Oblivion: Journal of Fang - From the Docks to Skingrad

(Translated from Ta’agra)

Heartfire 18th, 433

            It has been some time since I saw fit to keep a journal, long before the events that drove me to Cyrodiil. However, while staying in Chorrol, I’ve managed to buy an empty journal from Renoit’s Books, and no keep it with me. I will, hopefully, keep this as a record of my time here in Cyrodiil, so that others will know of what I have done here.

            Cyrodiil is far from the calm center of the Imperial storm that many make it out to be. When I arrived in Anvil, it wasn’t long before I was involved in intrigue between the guards and local thieves, and whatever various matters the Fighters Guild got into, of which I became a member. (Episodes 1-3)

Tiring of Anvil, I made my way to Kvatch, (after some brief altercations with local outlaws), where I began to compete in the local arena. It was good money, but the behavior of the Arena master, Kholfe, disturbed me, so I left from there as well. I once more ran into outlaws, as well as an Imperial Guard who had helped me before, one Viatrice Kolinidas.  (Episodes 5-8)

She would escort me to Skingrad, and after buying her a few rounds for her troubles, I decided to integrate myself into Skingrad, hoping to build up some more funds before once more pushing towards the Imperial City.

Skingrad… what can I say about SKINGRAD? The local guild master, Ah-Malz, wasn’t too fond of me, but he gave me regular work. But many of the people there were so rude, it almost drove me assault them, despite my hopes for some reformation in Cyrodiil. But that wasn’t the most… bizarre part of the city. (Episodes 9-10)

Glarthir. What an odd little man… reflecting on my time working with him is what drives me to write this. He offered me gold to investigate some of his concerns, and while I was tempted to brush him off as a mad man… well, his gold glittered just as much as a sane man’s. His first task was to have me follow some woman around. I honestly thought of just asking her about him, as well as the local church leader… but neither would give a straight answer. Glarthir believed a group was secretly out to get him, and multiple people were refusing to discuss him. I had seen such things before, back in Elseweyr… so he began to make more sense. I found nothing in her house, but as soon as I left, a guard, Dion, immediately accosted me, telling me to stay out of the town’s business. Glarthir’s conspiracy theory was making more and more sense to me.

The next target was Toutius Sextius. I’d met him before, and he’d proven surprisingly capable at combat, more than I would have expected from a random noble. I managed to buy some guard armor off of the town blacksmith, in the hopes that by pretending to be a guard recruit, maybe I could ply some more information from the locals. Toutius seemed ignorant, but I wrote that off as him hiding something. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on Glarthir, even those in the Fighter’s Guild! It was beginning to seem like Glarthir was right: everyone in town was against him! (Episode 12)

I spent much of the following night in thought on the matter, and tried to be rational… would an entire town really all be against one man? Or was he actually just a lunatic, as I originally thought, and so they kept an eye on him. And my previous experiences with Bosmer weren’t all that thrilling either. Investigating Glarthir’s next target, Davide Surilie, I found him to be relatively stand-up, and though proud of his vineyards, he had an air of humility about him. I decided to investigate Glarthir’s house (once properly fortified by some of Surilie’s wine), and found his home… disturbing, to say the least. Skulls, strange books, chests enchanted to stay locked… it was enough to, at the very least, make me doubt my continued involvement with Glarthir. However, after speaking with him again, he essentially conscripted me into murdering Bernadette and Toutius, and to say the least, this wasn’t a task I was… keen on performing. But he grew angry when he showed reluctance, and though part of thought I could overpower him, I didn’t know what sort of mad strength he secretly had, and how his scythe shined under the moonlight! No, I decided to sleep, hoping my dreams would give me an answer on what to do…

And so they did. In the past, maybe I would have done the deeds he asked. Or maybe I would have run away. Or maybe I would have turned my blade upon Glarthir. But I decided that I would instead bring this to the attention of the guards, hoping it could be ended without bloodshed. I was, sadly, mistaken, and Glarthir perished during the altercation with the guards. Captain Dion thanked me for my assistance, and I pocketed Glarthir’s keys to make use of some of the goods in his home (after all, it’s not as though he would need them), but still… I regret that things ended as they did. It was at that time I decided to leave Skingrad behind me, and to move on to the Imperial City, my ultimate goal since coming to Cyrodiil. But I’ll leave that for another time, as I believe Renoit is getting anxious by the cloaked Khajiit sitting and writing furiously in the corner. Perhaps I will continue this later, after I tend to some business around town...

Star Wars Battlefront: Technical Difficulties

UB Report BF-47-MPM

To: Count Dooku

From: Untella Barr

Attachments:

RV-47

Commander Hattana has asked me to respond to your queries about the peculiar case of what, exactly, occurred during the recent attack on Rhen Var. I will do my best to keep things brief.

As you know, one of our primary advantages over the Republic has been our ability to pinpoint enemy movements via sub-orbital drones that can monitor life signs, and communicate with our ground forces. This allows us to triangulate enemy positions and get accurate readings on their movements. Conversely, these same drones hamper enemy communications and scanners, allowing us a clear advantage in the terms of tactical intelligence.

