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]

Ok, just a quickie with no real influence on the plot. I wanted to show what a certain character has been doing since the last time we saw him.





Far to the west of the Imperial city, a caravan slowly made its way across the path. The only wagon creaked and rumbled loudly and the horses looked like they’d seen their best days. The men and women who travelled with the caravan didn’t appear to be well off either. The clothes they wore were little more than rags and the weapons they carried for their own protection were little more than branches broken off trees.

They all stared into the darkness of the forest around them wearily. Bandits frequented this area of Tamriel and unlike most travellers, they had nothing with which to pay them off. If bandits chose to attack and managed to claim victory, they might very well slaughter everyone out of disappointment when they failed to find any loot.

A nearby branch snapped. All heads turned in the direction of the sound. As if the snapping branch had been a signal a trio of Orcs roared a battlecry and stormed out of the bushes, waving their axes. The travellers drew into a tight circle around the wagon. The Orcs stopped just outside the range of the simple clubs. They knew that they’d already won the battle before it had began.
,,Your stuff, or your lives.” The leader of the Orcs grumbled loudly. The travellers looked at each other, the wagon and then the bandits. Their eyes betrayed the fear yet for some reason, they still prepared themselves for battle.

What both the Orcs and the travellers didn’t know, was the fact that they weren’t alone in the woods. Another being was nearby, one who was sitting high up a tree. His golden eyes scanned the wagon below him. Suddenly, a loud crying could be heard. The eyes shot across the wagon till they gazed upon a squirming bundle of dirty rags. Amidst the rags, he could see a pair of deep brown eyes which were fixed upon his. The baby was the only one aware of the hidden watcher.

The Orcs gripped their axes tighter.
,,Your stuff, now. Or else we…..” The Orc cut himself off. He thought he’d seen something move, something which dropped out of a tree and landed on the wagon without a sound. He couldn’t be sure though, for it looked most like a shadow within a shadow. He looked at the wagon in silence for several long seconds, which caused everyone else present to look at him with confusion etched into their faces. Just when the Orc had convinced himself that he was imagining things, two gold spots of light appeared within the shadow.

,,You there. Your stuff or you life.” The Orc tried for the third time. Everyone followed his eyes till they also saw the Khajiit standing on the wagon. The Orc made a few threatening motions with his axe but did not attack. Something about the Khajiit was making him nervous. The furred creature had a certain feeling around him, a feeling of extreme deathliness.
,,All they have is a newborn child. You’ll find no stuff here, only death.” The Khajiit whispered.

The greenskinned Orc’s eyes blazed with fury.
,,Are you threatening us?” He bellowed. The Khajiit did not answer. His eyes closed, thereby robbing those around him of their only clue to his location. A moment later, one of the Orcs dropped heavily to the ground while letting out gurgling sounds. He grabbed for his throat, trying to seal the hole in his windpipe.

The Orc on the other side of the wagon knew he was next. Already, he swung his axe over the wagon, right where his invisible enemy should be. But the Khajiit wasn’t there. The Orc felt something hit his lower leg, snapping bone and throwing him to the floor. The last he saw were two golden eyes that looked at him with malicious glee.
,,Going under the wagon is an option you forgot.” The Khajiit gloated and hit the Orc on the forehead with an open palm. The Orc’s face pushed inwards as his skull cracked.

With one Orc death and the other slowly suffocating, the Khajiit calmly walked towards the last one, transfixing him with his stare.
,,I don’t threaten, I only tell the truth.” He hissed. His claws flashed out, into the Orc’s eyes and digging into his brains. He was death before his heart stopped beating.

As the last Orc fell on the muddy ground with a loud thud, the Khajiit turned towards the travellers. They all drew even tighter around the wagon, not knowing whether they should thank him or fear for their lives.
,,Don’t think I did this because I’m a hero. All I want are directions to Rihad. I could’ve let the Orcs kill you and then ask them but they would’ve likely attacked and forced me to do the same thing I just did. Either you answer me, or you die.” The Khajiit informed them.

The leader of the caravan, an old man who was barely capable of supporting his own weight, sat down heavily on the ground.
,,Go west till you reach a river. Follow it north and you’ll find Rihad. It’s two days away from here.” He explained, drawing a crude map in the mud. The Khajiit nodded and vanished into the darkness.
,,A final bit of advice. Take the equipment of those bandits. Either use it yourself or sell it.”

Ten minutes later and far away from the caravan, Ra’trith stopped running.
,,Why did I do that? I already knew where to find Rihad. Why?”