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.