Ch.4

[Loredas, 10th of Sun’s Height: Merchant’s Festival/Vaermina’s Day, 4E: 221]

*Huff. Puff. Wheeze*

“If you keep slumping you’re going to fall over. Stand up straight.” Neethsi chided me as I carried the haul of hemp bags full of the goods purchased from five stores while he only carried his large travel pack as usual.

“Too...much...weight...” I groaned in pain as I struggled through the feeling of rage that built within me like some beast was clawing at the back of my mind. Right, I’m a lycanthrope.

“You’re only a few pounds over your carry limit and we’re heading back to the clinic. This isn’t some role-playing board game where you’re stuck at an arbitrary statistic limiting your potential. You’ll be stronger for this.” Neethsi said and I had to wonder how sane he could really be to be making references like this.

“Oh, he’s sane alright. So sane he’s insane lass!” Chirped a seagull at me in Sheogorath’s voice and I groaned in dismay.

“Merario.” Neethsi hissed blandly and the seagull popped like a balloon, spraying feathers everywhere and nobody seemed to notice.

“Ah! No middle names, Never! Gah! How rude!” Sheogorath huffed directly into our minds, why did he include me in that?

“Never?” I grunted through my teeth as I trudged closer to Mellow’s clinic.

“Ah, my Imperial-given name is Never-Far. Where is he? He’s Never-Far, you can’t miss him. Hmph. Imperials with their dry wit and dull creativity never cease to amaze. When I was in your situation once-upon-a-time, it was just easier to introduce myself to people as Never-Far, because everyone was either too lazy or didn’t care to bother understanding my Jel name.” Neethsi regaled me and I inwardly thanked the Madgod for causing him to open up just a bit more to help me piece together-wait!

“Never-Far? That sounds like Nerev-mmph!” Neethsi had spun around and used his thumb and index finger with painful strength on my snout and chin to snap my trap shut. I shivered in fear as the vicious predator leered down at me.

“I like you. Do not make me remove your tongue. If you must speak about this, do it in privacy.” The ancient Nerevarine hissed and released my face before continuing onwards, visibly agitated to the point of his thick tail scratching the cement street and people quickly parted around him like the Red Sea for Moses.

“Great, now I’m worried about what happened in Morrowind.” I muttered to myself before trying to catch up with Neethsi, keeping some distance between him and I since he was still agitated. “On that thought, I’ve met the Hero of Kvatch...I think, but what about the Dovahkiin?”

“Ask such sensitive questions when you’re not in public.” Neethsi hissed at me and I squeaked from how close he had gotten without my noticing. So I shut up until we reached the clinic and he held the door open for me. Such a gentleman when he isn’t being scary.

“Went all-out, didn’t you? Whatever you two went to do yesterday must’ve been lucrative.” Mellow commented as he gently helped an older border collie Diamond Dog woman towards the door. “Now remember Miss Lassy, you need to take the potion before bed if your rockjoint is going to improve.”

“I know sonny. I came to ya fer help, not to waste both our times.” The elderly dog patted his hand and Neethsi kept the door open for her. “Such a gentleman.” Neethsi then entered the clinic and shook his head.

“It’s always the nice ones that suffer. Now then, unpack your goods in the isolation room since you still need to sleep in the ward tonight. Mellow Mender, you’ve been conscripted.” Neethsi abruptly grabbed the bookish and short unicorn by the back of his robes and carried him off, ignoring the yellow and green pony’s protests.

What have I gotten myself into besides being the next Hero likely foretold in the Elder Scrolls?

📜

I didn’t see Mellow or Neethsi for the rest of the day as I organized the purchases Neethsi made for me.

Hardy leather gloves and boots to cover my already sturdy hands and feet. I’ve been barefoot this whole time and nobody commented on it. I also barely noticed. Tight leather trousers with a scale armored miniskirt that had notches and loops for equipment to supplement my belt.

A scale mail vest with an odd gambeson to go under it that would cover my arms. Said vest was a bit loose in the chest, even with the clasps tightened and the gambeson was oddly elastic despite its organic material. Clearly Neethsi planned for my bloating boobs. I could loosen or undo the straps of my vest when I’m extra-busty I guess.

Then I had a chitin-plate helmet that fit to my skull eerily well, even hooking on my horns right.

