Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20191114020701/@comment-7262318-20191116163427

it before doing so. Despite the age of the this book, the writings on the first page were still quite legible… well, as legible as they could be. They still didn’t make much sense:

Thuh larj cow jumpd ovur thuh fens

The larg cow jumpd over the fense

This Won is cald Shrovuh

This Won is calld Shravuh

He couldn’t help but chuckle at these old writings. It seemed like it was a century ago that he was teaching the slave from that mine, whom had so much potential, the very basics of living life. Those were simpler times, and it was very rare that man who pursued knowledge like he did wish for those simpler times.

“… You kept her journal?” Haskill asked, looking over the shoulder of Delusul to see what he was reading.

“Not by choice, mind you,” Delusul said, flipping through the pages. “If it hadn’t been buried under all my old research notes, I probably would have thrown it out…”

He stopped on a page and laughed. “These were fun times though… having to teach her the Khajiiti dialect when I myself was not a native speaker. Teaching her the ins and outs of the religion that she had been ripped away from… She struggled for so long to wrap her head around the concept of the moons… For the longest time, she couldn’t help but write it as Muns…”

“You cared about her.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am no expert on the relationships of mortals. In fact, I could not care any less about that matter,” Haskill remarked. “But from where I stand, it seems you still care about her, even if it is but a sliver…”

Delusul glanced down at the journal once again and sighed, closing the book up. “I don’t loath her existence as she loathes mine… and I can’t blame her for that, either. I mean, if the person who had provided for me, cared for me, taught me everything about the world and was my only friend for my entire childhood… just betrayed me out of the thin-blue one day, I would be quite furious myself.”

“Then why betray her?”

“Because it was time to do so,” Delusul said. “… I have told you the story of how I first met her, yes?”

“I don’t think you have, no,” Haskill said. “Will it end like most of your stories?”

“No, this one is surprisingly pleasant.”

“Then you may proceed.”

“20 or so years ago, I traveled to Morrowind….”

---

21 Years Ago

Morrowind

“… Are you sure this is the place, madman?” Ovidia asked, shielding her eyesight from the ash that was beginning to collect on her hands. “I don’t see what a person of ‘high interest’ would be doing here.”

“And that is what is so troubling, Ovidia,” Delusul said. He had asked the Mad God himself for an escort for this dangerous mission and was granted a single Golden Saint to accompany him. She had complained and nagged all the way to this place, making every moment of this unbearable trip through the ash-covered terrain of Morrowind even more unbearable. Still, he considered this an improvement. Last time, he was given a fish when he asked.

“I have ashes in places that I do not even want to think about,” She huffed. “Whoever this mortal is, she had better be worth it.”

“Trust me, my dear Ovidia, I would not waste my time unless I thought that the objective was worth it,” Delusul declared. “Have a little faith…”

The duo made their way up the hillside and towards the mouth of the cavern, where they could already feel the heat of the mining work hitting them in the face. Malnourished men were desperately hauling carts full of rock and mineral around, while imposing Orcs stood with their hands resting comfortably on their steel weapons. Almost every head immediately turned towards the arriving pair.

“… Charming,” He muttered, glancing around in utter disgust of this place. Slavery was such a useless form of work. He understood the cruelty aspects of it, and how it shattered the mind and made one docile and obedient. But there was no use in economic gains. Yes, the mine boss was allowed to hoard his earnings for he and his mercenaries, but how could he not see that starved and broken bodies made for poor workers? Did he not see the profit in keeping his work horses in top shape?

Some people just got their kicks from being cruel, he supposed.

“Who the hell are you?” One of the Orcs barked, rapidly approaching him with his tusks bared and his sword pulled out. “Ain’t no one-“

Delusul rolled his eyes and raised his cane upwards, pointing it at the incoming Orc and allowing a red stream of energy to reach out towards him. Upon connecting, The Orc’s body immediately went slack and fell face first into the mud, sliding a few feet towards him.

The other bodyguards gasped and some drew their swords. “What… what did you do to him?”