After the last attack at Rhen Var, experiments began on dramatically improving our capabilities in this regard, particularly via a modified Lucrehulk Battleship, similar in nature to the Droid Control Ships used by the Trade Federation. We were hoping to improve our droids’ tactical prowess by giving them all the benefits of a hive mind with none of the side effects.

With the recent Republic attack, however, there were complications.

The Republic managed to land to the west of our terrestrial research center, while the battle in space raged on. The Confederate Navy was quickly able to gain the upper hand, but not without the modified Lucrehulk taking damage. While still operating nominally in regards to controlling the suborbital drones, as well as disrupting Republic gear, the more experimental systems were… more volatile.

Of the various glitches and malfunctions, our AATs, and the droids slaved to operate and monitor them, began acting oddly. Most of AATs wouldn’t operate, and the pilot droids acted strangely: they would go from being strangely aggressive, to completely stationary, to erratically firing their grenade launchers. The explanation is that old corrupted B1 Battledroid code was broadcast and the pilot droids, being the most similar to the B1s, received conflicting programming.

On the positive side, however, the fighter tanks and AT-TEs of the Clones also showed signs of malfunction, limiting them strictly to ground forces. Despite securing their landing zone early on, the clones were able to push up to right outside our research center where a long stand-off took place until we were able to correct the programming errors and dispatch Magnaguards and Droidekas to eliminate them.

While the attack was merely a defensive victory, I must stress the importance of our find with this new aspect of disruption technology. If we can harness it properly, we may be able to even damage Republic vehicles from orbit. That said, as it stands, even a small number of these modified Lucrehulks could, with proper escort, become an incredibly effective blockade.

Commander Hattana has granted me the authority to dispatch these Lucrehulks as I see fit. With your permission, I wish to test a blockade against the jungle planet of Yavin IV, as well as dispatch some more droids to secure Bespin’s Cloud City. The resources there would be valuable to our research, both those funneled from us to keep the siege going, as well as those that are present in Cloud City.

Regards,

Lead Researcher Untella Barr

**   ***  ***   **

RE: UB Report BF-47-MPM

To: Untella Barr

From: Count Dooku

Dear Lead Researcher,

            Your report is most interesting, and though I was somewhat upset that we were forced into such a corner, I am pleased to hear that we’ve managed a boon of knowledge and experience from the encounter.

            I support your plans whole-heartedly. Any edge we can get on the Republic can only help our cause, and I tire of seeing the Republic bring technological prowess to bear when we have the support of several large corporations. I will see what I can do about getting more Lucrehulks transferred to your command. Keep in mind, however, that the will of the Separatist Council trumps my own: should they wish to attack elsewhere, your forces will be diverted without question.

            Likewise, as a personal favor, do pass along a message for me to Commander Hattana. Tell him he can stay on Tatooine a bit longer, and to let you handle the more complicated tasks of taking enemy positions.

Sincerely,

            Count Dooku

Star Wars Battlefront: War on Two Fronts

Personal Log of Shand Hattana

Attachments:

TA-45

NA-46

I fear I may not be long for my position, and what happens to me after that, who can tell? But I would like some record to show: this isn’t my fault. Watching the attached holograms, repeatedly, has convinced me of this.

Unable to break into the holdout at Cloud City on Bespin, I was given two sets of orders. One, from Count Dooku, was to take hold of the Outer Rim world of Tatooine, though he insisted I do this ‘as quietly as possible.’ For what reasons I don’t know, but I made sure detach a brigade with aerial support, and landed them in the relatively isolated Dune Sea. Unfortunately our presence there was detected by the Republic, and they came at us. We were able to hold our position and defeat the garrison of clones, but at a relatively high expenditure, given our few gains.

Simultaneously, I was given orders by the Separatist Council. Nute Gunray, in particular, was very supportive of these orders: an all-out attack on the planet of Naboo. The Trade Federation had failed to force our agenda on Naboo so many years ago, and Gunray was out for blood. Unfortunately, with our own forces split between Bespin and Naboo, and having recently been depleted by the action on Tatooine, we were forced to rush in droids from a variety of smaller battlefronts before we had sufficient forces to even attempt a landing. These actions did not go unnoticed by the Galactic Republic, and they sent a massive number of Clones, armed with the latest intel, weaponry, and training, to force back our assault.

The losses were, frankly, catastrophic, and our fleet was in disarray, unable to fight off the Republic counter-assault. We were forced to retreat with our tails between our legs, while the Republic forces are, if nothing else, relatively centralized and focused. Wherever they decide to swing that blade, it will fall upon my neck as well. Our scientists have been hard at work developing further counter-measures against the Clone forces… and I can only hope that’s enough.

Now I have to tell Count Dooku, Nute Gunray, and the rest of the Council of our actions at Naboo… and should even one find me disposable, this will most likely be last testament to that effect. If I'm fortunate, I mean that only in the professional sense.

Star Wars Battlefront: Treacherous Tactics

SH Report BF-44-MPM

To: Count Dooku

From: Shand Hattana

Attachments:

BE-44

Count Dooku, I am pleased to tell you that we have secured a number of Bespin refinery platforms and isolated the majority of the Clone Troopers to Cloud City. While we are still taking out isolated pockets of Republic loyalists throughout areas of our control, the Republic threat is negligible. We have also apprehended the saboteurs; it appears to be a group of Duros who have been posing as Trade Federation Engineers. We are working on extracting their secrets.

