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]

Here we go again. Have fun because yet another Tribunal fanfic has arrived!



A few days later, I still couldn’t believe it. And since I couldn’t believe it, I was grumbling all the time.
,,Oh, just knock it off. You act like a child who’s broken his toy.” Ro-El said one day as we wandered through a city known as Mournhold.
,,I don’t want to stick around here. It’s still Morrowind. I was going to go far away, dammit.” I retorted. The kid shrugged.
,,Running won’t help you much in this case and I need a bodyguard anyway. I’ve told you that a dozen times before. Besides, if you really wanted to run, you would have done so, deal or no deal.” Was all he said.
,,And I’ve told you a dozen times before that you don’t need one, mister I-dodge-lightning-with-my-eyes-closed. There’s nothing that can possibly touch you. Besides, you’ve got a whole army in the hold of your airship. Forget about manners, instead of parking off the coast you should have just flown the whole thing in. And meh, I guess I stick around because I’m bored and really don’t have anything better to do.”

Ro-El didn’t look at me while we continued our conversation.
,,While my mission is here to assess the political situation and use the House Dwemer plan to establish an independent Vvardenfell for after the inevitable fall of Vivec, I am not going to just barge in and tell people what to do. That would be stupid. It is wiser to investigate first, to get a feeling for what is going on here right now. We are working with outdated information.” He spoke and pointed at a notice.
,,For example, it seems like there is a new king in town. One Helseth. I’ve read a story about him while in training. It seems that he’s quite the plotter.”

I looked at the notice myself which, beyond the signature of this Helseth, was completely uninteresting. Something about raised taxes. Taxes are always being raised. I’d never paid a single coin in taxes in my life. Either I was not a citizen, or I was the big boss around and as such was the one who should be receiving taxes rather than paying. That said, I never bothered to ask for taxes at Tel Uvirith.
,,So you are going to beat him at plotting?” I asked my ‘client’. Ro-El laughed and shook his head.
,,No, while I’m trained as a spy, I’m not much of a plotter. I’m good at sneaking and punching people, that’s all. Now let’s find a place to crash.”

Ro-El promptly turned and began to cross the street.
,,Hold on a sec. There’s a good tavern right over there, why won’t we rent a room there?” I called as I turned around myself and matched pace.
,,No, too expensive and it doesn’t quite offer the privacy I’m looking for. Remember the old rule among the Blades? I’m sure you have the same rule we do. If you’re looking for information, find a barkeep. He’ll tell you everything there is to know about the subject for a small price. That is true, but I’m worried about the rule that follows. You’re not the only customer.” The little guy explained. I had to agree with him. There had been a few times that I’d learned private information from a barkeep. It was only natural to assume that others might get private information on us if we dealt through those channels.”

,,So, where are we staying? I don’t like sewers.” I said once we’d reached the other end of the street. Ro-El pulled a key out of his pocket and tried it on the door of a small manor.
,,Simple, we’ll use Ilmeni’s old home. Did you know that she spent some time in Mournhold to study? Even though she came back to Vvardenfell, she never sold the place. She insisted on me staying here during my business. The rent is good for another two months, and I’ll make a deposit tomorrow to renew the rent.” The key fit and the lock opened with the soft click of a well-maintained mechanism.
,,It must be nice to know royalty.” I muttered as I caught my first sight of the comfortable yet not excessively decadent interior.
,,It does have its perks.” Ro-El admitted.
,,Well, Luper. Make yourself at home but try to keep things clean. Ilmeni might come back here someday and she would not be pleased if we leave this place in a mess.”

