C59 Double Shit

After slitting his throat, I continued my search for the Warrens. The place with one of the highest densities of crazies in all of Skyrim. A place I wouldn't doubt Sheogorath comes to every now and then for vacation.

—

"I'm going to eat well tonight, my darling!"

Running towards me was a crazy, wrinkled raisin of an old man. He was wearing an ill-fitting chef's tunic and hat, and had a butcher's knife in his bony hand. If I were a little kid, I'd be terrified, but I'm not a kid, I'm a man. A big man.

"Ah, you look so tender! Come here, you juicy morsel!"

{Pap-thud}

Before Mr. Chef could touch me, I bitch slapped him across his greasy mug, making him face-plant the wall. "You think you can eat me, huh!?" I pick him up by the collar and start dragging him back to his 'kitchen.'

{Bam}

Then I slammed his head onto one of the tables, "Argh! You—food isn't supposed to—" then, I took his rusty cleaver—which he never let go of—and chopped one of his ears off, "Argh!"

Through his screams, I say, "Now listen here, Mr. Fucknuts! I ain't nobody's supper! Not today!" his other ear comes off, "Not ever!" I throw the cleaver away and lift his head up by the hair, "Do you understand, Mr. Fuckface?"

"Y-yes. I'm s-sorry," he sobs out.

I smile at him like a happy Santa, "Goood~" He smiles back, "Ha—hahaha," and we both start laughing.

{Bam-crack}

Until I slam his head back into the table, making something crack, "Now die, Mr. Fuck—fuck—argh! I don't care, just die!"

{Bam-crack-splurt}

"Bu I sed I uz sowe..." he squeezed out through his mangled, blood covered face.

I looked pensive for a moment, then put on a remorseful expression and say, "Yeah, I guess you did. Let me make it up to you," I stood him up and made to clean him up a bit, but then—

{Bam}

"Sike! Hahaha!"

{Bam-crack-splurt-splat}

"Hah..." I let out a contented sigh while letting go of his caved in head.

It's been awhile since I just—let it out—a bit, so I took this as a chance to do so. Though, I have come to notice that my 'letting out' looks eerily similar to psychotic behavior... Something which makes me feel... Nope. I'm completely fine with, actually.

Standing away from the brainy mess, I notice something and mumble, "Huh. Sturdy table," then nudge it.

{Creak-thud}

It fell over.

"Or not..."

As if finishing a minor chore, I turn around and walk out of the cannibal's kitchen. The first thing I hear is, "Inkpot. Stone. Bucket. Book. Knife." It then repeats over and over again...

"Hey, Crazy Bitch! Shut your face, or I'll make wine skins from your tits, and coin purses from your cheeks! All FOUR of them! Oh, and I'll make a cock sleeve from your tongue too, but I'll save it for last, that way you can scream through the whole thing!"

It stopped.

After proving—to myself—that stimulating a crazy person's survival instincts can make them temporarily regain sanity, I nod... then seriously consider why I did something so strange...

After a quick introspection—and deciding to get out more often—I start walking down a random corridor, searching for a door that looks like it's bolted to the bedrock itself.

—

{Knock-knock}

"30th of Frostfall."

No answer.

"Come on, Old Man."

No answer.

{Pound-pound}

"Yo! Open up, ya old geezer, it's time to go!"

No answer.

"Oh, for fu—" I step back a bit, "You better not be behind the door!" My plan was to forcibly take this old sack of bones, even if he wasn't going to cooperate. Focussing on the door—I don't shout. As of now, Unrelenting Force is too weak for it to work on this small of an object that's also reinforced to such a degree. So instead, I kick it.

Because I thought that was smart...

{Thud}

"Oh, shit..." Never mind. "Plan B, it is, then."

{Bzz}

Much like a lightsaber, a short beam of fire extends from my hands. With it, I slowly cut through the hinges and locks. It only takes as much Magicka as a few expert wizards have in total to do it.

{Creak-boom}

With a thundering crash, the door falls to the floor, edges still glowing hot.

Stepping on it, I walk into the room, "Alright, time to get—" I look around—it's dark and empty. "... Fuck!" Afterward, I step out of the room and do something I really don't want to—crack open my face wrap, "Oh—ugh," I turn to a certain direction and then quickly put it back on, "You already left..." Although I found it highly strange that he wasn't here, like he's 'supposed' to be, I ignore that and—

"Sigh," what I hear coming makes my mouth twitch.

"Halt! By order of the Thal—"

"FUS OFF!" I turned to them and shouted—sort of.