We did have difficulty getting our own fighters down to the planet, with Republic defensive emplacements damaging them during atmospheric descent. Our engineering droids were able to make last-minute repairs, but at first the battle went somewhat poorly; our initial thrust into the largest of the platforms progressed well, but clone gunships were able to move behind our lines and seize platforms behind us.

Luckily, we were able to slice into some Republic protocols during their retreat from Rhen Var, and some of our droid pilots were able break the security locks on a squadron of V-Wings found at a botched Republic landing zone. While our droid pilots could easily identify these vehicles as compatriots, the Clone pilots were confused by their own ships being used against them, and we soon found the battle turned in our favor.

Bespin is not under our complete control yet, but it would take an outside assault by Republic forces, or significant luck on the part of the Cloud City Holdouts, to remove our grasp. I await the orders of yourself or the council on how to proceed further!

Star Wars Battlefront: Opening Salvos

SH Report BF-43-MPM

To: Count Dooku

From: Shand Hattana

Attachments:

KS-42

RV-43

Forgive my impertinence Count Dooku! My reports were delayed due to unforeseen factors, but I am pleased to report a strategic victory for our forces.

As I am sure you have heard, our renewed offensive against the forces of the corrupt Republic were stalled outside during our initial landing of Kashyyyk. We refrained from orbital bombardment in hopes of catching the local garrison off-guard, but our intelligence neglected to inform us that an additional Clone division was in-system, and managed to get past our blockade. Coupled with the surprisingly resilient native militia, our droids proved quickly outnumbered. I have attached the video surveillance of specialized droids for your reference, and will continue to do so.

Though we were able to withdraw with much of our fleet, we found ourselves pursued back to our forward operating base at Rhen Var. Our planetary defenses held for the most part, but I would be remiss in not informing of you a Republic Division that forced a landing in a relatively open area. They were backed with Fighter Tanks and several AT-TEs, and poised to take a heavily defended position. Had they done so, we would have lost access to our planetary defenses and they may have been able to overrun our base at Rhen Var. We believe Republic agents, possibly Jedi, were able to infiltrate our base before hand, as many of our AATs were found damaged and malfunctioning.

Despite this disadvantage, however, our forces were able to repel the clones and overrun their position. In particular, may I note I made the decision to deploy droidekas to the ice tunnels; this created a bottleneck that killed many clones, and a push that put us within firing range of the main Republic forward base! With the fall of their landfall, the Republic fleet dispersed in several direction, and I am awaiting orders from you or the council to see which of them I should pursue. To the death of the Republic!

**   ***  ***   **

RE: SH Report BF-43-MPM

To: Shand Hattana

From: Count Dooku

Dear Commander,

            It is my understanding that you are a personal friend of Viceroy Nute Gunray. For the sake of your continued friendship with him, I suggest you make your actions in the field, as well as your reports on those actions, more tolerable with me. I am a patient, understanding man, but I am no fool.

            Victory implies gains. At best, we are now at the same point we were before the attack on Kashyyyk, except now we have many more droids to rebuild. Although I will admit the Republic also has to recoup their losses, and the loss of several AT-TEs far outweighs our own, it is hardly a victory.

            That said, I will offer advice for how to proceed.

            First, should a second attempt be made to assault Kashyyyk, I would recommend establishing air superiority early on in the fight. Without support from their gunships, the clones would be far less useful against our battledroids.

            In regards to Rhen Var, I have watched the recordings, and notice how you failed to mention in your report that, while a majority of our forces were pushing to take a useless hole in the ice, a Republic assault force was pushing into our headquarters. I was impressed with the speed the MagnaGuards deployed to your position were able to secure our bases with once more, and will work on authorizing their further use; they will be expensive to replace, but I feel their skill at close-quarters combat and mobility will be the downfall of the clone armies, especially given the lack of Jedi being deployed so far.

The Separatist Council is busy with their own affairs on the multiple fronts provided by the Republic’s forces, so you will fall under my command for the time being. That said, all of these reports will also be screened by they; I act FOR the council, not opposed to them. Your next target is Bespin. A damaged Republic carrier group is seeking repair there, having been damaged above Rhen Var, and lacks capital ship escort. We also believe this group to be harboring the agents that infiltrated our ranks and sabotaged our vehicles. A decisive strike at the refining platforms will not only deprive the Republic of resources, but also take out a fair amount of their fighter fleet, and force them to fight in the city. Under such circumstances, they would be ultimately helpless.

            I am not asking for lies Commander, but should you again report victory when there is none, regardless of your station with the Viceroy, I WILL see you removed from command. Perhaps the Trade Federation prefers fabulous propaganda within their own reports, but the Confederacy of Independent Systems is fighting corruption; we shall not fall prey to it here. See to it the corruption of Bespin is wiped out.

Sincerely,

            Count Dooku

Oblivion: A Real Nightmare

Timeline: Reinterpretation of Episode 8

            … Stupid Kholfe.

            With Kvatch behind him, Fang was making his way towards Skingrad. However, in his haste, he had forgotten to grab any sort of food to take with him. Stopping and snacking on various plants had not gotten him very far either.

