Oasis 2, Free from Destiny. Options

[jack cloudy]

Here is the link to: Jack Cloudy's Other Stories


Ok, I've got to be crazy. Starting a third one before finishing the last two? Yeah, definitely crazy. More crazy than Tarhiel, Curio and M'Aiq combined. Ah well, I guess I can't be stopped. (Note to self: Make an Agent update tonight.)





Oasis 2: Free from Destiny.

The task I’d been sent to do had been finished. No, I hadn’t just been sent to do this, I’d been made for it in a quite literal way. Yes, that task was the only reason for my existence. Now that I’d completed it, what was left?

Anyone in my position would probably try to retire and live the remainder of his or her life at peace, preferably with the comfort of nearby friends. I had friends and I could retire easily enough. During the course of my life, I’d amassed a large amount of wealth, including a house big enough to accommodate a whole village. In fact, my house was a village. Then why did I leave? Why was I walking here at this moment, so far away from civilization?

The truth was, I couldn’t. I hadn’t realized at the time, but the reason why I fought was because my friends needed me as much as I needed them. I’d fought to protect them, to keep them near. Yet what should have been my moment of everlasting glory was my moment of defeat. I could no longer see those I considered friends. It would undo everything I’d done.

The sun began to sunk beneath the horizon and I sat down next to the nearest shrub. A small wisp of fire, and I had created a small circle of light to keep me company. The fire was bad company if it was the soul that required comfort instead of the body. Nothing opposed my train of thought. I relived the last moment, the moment it all became clear.

I stood on the slopes of a mountain. Beneath me, several tents had been placed in the ashcovered ground. People milled about like ants. Banners flapped in the gentle breeze. A smile crept across my face. These were the people of Vvardenfell, my people. Most were unknown faces to me but that didn’t matter. In the end, they were all a part of the island. And I would be their hero. Society had been at the brink of collapse but now, everything would be fine. The Houses had united, the Ashlanders received the respect they deserved. The time of politics and struggles for power had ended. There was nothing left to fight over. And I would be right in the middle of it all, basking in glory, everyone would call me their greatest hero. Like a child’s dream come true.

The smile vanished. It would not be fine. There was still something for them to fight over. Ironic as it might seem, that something was me. To win the favour of the land’s champion, the Houses would return to their internal strife, bloodier than before. Those around me would be the victim of it all, as they would be pulled into this conflict. Politics was a plague, hard to control. There was only one thing I could do to prevent this from happening. I would have to leave, vanish into myth.

And leave I did. I never even took the chance to properly say goodbye. I couldn’t say goodbye. If I tried, I would end up staying and make my nightmare into reality. It was a bit of an anti-climax. Whenever I thought about what would come after defeating my enemy, the only things I saw were scenes of fame, glory and perhaps even a bit of worship. I couldn’t let any of that happen though. It would be as destructive as having let him have his way.

Perhaps this is how the guy who killed Jagar Tharn felt after he’d claimed victory in the Imperial palace. He too left right after his greatest moment. To this very day, no one knows his name, or his race, or even his gender. I say guy, but it could have been a woman for all I know. I’ve heard a few stories, but they’re quite conflicting. Some talk about a Redguard pirate, some about an Imperial Battlemage much like Tharn himself, yet others about a scarred Orc or your stereotypical knight in shining armour. Then there are those who take it into the extremes, saying that this nameless champion was none other than Tiber Septim himself or Akatosh or a spirit of death or even a Goblin, though I seriously consider that last one a joke. Well I knew one thing for certain, Akatosh was not involved there. Because Akatosh, that’s me.

Whatever is the case, the champion vanished and I was about to follow his or her example. Where would I go? If I had taken the time to think, I would have concluded that leaving Tamriel entirely would have been best. The legendary continent of Akavir would be a great place for a fallen hero to hide. But I decided otherwise. Instead of going east to Akavir, I would go west, to the place where I was born, all the way on the other side of Tamriel. Despite my achievements, which happened to include the killing of a supposedly immortal being, my fame was still only local.

Hammerfell would be the perfect place to make a living. There, no one would care about Luper Alkad, Nerevarine, the godslayer. There I would be just another Redguard, albeit one who was in possession of several unique artefacts. Yes, Hammerfell would be perfect. But how to get there? Vvardenfell had been saved of the Blight, a horrible disease that turned everything it touched into a raving monster. There was the Corprus which was even worse but likewise, its threat had ended. Despite that, the island was still strictly quarantined. No one could enter or leave, at least not through legal channels.

