Cheesecake, My first fan-fic. Options

[Dire Cheesecake]

The moons hung high in the sky as Delila locked the door to the bakery. It had been a long day and she found herself nodding off as she walked down the deserted streets to her home. Not really paying attention to where she was going, she was suddenly jolted awake when she tripped on a lose cobblestone. A sharp pain shot through her ankle and she nearly fell flat on her face, barely catching herself on the wall of a nearby building. “Ouch.” She complained, as she looked down at her foot. It didn’t seem as if it were broken, probably just twisted it the wrong way. She sighed, “What a way to end a day. At least I made some good business.”

She glanced up at the full Masser. As the clouds that had been covering Secunda from view moved aside, she spotted a strange silhouette atop a building ahead. She couldn’t make out much, except that the shape looked somehow bestial. Then suddenly, it moved. What seemed to be its head turned to face her and she heard a faint sniffing sound. That was enough for her and she ducked into a nearby alley as quickly as the pain in her leg would allow her.

She leaned against the wall, her heart racing. “Ok, calm down, Delila, that was nothing, you’re just hallucinating from overwork. That’s right, you’re just….going insane…” she shook her head, “Ahg, I need sleep.” She pushed off the wall and started limping down the alley, despite her rationalizations she couldn’t bring herself to step back out into the main street. Suddenly she heard it, it was just a whisper, yet somehow she could make out the words. “…hunger…” She stopped again and looked around, but she saw nothing. Shaking her head, she continued onward, reaching the end of the alley. Clouds had once again covered the moons as she peaked out onto another large street, looking both ways before stepping out of the alleyway. Just then, she heard a sound behind and above her, and she quickly looked in the direction. There, poking over the edge of the roof of the building behind her was a massive, furred head, with large ears, and eyes that glowed with an eerie white light.

That was when Delila panicked. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she broke into a run. Ignoring the agony in her left ankle, she dashed for the alley across the street, after this, it was only one more block until the gate out of the Market District. “If only I can make it that far-” her thoughts were cut short when a massive shape flew over her head, bounced off the right wall of the alley, and landed in front of her. She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the creature, though she found that in the dark she could make out nothing other than the shape of a large head, those glowing eyes, and pearly white, six inch long fangs coming from its mouth. It had in fact opened its mouth, and it uttered in a deep, growling voice; “Hungry.” Delila stood frozen with fear, despite a small voice in the back of her head, screaming at her to run, to do something, she was no warrior, or mage, just a baker’s assistant. She felt a strange sensation, and heard a rushing in her ears, as the world seemed to dim, and her legs started to shake. As darkness claimed her, she saw the face moving towards her.

[Dire Cheesecake]

Yes, the odd thing about the Bloated Float moving is that it's usually permanently docked and is used as an Inn. If you've played Oblivion you can probably guess some of what happens next. But first, Be'Ghir. Sorry if one of the characters in this chapter seems like a bit of a rip off of one of yours Jack, call it a tribute to my favorite character in that story. Though I really wish I was a bit more creative.



VIII
Morning had come by the time Be’Ghir finally reached the far shore of the lake. On his way across he had managed to catch a few slaughterfish that had foolishly tried to bite his paws, and even though they had each been barely a mouthful, they were enough to take the edge off his hunger. He continued inland for a short while until he reached a road running along the bottom of a cliff. He turned left and started following it away from the massive bridge leading back to the city. After several minutes of walking he heard sounds around a bend in the cliff, stopping and perking his ears he recognized the sounds of fighting. “It sounds like someone’s in trouble.” He thought, hurrying forward.

Rounding the bend, Be’Ghir came upon a startling sight. A massive humanoid, half again his size in both width and height, was doing battle with a group of four people. The strangest thing about the creature was that despite its humanoid body it had the head of a bull with long sharp horns. In its right hand it carried a large battle axe that a normal person would have wielded in two. One of the combatants, a Dunmer man with a spear, lunged at the creature, but it caught hold of the shaft of his weapon and pulled him towards it bringing down its massive axe and severing his arm in one blow before kicking him aside. A tall, fair skinned human in chain mail came up behind the creature with a claymore, screaming a battle cry but it swung the spear around and smashed the half against her head. She went flying backwards until she skidded to a stop and lay still, her iron helmet clattering to the ground several feet away. Now only two other combatants remained; a pale, brown haired human male in dull brown robes who seemed to be throwing anything he could find at the beast in his panic, and a black haired Dunmer woman who wore a hide tunic, rough leather pants, and leather boots and continued to back away and fire with her bow. Be’Ghir decided that if he was going to help anyone it had better be now, or else there was not going to be anyone alive to help. He broke into a run towards the creature, just as it started charging towards the Dunmer.

