Chapter 2

Ndugu looked around at his new home away form home. "Wait, where was home again?" he asked himself as walked towards a young Dunmer woman. On his way he bumped into a Bosmer.

"Watch where you're goin' sum' bitch," he said.

"What? Don't make me break my foot off in yo' ass," Ndugu yelled back.

"I'm sorry," the Bosmer, "Let's start over, my name's Fargoth. Pleased to meet you,"

Ndugu eyed him suspiciously before finally shaking his hand and introducing himself, "The name's Ndugu, or at least that's what I'm told. So what's up, why were you being such an asshole just now?"

"Really I've got nothing to complain about. I've got people who worship me, and I got all da' hoes. But...those damn Imperials took my ring! It's a green ring, and it was stolen from Emperor Tiber Septim by my great grandfather Faggoth. It's a family heirloom!" he said.

"Ndugu instantly knew the ring which Fargoth spoke of, "Uh, I'm sorry, I don't know anything about it and I've got to uh...hmm, come to think of it, what am I here for...?" he trailed of and scratched his chin in thought. Unfortunately the hand he used to scratch his chin was the very one the ring was on.

"Hey, is that my ring?" Fargoth asked. Ndugu glanced at his hand in surprise. The two looked at each other and Ndugu decked Fargoth in the face before he could react, knocking him cold. Fargoth screamed like a girl as he clutched his face, collapsing on the ground. A few guards took notice.

"Look, that black guy is robbing that Bosmer," one of them said.

"What?!" he asked. He was going to say something to them about how every time they see a white dude on the ground the black guy's always the prime suspect, but they suddenly drew a variety of short swords and spears. "Oh shit!" he yelled as he ran to the nearest building. He ran inside. "Good thing NPC's can't open doors," he said as he breathed a sigh of relief. He noticed people staring at him. "Er, I mean...guards..." Suddenly the guards burst into the room. "Oh shit (again)!" he ran up the stairs and jumped out of a window, the guards staring at him in disbelief as he sailed across Seyda Neen.

"That's impossible," one of them said under his breath, awestruck. Suddenly Ndugu whipped around in midair and started chuckin' throwing knives at them. He hit them every fatal spot you could think of and they collapsed to the ground, wondering where he got the knives in the first place.

"Where did I get these knives in the first place?" Ndugu wondered. He shrugged and threw the rest of them at Fargoth's unconscious body. Somehow they all missed. "Shit!" he yelled in frustration. Have you noticed that I haven't said anything about his landing? That's cause he was still in the air when all of this was happening. Gravity failed him and he continued to ascend in a straight diagonal line away from the building from which he jumped. "What the hell?!" he screamed as he climbed ever higher. He circled Tamriel and finally landed on top of another guard, crushing him instantly. Ndugu brushed off the entrails of the guard he'd landed on and the frost that had accumulated from orbiting the earth outside of it's atmosphere. "Wait, shouldn't I have been burned too? I mean, the speed at which I was traveling when I reentered the atmosphere should have-" suddenly he burst into flames. "AHH, AHH, OH GOD HELP ME!" he screamed in agony.

"Okay," Vivec said from his Palace. Suddenly it started raining and Ndugu's flames were smothered.

"Whew, thanks God," Ndugu said.

"Don't mention it," Vivec said.

"Hey wait a minute you're not God," Ndugu said. Suddenly he burst into flames again. "OKAY, OKAY YOU'RE GOD!" he yelled. They were instantly put out.

"That's right sum' bitch," Vivec said.

"Hard ass..." Ndugu muttered.

"I heard that," Vivec said.

Later, Ndugu calmly walked into the building where the whole guard, jumping out of the window shit happened and once again, everyone was staring at him. "How much can I get for this?" he asked Arrille, placing Fargoth's ring on the counter.

Arrille glanced at the ring, "Ten Septims," he said returning to his newspaper.

"WHAT?! TEN SEPTIMS?! I WENT THROUGH ALL THAT SHIT FOR TEN SEPTIMS?!" Ndugu yelled, enraged.

"Yup," Arrile replied calmly without so much as an upward glance.

"My great grandfather stole this from Tiber Septim himself!" he said mimicking Fargoth's claim.

"Good for him," Arrille said blandly. Ndugu merely stared at him.

"You're an asshole you know that?" he said.

"Well I don't get paid to suck your dick do I?" Arrille asked. Ndugu stomped out of the trade house and spotted Fargoth getting up. He was so mad he got a hemorrhoid.

"Take your damn ring!" he said lobbing it at the Bosmer. It hit him in the temple and knocked him out once again. Suddenly Ndugu noticed the stinging pain of the hemorrhoid. "God damn," he said rubbing his ass, "is this from Jiub as well?" he walked up to the Dunmer woman he'd originally intended to speak with. "Hey you," he said. She looked around in alarm and threw her coin purse down at his feet.

"Take it, it's all I have," she said nonchalantly.

"Damn it woman, just 'cause I'm black doesn't mean I want to; hey is this real Netch leather?" he said rubbing the purse. The hemorrhoid snapped him back into reality. "Ow, shit! Look, all I wanna know is where the Apothecary is," he said.

"Well there's virtually nothing here in Seyda Neen, but Balmora has Narlycad of White Haven, a fine Alchemist. And Balmora's a big, rich city, with plenty of stuff for you to steal," she said.

"I don't wanna steal shit, I just wanna get this damn hemorrhoid off my ass!" he yelled, partly due to frustration and partly due to the searing pain in his ass. "How do I get there?" he asked.

"It's about ¾ of a mile northwest, but you can take a silt strider for faster, easier, less dangerous travel," she said.

"That thing?" he asked pointing to the big bug.

"Yes,"

"Thanks," he said making his way towards the silt strider.

"What about my purse?!" she asked.

"Keep it," he said.

"You still have it retard!" she yelled.

"HAH, HAH!" he mocked as he ran off with it, then he found out that running wasn't the best idea in the world. "OMG MY ASS!" he screamed. Finally he arrived at the silt strider port. "Take me to Balmora," he whimpered through his gritted teeth of pain.

"That'll be 934 Septims," the caravaner said calmly.

"WHAT?!" Ndugu yelled, only causing more pain.

"You can get a discount if you talk to that guy over there," she said pointing to Vodonnius Nuccius, 15ft away. Ndugu looked over at him and the pain of the hemorrhoid made that distance stretch into miles.

"I can't do it!" he cried.

"And you can get an enchanted ring worth a hundred Septims," she offered.

"For free?" he asked.

"Nah, I just wanted to see you in pain," she said.

"You sadistic bitch!"Ndugu yelled.

"That'll be 15 Drakes," she said ignoring his insult.

"Wait, Drakes? I thought they were Septims," Ndugu said.

"We also call them gold pieces. Did you know that they don't weigh anything?" she asked.

"That doesn't seem possible," Ndugu said.

"It's true," she said with a smile. Suddenly the pain broke through again, "ARRGHH! JUST TAKE ME TO BALMORA FOR GOD'S SAKE!" he screamed, throwing the stolen coin purse in her face with one hand and clutching his ass with the other.

"Okay," she said. They both got in the huge bug carapace and off they went, headed for new adventures in Balmora (well, Ndugu is anyways).