            So when he smelled the aromas of food being cooked nearby, he couldn’t help but be drawn to it. Peering through the tall grass, he spotted the nearby camp, and glared at it enviously. He wasn’t sure what they were eating, but it smelled fantastic, and he didn’t need to study the inhabitants too hard to know they probably wouldn’t appreciate his intrusion.

            He sighed, and began to turn away. He could’ve tried attacking them, but it was broad daylight, and they had a dog. It wasn’t his idea of a good time.

            He inched forward a few steps before he bumped into something. “What th-” he hissed quietly before looking up.

            Standing there, clad in iron armor and holding a brilliantly polished club, spiked and seemingly made of silver, was an orc. A big orc.

            And he was looking right down at Fang. Fang grinned sheepishly. “Hehe. Um. Hello.”

            “Going somewhere, little kitty?”

            “Actually yes,” Fang stated hastily. “Anywhere but here, so if yoaaaAaghhHH!”

            Fang whipped around and the dog he had seen before was clamping down, hard, on his tail. It wasn’t a particularly large dog, only a feisty one, and so he reached down, grabbing it roughly by the sides, and then threw it against a nearby tree. It stopped moving.

            “… Did you just kill my dog?”

            “What?! No!” Fang said, looking over at the dog then back to the Orc. “He, I, it just hit a tree. It’s probably knocked out.”

            “You knocked my dog out?!”

            “I,” Fang looked over at the dog again, and then back to the Orc. “Okay, which of these is the better answer?”

            Fang yelped as he hit the dirt, barely missing the swing of the orc’s club. It roared and slammed the club against the ground, which Fang barely avoided by rolling. He was up and moving quickly, hastily drawing his dagger.

            “Amel’Ya! Shoot it!”

            Not a moment later an arrow plunged itself into a nearby tree, and Fang could feel a few splinters shatter off and speckle him. He spun around and threw his dagger directly at the Orc, and it thankfully caught the orc in-between one of plates of his armor. Both Fang and the Orc stopped.

            “… You stabbed me!”

            “Come on, that was a hell of a shot!”

            “You stabbed me!”

            “Well, you can’t really blame me for-” the orc ran forward, swinging his club again. Fang fell to the ground, and then rolled backwards, shifting rapidly to a running stance again. “Oh come on, that should hurt!”

            “Not as much as you will!” the Orc yelled, and then let out a sharp whistle.

            Fang glanced backwards for a moment before he heard a commotion from the bushes ahead, and saw a pair of other bandits step out… and on the end of a long, thick chain was a minotaur.

            “Get him!” one of them shouted, releasing the chain. The minotaur hefted a crude hammer and bellowed before charging at Fang, pinning him in-between the orc and the bull monster. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

            Fang dove out of the way as the two brutes nearly collided, scrambling to his feet and running to the road, heading back the way he had came. Fang didn’t see himself as a cowardly man, but three people, an orc, and a minotaur? He didn’t stand a chance!

            As he ran down the road, he saw… well, he couldn’t believe what he saw.

            “Help!” he yelled, waving his hands.

            “You again?” the Legion guard said, furrowing her brow. “What are you… oh my,” she said, quickly dismounting and drawing her sword. Fang ran behind her, drawing his bow.

            “Yes, them. I swear I did nothing wrong.”

            “No, I believe you. What’s your name, by the way?”

            “Fang. Yours?”

            “Viatrice Kolinidas.”

            Fang pulled back on his drawstring as Viatrice readied herself for the coming charge, her spiked shield up, and her silver longsword gleaming.

            “Get me out of this alive and I’ll buy you a round, Viatrice.”

            Viatrice grinned, glancing back. “Hope you’ve got money, khajiit. I’ve got expensive tastes.”

            With that, and the same bewildering aggression she had shown nearly a week earlier, she charged the outlaws. Fang was glad he was probably going to live… but he wasn’t thrilled that all his arena money was probably going to this guard.

Oblivion: Balanced Breakfast

Timeline: End of Episode 7

            “Looking a little singed, Scavenger.”

            Fang looked up from the table where he was resting after his last match. He didn’t like this arena business all that much, but he seemed to be decent at it, and it paid well.

            He also wasn’t fond of Kholfe Ice-Heart, the master of the Kvatch arena.

            “I fought a scamp and a troll. There was a lot of fire involved. You should know this.”

            Kholfe laughed bitterly, grabbing Fang’s beer and taking a swig from it. Fang’s ears pinned back, but he didn’t say anything. His interactions with Kholfe were always… interesting, and not in a good way.

            “Ruins the meat, that much fire magic,” he said, wiping at his lips and going to set the beer back down. Fang motioned for him to keep it. Shrugging, Kholfe took another drink. “Burns it.”

            “It was a troll,” Fang repeated, leaning over the table and looking up Kholfe. “What would you want me to do, sit there and stab at it?”

            “Yes,” Kholfe said after swigging down the rest of the beer, tossing the bottle to the side. “Cut it, rip it apart, make it bleed. That’s what the crowd wants little Scavenger.”

            “Well, I didn’t want to die,” Fang hissed, leaning back, “so the crowd can sod off.”

            Kholfe laughed. “It makes little difference to me… you’re scrawny enough that people keep betting against you. Those who bet on you are becoming rich men.”

