By Faronon Star Wolf
Author's Note: Well, the election sucked. Anyway.
As a note for future chapters... This story really shouldn't be taken seriously. I mock; it's how I amuse myself. I even mock myself, it should be noted. Not much is safe from being mocked, religion included. If that makes you stop reading this story, then you aren't the kind of reader I want.
For all the alchemy ingredients, I'm going by the icon and my imagination.
In other news, I'm bringing in other "real life" people. Srath isn't based on anyone. I am, of course, myself. If you're interested in being in here, feel free to send a character description, or better yet, a screenshot, but in the end I'm going to be the one to decide on which characters, if any, are in the story, and how they act. It is, after all, my story.
By the way, can anyone name the movie I quote in here?
I opened my eyes to light. Bright light. Oh, and don't forget the result of blunt-force trauma to the head. Hiss. It took an enormous effort to try to perform the ever-so-difficult moved Protect-Eyes-From-Burning-Ball-Of-Gas-In-The-Sky, and I succeeded. Take that, spawn of darkness. Even though it is a source of light...
"Oh, Lord, why hath thou forsaken me?" I asked out loud. And if he were real, he'd probably be saying something like "Bcuz j00 n0t a blievr!!! I pwn j00!" Bastard. "Oh, and I bet you're the one behind the spilling of the Shein!"
"I beg your pardon?" a smooth, cultured male voice asked from a few bajillion miles overhead.
"Ugh. Nothing. That would be a book to the forehead at mach one talking, I think. Though I'm not sure if mach one is how fast it was going... and I highly doubt you people here know what mach one is. I'm not sure I remember what it is, either." Forcing my eyes open, I stared up at a blurry confused face. "Never mind. Just... wander off and come back in a while. A long while. Say a few years. Maybe next century. And... oh, crap." I'm babbling. Wonder if this is what a concussion feels like...? And, ow, head. Pain. Ugh. How did I manage to forget about that in the first place? That would be a handy trick... I groaned and dropped my arm back over my eyes. I was in too much pain to be dreaming, I knew.
"M'lady, I do not think that you should be left out here alone," he began, concern obvious in his voice. Damn pushy patronizing bastard sonnavabitch... Cute, from what I could make out, though...
"Bug off. I doubt I'll die," I snarled, not caring about the fact I was probably alienating him. Ohfortheloveofcrap. I'm stuck in a videogame, my legally acquired Shein got spilled by that tall bastard Hrisskar, I get hit by a book in the middle of a goddamn swamp, and now I've got a patronizing whatever-the-hell-he-is hovering like a fat man in a hammock! And I have a headache the size of Mount Hood and Mount St. Helens combined, oh, and let's throw in Mount Everest for good measure! And that one in Hawaii, too! Where's my Naproxine when I need it?! At his ever-so eloquent silence, I snarled at him to wait down the path, where he could surely see me.
The pain in my neck and shoulders began easing as I relaxed, and soon I was limp, merely soaking in the sun's warmth. I decided, after what seemed like a few hours later, to sit up and get out of the path before someone came and rolled over me. Do they have carriages here? Wait—yes, the opening said that, I think... Damn headache. That was when I encountered my first—or rather, second—problem.
Oh, great. First the headache, now my body rebels. "Hey—uh, sir?" I called out, pushing myself as far off the ground as I could, a mere ten inches, and looked around. Uh oh, dead body at my feet – oh, hey, I'll bet that's Tarhiel. Wonder if I can get any Icarus-whatsit scrolls from him—Hmm. I wonder if the name refers to the myth... Ugh, whatever. "Look, mister--! Mister! Can we have our ball back?" I muttered to myself, easing back to the ground. Naturally, I was quoting. Very fun, you know. I think the blow to my head knocked the script of that movie to the front of my head. I'd certainly seen it enough times.
Unable to stop myself, I started humming along to "I Should Have Known Better", tapping my fingers against the hard-packed earth of the path in, well, less-than perfect time. Nobody said that rhythm was one of my strong points.
"Whoa whoa I," I started off, a grin widening when I heard—yes!—that my voice easily handled the notes I sang it at – an octave above where the Beatles had. "Never realized what a kiss could be, this could only happen to me, can't you see, can't you see? That when I tell you when I love you, oh, you're gonna say you love me too..." A throat cleared above me and I opened my eyes to stare into the face of one of the most attractive Dunmer I've ever seen. Don't drool don't drool don't drool... I blinked amusedly at the black triangle tattoos on his cheeks and his russet brown hair. It was the ridiculous goatee on his chin that finally threw my mind into gear, and I glanced down at his bonemold cuirass. Why, oh why did it have to be him Finally I threw a careless smile on my face and met his measuring red eyes. "My, such a surprise meeting you here, Nels Llendo," I managed to say, mentally cursing how weakly it came out.
