. But... they couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t ever know the truth. Taking a deep breath, he gingerly closed the meadhall’s doors and stepped towards the group of Nords. They turned towards him, and were shocked to see such an unusual creature so far up north.

“What are ye, an overgrown Argonian?” the first one, a tubby, dirty blond headed male Nord interrogated him, cocking his broad head at the half-Rapthyr. Zarrexaij calmly, too calmly, answered, “No. I am a half-Black Rapthyr.” A second Nord, a tall strawberry blond with a little bit of facial hair, lifted an eyebrow.

“Ne’er heard of such a thing.” Zarrexaij laughed. He wasn’t surprised at all. Not that he thought they were completely incompetant, it was just that Black Rapthyrs were a dying breed. With an offended look on his face, the second Nord then riposted, “What’s so funny, eh?” Zarrexaij looked at him square in his blue-gray eyes. “I’m not surprised that you have not heard of the Black Rapthyrs before,” Zarrexaij replied ,“I just find it amusing. I apologize.” The Nord gave him a slow, pensive nod. The Nord’s eyes darted around for a few minutes before asking the bundled-up Rapthyr, or, rather, half-Rapthyr, another question. “What brings ye up this far, half... Rapthyr?” Zarrexaij thought for a second. Why was he here? Oh, that’s right. “I’m up here because,” Zarrexaij paused, gathering his scattered thoughts together in an organized way, “I like the forests and snow. It’s a bit of a ‘vacation’ for me. This place reminds me of Blacklight with the snow and all.” He chuckled heartedly, smiling at the memories that were more than five hundred years old.

“Oh, ye are from mainland Morrowind? Interestin’,” the Nord said it sincerely, swallowing saliva in his throat and causing his larynx to bob a little. The half-Rapthyr obsessively smoothed out his thick robe he bought from a trader in Khuul. Supposedly, it was made from furs of wolves. He thought the robe was a little... soft to be wolf fur. “I take it you don’t get much action up here? You Nords seem a bit bored,” Zarrexaij spoke loudly. His oddly beautiful voice jingled in the room as bells. The Nord gave him a half smile, “Not much. We drink. We be merry. Occasionally, we get a werewolf sightin’ or two back near the Moestring Mountains. I think it has to due with the Bloodmoon. So many bad omens have appeared here and there. It’s worryin’. Now, all we need is some damned witches and we’ll be complete.” The Nord chortled nervously. It was almost as if they were suffering greatly. They probably needed a good laugh.

This all happened a few weeks later when Zarrexaij had noticed something odd about the moons. It just so happened he was, unbeknowst to himself, about to be a part of something important again

[Zarrexaij]

"Go ahead and question me. While you are at it, stop that abhorrent stuttering," the Daedric Prince replied semi-gruffly, picking up one of the good-sized books on Zarrexaij's desk and reading it. Collecting himself, the half-Rapthyr took a deep breath and spoke. "Do you think of me as just a mortal? Do you adknowledge my origins? What do you think of me, Sire?" The Rapthyr stared poignantly into Sheogorath's eyes that were scanning the pages. Sheogorath closed the book with an audible putt. His avatar's face had an interested countenance on it. He took a deep breath before answering the questions.

"No, I don't think of you as 'just' a mortal, and, yes, I do adknowledge your peculiar origins. The last question I cannot answer, unfortunately," He replied with a sincere tone in His voice. Zarrexaij's eyes made it look like his spirit had dropped or broken. In a tiny voice, he asked, "Why not?" His eyes were filled of a deep morbid longing and sadness. The Daedric Prince shifted again. It wasn't the most comfortable moment in the Cosmos. He struggled to answer it, but He did. "It wouldn't be fair to answer it. It would not be fair to you or I," He explained, finding it painful to look the half-Rapthyr straight into the eyes. For a moment, Sheogorath swore he saw those eyes turn dull.

"Why did you ask?" Zarrexaij looked frightened. He didn't want to answer that question. If he didn't, he would make the Daedric Prince petulant. He didn't want to make his Lord mad... err... angry. If he did give an answer, he would most likely end up in a bad situation as well. Zarrexaij knew such thing was taboo. One way or another, the Mad One sensed the tension Zarrexaij was having. The half-Rapthyr bit his lip.

Hesitantly, he answered, "It's just... well... I don't know how to say it without feeling thoroughly foolish and embarrased.... I know it's wrong... but... but... Sheogorath... I... well... I love you. I know that I shouldn't. I know you can never view me in such ways. I cannot explain it. I cannot tell you what sparked it. It did not just happen. It grew so slowly over the years. So slowly. I hardly noticed it... but then when I did... it was painful. It was even more painful keeping it in. Most of all, I just wanted comfort that you did or did not see me differently, to put my jaded mind and bitter heart at ease."

The Daedric Prince looked at him bewildered. It wasn't insulting. It was intruiging. But, afterall, Zarrexaij was just. Zarrexaij did not belong. Zarrexaij was eccentric. But, most of all, those three words had scared Him. For once, the Daedric Prince of Madness was left silent. It wasn't that He couldn't think of anything. It was just so much. In all His years of existance, nothing had prepared Him for now.

Zarrexaij slumped in his seat. He turned away, and quivered. The half-Rapthyr started making strange, melanchony noises. Sheogorath bit His lip. Confusing thing. The noises got piteously louder, and the Mad One could take it no more. Next to Zarrexaij, He kneeled, and looked at Zarrexaij. Bloody tears had streamed down the half-breed's eyes down to his beautiful clothes, staining them. It looked like he had aged a hundred years. The half-Rapthyr suddenly look skeletonly gaunt. Most of all, every line below his eyes had made itself prominent.

Groaning, He stood up, leaning against the chair. He took the large muzzle of the half-Rapthyr into His elegant hands. "Shhh." Zarrexaij started sniffling. Sheogorath gazed into his eyes again and flinched. The creature was exuding a hideously large amount of pain. He could feel it just be looking at him and touching him. He told Zarrexaij as softly as a madman could, "Zarrexaij, I'm... flattered... that you could ever feel that way. Don't let me absorb you. I don't know... what category.... you would be in. I shan't risk getting you killed. Do what you need to do." Zarrexaij stopped the sounds, but tears still streamed from the corners of his eyes.

Then, everything went black for the half-Rapthyr.
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Yeah. As you can see, Zarrexaij is more than a little wacko.