“I turned his brain off for a moment,” He shrugged. “He’s still alive… just dreaming about large-breasted Orc women, most likely.”

“… What… who in the name of Malacath are you?”

“A visitor,” Delusul shrugged. “Would one of you be so kind as to fetch the owner of this operation? I would have words with him.”

The Orcs cautiously looked at each other, their swords still raised. One of them eventually ran off towards a haphazardly constructed longhouse nearby and threw the door open, before quickly closing it behind him.

“… You can do that?” Ovidia asked. “And you needed a bodyguard for this trip because…?”

“Oh, because I do get very lonely on these trips,” Delusul shrugged, taking a seat on a nearby anvil. The Orcs kept their swords drawn and their eyes locked on this trespasser. A handful of them were barking orders at the slaves, getting them into the mine. Two of them were trying to move the Orc that had just had his brains scrambled by Delusul.

“I do enjoy some company here and there… I’m not totally sociopathic, you know? Only slightly,”

“You… I’m wasting time here because you wanted to make idle chit chat?!” She barked.

“Oh, calm down, would you? So melodramatic… You have done a thorough job of convincing me that solitude is much preferable,” Delusul scoffed. “For what I am told is one of Sheo’s best warriors, you sure are skilled at whining and complaining.”

Ovidia opened her mouth to reply, but just then, the longhouse door flew back open, and a rather portly Dark Elf flew down the stairs, angrily stomping toward them. A grin spread across Delusul’s face.

“Reloth, I presume?”

“Who in Oblivion do you think you are?” Reloth shrieked, his chins rising and falling with every step that he took. “I ought to have you strung up and hacked to pieces, coming up here and interrupting my business!”

“Well, unfortunately for you, that won’t be happening…” Delusul rose up, dusting himself off. “But fortunately for you, I am no man of mortal law. I have not come here to reprimand for your… barbaric sense of business.”

“Then what is it that you do want, huh?” Reloth said. “You wouldn’t come up here and strut your fuckin bullshit magic around if you wasn’t lookin’ for something.”

“Awfully perceptive for a man of your mental capacity,” Delusul said. Reloth’s frown deepened at his backhanded argument.

“Well, let us get down to business then… one of my informants-“

“Informant!” Reloth snapped at the word, looking back at the Orcs. “Which one of you cunts talked!”

Delusul rolled his eyes. “None of them talked… pay attention to the matter at hand, Mr. Reloth, and we might get somewhere.”

Reloth turned his attention back to the mage and folded his arms. The Orcs gathered behind their boss. “Alright… I’m listening. Talk fast, ‘cause you don’t have a lot of time.”

“I have reason to suspect that one of your unpaid workers is… well, let us say she is in possession of a remarkable natural ability. An ability that would make her much more useful than some ho-hum rockbreaker, yes?”

“The fuck are you on about?”

“My informant from the Mages Guild alerted me to the presence of a large energy source of magicka from this location,” Delusul further clarified. “He seems to believe that one of your workers is a… gifted being. I have come to collect this person from you, whoever may be…”

“Uh-uh…”

“And you will be compensated handsomely for this transaction.”

“Right… see, here’s the thing pal. You came into my home, had to strut your fuckin’ feathers around, knock my guy out… and now you come here thinking I’m just gonna listen to your fuckin’ negotiations?” Reloth demanded.

“… I am paying well.”

“I make more money in the hour than you will ever dream of, bastard!” Reloth said. “You think I’m gonna listen to you? After the stunt you just pulled?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“What?”

“You know the person I am after?”

“Ain’t no one here a mage!” Reloth barked. “It’s all just useless fucks and brainless screwups… you’re lookin’ in the wrong place, pal!”

“You know.”

“Are you fucked in the head?!” Reloth screamed. “There ain’t no mages here! None! Zero!”

Delusul smirked and stepped forward. “My friend, I have studied the mortal mind and its capabilities for decades… I know a liar when I hear one.”

Reloth’s eye twitched. He gave a nod to his men, who began to reluctantly circle around Delusul. “You better have one good fuckin’ reason that I shouldn’t have my boys here cut yer’ throat open.”