Fully dressed, I went to the clinic’s restroom to look at myself in the mirror. I look like a badass and I’m not sure if it’s just me or if everyone here looked this cool in the right gear. *knock, knock* “When you’re done preening, come back to your room.” Neethsi said through the door and I took a bracing breath before doing as he said to find Mellow and Neethsi.

“You look like a real adventurer, Meen-Rei.” Mellow complimented me and I felt my face smile in whatever way argonians smile. I will see myself smile in the mirror one day! I just have to figure out how to manipulate my expression without the emotion backing it. I guess I know why non-argonians consider my adopted species to be either emotionless or cold.

“Just wait until she has the cowl and cloak.” Neethsi stated before the door to the room suddenly closed without anyone touching it. Spooky! “Now then. Since Old Sheo had to ruin my anonymity with you so soon, I feel it fair you get some answers.” Neethsi’s usual mild demeanor became intense and intimidating again. I miss nice and polite Neethsi!

“Of course it has to deal with Daedra. I swear if you didn’t at least give me a reason to hear you out, I’d have called the Temple on you.” Mellow snorted angrily at the Naga, who waved the unicorn’s words away.

“Yes, yes. Devout follower of the Nine Dickheads that you are, I can understand why you have issues with entities that didn’t use the majority of their power to create the material plane. Now, sit down, shut up and listen to your elder.” Neethsi rasped at Mellow, who folded like a house of cards and sat on the bed, which I mirrored without thinking. “You don’t need to sit too Rei.”

“Sorry.” I stood up and stood at the end of the bed instead.

“I’m not going to eat you for-ugh. This is why I don’t like people knowing. I am Neethsi Nagnaresh. I am also known as Never-Far, Nerevar Reborn, Nerevarine and many more names I’ve gone by in the past centuries. No, I’m not dead. Yes, Vivec is gone. The Clockwork City is real. Akavir is worse than any Imperial propaganda can portray it and all deities in this world are idiots. Especially you Sheo!” Neethsi snarled as he pointed at a cockroach or other local variant that laughed and turned into a silver statue. “You’re best friends for one adventure together and he’s a constant menace.”

“Before our humble mortal brains implode. What?” Mellow demanded in shock and I was fighting a fangirl squeal. The Nerevarine! Slayer of Dagoth Ur! Hero of Morrowind!

“To simplify: I’m an ancient prophesied Hero that did his duty and disappeared as was required. Although I didn’t disappear long enough. As soon as I got to Akavir, I got out of there the moment I could after I stole military intelligence of their next planned invasion along with all sorts of weapon designs. The next thing I know after having tea with Emperor Uriel, who asked for me by name, I’m caught up in his assassination and wind up playing bodyguard for Martin Septim for a couple of months while Sheo, back then he went by Merario Cucius, ran around trying to save Nirn.” Neethsi sighed and rubbed his head. “I tire of sharing this story so much.”

“Wait. You were there for Uriel’s assassination, but you didn’t save him?” I asked in bafflement. I mean, really. If Uriel didn’t die, then Martin could’ve been secured and the Oblivion Gates wouldn’t have opened to force the Hero of Kvatch to run around like a desperate madman to save the world.

“Uriel. He...he was wise beyond even his incredible age for an Imperial. He told me to guard the entrance to the Imperial Prison from intrusion, to keep the Mythic Dawn from pursuing him too quickly. I knew later that he intended to die, but not before he had secured the next Hero. My involvement was rather minor. I just stood guard near Martin after a Blade came to reinstate me as a senior member of the order.” Neethsi tiredly answered, clearly lost in old memories.

“Well...I guess if you’re going into danger, having him along is a sure way to increase your odds of survival.” Mellow muttered, only to get a bundled robe tossed in his face.

“You’re coming too. As much as I detest Azura, she still gives me prophecies. Your ‘destiny’ lies not here, but in Lilmoth.” Neethsi grumbled and took off his backpack, pulling things out that rightly shouldn’t fit in the pack by the volume of the items removed.

“W-what?! I’m not leaving everything I’ve worked for behind to...oh…” Mellow pulled the right side of his robes up to expose his thigh. His Cutie Mark, a calm yellow concoction being gently stirred, was glowing. “I...I need to go. Damn it. Granny warned me about the Curse of the Mark. I guess I just figured I wouldn’t suffer from it like so many avoid.”

