Wow, I got comments. Now I gotta finish this!
Lopov: Yes, from Ebonheart to Cyrodiil. Small spoiler now: I used TU Starting Options to begin her game, and chose one of its "random" settings, which means.... well, I don't want to spoil.
Acadian & treydog: Tanks! ... I had some trouble going back and forth from past perspective to what I'll call past-past perspective (Angrus sat down versus Angrus had been sitting down). Maybe you can help me (provide nits ... gulp) in the future if I screw this up. which I probably will.
SubRosa: Just you wait and see.
![biggrin.gif](style_emoticons/sinders/biggrin.gif)
This story has a lot of twists & turns, and a crazy finale idea that'll have me messing with the Construction Set in ways I hope I can accomplish.
I am going to provide my own errata now, because there are several areas where I got clumsy, and several things I forgot to include.
1). There was supposed to be a scene in which Angrus was sold a leather purse in his past. This purse would have been sold to him by one of the Dunmer some time before; the implication being that this purse had some sort of trick which allowed the thief to remove it easily, then replace it with a second purse full of flat, rounded pebbles.
2). I screwed up the timing of the pack guar. At the beginning of the tale, it's mentioned Angrus met the Imperial several months in the past, yet at the end of the story it's mentioned this occurred just two days prior. The second timing makes more sense. Because "several months ago" they would probably have been in some other location.
3). I used the word "gone" too many times.
![laugh.gif](style_emoticons/sinders/laugh.gif)
Especially in those final paragraphs.
Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to Callidus Thorn, our restartitis-infected friend, wherever he is.
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CHAPTER II: LOST
She awoke with a start. Stood upward in small panic. Thrashed around in a neat circle, and spat. Tried to stay steady on her feet, for she felt instantly woozy.
It was night time. Several shafts of moonlight fell through the trees. Forest sounds all around. Crickets chirping, katydids scratching, moody owls hooting, the sun itself gone to slumber. Where was she? Where were the others?
"Amal? ... Draculus?" she called out tentatively to the dark elves who'd virtually enslaved her several months ago. She would have called out to the Imperial man as well, the one who sometimes fancied wearing guard's armor whenever they'd pulled one of their heists, but she had never learned his name.
Well, at least her wrists weren't bound. At least her face was not hooded. These things were good. The others had been allowing her a little more of their trust lately, which translated to a little more latitude here and there. And over time, over several months, she had come to this conclusion: At least they weren't going to kill her. At least she was still alive! Though held within the party against her will, she apparently had plenty of value to them. The "fragile old lady" idea had become often a key feature of their attempts at foolery.
But that does not mean she became irrevocably compliant. When she gazed at that poor fellow back in Six Fishes with panicked emotion, this was not acting. She'd also tried escape several times in the past, but after these foiled attempts at freedom, she'd learned those lessons quick. As they'd moved from town to town in Vvardenfell, the group of brigands had struck many times. Balmora. Vivec's Foreign District. Suran. Pelagiad. Always one step ahead (or several, actually). Always days of plotting, which translated into quick moments of deception and Amal's expert abilities at sleight-of-hand. Always a trail of disgruntled authorities, and burgled citizens. Always a staggering amount of gold once the ruse was over. Always a plan to be somewhere
else.
But she was still alive! She had somehow made it through.
Jayne Goodfall, once known in certain circles as 'The Goblin Lady,' sat down carefully, her back supported by a gigantic tree. An immense calm befell her as she realized the others were apparently not around.
She began thinking back, and yes, this seems to have been their plan. Little hints of conversation here and there, after they'd made landfall in Leyawiin. Last thing she could remember was sitting beside a fire at one of their makeshift camps. They'd given her some sort of candied brew. She'd tasted it with her usual caution, then drank several large swallows, for she was quite thirsty. And it tasted wonderful. Perhaps she'd been drugged by this brew, then somehow brought to ... wherever she was now.
"Oh. What is this?"
Jayne felt upon her hip pocket, where she discovered a small satchel had been placed. Inside was an apple, a small amount of gold, and a note. Jayne stood upwards again, gauged whether she was truly alone, then stumbled over toward an open area where moonlight was more prevalent so she could read.
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Jayne,
please partake of something we know you hve been hoping for, for many months: Your Freedome. Take plesure, for you have served us well, Vic But now it is time for your casting aside. we have taken the luxory of giveing your share of the gold, and some of food. Do not try to find us, Do NOT contact the athorities for your querees will be met by only dowbt, and we will be gog long gone by the time you wake, any way.
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The note was unsigned, of course. The Imperial who'd been leading them was all about minor details such as this.
We are to leave no traces of our corruption! she could almost hear him snapping at the others. But what was of more concern to Jayne was the amount of gold they'd left her with. "Her share" should have been much more than the pittance they'd left behind. She counted them out then:
seventeen gold in total. Not that Jayne wanted to be the swindler they'd forced her to be, but if they'd really divvied their Septims equally, she should have hundreds.
Jayne sat back down against that same tree, wondering if she should try to walk. But this idea seemed foolish. Too dark to go anywhere; it'd be safer in the morning. She'd be able to see her shadow upon the ground by then, and would hopefully be able to strike out in some sort of consistent direction. Maybe find a road.
But for now, she hunkered down next to her tree, slowly realizing her newfound fate, which was both good and bad. Good, because she had definitely been released from them. Bad, because now Jayne had other concerns to worry about. In fact, her future in Cyrodiil might just prove to be just as trying as her past in Morrowind.
This post has been edited by Renee: Jul 29 2019, 03:47 PM