So long...

It had just been so long since he last felt anything. So many years, numb to the strongest of sensations, that what little wind made it through his cloak, ebon black armor and his new... coat nearly overloaded his mind.

Walking through veritable monsoons, trudging through alien swamps, and swimming through underground lakes, yet feeling no dampness. Passing by bubbling lava flows, walking into an active volcano, being burned by fires both magical and mundane, and never breaking a sweat. Wandering frozen tundras, ice caves, and freezing cold rivers, even fighting beasts who freeze the air around them, and feeling not even a cool breeze. For the first time in over half a century, the lost one's mind stirred. The wind and melting snow was not all he felt. For the first time in years, he felt hope. Could he dream again? Not just those weird visions sent by the mad immortal or those hallucinations brought on by Sanies Lupinus, the werewolf disease, but actual dreams like those he had back home, back before this madness started. What about taste? Yes he'd eaten ingredients to learn alchemical properties, and he'd drank (excessively, to be honest) the local spirits soon after he realized he was trapped in another world for a week or two, but they'd had no true effect on him. In fact, the booze just seemed to affect everyone around him, making them less friendly, more then having any true impact on his mind.

The ideas were like a wildfire, burning away the malaise that had settled on the wanderer over the years like a fireball through cobwebs. He briefly played with the idea of removing his frost immunity ring, now a bangle due to his altered form, but the sensations would probably paralyze him long enough to freeze to death. He was happy, almost deliriously so, but he still wasn't stupid. After all, his intelligence was 96. No, no sense in going overboard and getting himself killed in a fit of excitement.

Checking his location, he noted that his maps and journal were acting strange. The map gave no location name, nor did it give a larger area map as it had back in Vvardenfell, just a white circle around his current location, showing that the snow was most likely permanent in this area. At least it was still able to give him compass points. His journal, meanwhile, had a new entry. The book had saved him countless hours of back trekking and had saved his life numerous times as well, but now it seemed to be running out of power, as it started to fade half way through the entry:

Why was his journal acting up? He'd done his own research on the magic of Nirn, and found that these items usually pulled ambient magic to keep them running, or drained small amounts from the owner to keep them running. Would his map start to run out of power as well? Is that why it wasn't giving a larger location, only showing the local area; it just didn't have the power to do so? What about his immunity items? They were permanent effect before, were they timed now? If so, he needed to move, posthaste.

Mentally accessing his collection of gear, he swapped his lightning resistance bangle for one that increased his prowess with Mysticism-based spells. With a flare of magic, he cast his best finder's spell, briefly lighting up any enchantments or living creatures to his eyes. The results were at once comforting and confounding. There were several faint life signatures deep underground, most not moving, while to the north-west and south, there were glows. What did that mean? What was so large that it radiated enough magic to show up in a detect enchantment spell? For the second time that day, the lost one felt something he'd not felt in years; cautious fear.

Over the years he'd amassed so much power, through both arms, armaments, and skills, that not even the demigods and immortals that challenged him could face him in single combat. Armies of demons fell to the weapons he wielded, the enchantments they contained even more lethal than the blades themselves. His armor withstood even the blows of the largest creatures, and turned aside the sharpest blades claws, and spells. Yet nothing he'd found before gave off as much raw power as what ever may lie ahead. No, stealth would once again be his strongest ally, just as it had been all those years ago, when he left that small boat with nothing to his name but the clothes on his back and some junk he'd managed to sneak out of the customs office.

A second mental command, and his black armor was replaced with a strange green crystal armor set, that almost immediately caused him to fade from sight. No, he wouldn't rush in and waste this chance at freedom. He'd find out where he was, find out what that strange magic was, and then find himself a loaf of bread. A nice, warm, freshly baked loaf of bread. Maybe he'd even splurge a bit, and get some butter with it? By the nine did that sound heavenly. With a nice warm cup of hot coacoa. Wait, did this world have chocolate? Oh he hoped so, nothing beat a cup of hot chocolate after wandering through a blizzard fighting monsters.

His course of action decided, his armor prepared, and his mind more alert than it had been in half a century, the lost one took his first step toward his goal...

...And promptly fell on his face.

'Right, new form, like when I went wolf. Gotta figure out balance and shit first. Probly be best to do that before wandering into a fortress of doom.' He gave himself a once over, before shakily picking himself back up and taking his first uneasy steps into the surrounding wastes.

1, 3, 2, 4...

1, 3, 2, 4...

The lost trudged through the unrelenting blizzard, barely able to see five feet ahead of him. He was no longer tripping over his own legs, which was a blessing in and of itself, but he was by no means certain of his steps. He'd been practicing his movements every few minutes, at least those that were possible out here in the tundra; hopping, strafing (that one was a lot tougher with four legs), walking backwards, a jog, jumping and hopping, and even a few sprints. He'd ended up eating snow more times than he'd ever admit, but even that was a blessing to the lost one. The sensation of the snow melting in his mouth, of drinking water again. The longer he walked, the more his spirits rose.

After another set of exercises, he cast his detection spell again, this time finding that the simple three second detection spell he'd been using to track his progress lit up an entire wall of solid spell-craft just in front of him. The barrier shimmered an eerie purple-pink glow that normally accompanied such spells, branching out in both directions and ending at the edge of the spells detection range.

