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]

Please don't complain when I add a lot of fanon to an otherwise canon weapon.



,,Did I miss anything?” I asked as casual as I could, despite the anger, the frustration and the sheer desire to punch someone clouding my mind.
,,You missed lady Barenziah, the queen. An interesting personality.” Ro-El replied. For the moment, the assassins were forgotten.
,,Wait a minute. Barenziah, the queen? I….” The agent lifted a hand to shut me up before I said something stupid, like calling the queen a prostitute right in a palace packed with people who practically worshipped her.
,,Yup. She came out in public. Surprises happen. Now come on, I’ve seen enough for today. We’ll come back when it’s less crowded.” With these words, he stepped out of line and walked back towards the entrance, me following a few steps behind.

Right near the gates, we met our captain again. My hands subconsciously balled into fists and I stuffed them into my pockets before I lashed out and sent him through the wall.
,,You have my sword.” I said plainly. The captain gave a curt nod and ventured into a room guarded by two of his subordinates.
,,Luper. You’re a bit stiff. Something wrong?” Ro-El whispered while we waited.
,,Go on and head back to Ilmeni’s place. Don’t stop, don’t look back. I’ve got private business to deal with, and it’s not about Chrysamere.” I whispered back and pushed him away. The Nord stood still for five seconds, then he turned around and left. Good, I didn’t want him to share my trouble.

The captain took a horrible five minutes to do whatever he was doing in that room. Then he returned, and threw a Chitin dagger into my hands that was so brittle it nearly snapped just by being looked at. I threw it down on the floor where it shattered into a thousand pieces.
,,Joke time is over. Where is my sword?” I asked with a threatening voice and a nasty scowl. I noticed that he was now wearing a Claymore of his own on his back, but it wasn’t Chrysamere. For a moment, it seemed as if the Imperial had the guts to say ‘on the floor, that dagger is your sword’ to me. But he reconsidered, not that it would help him.
,,It appears that there has been a thief. Our apologies, but the palace does not offer any guarantee towards the safety of your possessions. Now if you excuse me, I am expecting three guests who seem to be rather late. Have a nice day.” He barked and demonstratively turned his back on me.

,,Dudes in black, masked, poisoned darts? They weren’t late. They were right on time.” I called out. He froze, confirming my suspicions.
,,Ok, you rotten Imp. You are playing a game here and you have no idea how dangerous this game is, for you! Now if you want to live, you’re going to do exactly as I tell you.” I continued. The guard in the crimson armour wheeled back around, his hand rising to the hilt of his sword.
,,Threatening an officer of King Helseth is a serious offence. Apologize now, or face the consequences.” He warned. But there had been a short hesitation in his moves. It looked like the reputation of the ‘unstoppable’ Dark Brotherhood was working in my favour. But not enough in my favour to actually keep him from attacking me if I pushed him too far.
,,Go ahead and draw. I need a replacement and yours is as good as any. Poetic justice, if anything.” I answered. Throughout the conversation, my hands had not left my pockets.

He did draw, and so did every other guard in the room. Yet none of them made a move.
,,Leave.” A new voice, one I did not recognize, whispered right in my ear. I remained motionless. Someone was near, yet I couldn’t see him. Invisibility, Chameleon? No, it was something else.
,,I’ll answer your questions, outside.” The voice spoke again. I didn’t hear any footsteps, didn’t feel the air move as it was pushed aside by an invisible form. But still, I knew that the owner of that voice had left the room.
,,Ten against one? Geez, not even my mother is such a coward. We’ll talk again when you find some courage, if you ever get to it. Oh, and one more thing. If I ever meet another Dark Brotherhood assassin, three guesses who I’ll pay a visit. And it won’t be for cookies and flin.” I snarled and walked out.

Outside the palace, a Dark Elf was leaning against the wall right near a dark alley. He beckoned me over and entered the alley. I followed and saw that he’d retreated right into the darkest shadows, where no one would see us unless he or she would enter the alley as well.
,,Akatosh, I’ve heard a lot about you.” He spoke. He had the same voice as the man who spoke to me in the palace.
,,Call me Luper.” I replied.

The man nodded.
,,Revan. I had no intention of getting mixed up in your business but I did feel the need to interfere.” He said. I frowned for a bit but waited till he would say some more.
,,I don’t know what game you are playing here, but you must realize that here in Mournhold, the line between pawn and master is very thin. There are those who hold interest in you. One of those is Tienus Delitian, the man you argued with. I sense great strength within you, the strength of the Dragon god. But Delitian has strength of his own. The strength of Gravedigger.”
,,Gravedigger?” I interrupted. Revan vanished, as if he’d become one with the shadows.
,,You will find more answers in the Mournhold of old.” His voice whispered in the air. After that, I sensed that he’d fled.

I sat down on a crate and thought about the things I’d heard and the things I’d done. I had been a wanted man already, but why I didn’t know. Now though, there was no reason for Delitian to keep the hunt exclusive to the Brotherhood. No, he would tell the guards. Leaflets with my face on it would be passed through the streets. Damn, that sucked.

And Gravedigger. So that sword was Gravedigger. I’d heard about it. It was the antibody of Chrysamere. The darkness that opposed the light, the cursed slayer as opposed to the holy protector. Stuff like that. Whereas Chrysamere served as a shield to guard its wielder against both the supernatural and the mundane, Gravedigger turned its wielder into a weapon solely meant for massed slaying, like the equally legendary Fury and Umbra. It was one of the so-called Godslayers, weapons that could slay immortal beings. Without Chrysamere, I doubt I would’ve won if it came to a fight, even though the Imperial wasn’t much to look at without Gravedigger.

Finally, there were the words of Revan. My answers could be found in the Mournhold of old. What did that mean? And just who was he anyway? A name didn’t mean much.

The sun was beginning to set and my stomach told me I hadn’t eaten in a while. I remembered the mark I’d set on the doormat in Ilmeni’s house so I recalled there. As long as no one saw me enter or leave that building, I believed it would be alright. But by morning, when the leaflets would show up, I would have a lot to explain to my bearded host.