Crossover Fan Fiction / Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction / Tenchi Muyo Fan Fiction ❯ Reason And Accountability ❯ Flying Lizards ( Chapter 2 )

ONE : True Beginnings

“Hey, you. Finally woke up, huh? You got caught sneaking across the border. Just like the rest of us.” (4)

“Where are they taking us?” asked another man. We were in a wagon with rough planking. Very uncomfortable as it rocked over the terrible road.

“Helgen, horsethief,” said the man across from me.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked the thief pointing his chin at the man in fancy armor next to me. His mouth was bound. The gates approached and passed us. A group of roman-looking soldiers on horses were talking to some elves, who were noticeably evil.

“Watch your tone. That’s Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak,” warned the redhaired man across from me.

“Oh crap. You’re the leader of the rebels.”

“Imperial bastards!” shouted one of the women from a balcony as we entered the gates.

"General Tullius, and the Thalmor," remarked the rebel with disgust. He turned to look at a tavern we were passing. “I used to know a girl from Helgen. A barmaid. She used to serve me ale flavored with juniper berries. So sweet.” The carts rolled to a stop near a hooded executioner. They started reading off names. 

“This one’s not on the list. Who are you?” asked the imperial armored Nord.

That’s when things got weird. A menu. Race. Gender. Stick to male. Race? From orc and three species of elf down to three other species of human. As much as I respected the Nords, the hate bonus was simply creepy and the Imperials got a treasure bonus and another for completing quests. I picked Imperial. Adjust hair. A beard. Japanese don’t get beards most of the time. Might be fun. The rest of what I remembered from playing the world’s most popular video game of all time comes down to play style and how I use my skills. I picked a name Noir Fuego, because of course I would.

Things moved forward. A priest, a woman, offered last rites. A redhead interrupted her. 

"I haven't got all day. My ancestors are smiling down on me. Can you say the same?" He got his head chopped into a basket seconds later.

"You, the renegade," insisted the evil imperial redguard woman. I was next. 85% of players refuse to side with the Empire because of this moment. I slowly moved forward, memorizing the redskin officer who insisted I die. Payback will be coming, if she lives through the next few minutes. The dragon howled from the mountaintop. Again.

“What is that sound? Guards, what do you see?” demanded the officer in charge, some arrogant imperial general. What was his name? Tullius? Not getting any sympathy from me either. Ulfric looked on grimly. The dragon arrived, thumping atop the tower above my executioner and shouted down a meteor swarm. I got to my feet and ran for the tower before I could get burned or crushed. I knew it was here for either Ulfric or me. He was in the tower too. And his hands were free. 

"Could that really be a dragon? From the old tales?" asked the rebel I'd been seated opposite from on the wagon. 

“Legends don't burn down villages,” he snarked at the question from the Stormcloak.

"Up, through the tower!" one of them shouted, pushing me towards the stairs. And the dragon. I Climbed halfway to the landing, then hung back and the dragon bashed through the heavy stone wall like paper. Alduin. That was his name. The World Eater. It flamed a soldier and was gone again.

"Jump, through the roof!" urged the surviving soldier, pointing over to the burning tavern next door.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I looked at him. But he pushed me, so I got to jump from the hole down to the second floor of the building nearby. A 10 foot drop into a burning building full of things to impale myself on. And me with my hands still tied. Rough landing and pain. The monster howls and breathes fire on people and buildings. Everything is burning. Snag a bottle of that juniper ale, pop the cap on the edge of a table and drink it. Strength restored. Also, yes, very tasty. Pull open a drawer beside a bed, gold coins and an empty waterskin. Good. Carry the gold coins in my mouth, the skin tucked into the sash holding my burlap prisoner shift closed. Jump through another hole to the ground floor. Out under a sky where the huge black dragon is burning a crowd of soldiers alive in another direction. They were going to chop my head off, so screw them. Duck into sneak mode.

“Hey, keep your head down,” said the Nord in the imperial armor. “Watch the boy,” he ordered one of the locals, probably the father of the boy in question. Unnecessary, don’t you think?

“Keep close to the wall,” said the guy again. I followed, wanting a way out of this firepit. Lots of buildings on fire or wrecked. The dragon was raging havoc in all directions. I moved down between two buildings, one of them a tall wall. The dragon curled its wing over the top, mere feet from me, and breathed fire on the soldiers, burning them alive with lots of screams. I waited, crouching, moving around the troops, following the Nord and through and arch. He argued with some rebel he knew from their home town and then I was following my guide into the keep and away from the dragon.

“Here, let me free your hands. There should be some armor and a weapon in here. Get ready. I think there’s a way out down through the dungeons.” My hands were finally free. I cast heal on myself and felt the pain in my right leg disappear. Whew. Handy skill, and everybody had it here.

I checked in some of the barracks chests and found some light armor, arm bands and boots. I also found a gladius, what they called an Imperial sword. I belted that on and looked around further, finding a small set of pouches and some healing potion and a bottle of wine. That and the coins in my mouth went into the pouches. I rinsed the taste of the impure gold with the wine and spat it on the floor.

