Corrupted heart. Options

[jack cloudy]

Alas, I couldn't wait for Agent to finish before I began my next story. Oh, curse me, all of you whose blood shall be spilled before this story comes to an end.

Ahem, I don't expect my loyal readers to complain though. Heh, I hope I managed to portray the first of my main characters nicely. And one last thing that might be interesting to know. This story takes place before the birth of Luper. So yes, that means at least 23 years before any of my other stories. Now, without further stalling I present:


Corrupted heart.

Chapter 1: Among the cold dirt, the fallen lie.

Consciousness flickered, remaining just out of reach. His senses delivered their messages to his clouded mind, broken fragments of a greater whole. The sound of heavy boots hammering cold rock, the smell of dust in his nose, the feeling of being carried in a boneshattering grip. A taste, plaguing the tip of his tongue. Blood, his blood.

The feeling of movement stopped. Words now echoed in his ears, words he did not comprehend.
,,This looks good enough. Open the door.” The shriek of rusted metal being moved ripped through the haze clouding his mind. Now consciousness returned fully and with it, a chance. For a moment, he continued to feign unconsciousness. Long enough to hear more words, words not meant for him.
,,You, don’t move unless you want even greater problems.” The hands holding him pushed him along. His tail brushed against iron bars. Now was the time.

With the frightening grace of a natural killer, his muscles sprang back to full readiness. He used the body of his captor to swing around, somersaulting into the air and landing on the unfortunate man’s back. With a quick swipe, claws ripped out the man’s throat and crushed his neck. Even before the man began to lose his signs of life, the killer had leapt away. The next guard found himself smashed against the iron bars of the cell. Claws leaving a trail of blood in the air where the last thing the man saw before his eyes were removed. He too died soon afterwards. The whole event had taken less than a second from start to finish.

Breathing heavily from both his exertion and the rough treatment he’d received earlier, the killer stared down at his latest victims. In a slow symbolic movement, he raised his claws and licked them clean of blood, savouring the taste. His ears began to pick up the sound of distant boots coming steadily closer. A standard patrol. His hand snatched the nearby torch from the wall and he slammed the piece of wood into a dusty pool of water. There was a large cloud of smoke and then, darkness.

Even though there was practically no light left, his eyes still saw as good as if he was standing outside on a clear day. He quickly scanned the nearby cells. The one which had been destined for him was already occupied by the short stature of a Bosmer. The one directly on the opposite side of the tunnel was occupied by a muscular Dunmer who looked around warily, not seeing a thing. The killer took a double take on the two beings. While the Dunmer displayed all the expected signs of fear, the Bosmer surprisingly acted as if she hadn’t noticed the massacre at all. She just looked at the ground in front of her bare feet with a blank stare.
,,Must have lost its mind so deep underground.” The Killer concluded. He knew from experience that many Bosmer were extremely claustrophobic and hated being in a room without any windows or underground. A natural result from living in the treetops of Valenwood.

The boots had now gotten close. Soon, the owner of these boots would see the darkness ahead and know that something was wrong. By then though, it would be too late. The Killer crouched at the edge of the darkness, confident in the natural camouflage he had. Now the guard ventured into view and the killer’s heart skipped a beat. This was no guard. The fingers of fear reached out for him, embracing him with their cold touch. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since childhood. The darkness in the tunnel was vanquished by a bright burst of light. With that same burst, the light in his eyes faded and he slipped into unconsciousness once more.

An armoured boot stomped on the ground beside his head.
,,You’ve missed your chance. Enjoy the blood you’ve claimed. They were your last kill.” A gruff voice said as the killer was picked up and taken to his cell.

[jack cloudy]

The point is, they would relocate. Only, the prison has recently come under new management.
And someone asked for an escape?




Six more days passed. The Khajiit realized that within a few hours, he would put his plans into action. He felt excited at the idea of spilling the blood of his victims. Vengeance would be his. He felt weak from lack of food, but that would not matter. Soon, he could feed as much as he liked. The lone torch had long since burned out, allowing darkness to claim his world. He licked his teeth in anticipation of what was to come. Then, he heard it. Bad fitting boots, running, coming closer. Light returned, coming from a moving torch that rapidly drew closer. He looked expectantly at the celldoor. Who would come here?

It was a young man, dressed in a mismatched set of Iron plates. He held a torch in one hand and a sword in the other. Wet blood dripped from the rusty blade. He stopped, and looked at the two cells in turn.
,,Who are you? Were you thrown in here by the traitor as well?” He asked, his face revealing his anger.
,,The Bosmer and I have fallen victim of bad people. Are you here to free us?” The Dunmer asked. As he approached the bars of his cell, the torchlight revealed countless scars on his bare chest. The young man peered into his crimson eyes where they found the truth.
,,Fine, I’ll free you. What about the Khajiit?”