“What? Hold on. Cutie Marks represent your Talent. Are you telling me they also represent your Destiny?” I asked queasily, disliking the idea that a brand on your thighs dictated who and what you were. It was one thing to have something that described you, but to have something that forced you to be what it displayed was another matter entirely.

“Where have you been?” Mellow asked me again in confusion. “That is common knowledge about ponies.”

“She is not of Nirn, nor is she of Oblivion. She is from Beyond. I feel that thanks to her addition to our fine overflowing chamberpot of a realm, we’re bound to receive more of her ilk whether we or her folk want it.” Neethsi sagely huffed and I nodded quietly. Displaced attracted others. It was only a matter of time before someone popped in out of nowhere and went ooga-booga.

“It would also explain why the Dream has become unstable. Something has tipped the balance towards doom and this time it may be too much to come back from and pretend it was ancient history that would never happen again.” Neethsi continued and I shivered in fear.

📜

[Sundas, 11th of Summer’s Height, 4E: 221]

The earth trembled in fear. The air became painfully cold. The oceans froze over after they boiled and the dead rose again, only to suffer from their inability to die.

“This is what will come.”

Cackling monsters whipped people endlessly, their skin flaying, blood spraying, only for the screaming victims to heal and suffer over and over and over.

“This is the fate of Nirn.”

Upon a throne of pitch black ice sat a shadowed figure that relished in the suffering.

“He must be stopped.”

I jolted awake after Azura’s voice as I remembered it from Morrowind finished along with the visions I had experienced in my sleep, gasping and panting for breath as I staggered out of bed. Damn it. I get warded against Vaermina’s influence only for Azura to get involved? Damn it. It’s Molag Bal again, isn’t it? Those visions, they were of Coldharbour. Or Nirn turned into Coldharbour. He’s going to attempt a Second Planemeld.

Great! It took the unified armies of all of Tamriel to stop him the first time! If anything, from what I can remember of the situation of the world in ES5, this is the weakest Tamriel has ever been in its entire history. Not even when the Alessian Empire caused a massive 1008 year long Dragon Break, not even from his first Planemeld during the Interregnum or immediately following the Oblivion Crisis was Tamriel so ripe for the picking.

“Sorry about her. Azura isn’t known for being gentle.” I looked at the corner of the room to see Neethsi reading a book by candlelight.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” I asked instead of bothering to question how he knew I had a vision from Azura. He’s the Nerevarine. If anyone knows about disturbing visions provided by a questionably benevolent seer-goddess-thing, it’s him.

“I don’t sleep. A gift from Hircine.” Neethsi hissed, clearly having bad blood with the Daedric Prince. I guess the events of the Bloodmoon Prophecy really pissed him off. “You’re touched by his blood too. You’ll know at least some measure of my suffering if you get blindly furious enough.” Neethsi’s reminder made me wince. Right, I was Displaced with the ‘Blood of Hircine’. Great, my soul belongs to a personification of the Wild Hunt.

“Thanks for reminding me. I almost forgot since unlike other were-creatures, I don’t suffer insomnia.” I grumbled, at least thankful that my almost nonexistent ‘curse’ never had any occasion to flare up in my previous world. All I got out of the deal was the benefit of immunity from disease. It seems in this new world, my possession of Hircine’s blood is more significant.

“I had a sense you were different. It was part of why I felt I needed to stick around you, besides the visions and the flow of the Dream leading me to be your guide.” Neethsi quietly said before he looked out the window into the dark. “Hm...the sun is on it’s way. It is nearly five in the morning. You have two more hours of sleep you could try to get.”

“No, I’m up.” I muttered and checked my bosom. E-cups, one size up from yesterday. I could go a few more days before I need to be drained.

“Alright. Let’s get you geared up.” Neethsi helped lay out my armor while I got dressed, not minding stripping nude in front of him. He clearly wasn’t interested or I can’t read argonian emotional tells. Either way, it seemed nudity wasn’t much of an issue for argonians compared to humans or elves. Speaking of which, actually.

“Isn’t this quite a warm outfit for the tropical swamps of Black Marsh?” I questioned after I got my helmet on last and indeed my scale mail vest had room for my sized-up bust. Hopefully it will continue to be accommodating.