A gold tinged shout travelled toward them faster than any spell could. It contained so much force that their armor dented or cracked before they themselves could be moved by it.

Already dead and quickly tearing apart, the Thalmor personnel flung backward. They would've eventually run into a wall, or some other obstacle, but everything behind them already started crumbling to pieces—including solid stone—and showed no sign of slowing down.

{Rumble}

I look up at the rubble falling from the ceiling in increasingly larger quantities, "Tsk," then look down and give a tired sigh, "shit," but it doesn't end there, as I then notice some liquid starting to drip from above as well, "double shit..."

—

"I trust you won't tell anyone where I've gone?" an elderly man asks.

"Of course not, Old Man," A younger man—though not considerably so—said, "For the price you're paying, we'll even send them the wrong way." He was equipped in light leather armor made for getting in and out of places quietly.

"Good. That's good," the older man let out a tired sigh and leaned against the bar that they were sitting at.

"I used to wonder why you were always so secretive, but now, with all of 'them' searching around, I can see why."

"They're ever so persistent. As they've always been."

"Hm," the younger one sets down a half emptied tankard, "I even heard from my—associates—that the Drag—"

{Buzz}

Before he could complete his sentence, the floor started vibrating. It quickly grew into a rumble, then shaking. It was strong enough to make them both hold on to the bar for balance.

"What in Oblivion is going—"

{Boom}

Not far from them, the ground cracked and then exploded upward. From it, thick smoke and dust spewed, blinding all those present. However, through it all, a single, fiery silhouette could be seen—and it spoke, though distortedly, "Finally—found you." The flames which surrounded the figure warped along with their voice—almost as if they had a mind of their own...

"Looks like I wasn't fast enough," the older one seemed to know who it was and sat motionless on his stool. Meanwhile, the younger one had already taken cover behind the bar, sparing no thought for the elder man.

{Sludge-splat}

As the figure walked forward—or more specifically, toward the old man—magma fell from his body and the floor melted under his feet. Though not for long. Eventually, the magma stopped flowing, the flames died down, and the smoke cleared, revealing a figure clad in black armor and a cloak.

Seeing this, the old man looked puzzled, as if this wasn't what he had expected, "Who-who are—"

"Wuth mun. Zu'u tovit lingrah. Nii tiid wah bo. (Old man. I've searched long. It's time to go.)" the figure said, as they stopped in front of the man, still radiating immense heat.

The words seemed to hold a coercive effect, as he replied rather straightforwardly, "Kolos? (Where?)"

"Delphine..."

—

Holy Hot Damn!

After descending a sewer on a wild goose chase for a crotchety old man, I find that he's not even there, and then damn near bury myself in said sewer after dealing with some pointy eared bastards!

Wait... I've got pointy ears too, so I should say that—no—my ears are much better than theirs, so it doesn't matter.

With the place coming down on top of me, I said, "Fuck it all," and just blasted my way out of there with endless fire. On my way out, I tried to end up at, or near, the Ragged Flagon. I got that last part dead on—which is where I am now.

Well—leaving—actually.

Turning from the bar, with Esbern in tow, I start walking to the exit. Though, not before glancing at a baffled Mercer, who was now poking his head out from behind the counter. "Mey. (Fool.)" is all I say to him—not that he understood it.

I wasn't eager to get my hands on any of the Daedric Artifacts—for now. And as a man stupid enough to betray the Daedric Prince that they serve—meaning their soul goes to them upon death—is not someone I fear. Not one, single, iota. And I also don't worry that he'll be able to escape from me if I come for the key.

In time, all things I want shall fall into my hands...

"W-wait. Who are you?" Esbern, snaps from his daze and asks me, as we exit the Flagon.

"Fus," I Shout toward the draw bridge, making it fall down to let us pass. "Does that answer your question?" I ask him.

He trails behind me, "You're a Grayb—no, they wouldn't come for me... But your Voice—could it be?"

"Bingo. Now let's go, I can't stand to be in these sewers for a moment longer."

"Bingo... I've never heard of such a thing..."

—

//Note//

This chapter was fun, but, it felt kinda—empty...

Or was it?

Mwahahaha!

— —

FYI, this marks halfway through the Main Quest.

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I don't like using {Insert Sound Effect}

I think it's cheesy, and I'd rather convey action in some other way, but I don't know how without making walls of text...

Any suggestions?

— —

An observation.

Something I've noticed as I write more, is that my written word is almost nothing like how I speak, and instead, very similar to my internal monologue.

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