We stored our luggage and while Ro-El chose to lounge on the sofa and read a good book, I chose to take a walk around town. Standing outside the door to Dren manor, I looked at the tavern I’d noticed earlier and wondered if I should go get a drink. Then I suddenly realized something. Wouldn’t it be even more suspicious if we stayed at the place of a noble? I skipped back into the building and placed a mark on the doormat.
,,Ro-El, won’t people get suspicious of us being here?” I asked, waving my hand all over the room. The agent didn’t even look up from his book while he answered.
,,No, it’s ok. I’ve got papers and everything for this. Your prescense is explained as my official bodyguard and I’m staying here under the name Roland Wolf-tail, a Skyrim noble who met Ilmeni somewhere in Cyrodiil someplace. Besides, she told me she has a reputation for lending her place to friends and stuff. It will be alright. If anyone bothers you, direct them to me.”

I shrugged and went back outside. I still wasn’t convinced it would work out. I walked past the tavern without going inside for a drink and simply followed the road wherever it would lead.
,,Oh, Almsivi. I don’t believe it!” A woman gasped as I passed her door. I rose an eyebrow and faced her.
,,First Redguard you’ve seen in your life?” I asked her sarcastically. Apparently she didn’t catch the undertone.
,,That pommel, that hilt. Could it be, could it? Yes, it must be! Chrysamere!”

I rolled my eyes. Great, an artefact fanatic. We had a lot in common but it was a bit scary to see people literally drool at the sight of my sword. It was worse than having people worship the ground you walk on while chanting ‘Praise the Nerevarine’. The Dark Elf somehow managed to compose herself and rushed to wipe away the drool with a handkerchief before anyone noticed.
,,I haven’t seen this sword since the Simulacrum. Perhaps…Ahem, my name is Torasa Aram and I am the caretaker of the Mournhold Museum of Artefacts. We of the Museum extend the offer of a healthy cash price for any owner of an artefact. We will display the artefact in our hall. Part of the proceeds gathered from visitors will go to the original owner and the original owner’s name will be listed as well on the plaque. Our price for this item would be 30000 septims, enough to buy a large mansion and live in full comfort for the next ten years.” She stammered. I rose my other eyebrow and walked past her into the Museum where I found the hall to be practically empty. Judging by the state of the place, Torasa Aram didn’t have even a thousand septims, let stand thirty times as much. If I sold Chrysamere, which I wasn’t going to do for even a million, she would likely wave me off with a ‘I’ll pay tomorrow’ and flee the city that night to sell the sword somewhere on the black market where she could easily fetch three times as much as the price she’d just offered.

,,Two words. Tel Uvirith.” I said and walked back out.
,,Tel Uvirith? That sounds like the name of a Telvanni residence. Does this mean that you are willing to sell and wish to buy that residence?” She called out to me. I turned around and jabbed a finger at her chest.
,,Listen, I’ve been trying to be subtle and polite which is something I’m not good at. So let me explain this, my style. I am Telvanni, I live at Tel Uvirith, I gave the order for its construction, I captured the souls needed to grow the damn mushroom and I filled it with countless artefacts that would make your head spin, all gained through hard work and wandering into places you’d do best to avoid. You don’t have the money to pay me your price, and my own price can’t be matched for all the money in the world. If you want this fraud to become real, start practicing and find your own samples. Have a nice day.” I snapped and walked away at a brisk pace.

[blockhead]

That is true, but I’m worried about the rule that follows. You’re not the only customer.

so true!

,,Oh, Almsivi. I don’t believe it!” A woman gasped as I passed her door. I rose an eyebrow and faced her.
,,First Redguard you’ve seen in your life?” I asked her sarcastically. Apparently she didn’t catch the undertone.

LOL!!!!!

,,That pommel, that hilt. Could it be, could it? Yes, it must be! Chrysamere!”

I rolled my eyes. Great, an artefact fanatic. We had a lot in common but it was a bit scary to see people literally drool at the sight of my sword. It was worse than having people worship the ground you walk on while chanting ‘Praise the Nerevarine’. The Dark Elf somehow managed to compose herself and rushed to wipe away the drool with a handkerchief before anyone noticed.

I see that you portray her much as I did.

Good stuff!