Jone and Jode hung brightly in the sky above lake Rumare that night. The still water acted as a mirror, perfectly reflecting the twin moons' light. A group of birch trees cast soft shadows over me as I walked the red ring. Each step brought an awkward crunch of dead leaves and gravel, breaking the night's silence. I walked that road for a while, scanning my surroundings for an inn or some other form of shelter. Regretfully, there was no refuge in sight. The White-Gold tower stood tauntingly far, too distant to reach before sunrise, but just close enough to constantly remind me of my immediate need - shelter.
It was well into the night, and a small drizzle of rain had started. It was hardly noticeable, but could turn into a storm just as easily as it could go away. It had been an hour by the time I saw the ruin from my first trip. Fanacasecul, as the Aylieds called it. I toggled on my night eye, and was able to see it clearly. The twin moons shone almost as bright as the sun with my new vision. The ruin sat right on the shore of the lake, and was half-buried in an eon's worth of mud and sand. It was hard to make out much, but the surviving stonework suggests that this was once a port of some sort. My initial survey of the place did not detect any danger, but just to be safe, I cast my detect life spell with a soft whistle. I detected nothing in or around it. Not even an animal or rodent. It was utterly devoid of life. I was uncertain whether this was an omen of good or of ill.
I despondently made my way to the ruin. I walked throughout the moonlit docks until I spied a few collapsed pillars. Nearby, there was a small, circular structure of some kind. It didn't seem to serve a purpose, but I walked in anyway. I found a spot beneath it's half-collapsed ceiling, and decided that this was as good a place as any to make camp. It wasn't the best spot on Nirn, maybe not even the best spot in the ruin, but I was far past caring. I was worn out from dodging icicles all day, and needed sleep.
It took me longer than I would like to admit to realize that sleeping on cold, hard, probably cursed stone is not a good idea. I needed to make a bed.
I cleared out a spot amidst the dirt and rubble of the structure. Fortunately, my father had tried to teach me how to survive in the wilderness back when I was younger. It was mostly in a vain attempt to distract me from trying to learn about magic, back before they stopped trying to be nice about it. Of course, I didn't really pay attention. I was either busy daydreaming or simply uninterested. I guess that was going to come back to bite me.
I went out of my little shelter and gathered some long branches that looked sturdy. I clumsily cut them for the frame, trying my hardest to remember what my father taught me. I tied them together with some vines that seemed to defy my every attempt at a knot. In the end the rectangular frame I envisioned ended up resembling a lopsided parallelogram.
I continued by gathering soft leaves and long grasses. I gathered them in armfuls, tossing them into the frame before padding them down. The nature poked out awkwardly through the wood, which didn't look comfortable.
Too tired and upset to care, I convinced myself that nature's irregularities were simply a part of the avant-garde charm of my creation. I had also finished off my remaining travel rations, which didn't do much to alleviate my growing hunger. I was practically empty.
I left the safety of my shelter, and peered out. Something felt off. The drizzling rain grew slightly thicker, and I could have sworn I heard something.
Probably just the rain.
I whistled to cast detect life, but abruptly stopped myself. I didn't want to waste all my magicka by casting it over and over. Besides, I had already checked the ruin, there was nothing alive here but me.
Moving outward, I peerlessly surveyed my surroundings. There was an oddly placed well in the middle of the ruin - not a magicka well, just a regular well. I approached, and noticed that the strange noises grew louder as I got closer. It almost sounded like... footsteps? Was something alive down there?
I knew it was impossible. I had cast detect life just earlier. But I was slightly spooked. I drew closer to the well, until my muzzle poked over the edge. I placed my hands on the decaying stones, and peered down the hole. At the bottom was some stone illuminated by a strange blue light. I leaned in to get a closer look, but just then the stones I was leaning on crumbled and fell into the hole, bouncing three times along the sides before landing with an ear-splitting crash. I quickly regained my balance, and decided I was done poking around. The rain was starting to worsen, and I wanted to be inside. If anything was down there it probably couldn't leave anyway. At least, that's what I tried to rationalize.
Just as I reentered my provisional encampment, I heard a loud, grinding noise off in the distance. It grew louder and louder, before cutting off with a soft *boom*.
What in oblivion...?
It was then I heard the footsteps again. Several of them, this time. Fear washed over me, and I softly whistled the detect life spell. Just as before, I detected a few rodents (although they were scurrying away from something) and nothing more. Whatever was out there was not alive.
I evacuated from my shelter, and warily peeked outside. I couldn't believe what I saw. Three skeletons, clad in rusted mail and torn gambeson. they all carried rusty weapons in their cold, skeletal hands. One carried a mace, and wore a corroded metal helmet, with loose straps of leather hanging lazily off the side. Another had only a sword, with nordic runes emblazoned upon its edge. The third wielded a spear, and wore rusty chainmail. A gasp escaped my mouth, and I hastily ducked back into my shelter. They must have heard me, because they began approaching. Their quiet footsteps echoed my breathing - quick and frantic. I tried to stifle my trembling hands to no avail.