“Ready?” he asked. I nodded and we went through a gate. We descended some stairs around the base of the round tower and entered a passageway.

“Wait!” I said, grabbing his arm. The roof caved in down the hallway he was about to step into.

“Thanks,” he said and meant it. “Do you hear something?”

There were angry voices and men from the keep were slaughtered by a couple of stormcloak rebels as we entered the kitchen. I don’t owe either side anything, but my guide stepped up to fight them and I used a fire spell on the one about to kill him. I could feel the mana draining, and it’s a really weird sensation. The guy on fire was screaming like… well like he was on fire. I sprayed him down some more and he just died. I could feel the experience of using the fire strengthen my skill with the spell. That was creepy. My guide killed the other guy with his sword. I put mine away again. I checked the guys, took some food and gold off them, left their heavy armor and weapons behind. Weight matters in this setting, and it doesn’t make a lot of sense either. One of the imperials had more pouches. I removed those and settled more around my waist, checking what was in them afterwards. More food, healing and stamina potions, some more gold. I checked the kitchen and quickly stripped some meat off of the hanging pheasants and rabbits, then found more healing potions in a barrel. Ignored the books. Grabbed an open sack of salt from the table and tied it shut. That was valuable here. Followed him to the exit of the room, another gate with a door heading down more stairs.

“That’s the torture chamber. I wish it wasn’t necessary,” he admitted.

We heard more fighting and found the two imperials, one a guard the other the obvious torturer, fighting off three stormcloaks. The rebels were quickly killed. I found more gold and in a knapsack on a table, more gold, a slightly magical ring, and a book about the Dragonborn. I’d read it when I played the game so didn’t bother. I used the lockpicks I found on the table to pick the middle cell door where a dead mage lay inside. Gold, and more importantly, a magical tome for the Spark spell. Its basically lightning you can cast. Sometimes this is very useful to have as a spell. It disrupts enemy mages and warriors, draining mana and stamina. Not as great as chain lightning, but I’ll buy that when I get a chance. Just don’t have a hireling or any allies when you use chain lightning. The spell doesn’t discriminate between friend or foe. It fries everyone else.

“There’s a dragon attacking. We need to leave,” said Halvor. He’d introduced himself to the torturer.

“Sure, take all my things,” complained the torturer sarcastically.

I followed my guide to another chamber with skeletons and on a hunch looted them of gold and a body of some enchanted prisoner clothes with bonuses to stealth and lock picking. The assistant was coming with us. The two of them lead the way into a larger chamber with water running through from an underground stream. There were several stormcloaks within. I dropped into stealth and saw my level increase. I accessed the player menu and boosted my magic and my picked stealth for my next bonus. In this game, stealth was very important.

Naturally, that’s when one of the guys I could barely see hit me with an arrow in the chest. I sagged from the terrible pain and cast heal even as I pulled it out. The wound sealed but it used most of my magic. I dodged the next guy to fire in my direction, feeling my mana flow back slowly. Halfway back I crept forward as the torturer got killed by the stormcloaks and noticed the oil on the floor. I hit that with a quick burst of flame and it ignited under the two archers who screamed as they burned. I rushed forward out of stealth and stabbed the nearer one, dropping him into the flaming pool, then spun as the second man fired his arrow at me, chopping through the longbow and then burning him alive with the other hand. I was out of magic, and I was wounded again. I stepped back, using short bursts of healing to keep from losing consciousness from my injuries. The oil burned out, leaving sizzling human meat on the stone pavers. I looked around. The other stormcloaks were dead. I caught up to Halvor and we exited the chamber across the short bridge. There was a crack as we entered the larger chamber beyond and the bridge was destroyed by rocks falling, the damned dragon howling behind and above us.

“We can’t go back that way,” he said, as if that was not painfully obvious. “Come on.” We followed the stream down out of the cave, dealing with some giant spiders that tried to projectile vomit poison on me. I dodged. Halvor stabbed them to death. I used the Spark spell on one. Learned to control the flow of mana a bit better. Again on another one and levelled up again. This time I put more onto mana and to Destruction magic. I collected some of their poison into an empty wine bottle, noting not to drink that, and continued. I stayed stealthy crouching as we carefully drifted past the sleeping cave bear. In person, those things are gigantic predators. They also stink. I got away from and soon exited the cave into sunlight. The howling dragon flew past overhead, still totally enraged.

“You can follow me to Riverwood or split up, your call,” he offered. I followed. We reached the standing stones a short while after joining the semi-paved rocky road above the river, where the large lake ended. I looked at them and picked the Mage stone, touching it with my hand to activate it.