“Argonians are not warm-blooded. However, we also are not cold-blooded. I like to think we’re luke-warm at best.” Neethsi dryly joked and I couldn’t help the smiling feeling in my face combined with a snort. “Temperature matters not. The Hist created us to be able to adapt to any environment so that they could learn all they can of the world beyond their roots and canopies. Each argonian is a tiny Hist Tree with legs. We may not consciously be able to actively utilize this outside of our most sacred traditions in the heart of the swamps, but our ancestors are grateful for our efforts.”

“Wait, created? Then...I woke up in a sac of sap in the trunk of a Hist Tree…” Was I reborn instead of Double Displaced? I looked at my hands in wonder. Am I truly an argonian, not just someone shoved into the body of one? This both upset me, yet grounded me. If I’m truly an argonian now, I won’t keep pining for my old foxy self, but I will discover what became of my children if it’s the last thing I do.

“The Hist sings about you. Tones of sadness, hope and regret. You are special to them, especially the one who bore you from their trunk.” Neethsi gently informed me and I felt oddly happy the Hist actually bothered to care. Then again, I’m their prophesied Hero, apparently.

“Ah, okay.” I mewled while Neethsi laid out the other gear he bought for me. Although he insisted at least half of the money we looted from the shipwrecks was mine, I had no illusions about that. Neethsi spent what was easily his money on me just to help me out. Half-off prices or not, that meant a lot to me. “So, you overwhelmed me yesterday. What all did we get?”

“Your dagger is of high quality, so instead I got you a smaller hunting knife for skinning or other delicate work you don’t want to waste your dagger’s blade on. I bought you a quiver for arrows and a quiver for bolts. Your own travel satchel. Camping gear. Steel bracers to go with your armor. Replacement drawstrings. Repair tools. I also made your hooded cloak.

“Well, that would explain why there was so much, but how can I carry all of that?” I questioned, also wondering why he bought me quivers when I didn’t have a bow, crossbow or ammo for either.

“Since I don’t have to avoid the subject, with my age and sleeplessness, I’ve become quite masterful of many crafts. I’m not the ultimate authority in any of my chosen skills aside from one, which I will not speak of yet, but I know of tricks many modern people have forgotten in a few short centuries.” Neethsi gestured to his travel pack. “Surely you noticed my pack carries far more than it should be able to. That is an ancient enchantment that allows a nigh-infinite storage capacity in a private pocket of Oblivion, in exchange for demanding you still carry the full weight on your whole body. Back in the day, everyone had it, subconsciously even.”

“You enchanted my satchel to do that?” I asked happily and Neethsi nodded. Yay! I have an adventurer’s bag!

“I’ve also prepared these for you.” Neethsi retrieved two things from his pack that made me gasp. One was a shortbow made of some white substance inlaid with black decorative engraving, the other was a crossbow! The crossbow was made of steel and seemed to be the repeater model favored by the Dawnguard. I am thankful for any semi-advanced ranged weapon to keep me away from danger.

“Thank you, but what’s with the shortbow?” It was simple in shape, yet elegant in design.

“It’s one of mine. I made it many years ago when I was experimenting with my smithing. It’s a Bonemold bow, only I replaced the standard iron in the recipe with Ebony and chips of Stalhrim. The Skaal were quite thankful for me rescuing them from Hircine’s Bloodmoon Prophecy, to the point they let me learn their ways.” Neethsi informed me and I gawked at the unassuming pretty little bow.

This thing was worth more than a full suit of Dwarven armor! Just the inclusion of Ebony and Stalhrim made it worth more than it’s physical space in Septims! “I-I can’t accept this!”

“Too bad. It’s yours. I’m planning on turning it into a crossbow later, so please don’t break it.” Neethsi said and I squealed, jumping at him and wrapping my arms around his neck as I squealed. “Ah!”

“Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you~!” I nuzzled him and quickly examined my gifts. I would have to treat this shortbow with the utmost respect. I’ll also have to get used to it’s draw weight, considering despite its size, I’m sure it has the punching power to get through heavy armor.

“You’re welcome. Now, let’s go wake up our cleric.” Neethsi dryly joked and I snorted again.

Next Chapter: Ch.5 Estimated time remaining: 19 Hours, 26 Minutes