Delusul looked on at the men surrounding him, rolling his eyes. “… I’ll be forced to close your mining operation.”

Reloth had a hearty laugh, his jowls flapping as his booming cackle escaped his throat. “And you with your one itty bitty little trick cane… How the fuck are you gonna do that?”

Delusul smiled.

-

The leader of this band of Orcs was named Grungad, a monstrous orc whom all the other orcs respected. A veteran of war and capable of snapping necks with a single flick of his wrist, it was he that had been contracted by Reloth to protect this mine. It was not glorious work, but it was lucrative.

Grungad was currently pinned to the side of the cavern wall, a pickaxe wedged into his mouth and blood pouring from the open wounds. Reloth barely had time to react to the mutilated form of his enforcer. The screaming and shrieking was drawing closer, and he needed to run. Further he disappeared into the mine, heading down into the lower levels.

His guard had been utterly decimated. Whatever that madman had done to his workers, it was quite effective. He had never seen them so driven. He saw one of them, his stomachs hanging out of his opened body, and he was still running about and trying to stab and scrape at whoever was close. Reloth nearly threw up his lunch watching the massacre unfold.

He stumbled down to the deepest part of the mine, looking back up the spiral that he had come down. Though the rabid screaming was still loud, it didn’t appear to be coming towards him. It sounded as if they were staying towards the top of the mine.

The out of shape Dark Elf took some deep breaths, fixing his eyesight back towards a small tunnel ahead of him. He picked himself up and tried to continue forward, but he was suddenly tripped up and pinned back to the ground underneath someone’s booth. He scratched and clawed at the dirt to break free, but to no avail.

“… You should have taken my deal when offered,” Delusul grinned. “But, you know the old saying about hindsight.”

“Animal!” Reloth bellowed. “I… you… monster!”

“That’s a matter of perspective,” Delusul said, putting the wooden end of his cane into Reloth’s throat. “I think setting these slaves free and turning them on their whip-crackers would make me a folktale hero, would it not?”

“You turned them… you… you!” He shrieked.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll put a coherent sentence together one of these days,” Delusul smiled. “Now… about the slave I’ve come to find.”

“Ain’t no one here a fuckin’ mage!” Reloth cried. “You just killed them all anyways!”

“Oh, come now, Reloth… Now I hardly enjoy making physical threats, but…”

He dug the end of his cane deeper into his throat. “Tell me where this fire mage is or I will show you what it’s like to have every inch of your brain pulled apart. I can assure you, it is not pleasant.”

“I… she’s a cat!” He wheezed. “A… Khajiit… she’s probably dead!”

“A Khajiit fire mage?”

“Yeah… she ain’t good enough to… she can light a fire… about all she’s good for!” He screamed.

“Interesting…” Delusul said, glancing further down the tunnel. The red gem at the end of his cane began to glow, and he held it up in the air.

“What… are you doin’?”

“Relax, my friend, I am not interested in doing any more damage to your operation,” He said. A red light was emitted from the gem, and he peered down the tunnel. Near the far end, he could see a red blotch. Something living down there.

“… Aha,” He said. “Ovidia! Please, watch over this man.”

The Golden Saint grunted and drew her sword, allowing Delusul to take his boot off of the tubby mine boss and proceed down the dark tunnel. The red light provided him vision as he made his way down.

“Hello?” He called out. He heard a few rocks tumble further down the mine, as the red splotch tried to move further back. It appeared that the fire mage he was detecting was trying to hide.

As he drew closer, he began to hear shallow breaths. Something of a silent sobbing. He frowned as he drew closer and closer to the red splotch.

“… Hello?” He called out once more. The red splotch tried to move once again, to no avail. He was nearing the end of the tunnel, and the sobbing was beginning to grow louder and louder.

Finally, he reached the end of the tunnel. Illuminated by his light and hiding behind a pile of rocks, was a small Khajiit. A child, by the looks of it. Tufts of fur around her scalp and neck had been removed, replaced with bruises and cuts. Her face was buried into her arms, and she was shaking like a leaf.