I knew that there were plenty of smugglers and pirates. I could try to make contact with them, see if they were willing to transport me. While the idea appealed to me at first, I soon changed my mind. So far, the smugglers I met here were a lot more aggressive than the bunch that had raised me. I was unlikely to get a single word out of my mouth before I was parrying daggers, clubs and whatever they were using to kill people. No smugglers wouldn’t help.

I went through a few more ideas. I was too well-known among the mages and the independent ones were usually Necromancers who would rather have me as their next test subject than give me a quick teleport to the mainland. Buying, building or stealing a ship wouldn’t work. For one thing, ships weren’t for sale here and I would be hunted by the coast guard. Waterwalking might work, but I had no real idea of just how far it was to the mainland. It would be rather embarrassing to run out of Magicka and get devoured by Slaughterfish and Dreugh. In the end, I knew of only one organization that could give me a quick and secret way to the mainland. The Blades, the spy service of the Emperor himself.

I waited till dawn before continuing my trip across the island. I took my time because this would likely be the last time I would see Vvardenfell, the island that had become my home. There was a silent beauty in the Ashlands, now that the dreaded storms which plagued this region had fled. The transition from dry ash to a swamp teeming with life was quite sudden, only a single mountainous ridge between them. Like everything I saw, it brought back memories. Memories of fighting against slavery, getting my leg cracked by a Mudcrab. It had been less than two years, yet it felt like eternity separated Luper Alkad, the badmouthed prisoner who was all bark and no bite, from Luper Alkad, the badmouthed hero who is even more bite than he is bark.

I walked up to the nearest Mudcrab and placed a single hand underneath its shell. With a simple flip of the wrist, I threw it upside down and sent it sliding down a hill. It was a feat of incredible strength I wouldn’t even dare dream about in those early days. I’d definitely changed, beyond recognition. The everburning flame of the Lighthouse told me I was nearing my destination. Seyda Neen, where my journey began and where now a new journey would begin.

[jack cloudy]

*Takes the reward and puts it on a rack, mumbling something about copying inanimate objects.*

Thanks, Black Hand. You'll always be the post machine though, even now that you've taken a well earned break.

Mallet, at the moment I'm not writing at Wings of Light. Instead, I'm trying to draw a picture of a main character I'm going to include in the next chapter. Its damn hard. If only I was as much a drawer as a writer.

Corrupted Heart is on a temporary hiatus as well while I figure out how the scene with the blind monks plays out. Till then, enjoy some more good old Luper. He's surprisingly calm I must say. I guess the lack of beasties to fight took all the adrenaline out of his system. I swear, he was like on a constant adrenaline rush while fighting Dagoth Ur's gang.





As I’d changed, so had Seyda Neen. My old home, which I claimed after its last inhabitant tried to kill me and failed, had been demolished and probably used as firewood at the lighthouse. That was the only change I saw but it was an important one. It meant that the marks I’d made here had already vanished. I wondered if anyone had ever wondered what happened to that rude Redguard who’d lived there for a short time. I wondered if they’d ever learned of the Nerevarine and perhaps placed the link. Would anyone here say:,, Luper Alkad? Oh yes, I know him. Lived here a while back, right over there. Never saw a hero in him.”

Probably not and I couldn’t blame them. I strode up to the bridge that gave access to the village, my eyes judging everything that moved and everything that didn’t. I closed them for a while. When I opened them again, they looked straight ahead. There was no longer any need for paranoia. Everyone who wanted me death had passed on or given up. I straightened my back and moved forward at a faster pace, projecting an aura of confidence. Everyone dropped what they were doing to stare at me. It wasn’t my confidence, or just the fact that I was pretty much a stranger here. No, it was most likely my attire, dirty with ash, sweat and blood, most of which was my own. But underneath all that, the distinct glow of a powerful enchantment radiated outward. They’d never seen such a large collection of enchanted items before and when they did, it was usually mounted on a rack as a trophy.

I thought about stopping and telling them to ignore me but I decided against that. It would’ve been a futile request. Was this a form of fame? If so, it wasn’t as pleasant as I’d imagined it would be. I decided to be the one who did the ignoring. The wooden platform creaked under my weight as I went around Arille’s tradehouse to the entrance at the back. Another memory assaulted my weary mind. The mental sight of me pulling at the handle of the front door in vain brought a faint smile to my lips. Looking back at it, it was quite amusing though back then I’d been seriously frustrated with the locked door, only to find out later that I’d been trying to get inside the storeroom rather than the tradehouse itself.