The Dunmer continued to back up and fire until she reached for another arrow and her fingers met nothing but air. She went into a close combat stance and backed up a few more feet until she ran into the cliff wall. “Curse you to Oblivion, monster!” She yelled at the top of her voice, and awaited a painful and gruesome death, but just then Be’Ghir slammed into the side of the monster sending it crashing to the ground with him on top of it. He pinned its arms with his paws and buried his teeth in its throat, pulling back with all his strength until he felt something come free and a spray of warm liquid hit him. He spit out the chunk of the beast’s throat distastefully and looked down at his handy work. The creature was definitely dead or would be in seconds, half its throat was missing, and there was blood gushing everywhere as it continued to spray from the jugular artery. He licked his chops idly as he waited for the blood to slow. The Dunmer woman was staring at him in shock; still holding up her fists in front of her as if they were some kind of deterrent. The robed man had run to check on the unconscious woman who seemed to be bleeding from a head wound, and the other Dunmer man lay clutching at the stump of his shoulder and groaning softly. Suddenly the Dunmer woman’s arms dropped and she ran to the other elf’s side. “Raan, say something!”

The male Dunmer known as Raan muttered a bit and then sputtered; “Vel…” he trailed off and passed out.

“Baric you boat! Get over here and help Raan!”

“Aye aye, I’m comin’. Hold yer horse meat, Velsa. Linde’ll be fine by the way, just some shallow cuts an of course she’s out cold.” The Breton man hurried over to the elves, giving Be’Ghir a wide berth, and examined Raan’s wounds. “Oh… well… This in’t good, is arm’s off!”

Velsa scowled at Baric “I can see that you boat! Do something about it or you’ll be wishing it was your arm I’d ripped off!”

The Breton jumped back a bit at the threat, but then returned to examine the wound. “I could reattach it if I ad the time, but I think we better git out of ere fore the big fella tires of the Minotaur.” He said, glancing up at Be’Ghir and then letting out a shriek as he realized that Be’Ghir was looking right back at him. He started scrambling backwards, tripping on his own legs.

Velsa turned to see what Baric was reacting to and reacted in much the same way as the Breton, but then she looked at Raan and stopped, instead standing up protectively in front of him.

“Wait.” Said Be’Ghir. The other two froze in place and stared up at him, he stared back. “Not… enemy.” He continued, calmly.

“Uh- Velsa, the gian cat is talkin ta us.” Muttered Baric, slowly staggering to his feet. “Think it’s tellin us ta let our guard down so it cin eat us.”

“Damn your endless talk Baric! Shut up and heal Raan!” Velsa stood up and shoved the Breton in the direction of Raan’s severed arm.

“Y-yes ma’am!” He stuttered, and scurried over to where the dark skinned arm lay bleeding on the grass.

Velsa turned back to Be’Ghir, watching him warily, “Thank you for saving us, but what- uh… Who are you? And why have you helped us?”

Be’Ghir sighed inwardly, “Human language is so confusing to speak. I really hope I don’t have to explain myself to everyone I meet.” Still, he did his best to answer. “Khajiit… Bh’Ghir… Helped… because… you… needed… help…”

Velsa looked somewhat skeptical, “You’re a Khajiit huh? Well I guess I have heard stories about giant cat Khajiit… So you’re saying you just wanted to help us?” At first she looked a bit confused but suddenly she seemed to get an idea. She gave Be’Ghir a friendly smile. “Well, since you’ve helped us, I guess it’s only right that we help you as well.”

“Lost… Hungry… You… help?” Be’Ghir said, “Ah, great, maybe they can help me find a mage or give me some food, that… thing… tasted terrible. You’d think it would taste like beef or something but it tastes more like sweat and dirt, and… something else… ewgh.”

Velsa continued to smile. “Of course, we can get you food, sure, lots of food. Just come with us.”

Meanwhile, Baric had set Raan’s arm against his shoulder and started about regenerating the damaged bone and tissue, “It’s a good thin ees not awake, this would urt allot.” He commented. Be’Ghir watched as the healer carefully applied restorative energy to the area, and the flesh knit back together leaving light bluish new skin behind. By the time he had finished he was sweating profusely, “There… ee, ought ta be… safe ta move now… but I’m not sure… how we’ll carry em… both back… ta the hideout.” He said, panting heavily.

Be’Ghir lowered his body. “Will… carry… them.”

Baric looked a bit concerned about the idea, but Velsa quickly said, “Alright, thanks Be’Ghir, come on Baric, hurry up and help me. We should get moving before a patrol comes around.”

“Gimme… some time… ta rest… willya…” Responded the healer. Velsa scoffed, and set about carrying her injured comrades over to Be’Ghir and placing them on his back.

Grunting under the Nord’s weight she said to Baric, “Well at least, erg, collect out equipment.”

“What… patrols?” interrupted Be’Ghir, turning his head back to watch the Dark Elf securing her comrades with a length of rope.

“Oh, uh… You know… Bandit patrols. Ever since those damned gates went away the imperial patrols have gotten smaller, and that makes it allot safer for bandits to work. Some bandits have even taken to posing as legionaries.” Velsa continued to smile warmly at the Khajiit.

“Hm, bandits… I better watch out for them, can’t let these guys get robbed after they promised to help me out.” Thought Be’Ghir, and replied; “Will… protect… you…”

“Well thank you, Be’Ghir. Let’s go.”

This post has been edited by Dire Cheesecake: May 13 2007, 10:23 AM