Delusul stood for a moment, his eyes locked on the Khajiit. This was it. This was the supposed mage that he had come here for. A little girl, who could not be older than seven. As he looked on, he wondered what could have been the reason for this. He was a cold and cruel man, but that did not mean he was without pity or emotions. It meant that he could bury it for the greater good of pursuing knowledge.

This was just cruelty for the sake of cruelty. A sick thrill to watch another being be torn apart by nature’s harshest conditions.

Delusul, frowning now, knelt down by her side. “Little girl.”

She hugged herself tighter, almost as if she was bracing for something.

“Little girl… it’s alright,” He whispered. “Are you okay?”

She looked up slowly, her golden eyes filled with tears. Snot was running from her nose as she wiped it on her arm. She did not immediately answer him.

“Are you hurt?”

Still breathing quickly, she slightly shook her head.

“Do you have a name?”

She sunk back towards the wall of the cavern, shaking. Her rags were torn up and were riddled with filth and waste. Her cheeks sunken in.

“… I am Delusul,” He spoke. “I believe I have come here for you….”

“… Who?” She asked. Her voice was frail and weak.

“Who?” He frowned. “I… well I’m a mage. I can control certain things… I believe you do the same, right?”

She didn’t understand what he meant, but she was not longer trying to back herself into the wall.

“… Do you do things with fire?” He simplified the question.

She gave a very short nod.

“I see…” Delusul said. “I have not come here to hurt you. I do not work for Reloth…”

“Reloth says… to not speak to people who do not work for him,” She replied quietly.

“Dear, he says a lot of stupid things,” He said. “Do you have a name?”

“Screaming…” She uttered. “I… heard screaming.”

“It’s okay,” Delusul assured her, gingerly reaching out and wiping a tear from her cheek. “Please… do you have a name?”

“…. Shrava,” The little Khajiit muttered. “I am Shrava…”

“That’s a pretty name,” Delusul said soothingly. “I’ve come to remove you from this place.”

“… To where?”

“Somewhere far better than here,” Delusul said. He reached out and scooped her up into his arms. She offered very little resistance, and instead clung onto his neck, as he brought her back out. It seemed that she understood what it would mean to leave this place and she became less hesitant to accept his help.

“… Reloth…” she muttered. “Did… what will he do? He gets very angry…. Very angry… when the workers…”

“Shhh,” He said, placing a comforting hand on her head as he buried her tear-stained face into his shoulder. “Don’t think about him right now… he won’t be hurting you anymore. I promise…”

“He has… hurt so many…” She squeezed his shoulder.

“It won’t be happening anymore,” Delusul assured the young girl.

Delusul reappeared at the mouth of the cave. Ovidia had kept the fat Dark Elf pinned to the ground, her sword pointed at his head.

“Ovidia, we are leaving,” He said.

“You’re stealing my property!”

“You’re lucky I’m not stealing your sanity. Stay quiet, or I will reconsider my generosity.”

“…. A child?” Ovidia asked. “In the mines?”

“Indeed,” Delusul nodded. Shrava tried to look over her shoulder to see what was going on.

“…. You vile mortal!” The golden saint cried, stomping on his stomach and causing the fat elf to sputter and gasp. “Savage little-“

“That won’t be necessary Ovidia,” Delusul waved her off.

There was still screaming at the top of the mine, pouring down into the facility. The spell should wear off of the slaves soon, but he preferred not to dally. Delusul pointed his cane at the wall and opened a portal in front of them. All the while, he kept the Khajiits ears covered by his free hand so she didn’t have to hear the screaming.

“I will find you!” Reloth screamed. “I will find you!”

Shrava looked at the beaten and bruised form of Reloth, watching him writhe on the ground and pain and scream at her. Even in his hobbled form, his voice and thrashing intimidated her. She buried her face into his shoulder again, almost trying to hide herself.

“… You’re safe now, little one,” Delusul said, feeling her begin to tremble again. “Azura as my witness, you will not be harmed by that man again.”

“… Thank you,” She whispered to Delusul.