            “Well, good for them.”

            “And besides, I get more meat out of this deal.”

            “Ha, I imagine,” Fang said, smiling slightly. “Not fond of… troll meat, myself… but I imagine it still fills a plate. Can’t say a person would.”

            Kholfe tilted his head, studying Fang for a moment, before saying “well, a scrawny thing like you wouldn’t, no.”

            Before Fang could really digest that thought (pun not intended), Kholfe slapped him on the back and began walking off. “Bright and early if you’ll want more gold, Khajiit. Got some fun planned for the farmyard… and I want a big breakfast.”

            Fang watched the Nord leave, thinking of his options. On one hand, the Kvatch Arena was proving to net him quite a bit of money. On the other, the more he got to know Kholfe, the more he wondered if this was some scheme to end up on his plate.

            He took out another bottle of beer and opened it. Maybe… maybe the Fighter’s Guild of Skingrad would have a job for him.

            If Fang was going to be eaten, he’d prefer to be eaten by a beast, not a deranged man.

Oblivion: No Woman Left Behind

Timeline: Episode 6 Reinterpretation

Fang picked his way back down Kvatch’s plateau, trying to hurry. He had stumbled into Kvatch half-conscious, and only the identifying mark he carried of the Fighter’s Guild showed his relatively “safe” status. He’d rested in the Kvatch Guild for several hours before waking, getting supplies and working on finding people to help.

That is to say, no one.

As the head of the Kvatch Fighter’s Guild put it, “trying to take on the roving bands of Colovia is a lost cause. I hate to say it, but leave it to the Legion, at least unless we’re getting paid.” He had less luck with people outside of the Fighter’s Guild.

“Bunch of cowards,” he grumbled, blinking in the fading light. “City should just be wiped off the map.”

Once he reached the bottom he started on the road proper, though staying to the side and low. He had gotten some armor to help him, as well as a wickedly sharp Elven dagger, but he’d prefer to strike first if he could help it.

He passed around a corner to see the light of an approaching torch, and he stayed back, peering through the darkness. The torch’s light only reached so far, and being a Khajiit, the darkness was no true hindrance to him.

He was somewhat shocked to see what was coming towards him.

“By the Gods, you’re alive?!”

Approaching on horseback was none other than the Legion soldier from earlier. She looked up startled, and made to draw her sword. He spoke quickly, saying “it’s me, the one you met earlier on the road!”

A pause. “The Khajiit?”

“Yes,” he said, moving closer. He could see she had seen better days. Her armor was dented and scarred, and he saw specks of blood here and there. As her hand moved away from her scabbard, it rested on her stomach. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Better off than the bandits from earlier,” she said bitterly. “You’re a bit late in helping, if that was your goal.”

Fang frowned, ears tilting back. “For that I apologize. I passed out on reaching Kvatch, and even after I awoke,” he glared back at the town on the hill, “well, the fine people of Kvatch enjoy their high-life.”

She laughed slightly, though stopped, holding herself tighter. “I suppose I see that. Many of the Colovian cities are like that.”

He looked at the horse she rode upon. “Is that… ?”

“Yes… it’s your horse,” she said, some resignedly. “It wandered by where I had fallen… after killing all of the outlaws… and after treating it, I rode it here. I did notice that it was not, however, a Legion Horse.”

“Aah,” he said, feeling a slight twinge of relief. “Well, I am glad. For your helping me… saving me, really… you may certainly keep the horse.”

“Thank you,” she said. “For your assistance, I’ll not look into it any further… so long as you can escort me to Kvatch, at any rate.”

“Of course!” Fang said, taking the horse’s reins and beginning to lead it. “Anything for an officer of the legion.”

“Hrrm,” she said, somewhat disbelieving. “Do keep it that way. The Legion does not look kindly upon even well-meaning bandits or thieves... and my sword can speak of how we treat the ill-meaning ones.”

He didn’t need to study her sword to know it was probably drenched in dry blood. He could smell it. “Trust me miss,” he said, glancing back. He remembered her bold charge against many foes, and the Anvil Guards that had concocted their confusing plot to root out crime, “I’m getting a very clear picture of how the law in Cyrodiil works.”

Oblivion: Outlawed

Timeline: Middle of Episode 4.

He pulled up on the reins as he came near the gray-armored guard standing in the middle of the road. She had a silver sword drawn, and didn’t look happy under that helmet.

Fang did his best to stay calm. “How can I help you ma’am?”

“Where did you get that horse?”

“This horse?” he said, patting it on the head. “Why, I got it from Anvil.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she walked over, sword still drawn. “The stables outside Anvil breed white horses. It’s what they’re famous for. So you want to try that again?”

Fang tried to fight a wince from his face. Okay, he hadn’t known that.

“It wasn’t one of their stock,” he said, shrugging. “It was a sale.”

“It looks like a horse of the Legion.”

“Well, I can’t say where they got it from,” Fang admitted.

She growled, and tapped at his leg with the sword. “Off the horse Khajiit. We’re going to have a little chat about it. And if you just bought it, I’m sure the fine people at Horse Whisperer Stables would have given you a proof of purchase.”

Fang grumbled, but began to get off the horse. Why were all the female guards in Cyrodiil so damn troublesome?

