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]

No further guards hindered my progress. When I entered the plaza though, I noticed half a dozen standing right next to Ilmeni’s door. My new sword leaped out of its scabbard and flew into my hand, a bit awkward due to the unfamiliar balance. I would whack them over the head with it a couple of times, then toss them into the garbage trays. No problem.

I skidded to a halt even before they’d noticed me. No problem? Just who was I trying to fool? Those guards were waiting for me and they were good. Those two Ordinators had been good, better than the Vvardenfell variant I was used to. If these guards were any less, they would have been thrown out by the competition years ago. So no, the chances of me winning weren’t too good, especially with the strange weapon I was forced to use now.

And even if I did win, then what? Who was to say that there wasn’t a full dozen hiding inside? And what about Ro-El, would fighting really benefit him? If I knew anything about him, he would try to talk his way out, pleading innocence. If they decided to arrest him, he would go along and simply wait till they realized their error and set him free, after which he could use his diplomatic role to make their life miserable for the bad treatment. Now what would happen if I came barging in, sword swinging and all? I would confirm their suspicions and they would put his head on a spear before I’d finished mopping up this particular gang. No, fighting was not an option.

I sighed and leaned against the wall, till too far away to be seen in the night. What happened to the days when violence solved everything? Mournhold just wasn’t the place a Telvanni should be. All this thinking of the consequences was driving me nuts. What should I do now? By chance, I looked around and saw the door leading to the house of the ‘great Velas’. As I looked at it, Ro-El’s words came back to me.
,,We’d best establish contact with someone who is not in league with any of the major powers here and has enough power of his own to get what he wants.”

Didn’t he believe that there was a more powerful mage than the wimp I threw around? Didn’t the gossiping villagers specifically state that house as the home of this mage? I straightened my shoulders and walked to the door. This had better be good. I glanced one last time at the guards and knocked. I knocked again. And again. Just when I considered bashing in the door, it was opened. And out peered the eyes of the wimp, now with a big bruise on the forehead.
,,Who dares to interrupt the great Velas in the deep of the night?” He chattered and then recognized my face. The door was slammed shut.

I shrugged and turned away.
,,That could’ve gone better. Ah well, it would be a waste of time to teach that shrimp some proper manners. I’ll just have to assault the palace and apply some persuasion to the king.” I mumbled. The door opened again.
,,Please come in.” The little worm stammered. I rose an eyebrow and then brushed past him. Behind me, the door was closed, more gently this time.
,,Please, come further.” A voice called out from a nearby room. I followed the voice and soon found myself standing in a large living room that looked like a comfortable place to live in.

There was a Dark Elf seated in a comfortable sofa, one who looked strikingly similar to the one who’d opened the door, only he was more comfortable and his eyes shone with wisdom.
,,Crap, so he does have a better brother.” I thought. Now was the moment where he would pull out the stops and punish me for humiliating his twin.
,,Ovis, bring us some flin.” The Elf ordered and then gazed at me.
,,So you are the man who gave my brother an unwanted bath this morning. I thank you.” He said, much to my surprise. Thank me?
,,You see, Ovis has a certain tendency to mix up his fantasies with reality. He always dreams about being great and all-powerful and sometimes loses sight of his very real limits. I’m amazed he didn’t get himself killed ten times already. So you see, I am grateful that you chose to spare his life.” He explained.

,,By the way, my name is Gavis Velas. I am just an old man who knows a few tricks, no powerhungry warlock, no battlemage who vanquished a Daedric Prince, no hero of the Battlespire. Just Gavis.” I had to admit, I liked this fella’s attitude. I took his invitation to sit down and then decided to introduce myself.
,,Luper Alkad. I’m just a guy with a big ego, a bigger mouth and an even bigger sword. Well, I used to be. The sword got stolen.”

Gavis laughed.
,,A pleasure to meet you, sir Alkad.” He chuckled. I flashed a smile.
,,Please, just call me Luper.” I replied. Ovis entered the room with two bottles of flin and two cups. He put them down on the table between us and then fled the room.
,,I see. Luper, forgive me for being rude but I have to ask. Why did you come to my home?” Gavis asked me in a more serious tone. I saw no need to lie to him. After all, lies wouldn’t help me in getting his help or anything.

I filled my cup with the flin and tried a sip. Not bad stuff, a good brand actually.
,,Well, I kinda heard the rumours of you being powerful, well-connected and neutral. Anyway, here’s the short version of the story. For some reason, the palace has contacted the Dark Brotherhood to have me eliminated. I survived three assassination attempts and have killed all assassins sent after me but one. I was escorting a friend who was on a diplomatic mission to Mournhold. During our visit of the palace, I was forced to give up Chrysamere and enter unarmed. There I had to fight off the last assassination attempt. When we left, the captain claimed Chrysamere had been stolen and threatened to kill me if I didn’t leave. That night, guards came to our place to arrest me. I escaped through intervention but they arrested my friend.”

Gavis nodded.
,,I see. I believe you when you say that the palace has contacted the Brotherhood to have you removed, even if I would normally inclined to take it as a joke. The Brotherhood is very powerful, and few people survive for long once targeted. Yet here you are, with the sword of a Hand at your side, a sword you no doubt claimed in combat. To defeat a Hand is an act worthy of praise, for they are the very best, those few Ordinators who excelled in training and left their siblings far behind. If you can defeat a Hand, you can defeat the Brotherhood. I also know Helseth is a paranoid man and willing to use any dirty trick to get what he wants. The fact that the Brotherhood was allowed to enter a location as secure as the palace, during the day even, speaks more than a full library.” He admitted. He then raised a finger.
,,But, I hesitate to belief that Chrysamere was stolen or taken by them. You have mentioned the sword by name, twice. I don’t believe that you are ignorant regarding the legends that surround this weapon. Yet perhaps you have forgotten? The sword only stays with its owner for as long as it deems its owner worthy. I believe it was simply your time.”

I didn’t like what he’d said but he was right. I had forgotten about that part of the story. And I had used Chrysamere for quite a while, ever since my war with the Sixth House truly got started. Perhaps it was my time. I should be happy that I’d wielded one of the most powerful swords in the world. But I wasn’t happy. The Ebony saber felt odd and my hands yearned for that familiar grip of the Claymore. I wanted to have Chrysamere again, and never lose it.

[blockhead]

Dude, this installment kicks spotted owl! Nice! I wish that I had thought to make Velas an ally back when I did my Tribunal fanfic. I adhered too rigidly to the game's plot. I should have written things slower and explored more possibilities. The way you've worked Velas's personality is rather nice. There are so many possibilities now!

,,But, I hesitate to belief that Chrysamere was stolen or taken by them. You have mentioned the sword by name, twice. I don’t believe that you are ignorant regarding the legends that surround this weapon. Yet perhaps you have forgotten? The sword only stays with its owner for as long as it deems its owner worthy. I believe it was simply your time.”

I didn’t like what he’d said but he was right. I had forgotten about that part of the story. And I had used Chrysamere for quite a while, ever since my war with the Sixth House truly got started. Perhaps it was my time. I should be happy that I’d wielded one of the most powerful swords in the world. But I wasn’t happy. The Ebony saber felt odd and my hands yearned for that familiar grip of the Claymore. I wanted to have Chrysamere again, and never lose it.

Noooo.

The last two lines are especially well written. It's something Rashelle would say: a lot of emotion contained in a small amount of words.