“No thanks are necessary,” He replied. “Now come… I will see to it that you have a good meal. Anything that you wish for…”

“Bread?”

Delusul could not help but let out a sigh. “You poor thing…”

The portal closed behind them.

“.. You left the mine boss alive?” Haskill asked.

“Oh yes. I figured that one of his rabid slaves would eat him. That, or he’d have to live with leaving all of his profits behind and start from scratch…” Delusul shrugged. “Not sure what became of him.”

“I see…” Haskill said. “So why the betrayal then, Delusul?”

“Well, that’s the thing. I suppose I took some form of pity on her before… but over the years, I gave her every conceivable opportunity to realize her potential. To, demonstrate to me that she could grasp what I was expecting out of her. This girl with so much power stored within her that even the Mages Guild took notice, I reasoned there must be something of grandness there that just needed to be brought to the light of day…”

He shrugged. “That never came.”

“So you stabbed her in the back.”

“That is how she sees it, yes. But it was an economical decision,” He said. “Yes, I did pity her at first and I came to love her as any father would love a child, but once she came of age and she was still continuing to underperform expectations, well…”

He shook his head. “What can the farmer do with the runt of the litter, Haskill?”

“And how did she underperform expectations?” He asked. “I continue to bring this up, but she has quite literally been burning through your men very quickly.”

“Yes, but she could have been so much more than just a glorified torch!” He cried throwing his hands up in the air.

“And how are you certain of that?”

Delusul sighed. “To answer that, let me start with a question: Do you know what Augmentation is?”

“What?”

“Right,” Delusul rolled his eyes. “Very long and convoluted idea, but to dumb it down for you; augments are people born with natural abilities far beyond the reaches of any normal man or woman. It comes as a dormant ability, somewhere in the soul…”

“… And you believed Shrava to have this dormant ability.”

“I know she has the dormant ability,” Delusul said. “But it never truly manifested. Sure, she can do things with fire, good for her. So can most Imperial Battlemages and drunken campers… but I thought I could draw this thing out of her, make her something greater than just a standard battlemage. But she failed on that front, I’m afraid. Now she just roams the lands as a slightly above average mage that can do things that a book of matches could also accomplish…”

“… If you were the one drawing it out, then aren’t you the one who failed?” Haskill reasoned.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Haskill. It was her ability, her potential, and thus her responsibility,” He said. “It is not my fault that she did not possess the drive to see it through. The damage done to her psyche during the slave years was irreversible.”

“That sounded like an excuse,” Haskill muttered.

“Don’t you have a pair of Sheo’s boots to be licking somewhere?” Delusul asked.

Haskill rolled his eyes and stood up, preparing to leave. “I think I will begin to root for Shrava in this conflict.”

“Get out.” Delusul ordered, growing tired of Haskill’s unenthusiastic antics. The servant to the Mad God simply left the lab soon after, heading off to do other, more monotonous things.

As he left, Delusul took another look at the journal with Shrava’s early, unreadable scribblings in it, reflecting on those years. She was frightened at first, to go from the mines and into this land of madness and abominations. But she welcomed the change, it had appeared. Probably because anything was preferable to that dastardly mine.

He would take her around the realm, show her the docile creatures and let her talk with some of the priests and guards. He even introduced her to the Mad God himself at one point. She was so nervous to meet a man that Delusul had described as a god, that she kept her face buried in his robes for the entire exchange. But Sheo was just overjoyed to have a “Little Cat-Mortal” in his land. He pulled a sweetroll from behind her ear, earning Shrava’s amazement.

He remembered all the times he would convince her to play a prank on Haskill. She would steal his ledger, place a sleeping potion in his drink. Haskill would always berate the both of them and Shrava would laugh and laugh.

These were memories from pleasant times, but they were just that. How he wished that things had not gotten to this state, where he viewed Shrava as a failed experiment and she viewed him as a monstrous villain that had to die. But it was foolish to worry about that now, because they were already in this state. There was no turning back.

“… I wish things were different, little one,” He muttered to himself, before placing the book back in one of his drawers. This would all be over soon, he hoped.