“As I said, it wasn’t one of theirs, they were just-”

“Ssh!” she said, looking to the grass and trees to the side of the road. Fang silenced, and followed her gaze. The horse shook its head, and began to trot away from them.

“What?” Fang asked, putting a hand to his own sword. “What do you-”

Arrows flew from the bushes. Fang yelped, barely bringing his shield up in time to catch one. Two more helplessly bounced off the armor of the Legionnaire, and one last one hit the horse, which let out a dreadful, painful sound as it turned and ran down the road.

Fang was tempted to join it, before he saw the guard charge into the bush, yelling “for the Emperor!”

His jaw dropped. She didn’t even know what they were up against. Another arrow slammed into his shield, which didn’t give him much time to think about fighting or fleeing. Two dogs rushed out to attack him.

Well, I’m in this whether I like it or not, it seems.

He drew his sword and slammed it into the underside of one of the dog’s jaws. It didn’t kill it, but it knocked it back, stunned. The other dog bit at his leg, teeth sinking in. Fang yelled out and slashed at the dog’s side, then slammed the edge of his shield onto its head. That got it off.

Another arrow flew out from the bush, but Fang saw where it came from this time. He stabbed his sword into the dog, provoking a pained whine, and then ran towards the tall grass. Entering it, he quickly came face to face with a red-eyed Dunmer. Moments later, he also came face to face with her iron mace, knocking him rolling back out into the road.

“Ugh… ow,” he said, holding his chin.

“If you think that hurt,” she said, stepping out onto the road, “you really won’t like this!”

She brought her mace down, and he parried with his sword, the edge of the blade scraping across her weapon’s haft. He swept his legs under her, aiming to knock her flat, but she merely stumbled. Either way it bought him time to scramble to his feet…

Just in time to see another of them bearing down on him, a Khajiit woman swinging a battle-axe.

He brought his sword up, but the axe sent it flying from his grasp with a large tear in it. Her next blow probably would’ve caused him to lose a limb if her axe wasn’t stopped mid-swing by the grasp of the legion soldier.

“Not on my watch outlaw!” she yelled before plunging her ornate silver sword into the gut of the Khajiit woman, who screamed in pain. Fang took the reprieve to swing back towards the Dunmer, slashing at her. She dodged, and then charged for her own blow. Fang ducked, and then tried tripping her again. It worked this time, and she fell flat onto her face.

He didn’t let her get up, running over and jamming his blade into the back of her neck.

“Run!” the soldier said as two more Outlaws stepped out of the bushes. “Kvatch is just up the hill! Get out of here!”

“But-”

“You’ll only slow me down!” she said, before roaring and charging at the two outlaw. Fang took a breath. She was right. He wasn’t equipped to fight this sort of fight. He grabbed what he could off the dead outlaws in a flurry, and then began to run up the hill. Arrows whizzed by him, and one planted firmly into his back. He gasped in pain, barely suppressing a yell, but kept going on.

He’d go to Kvatch, get some help, and come back… he had no love for soldiers of the Legion, especially ones wanting to peg him for horse theft. But that didn’t mean he wanted one to die either.

Oblivion: Bad Threesome

Timeline: Near the End of Episode 3.

Fang wasn’t quite sure how he got himself into this situation. The fact that the woman standing across from him, Faustina, a dark-haired beauty of an Imperial wearing a form fitting red dress, thought she had the upper hand in this situation was ridiculous.

“You… honestly expect me to take off my clothes?” he asked incredulously.

“What’s wrong?” she insisted, moving a bit closed and putting a hand to his chest. “Don’t you want to have a little…” her hand trailed downward, “fun?”

He grabbed her wrist, snarling. “Are… is everyone in this town incompetent?”

“What?” she asked, eyes wide. “What are you talking about?”

“Everyone knows who you are and what you did. I have no idea how they could keep getting tricked other than… insanity or stupidity.”

She tried to pull away, but he pulled her back. His free hand went for his dagger. “No, none of that! You’re gonna take me to Gogan’s ring so I can get the reward?”

“Who?” she asked angrily.

“Gogan, snappy dresser of a Redguard. You took his wedding ring, and there’s a reward for it.”

“That thing was a fake, I threw it out! What is…” her eyes narrowed “Tsarrina was right, this was too easy! You’re working with the guards, aren’t you?”

“What?” Fang asked, genuinely confused. “What guards? Why wouldn’t I just bring them with me?! You are known thieves!”

Fang had been so focused on holding her and trying to drag her towards the door that he hadn’t kept an eye on her free hand, not until it shot upward with a wickedly curved dagger of her own. He released her wrist so he wouldn’t lose his.

As she backed away, holding her dagger at the ready, she yelled out “okay girls! We’ve got someone who doesn’t want to cooperate!”

Then, with a flash of green, she disappeared from view except for a slight shimmer. And with a loud bang, a door in the back slammed open, and two women strolled out of it. One was the Nord woman from the bar. The other was a Khajiit woman wielding a far more intimidating weapon than the other two.

He didn’t take the time to curse his luck before swiping at where he thought the Imperial woman had gone. She dodged, but he winced as he felt the invisible blade lash out at him, cutting at his shoulder. He shoved his shield forward, and then stabbed at random. He heard her cry out and saw drops of blood splash onto the ground.