"Almost like the Ghost Wall, just without the patrols...or the shimmering white glow, or the structural reinforcement or, never mind, bad example." His gaze tracked left then right, imagining the sheer size of the area under the spells effect. Taking a preparatory breath, he closed his eyes, and stepped into the barrier...

... or rather, through it. "What?" He was certain it would be some type of illusion, or a selective barrier that only allowed living things through. Walking back to his previous position, the wanderer weighed his options. He could head south, to the other source of magic he felt, though the distance was impossible to guess. Or he could attempt to breach the barrier, unleashing whatever infernal legions were banished here.

With a thought, a wicked looking blade of black and gold appeared attached to the flat bottom of his... no, think about it later. Bunker Buster, he'd named it, enchanted to remove the shield spells that so many wizards seemed to rely on. Even the mad mother-goddess' shields would be weakened by this weapon. He drew the blade back, and swung it into the area occupied by the barrier.

Strike. He felt the enchantment on the blade surge with energy, even as it seemed to just pass through the air. Strike. Again the blade flared with power. Strike. Ahead of him, he caught a feint glimmer of something in the distance. Strike. Again, this time clearer, buildings perhaps? Strike. Not just buildings, an entire city. judging by the snowflakes on the other side, one trapped in time. Trapped? No, he wouldn't wish that upon his worst enemies. The barrier had to come down. Strike. The barrier was visibly buckling under his assault now, flaring wildly up and down it's length, attempting to redirect energy into the area weakened by his blade. It wouldn't be long now.

Rising up onto his hind legs, oddly not as uncomfortable as he would have assumed, he brought the blade down on the wavering shield a final time, before the sound of shattering glass filled the land. Parts of the destroyed barrier fell to the earth around him, slowly dissipating in the snow. The snowflakes that had been suspended in the spell were slowly picking up speed, falling to the earth after who knew how many years.

The wanderer walked into the town, his blade now seemingly stuck to his back. There was movement here and there, but he couldn't make out what was in the houses. Should he walk into one? He did that plenty of times back on Nirn, but he seemed to remember, though just barely, there was a time before that. He'd done something like that once when he was young, and gotten yelled at by someone... someone important to him, someone he listened to. She was.... who was she again? There was a form, a warmth in the bubbling static of the voice, but no face...

He was pulled out of his memories by an impact, though the one who hit him was the only one who moved. It was a stallion, a bit smaller than himself, looking around for what he'd run into, obviously confused. Why did the idiot not see him? It's not like he was- Oh, that's right, still had the stealth armor on. A simple thought and the armor shifted back to the black and gold of his combat attire, though he still had his cloak over everything, reducing his imposing figure. The fact that he just appeared out of nowhere in front of a confused stallion hadn't yet occurred to him.

'Enter communication. Specific Place.' The wanderer thought, only to be met with the frightened stare of the stallion, who suddenly started studdering.

"K-k-k-king Sombra? What's going on, what happened? Everypony, we're all confused."

'King sombra? That's not my name, it's... I... I'm...' The lost one's mind was hitching at this latest problem his freedom had come with. What was his name? A quick cycle through his journal left him with dozens of titles, but no names. What was his name?

Just how long had it been since he'd last used it?

'I'm not Sombra... hello? Did you hear me?'

"Sir?"

'I said.. oh, wait, I'm not saying...'"I'm not Sombra, is he the one in charge here?" It felt strange to the wanderer, speaking with another again. He'd have to watch his thoughts, sometimes they got away from him.

"I think so, I mean, his name has King in it, right? Everything just feels muddled at the moment, though."

"Wonderful, I'll fit right in here." 'Anything else you can tell me?'

No, wait, he got that backwards, try again. 'Wonderful, I'll fit right in here.' "Anything else you can tell me? Anything important you can remember? Any little detail could help."

The stallion frowned, concentrating on his scrambled memories. "There was something... something about a heart. It was important, so the king hid it. Didn't want it being used against him?"

The wanderer brightened up at this. "Finding an ancient artifact that the survival of civilization hinges on the return of?" His right forelegs boot suddenly shifted to a strange orange metal, which soon had a hammer, then a small dagger made of similar metals swapping through his grip. A cocky grin spread across his face. All of this other stuff was beyond his ability to deal with at the moment, but this? This was something he'd gotten good at. Finally, the weapons disappeared, and the boot returned to it's original gold and black metals. He looked up at the stallion, and agreed to his first quest in a new world.

"I can do that."

Author's Notes:

I've always enjoyed looking through games and making a list of pros and cons you'd run into living in that world, and one thing that kept hitting me with both Morrowind and Minecraft was how flat the world is sometimes. Would you taste anything? Would you feel anything? What would this kind of experience do to someone? A compounding issue for Morrowind is the fact that you contract corprus about halfway through the game, which I can only assume would be horrifically painful, and even if/when you cure it, it's still with you. From then on, you're immortal. Normally not a bad thing, by most trains of thought, but grats, your immortal in a world where you can't feel, taste, drink, or properly sleep, and have no-one to talk to.

GG