,,That furball from Oblivion? He’s the whole cause of our current trouble. He kills people for fun! Let him rot.” The Bosmer shouted. The man winced.
,,Shh! Not so loud, they’ll hear!” He whispered urgently, looking around nervously. The Khajiit growled.
,,So you all plan to leave me here? Well, I suppose there is no harm in telling you now.” He snarled, looking at the Bosmer.
,,I never planned on letting you live. Right from the first moment, your fate had been sealed together with the other elf. Now though, it will be much worse than I’d initially planned. And you, Imperial. You’ll join them.”

The Imperial ignored the threats. He pressed his hand against the lock. There was a purple light and then a click after which the door slid open. He repeated the spell at the other cell. Both elves walked out quickly after which the man locked the cell that still contained the Khajiit.
,,Your threats are without power.” He claimed. All three of them walked out of his sight. Darkness filled his cell again. Within it, he laughed. It was a loud laugh, the laugh of someone who knew that he had everything under control.

Where the three escapees were walking, the laugh had died down to a faint whisper in the air.
,,We haven’t been properly introduced. May I have your names?” The Imperial whispered as he cautiously looked around a corner.
,,Rajn Treesap, Valenwood guide.” The Bosmer whispered back.
,,Aran Geydar, Urshilaku.” The Dunmer replied with a voice like gravel. The Imperial nodded with a wry grin.
,,I’m sorry about this but it is for your own safety that you should not know my name. You may call me the Champion. I am a loyal battlemage in the service of Uriel Septim VII. It is because of him that I’m here with you now.” He said as they moved on further till the tunnel branched into two directions.
,,And here is where we must part. There are multiple ways to the surface, try to find one. I’m their main target, so the resistance you’ll encounter should be light.” He explained as he looked in both directions.
,,Here, sir Geydar. Take my blade. Use it to defend yourselves. I’ll use my Magicka till I can claim a new blade from the foul beasts that inhabit this place. Now, farewell. May Stendarr protect you.” With those words, the battlemage walked away.

Aran and Rajn watched him go. Then, Aran pointed at the other corridor with his new blade.
,,Shall we? Long have I missed the sun. I shall do anything to see the light again.”

Back at the Khajiit’s cell, the laughing had stopped. Now he was merely waiting. He could feel it, the itching of his skin. His eyes shot open, staring blankly into the darkness. His mouth opened, letting out a roar. His muscles swelled, his bones grew. His face grew a long snout with razorsharp fangs. His claws doubled in length, digging deep into the stone wall he was chained to. His tail became like a brush, his once smooth fur taking on a spiked appearance. Then, the transformation was complete. He sniffed the air, smelling more than ever before.

He began to pull against his shackles. Slowly, the iron began to deform under his newfound strength. With a loud clang of snapping metal, he pulled his right arm free from his prison. He reached up and tore away the ring around his neck. One by one, his chains were torn out of the wall and removed. Now he was free and walked over towards the celldoor. Seemingly without any effort, he bent the bars and opened a gap wide enough for him to pass.
,,The Hunter has called his minion to this world. Let the hunt begin.” He thought as he rushed through the tunnels at incredible speeds. Sometimes he paused to sniff the air like an animal. Then he would rush off again, following the trail.

The Champion stopped when he heard the sound of padded feet rumbling on the floor. Cold sweat broke out when a terrifying howl echoed in his ears. He turned around, raising his hand to ward off his foe. Before him, a monster nearly as big as the corridor stood on all fours. Two golden eyes looked out over a large snout covered in fur as black as the night that spawned the creature.
,,Werewolf! Cursed abomination! Leave quickly or suffer death!” The champion shouted as a mighty spell of destruction charged in his hand. The Werewolf threw back its head and laughed.
,,What makes you think you will survive this encounter?” It asked with a malicious voice. The Champion swallowed back his fear and gave a silent prayer to the Nine for protection.
,,It has been prophesized. I can’t die here.” He answered. The Werewolf looked at the man in silent contemplation.

,,Why do you need to live?” It asked next, watching the still growing spell closely.
,,I am to travel Tamriel, collect the eight…” The Champion was cut off when a descending gate crushed his skull. With his death, the spell erupted, wrapping his corpse in hot flames.
,,The eight what? Your eight last words? Travel no more, you’ve found them.” The Werewolf snickered as it removed its paw from the lever controlling the gate.
,,Stupid self-proclaimed heroes. They never pay attention to their surroundings. At least they’re filling.” After having said those words, the Werewolf stepped up to the corpse and sank its fangs into the charred flesh.




Note: If you actually decided to count, the Champion did say eight final words! And yes, I'm poking a bit of fun at the hero escaping out of jail thing. I mean, do they really expect a hero to escape like that? That's probably why I like Morrowind's start. You can become a hero, but no one expects you fight your way out of a dungeon filled with monsters right from the start.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 6 2007, 11:21 PM