The Nord woman, Signy, jumped into the fray, running across the room, jumping onto the bed, and then trying to jump on Fang. She clung onto him for a moment, trying to stab at him with her own dagger. He felt the dagger bite at him, but it kept glancing over as he tried to throw her.

“Signy, move, I can’t get at him!”

“I’ve almost got him!” she yelled, which was just insulting. Roaring, Fang threw himself backwards, slamming her into the wall. She let go of him as her lungs let go of air.

He barely had a moment to recover, the Khajiit woman growling and swinging her sword. He barely caught it with his shield, but then stumbled as the still invisible Faustina shoved him to the side.

As he regained his footing, he saw himself staring down two angry women, and at least one more that was invisible.

“Get him!” he heard Faustina yell, and a bolt of lightning shot from where she must have been, slamming into him. He stumbled backwards as it hit, but instead of feeling pain, he felt invigorated.

Bless the stars that covered my birth he thought as he flipped his dagger in his hand. He ran forward, shoulder-checking the Nord and shoving her into the Khajiit, before stabbing forward. Faustina cried out again, and flickered back into view, unable to hold the spell through the pain.

“Faustina!” the Khajiit cried out, moving Signy off of her and running over. Fang roared as the bladed drew across his back, tearing at the shirt and his skin. He ripped his dagger out of Faustina and stumbled forward, turning to block another block.

“Stay back, I’ve got this!” Signy yelled, rushing forward with her knife, shoving Tsarrina out of the way.

“Signy, no!” It was too late though, Signy was right on him. He smiled through the pain… he couldn’t miss at this range. He brought his hand up, and released a ball of fire directly at the Nord’s face. She screamed as the fire burned into her, dropping her dagger and clutching at her face.

“Signy!” Faustina yelled, stumbling over from the bed.

Fang shoved the burning Nord into the Khajiit, to get a little distance. Tsarrina tried to help Signy, while Faustina’s eyes burned at Fang. “You stupid house-cat!” she yelled, another burst of lightning ripping out of her hands.

“Didn’t work the first time!” he yelled. Tsarrina roared and charged at him again, with Faustina not far behind. He blocked Tsarrina’s sword again, and though he felt Faustina’s knife slash against his arm, the heavy fur gloves helped a little. He pushed Tsarrina back with his shield while he kicked at Faustina where he had stabbed her earlier, she crumpled backwards with a cry.

“I’ll kill you!” Tsarrina yelled, aiming for a wide blow. Leaving herself wide open, in other words. Fang came in close and slammed his head into hers, wincing at his own pain, but as she stumbled backwards dazed, it was worth it. He lunged forward, sinking his dagger into her heart. She fell off the blade coughing.

“Last chance!” he said, pointing his bloody dagger at Faustina. She looked around, both of her friends clearly dying… and then fired another bolt of lightning. “I’ll see you rot you bastard!”

She cast a healing spell, and Fang cursed. He should have thought to do that himself, but before he could she was on him, shoving him to the ground and slashing at his chest with his knife.

He cried out, but struggled to push her off, trying to keep her hand away. Both of them were bloodied, and he she cried out as his own blade glanced off her arm, cutting a ribbon off red into her skin. They both fought at each other, rolling on the ground, knives pricking at their skins, before he finally kicked her off of him. She landed hard a few feet away, but she aimed to spring back up and charge.

Fang was faster. Another ball of fire ripped out of his hands, slamming into Faustina’s gut. She cried out for a moment, clutching at her stomach, before falling to the ground, gasping.

Then the door swung open, revealing two Anvil guards… and after a moment, Fang recognized them. “You are city guards?!” he yelled.

“By the gods,” Gogan said, looking around the room.

Maelona seemed less phased. Glancing down at the whimpering Faustina, she drew a knife, leaned down, and slit her throat. She stopped whimpering. “That we are. We were following you, but lost you once you left the road.”

“Yes, we…” Gogan just looked at the carnage, shaking his head. “In Dibella’s name, we didn’t want this.”

“Well good for you!” Fang snapped, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a potion. He took the cork from the bottle and hungrily drank at the healing liquid, throwing the bottle at the ground.

“You’ve been a great help,” Maelona said evenly, and held out a small linen bag. It clinked with coins. Fang stared at in disbelief.

“That’s… it?”

“And the gratitude of the Anvil City Watch, of course.”

Fang sneered, snatching the bag from her hand. “FINE, but this? All this?” He gestured around to the three dead bodies and spatters of blood. “This is your fault. This could have been avoided if you’d done your damn job.”

She frowned. “The situation dictated that-”

“Whatever,” he said, reaching down and taking the elven dagger Faustina had been using. He could see Gogan start to protest, but Maelona silenced him. Good, Fang thought. He was gonna milk this situation for every penny it was worth… he’d earned that much, by the Gods. And with the money and gear he would get from here, he could get out of this crazy town.

Oblivion: Rise and Shine

Timeline: At the beginning of Episode 2. Easily watched before or after.

            “Nnngh…” his hand moved to his eyes, shielding from the sudden brightness that came to him.

            “Up now!” came an authoritative voice from above him. “Sun is long up, Khajiit, and we don’t let the beggars spend their days regretting the night before.”