Oh gods, please don't see me... please don't see me...
I retreated to the far end of my shelter, just past my bed and behind a pile of dirt and rubble. It wasn't a smart decision, but my first instinct was to hide. However, the skeletons heard my gasp, or perhaps the stone I knocked over in my retreat, and began to approach. Two of them entered the crumbling panopticon, with the third one lingering at the entrance with a spear. My instinct to hide was destroyed as I realized that I had nowhere to run.
Terrified, I stood up and tried to use the eye of fear to scare them. To my surprise It had no effect. I still don't know if it was just because I was bad at it, or if the undead were immune. It didn't matter. This was a real threat. I let out a desperate cry for help into the air, hoping, praying that someone would hear me.
"Oh gods, help! Anyone! HELP!"
Gods, this is a real threat... These monsters will not show mercy. They will not hesitate. They will hack at me with their crude weapons until my life was gone. I'm going to die. Oh gods... I'm going to die!
"Help! Help me!" I yelled. Words couldn't describe the adrenaline and fear coursing through me. This wasn't like with the mages. At least were alive. They could show mercy, they could show cruelty. All that mattered is that they showed something. At least I would die with dignity to an entity equal to me. But this... There would be no dignity. I would die like an animal. These walking bones were indifferent to my existence. I would die like a goddamn animal.
"Zatay ahziss!" I cried in my native tongue in a final attempt. "Zatay'na azhiss afa!"
The gambeson-clad bonemen slowly clobbered their way towards me. I had to defend myself. Nobody was coming. There would be no mythical hero to swoop in and save me. If I didn't act, I would die. I clamored away, and stood my ground atop of the pile of rubble, frantically attempting to recall how to use my fire magic. I mentally repeated my mantra:
Channel, form, ignite, cast.
But my method was inefficient, and the ghouls were within striking distance by the time I ignited the spell. The helmless one to my left raised its sword above its head, telegraphing a swing. Instinct took over, and I quickly reacted. I strafed to the right, dodging the blow completely. In a flash of light, I loosed my fire spell. But my hands were trembling and the adrenaline clouded my vision. I missed completely, only managing to slay the wall.
The other skeleton captured my previous position at the top of the rubble, and the one who had swung was advancing on my new position. I repeated my mantra again. Channeling my magicka, forming it into a ball, igniting it with a mental spark, and casting it at my target. I was more deliberate in the latter steps this time, and the spell struck true on the sternum of the advancing enemy. I heard the snapping of ribs under the impact. When the smoke cleared, I saw I had burned a small hole through the worn cloth armor. The skeleton staggered back, tripping over a loose stone, and crashed down hard on a rock. The skull cracked harshly, and with a final spasm, the skeleton died. The bones disconnected from each other at the joints until it was indistinguishable from the rest of the rubble.
I couldn't yet celebrate. There were still two threats left. The one with the helmet readied its mace and carefully approached, undeterred by the death of its comrade. My heart raced, and I tried to prepare another spell to defend myself. It got to me fast, and I retreated to the opposite side of the enclosure. I avoided the door, as the third skeleton was still stationed there. I readied my fire spell, and cast it at the skeleton. It hit the helmet, staggering the ghoul, but not killing it. The metal, while corroded, withstood the impact. I tried to cast another, but it got too close for comfort and I retreated back onto the pile of rubble.
We repeated this process for a few more cycles. The monster always remained close enough that I could never cast my spell, but far enough that I could always dodge his swings. The only problem was - I could run out of energy. The skeleton did not grow tired, it did not wear itself down. It would kill me eventually. I realized this, and with a last-ditch effort I broke the cycle. I mustered as much courage as I could, and when it swung, I dodged, and swiftly tackled it while it recovered the swing. It was extremely light, quite literally only bones, so even my tiny frame could knock it down. I grappled the mace from its pointy fingers, but it grabbed at my throat, choking me. Panicked, I withdrew, yanking the mace from its hands. It's sharp, skeletal fingers left a red streak on my neck, but thankfully it was far from any major arteries.
With the mace in my hands, and the skeleton still picking itself up from the ground, I knew what I had to do. But I hesitated. I locked eyes with it, but only for a moment. It was lifeless, a husk. Nothing that made it human was left in its decayed bones. When I confirmed that it wasn't alive, I ended my hesitation and swung. I hit it in the head, as hard as I could, cracking it. The skeleton still stirred despite this. I hit it again, widening the crack and splitting its temple. It moved even still, although laboriously. Upon the third strike, its skull collapsed, completely smashed in. The skeleton disassembled, and it was no more.