“Mage eh? I had a feeling.” We continued down the road, following the river east and down. Some wolves attacked and I zapped them with Spark and then beheaded one, stabbed the other with the sword. My skills went up some more. I quickly skinned the three of them. Halvor waited the moments it took for this normally slow process because this game was broken in all sorts of ways. I also got some wolf meat for rations later. We were shortly in Riverwood and Halvor greeted the smith, and his sister. I filled my waterskin and took a long drink before refilling it. I hadn’t realized I was thirsty before. We got invited to dinner inside. I joined them, adding my own comments on the dragon and the destruction of Helgen. The smith offered us supplies and I got some food and a couple health potions from him in thanks.

“You should tell the Jarl down in Whiterun,” he urged. I sighed.

“I’ll do that,” I agreed.

I set off moments later heading down the road. I jogged across the bridge, then I killed several more wolves with magic and sword. Skinned and butchered I crammed them into my belt because magical pouches! Sigh.

In what was probably twenty minutes I was on the valley floor and looking at the largest city in Skyrim… which isn’t saying much. Whiterun was a big curtain wall around a hill with a castle at the top. The entrance was inconveniently to the west, and I jogged that way, ignoring the giant being killed before I could get close to the pair of werewolves and their foul attitudes. It was dusk. There were fireflies along the river. I went up hill towards the gates, hearing a woman’s voice groaning from a horse stall. Sofiya. Ah, did I want a meat shield? Am I a perfect loner or not? She’s a minor goddess and would be good practice for Healing Hands. I want to boost that skill. I found her naked. She looked… very attractive in person, even clearly drunk.

“Oh, its You,” she said, and blushed. Right. That. Tsundere tendencies. “I drank too much mead,” she complained, then belched loudly.

“Where are your clothes?” I asked her.

“Oh? I lost them. That happens sometimes,” she admitted like it was a common experience rather than bad coding.

“Wanna come with me? I have to report seeing a dragon to the Jarl,” I sort of explained to the naked beauty.

“Oh? Okay,” she agreed too easily. I passed her the crappy prison outfit.

“I’ll get you something better soon. Don’t worry,” I promised.

We approached the gates.

“Halt! City’s closed with the dragons about,” insisted the guard, looking like he wanted a bribe.

“I have news from Helgen about the dragon,” I answered. He grumbled but signaled to guards to unlock the gate for us.

We entered and I stepped past the arguing smith with the Daddy issues and scraped my wolf pelts into leather and some leather strips. I then went to the forge and turned that into leather armor, which I put on myself, and leather boots, and leather arm guards. I passed my imperial armor to Sofiya, despite her being a Nord. She put it on. The miniskirt looked good on her, and I got back the enchanted prisoner garb. I could either sell this for the ridiculous sum it was worth, or I could disenchant it for the skill experience. Enchanting was really important in this game. Especially if you could wear more than one ring at a time.

“Come on, Sofiya.” We climbed the street toward the town well. I filled a second waterskin and drank from the bucket. Better. I climbed the stairs to the next tier and I quickly prayed at the shrine for Talos, feeling illness cured I hadn’t realized was getting me before. I felt stronger now. I climbed a long series of stairs between cascading waterfalls and pools. Nice. The view from the top was nice too. Even better than the game. I turned and we entered the hall through the very heavy oaken beam doors. Approaching the Jarl’s throne I was stopped by a dark elf with a sour attitude. I repeated my message and was allowed to approach the Jarl, this one named Balgruuf. He was probably the only decent Jarl in the entire country. The rest were real garbage.

“So you say you saw this dragon at Helgen. What were you doing there?” he asked, eyebrow raised with a degree of sarcasm.

“I was about to have my head chopped off when the dragon attacked. Jarl Ulfric was next.”

“Ulfric is mixed up in this? You’re very brave to bring this to me at your own initiative. You have my thanks, outsider,” he said, and offered me a set of heavy steel armor I couldn’t wear. I’d give it to Sofiya and see if she could use it.

“I have a task you might be able to help with,” ordered the Jarl. I sighed and followed him to meet the court wizard. I got my orders to invade a draugr filled tomb on a mountain above Riverwood.

“Before I go, do you have anything for sale?” I asked him. He shifted in surprise, but agreed to trade. I offloaded the enchanted prisoner clothes for several hundred gold each and purchased the Healing Hands spell, Ocato’s Recital, Muffle, and Oakskin from him. I read the tomes and setup the casting series so I’d have some defenses. These were crucial to survival as a mage in Skyrim. Without Ocato, you could never cast an armor spell in time to matter.

I checked and saw that while the miniskirt armor was cute, the steel armor was better protection for my companion. She nattered on like Yui did, only with filthy stories about drinking too much or sex talk or other comments more likely to come from Haruno. We stepped out into the night.

“I’m sleepy. Can we go to the inn?” she asked.

“Sure. Here’s some coin for mead and food. I’ll get us a room,” I offered as we descended the stairs to the only inn. The only room in the only inn was available in the rear attic. I ate, finally, drank some mead, which was sweet, and went to bed.

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References:

4. Skyrim. aka Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Bethesda Studios. Special Edition, modded play, because unmodded is for losers. Original release date: 2011.