I was not, however, without reward. His eyebrows rose swiftly, and he quickly re-examined me, though he didn't seem to find anything new. An oddly emotionless mask covered his face, and he replied guardedly, "You have the advantage, madam."
"Huh?—oh. Yeah, that. I'm—Lilindra," I replied, remembering at the last second that that was what I was going to need to answer to here. Dammit, why didn't I just use Faronon? That I know well enough to answer to—Oh, yeah, it's not fantasy enough. Damn me and my obsession with fitting names to the surroundings.
"And, m'lady Lilindra, where are you from?" I wondered at the suspicious look in his eyes, but then I remembered that this man was an outlaw. Oh, yeah. There is that.
"Well, I just got off a boat in Seyda Neen," I temporized, and then continued with a shrug. "Before that, all I can remember clearly is a storm. I don't remember much about my life other then what I was trained as and the sign I was born under." And it was all true. I didn't remember much about this life.
By his narrowed eyes, I could tell that he knew I was telling truth, just not the whole of it. I forced a half smile.
"By the way, could you help me out of the path? I'd really rather not be squished by a run away guar... carriage... silt strider... whatever."
I was soon leaning against a tree, sitting next to an outlaw, and asking questions very cheerfully, learning a lot about the surrounding area... including how to tell the difference between the edible hypha facia fungus and the poisonous bungler's bane. The hypha facia was smoother and had less variation in the coloring, while the bungler's bane had small ridges on the top, and, in addition to the coloring, had an almost mint-like scent, however that happened. I had a feeling I would need to know how to tell them apart.
In return, Nels Llendo inquired as to what I was doing out of Seyda Neen when I seemed unable to take care of myself (I innocently mentioned that I had floored Far-from-gothic—er, Fargoth, earlier, and got an annoyingly incredulous look. I nearly punched him, too.), and at my simple reply of "Wasting time," he asked further.
"Well, it started like this..." I began, explaining about Hrisskar's request to find Fargoth's hiding spot, and mentioned that I thought I knew where it was, but I wasn't going to go wading through algae-ridden water just to check a hunch. I got a weird look. "What?"
"You are... rather fastidious." At the way he said it, I growled and demanded an explanation of why that was so bad. "Well... M'lady, if you are so squeamish at that, I do not think that you will get very far here."
"What do you mean?" The edge in my voice was as sharp as the blade of a glass longsword, and he could tell.
"Could you kill?" he asked bluntly, and I stared at him.
"I..." Biting my lip, I looked toward the path, at the still body of Tarhiel. There was a reek of urine in the air, and I silently asked myself if I could be the one to force that release of waste with death, the smell of blood and piss and feces combining, wide eyes staring unseeing at the sky, limp limbs and torn flesh, done by my hand—
And I knew. I couldn't. But Lilindra, perhaps, could.
An ironic smile twisted my face. Child of civilization, meet bloodthirsty alter ego.
"Yes, I think I could."
The silence after my answer was long, and uncomfortable. Finally I brought my feet under myself, and forced myself to stand. A wave of dizziness hit me and I stumbled forward, catching my balance at the last minute. Nels Llendo had stood, ready to catch me if I needed it, but he wasn't expecting me to need his aid. Okay, so maybe he isn't that patronizing...
I smiled, reset my footing in an attempt to stop wobbling, and turned to face him. "Thank you for your help." Something changed in his face, and only with the greatest effort managed to keep a smile on my face. Erk.
"If I can be of any more... help..." he smiled suggestively, "...you will be able to find me at the Halfway Tavern in Pelagiad."
I stared after him as he swaggered off, one eye twitching. Finally I screamed "HENTAI NO BAKA--!" and, after realizing what I said, slapped myself on the forehead. Which, of course, meant hitting the bruise on my forehead. The end result of that was that I collapsed on the ground again, clutching my head and hoping the headache would go away.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it. I've almost broken myself of that evil, evil habit, and one sentence from one person brings it back." I moaned to myself for a while about the return of my habit of randomly using Japanese in English sentences—well, in this case, whatever the language of this planet was. And, damn it, I don't even know what this planet is called!
I finally started back towards town, figuring that passing time there, while less interesting, might be better in that I wouldn't have to worry about suicidal books. I paused at Tarhiel's body, going through the various pockets and pouches on his robes, looking for some loot. I swear I've read somewhere that's where 'woot' is from, 'whoo! Loot!" Or something. Whatever. I want money! Or pointies.