Inside, the familiar smell of rust, half-rotten herbs and painted cotton reached my nose. Behind the old counter stood Arille, looking exactly the same as when I’d last seen him. When the door opened, he looked up with a polite smile on his face.
,,Greetings. Anything I can do for you? Scrolls, potions to regain your strength?” He asked, waving with his arm across the wares he’d put on display. His eyes showed no sign of recognition. I noticed how he’d left his array of weapons and armour out of his list. He was a businessman who knew what his potential customer might and might not buy. Any weapon or piece of armour he sold was awfully inferior to what I was using right now, even if my equipment was rent and torn in countless places as the result of the war I’d fought in.

I gave him a short nod.
,,Just a drink, Arille. Just a drink.” I replied and walked up the stairs. Arille shrugged and went back to polishing a cup. He received a percentage of any profits made on the drinks so it did not bother him. Coming upstairs, I noticed that my hand had drifted up towards the hilt of the sword on my back. I lowered the hand with an amused chuckle. Instinct had a habit of doing things without asking for permission first. In this case, my instinct had guessed wrong. The man I’d expected to find at the top of the stairs was gone, and so were the other drunkards who inhabited this level of the building. The only person who was left was a darkskinned woman who was making an inventory of her stores.

I sat down on a stool without a word and waited till she looked up. She gave me the same curious look as everyone else did though hers was mixed with a cold calculation. She was assessing me and trying to fit me into her plans.
,,Just a drink, Elone. No business for the Emperor this time.” I told her. If she’d been surprised about this statement, she hid it very well.
,,Any preferences, sir?” She asked, turning towards her rack of beverages.
,,A flin would be fine.”

The liquid was poured into a simple mug and placed before me. I placed my hand around it and was about to lift it to my mouth when I noticed the fellow Redguard frown. With another amused chuckle, I lowered the mug and removed the gauntlet. Before I placed it on the bar next to the mug, I looked at it for a long time. The Dwemer steel was dented in several places and the large plate covering the back of the hand had been unhinged. Yet, in all reality it should have been much worse considering the abuse it had received. Whoever had made this ancient artefact had taken the forging of Dwemer steel to a new level. I flexed my now bare hand, making sure it hadn’t suffered from its long time inside the gauntlet. With the same slow and almost ritualistic movements, I removed the pauldrons, my cuirass, my greaves and after a short hesitation, my boots.

Finally, I went back to drinking. Elone was cleaning the tables somewhere behind me.
,,Did you hear anything from Caius?” I asked over my drink. The sound of cleaning stopped and so did any other sound of movement. I frowned, slightly annoyed.
,,If you’re now thinking of poking a dagger in my back and start an interrogation session, don’t bother. I’m with the Blades as well.” I said, emptying my mug. A moment later, I did feel the pressure of a cheap dagger pressing against my back.
,,Anyone can claim to be with the Blades.” Elone whispered, obvious to avoid drawing the attention of Arille downstairs. I grinned and slid my hand into my pocket slowly. The woman’s hand tensed around the dagger but she did not stab me while I brought my hand back up at the counter and dropped something on it that rinkled with a metallic sound. Instantly, the dagger vanished.

,,Luper Alkad, you could’ve just told me it was you.” Elone scolded me. I shrugged and put the ring back in my pocket.
,,I wanted to see if you could still recognize me. Don’t take it personal.” I answered and took a second bottle of flin out of the rack without asking. I also brought out a second mug.
,,Care to join me?”

A few minutes later, we’d moved to a table and started a simple meal together with the drinks.
,,No, I haven’t heard anything from him. I hadn’t expected to hear anything either. The Blades can be quite secretive. Giving old colleagues a report on his whereabouts would be a waste of resources, especially with this blockade sitting just outside the coast.” She told me. I frowned, taking a bit out of my bread. I’d taken a liking to the old man. After he had been recalled to the mainland, I’d been too busy with fighting Dagoth Ur to worry about him. Now though, I had all the time in the world to worry.
,,Damn. He told me that he was in trouble because of the moonsugar he took as part of his cover. I’d hoped his punishment would be light and that he would be back in no time. Silly of course. He would be useless now as his sudden disappearance and reappearance would raise unwanted questions.” I muttered.
,,I know. I’m worried about him as well. But I can’t just leave. Even with Dagoth Ur death, we still have plenty of things to do. So what are you going to do now, Luper?”

I took a moment of silence before answering.
,,If I stay here, I’ll become the heart of a new political struggle that would make the people I care about suffer. I’m leaving, somehow. I want to go to Hammerfell and find out about the rest of my family, or at least the family of the people who raised me. I need to get off the island, even if I have to walk all the way. Do you know off a way out, Elone?” I looked up from my meal, awaiting an answer. Instead of giving an answer or thinking over my question, Elone was looking at something behind me, eyes wide open. It looked as if someone was still willing and brave enough to kill me. And I’d just ditched all the stuff that made me a walking fort. This was just great, and familiar.