            Fang grumbled, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry miss,” he growled, putting a hand to his head, “and not so loud, will you?”

            “Just get off your duff,” she said again. “No one’s complained yet, and I’d rather deal with it before they do. We’ve got enough beggars in Anvil.”

            Grumbling, Fang picked himself off the ground. He barely remembered coming out here… some sort of brawl at the bar with an uppity Bosmer… bartenders kicked him out… he stumbled around drunk…

            “Not a beggar,” Fang said defensively, brushing himself off. “Just drunk.”

            “Sure thing,” she said, crossing her arms.

            Fang growled, but didn’t posture too much against her. She may have been a human woman, but she was also a member of the city guard; he didn’t need to feel the blade to know it was sharp.

            “I mean it,” he said, trying to blink away sleep and hangover as best he could. “I arrived on the Floating Log last night. Just… well, had too much fun, I guess.”

            She smirked. “That’ll happen on the Docks. Still, your words won’t hold much water if I catch you sleeping on the ground again, Khajiit.”

            “Yeah yeah,” Fang grumbled, checking his pockets. He had maybe twenty coins. That might be enough money for an inn… for maybe one or two nights. Still…

            He glanced up at the guard. “You’ve got a Fighter’s Guild in town, yes?”

            She cocked an eyebrow, and nodded towards the buildings he’d been sleeping behind. “Yes, over on the square. Azzan runs a training center. Why?”

            He’d grumble. “Looking for work, and heard they were hiring.”

            He glared as she visibly glanced over him. He knew he wasn’t much to look at; he had a ratty old vest, some ill-fitting pants, and a pair of worn out moccasins on his feet. On his side he had a dagger hanging from a belt made of a knotted strand of rope.

            “I’m, um, are you sure that’s the best idea, sir?”

            “I’m not inept,” Fang snapped, running his fingers through his mane. “I’m hoping maybe I can get some gear on loan, work it off or something.”

            “I doubt it,” she said, and he thought he heard some sadness in her voice, “I mean, they used to do that, but there was a string of thefts, so Azzan tightened up regulations. You have to prove yourself with what’s on your back.”

            He grunted. “We’ll see about that,” he said angrily, and nodded at her. “Thank you for your… assistance, m’lady.”

            Fang sighed as he walked away, leaning on a wooden gate for a moment before opening it and stepping past, keeping a hand to his head as he walked. The guard watched him for a moment, before rolling her shoulders slightly and beginning to walk out. “Hmm… should tell Maelona about that one,” she mused to herself, heading towards the western edge of town.

Oblivion: Outbound Shipping

Timeline: The following takes place before Episode 1.

            They had a saying. Vaba Maaszi Lhajiito. It Is Necessary to Run Away.

            He didn’t know how right they were until now.

            “Name?” the man asked across the desk, filling out the paperwork.

            “My name?” He hesitated.

The swarthy Imperial across from him cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, your name. This should be the easiest question I ask you.”

“Ah, Fang. My name is Fang.” He supposed that would do. Maybe this guy wouldn’t know of Ja’Dango of Senchal. But better to cover his tracks as best as possible.

“Uh-huh” the Imperial said, scribbling on the paper. “Not really much of a Khajiit name.”

Fang’s ears pinned back against his head, and suppressing a growl, he reached into his coinpurse and dropped a few more golden septims on the table.

The Imperial glanced at them for a moment, and then smiled. “Alright Fang,” he said, palming the gold. “You work on a ship before?”

Another moment of hesitation, but he figured this would actually help him if he was honest. “Yes, I have. Might not be cut for the navy, but I know what needs doing.”

“Alright… and do you have a line of work?” he asked.

“Is that important?” Fang asked in exasperation. The Imperial just tapped the piece of paper. Fang sighed. “I guess my last job was a bodyguard to an alchemist in town. Bosmer by the name of Berengot. Before that I was a fisherman.” Half of that was a lie.

“If I send a man to find this Berengot, could he confirm this?”

Fang nodded. The man studied for a moment, but then scribbled down more information on the paper.

“Alright Khajiit. I’ll have to review this with Captain Fol, but you check out to get on the Floating Log by my book.”

“Good!” Fang said, perhaps too excitedly.

“Yeah yeah. Again, Captain may disagree. Be here at sun-up, and be ready to set sail. We’ll be hitting Falinesti and Anvil… where’d you want off again?”

“Anvil, if you’ll take me,” Fang said, hoping he didn’t sound too pathetic.

The man just nodded and then waved his hand, dismissing Fang. He walked out, back into the harsh, bright light of Elseweyr. He took a deep breath of the sea air, glancing up at the gulls circling above the docks.

By this time tomorrow, if all went well, he’d be long gone from Elseweyr, and within a couple of days he’d be free to start a new life in Cyrodiil. Sure, it had cost him almost everything he had made guarding that fetid little drug dealer, Berengot, but at least he’d be gone from it all. He wasn’t sure what he’d do next once he went to Anvil, but… once he got some cash, he was pretty sure he’d aim for the Imperial City. Or maybe he’d check out the arena of Kvatch, which a more worldly uncle of his had explained in great detail before.

Either way, he’d be out of Elseweyr, and far away from any and all of the troubles that followed him here.