And pointies I found. Latched onto his belt was an iron dagger, and I removed it and the sheath, figuring that I needed something for close-range fighting. After giving it some thought, I rigged a way for it to be concealed in what I felt was the most logical place for a concealed knife.
Unfortunately, his stash of Scrolls of Icarus Flight weren't there, and along with the lack of gold, I guessed that he either left them wherever he started the test from, or Nels Llendo had taken them. Bastard.
With an evil glare at Tarhiel's journal, I turned toward town, walking slowly to keep my balance. A return of my headache left me squinting against the afternoon sunlight and grumbling. I saw kwama foragers, scribs, and mudcrabs off the path, but I passed them without being noticed, and soon arrived back at town.
Fargoth's reaction to the large bruise on my forehead was to laugh hysterically, but an evil glare and threatening movements towards my bow and arrows shut him up. I got to the lighthouse and climbed without further comment, and soon I was slumped against the fire pit, dozing.
"It's, ah, prohibited to sleep here..." a soft voice said hesitantly, and I shrugged, not opening my eyes.
"And I'm not. I've got a headache."
"Well, could you at least sit up?" Hm. Sounds female...ish. Oh, god, maybe it's Ben Nancy from that story assignment in creative writing, come for revenge! Quickly, I shook the thought of transvestite social studies teachers who had been eaten by cannibowls... er, cannibals... out of my mind, and obeyed the request. I drew myself up from my sprawled position and sat with crossed-legs for a few seconds before leaning forward and resting my forehead against the wooden platform. "...That isn't sitting up."
"Well, excuse me," I muttered in irritation, shifting so I lay on my stomach and, opening my eyes to squint against the sun, looked at the person talking. "Oh, hey, you're a guy."
"Ah, thank you for stating the obvious... That is a lovely bruise... where'd you get it?" Long, soft-looking silver hair curled over a narrow, vaguely blue face and pointed ears, and the addition of pale purple eyes gave the impression he was a creature of ice and snow. I lifted my eyebrows when he moved to sit beside me, because the way he moved gave the impression he was uncomfortable in his body.
"A book," I replied glibly, and bit my lip, deciding to take a chance. "...Bush or Kerry?"
His eyes widened and he looked at me, shocked, before smiling broadly. "Kerry, definitely. It's a pity Bush won, though. Who'd you vote for?"
I sighed exaggeratedly. "Unfortunately, I'm only seventeen. But, I would have voted for Kerry. Anyway, where are you from?"
"In Oregon, about five minutes from Washington," he replied, "just north of Portland."
"Ah, a fellow native of the land of eternal rain!" I cheered. Yes! A person from real(?) life, from somewhere in the same general area as me.
He introduced both himself and his character as Srath, and we talked for a long time. I learned that we had downloaded many of the same mods, including the Galith mod, which introduced a race that was the decendents of the Falmer, the snow elves. His character was one, and I mentally congratulated him on his choice of face and hair combinations. I heard about the seven days he'd been here, and learned that he had been the first to arrive, but several days ago another boat had arrived with more prisioners to be released.
"Why are they doing that?" I asked him, puzzled, when a thought struck me. "Oh—"
"Yes," Srath replied grimly, "the Nerevarine. Each person so far has had a different birthsign; I'm guessing that Lilindra's is the Lady."
I nodded, deep in thought. "So, that's, what, thirteen people? One of which is going to be the Nerevarine, because I'm positive that we can't all be it."
"That's a given," he smirked, leaning against the fire pit. "'Many fall, but one remains,'" Srath quoted. "The book—" he said suddenly, and I stared at him blankly until he waved a hand toward my forehead. "Tarhiel's journal?"
"Indeed," I grumbled, rubbing the bruise. "The bastard."
"Did you get the Scrolls of Icarus Flight?" he asked with greed in his eyes.
"Nope!" I said, smirking at the pout that appeared on his face. "Actually, I think Nels Llendo might have taken them," I began speaking, but trailed off at the stunned expression on his face. "What?"
"You've already run into Nels Llendo?" Srath exclaimed, an almost jealous tone in his voice. I raised an eyebrow at his reaction.
"Yeah, I got a crash course in the fungus of the Bitter Coast region," I replied, blinking when definite jealousy appeared on his face. Almost dreading the answer, I asked, "That... one measure, the one defining marriage?"
He smiled apologetically. "Against, because it affects me."
I sighed, slightly disappointed. "Figures." The first handsome (at least here) from-real-life guy I meet is gay. I think fate hates me.