In shock, I dropped the mace. I looked upon my kill with horror. It was already dead. I rationalized. I didn't know why I was so disturbed. I looked out the door, where the third skeleton still lingered. It wore rusty chainmail and had its spear outstretched into the room, blocking my escape. It stared at me, almost with an anger, as if I had offended it somehow. Maybe it was just my mind tricking me. I really couldn't tell with all the adrenaline.
I tried to block out the idea that, since it was acting with some intelligence, the other two skeletons also had some low level of intelligence and therefore could still have the souls of their previous owners and-
Okay, maybe I didn't block it out entirely. But the skeleton at the door was still an issue. I stared into its cold, lifeless eyes, and readied a fire spell.
Channel, form, ignite, cast.
And with that, the threat was no more. I walked back outside, heart pounding and sweat dripping from my dampened fur. There were no more skeletons. I searched around until I found the door that they had come out of. I stuck the dented mace through the handles of the door, preventing any more monsters from leaving that place.
With nothing else to do, I went back to my shelter. The bones of the defeated skeletons scattered the room, and a few even landed in my 'bed'. I cleared out a radius and a tibia, and found the sword of the first skeleton. It was rusty, but otherwise in good shape. The spear was also in decent shape, although I was no weapons expert. I was better with my claws, but obviously claws don't do much against the undead. I decided that I would bring them back with me to sell. I searched the third skeleton, the one with the spear and chainmail. It had a shortsword strapped to it's belt, but the blade was blunt and the wood was rotted, so I didn't even bother with it. But there was something that I hadn't noticed before - a satchel. I pried it off of the skeleton and opened it up. Inside was a ring. It was in great condition, with only a few specks of dirt. A gleaming ruby was embedded onto it ornately, and it seemed to almost glow with some sort of mystical force. Perhaps it was enchanted? Enchanted or not, I could sell it for quite a bit - possibly even make the money that was stolen from me back.
I hopped back into my bed, trying to sleep the rest of the night away. I just wanted to forget about all this and leave it behind, but my thoughts lingered on the battle. The adrenaline hadn't worn off, and I was still shaking. Thankfully, my fatigue overpowered the panic, and my heart rate settled.
Well, it may not be comfortable, but it beats lying on the stone. And here I at least have some walls to protect against the wind, and half of a roof to shelter me in case it rains. I'll be fine...
I spent a lot of time tossing and turning. It was difficult to sleep, and not just because of the adrenaline. The entire time I walked, I was able to distract myself from what was coming. But now, with just me and my thoughts, I couldn't ignore it. I failed. I had one chance, one opportunity to achieve everything I've dreamed of, and I let it slip through my claws. How am I going to tell Aric? Is this it? Will they ever give me another chance?
I knew this would happen. I knew I couldn't do it, but I tried anyway. Why didn't I just hit them in the back with my fireball? Why didn't I make sure they weren't looking when I took the fire salts? Why didn't I just admit I was in over my head, and back out when I had the chance?
They were right, weren't they? I'm living a goddamn fantasy. Of course I couldn't just waltz in, ask them for membership, and become a wizard. Of course I couldn't just believe in myself really hard and magically find the strength to defeat three mages. I could barely even handle three skeletons! And only two of them ever actually attacked me! I'm just a stupid, delusional, useless cat.
The weight of my failure was suffocating. I had every hope of joining the Synod when I first arrived in Cyrodiil, but I faced rejection after rejection. Only Aric gave me a chance, and I ended up failing him too. I've failed everyone.
The emotion was overwhelming. It got to the point where I couldn't even string together any coherent thought. I was like an animal. Ahziis va ma'i. Cro'ga shami va l'iq.
I couldn't hold it in any longer. I cried. I cried until I was so exhausted from crying that I couldn't stay awake. I fell asleep in a puddle of wet grass and shed fur. And I didn't wake up for quite some time.
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Finally, a proper action scene where the hero DOESN'T get his ass kicked. I'm going off of Skyrim skeleton rules on this one - that is, die in one hit 90% of the time. - Even a level one LDB can kill three of these guys without breaking a sweat in the game. But hey, J'saddha needs some way to make back his lost coin.
Also, I know somebody is going to notice this, but I wrote "goddamn" at least three times when it should logically be "gods-damn". Well first of all, 'gods-damn' simply doesn't roll off the proverbial tongue, and second of all, they actually never say gods-damn in any of the games to my knowledge. They always say goddamn. I guess the god they are referring to is context based?
Off topic, but has anyone else noticed that getting hit with real life swears in TES is so weird? I remember hearing Mercer call Karliah a 'bitch' and I was like "slow down there, sport. Karliah is a WHAT??"
Besides damn and hell (hell is another one of those 'doesn't make sense in-universe but nothing else would work in the context' words. I always justify it as a layman's term for Oblivion, and I believe that theory is supported by in-game texts as well), no other real swears are used.
Also for the last chapter, I know I used 'S'wit' wrong, but cut me some slack. "Holy s'wit" is just so funny to say.
Tangent aside, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Will J'saddha get a second chance? Read on to find out.