Oblivion: Journal of Fang - Arriving at the Imperial City

From the Journal of Fang (Translated from Ta’agra)

Evening of Heartfire 18th, 433

The amount of hoops I jump through in Cyrodill… and some of it for matters not even my fault! Blasted Fighter’s Guild… but no matter. After doing some work for the Mage’s Guild today, I ended up fighting several large beasts, which has left me exhausted, physically, but mind is still working. So I thought I’d take the time to write here some more, about what happened when I first arrived at the Imperial City. (Episode 16)

My original intent, upon arriving, was to simply sell what wares I could, then see what there was for work. Of course, I had barely arrived before I spoke with a woman, Jensine, who wanted to hire me to investigate one of her competitors, Thoronir. Do I exude a scent that makes me people think I’m good at looking into the affairs of others? Look how the business with Glarthir turned out, after all. Regardless, I didn’t want to look into it right away, not really… if anything, Thoronir did offer me better prices for my wares. Still, I hadn’t reached my goal… oh, right. My goal.

I had heard around that there was hovel available for purchase in the Imperial Waterfront, for two thousand septims. Not much, but it was relatively cheap, and would’ve been my first major step in my new life.

Looking back… it’s kind of funny… but I’ll let the events speak for themselves.

To make the last few hundred septims, I took my chances at the Imperial arena. Unlike the one at Kvatch, this one involved men fighting other men, not beasts. I gambled on it, of course, but the bulk of my gold I made through fighting in it. I thought I’d be relatively prepared for the arena… I’d certainly gotten some experience fighting in the previous weeks leading up to this… and I did actually fare quite well. Well enough that I believed I’d made enough money for my house.

When I finally got the Chamber of Imperial Commerce, after convincing the old shrew I was a legitimate customer… she informed me the price for the hovel was FOUR THOUSAND Septims, not two. I was livid and angry… all of my savings, to this point, had barely netted by two thousand! How was I to get four thousand?

I decided to gamble at and fight in the Arena some more, hoping to make enough money to afford the hovel. The benefits outweighed the risk...

Up until those damned Bosmer sisters.

I hate to sound this way, but I am seriously beginning to think Bosmer were put on this world to be absolutely terrible, horrifying nuisances. Glarthir, that Thoronir, and these two… they fought incredibly hard, and only armed with a dagger myself, it was incredibly taxing. I very nearly died, and decided that was enough for the Arena, especially as what good would the money be if I was dead?

I figured my best bet was to look into this matter for the shops of the Market District, with Thoronir... but I digress, and I tire. I will write of that next time, perhaps.

Oblivion: Duel at the Gates

Timeline: Near the End of Episode 15

            Fang took a few ragged breaths, glancing around worriedly. The sun bore down on him, and he was afraid of what it would look like, with he and the ground around him streaked with the blood of the two dead Redguards. He sighed, wiping the blood off of his fine elven dagger with his glove.

            He rolled his shoulder and reached up to rub his neck. The outlaws hadn’t caught him off-guard, but they had outnumbered him, and the big one’s hammer had came down hard on his shoulder. He reached into his satchel and uncorked a potion, taking a swig as he knelt down near the Redguard woman. The potion was frothy and foul-tasting, but it was the best he could manage. “Bleagh.” He spat nearby, hoping to get some of the taste from his mouth, when he thought he saw… something flicker through the air. “What the…”

            Wham! He flew to the side, mind spinning, his dagger spiraling from his grasp. The blur struck at him again, a blade cutting across his shoulder. He yelled in pain, stumbling across the ground and readying his shield to catch the next blow. What in the world was even happening?!

            He pushed forward against the blade, world still spinning around him as he dove towards the shape, knocking it against a nearby tree. That seemed to knock the enchantment off it, and he saw an angry orcish woman, dressed in furs and leather, and wielding a scimitar. “You’ll join them in death, furlicker!” she yelled, kicking back against his shield, knocking him back once more.

            Fang tumbled backwards, but caught himself, his world finally beginning to come back into focus. “Friends of yours, then?” he slurred as he scrambled across the ground, grabbing his dagger. She charged forward, bringing the scimitar down on him. He parried with the dagger. The scimitar may have had weight backed by orcish muscle, but the dagger was of fine elven steel, and Fang had learned a lot about blocking and parrying from training in Skingrad. He tilted the blade, and her force was used against her. He swung around, slamming his shield against her sword arm. That Fadus Calidius had known his stuff; it worked like a charm, and she yelped in pain, dropping the weapon.

            His days back in Elseweyr rushed back to him here, and he couldn’t keep the sneer off his face. “Not so tough without your blade, are you greenskin?”

            She whipped back around, and fire flickered across her forearms. “Don’t think me helpless without a sword!” She swung her arm around, and Fang instinctively jumped back to avoid the lash of flame. She used the time to get back on her feet, and then sent a ball of fire into him. The impact forced him stumbling, and singed his armor, but arcane energies whipped around him, absorbing it.

            She didn’t seem to notice. “I am a shaman, and will use my crafts to suck the life from your flesh!” She charged forward and grabbed his neck while he was still dazed. Her grip was strong, as one would expect from an orc. If she had used solely that, maybe she would fared better. But she wanted Fang to suffer, and coils of dark magic arced down her arm to his neck, hoping to suck out his life force.

            It was only then she noticed Fang’s grin, and the arcane sparks that rebuffed her spell. Dropping his shield, he reached up with his now free hand, dug his claws into her arm, and returned the favor: he knew the spell to drain one’s life to replenish his own as well. She groaned at the sudden drain, but then remembered her own strength.

            There was a long, tense moment. Fang’s magic, rapidly weakening without her supplying anymore, barely able to keep him afloat by draining her energy, and her strong hand choking him, keeping the air from his lungs. He lashed forward wildly with his dagger as his vision clouded, and she released him with a feral yell. He felt the warm splash of blood against him, vaguely, as he fell backwards, gasping in a deep breath.

            “Aagh, curse the stars of your birth!” she yelled, holding her side. As she struggled to retain her composure, Fang shook his head. His vision cleared, and he gripped the dagger tightly. “Curse them all you want,” he spat. “But mine were clearly better than yours.”

            I really have to stop insulting orcs, Fang thought as her eyes blazed with fury. Smoke seemed to coalesce around her hand, and then a daedric dagger was in its place, and she stood to her full height. Even a female orc made Fang feel small… and then she charged at him, wound be damned, aiming to cut him to ribbons with the conjured weapon.

            Fang stepped to the left, getting low, and readied himself. The orc's mistake was conjuring a dagger. Daggers weren’t weapons of mad, brutish strength. They were best used with a certain subtlety, with finesse. As she got close he thrust his free arm straight out, and while she managed to rip the curved dagger across it, forcing a pained roar from his lips, his palm struck home, slamming into her gut, probably close to the wound he’d given her only a few seconds earlier. She bent forward, both as a product of pain and momentum.

            He didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity. He pulled his free arm back, brought it around to her back, and then jabbed his blade into her stomach. She howled in pain, and tried to move back and away, but with a struggle he kept her on the blade. Finally she threw him off, and he took a few steps back, readying for another charge… but it didn’t come. She instead staggered a couple of feet before falling to the ground, moaning, clutching her stomach.

            Fang glared at her, knowing he had two options here. Part of him wanted to slit her throat, or worse, leave her here to die of a painful stomach wound. That’s how he would’ve acted in Elseweyr. That’s the way things worked there.

            … But it wasn’t the way they needed to work here.

            He knelt down, holding the dagger at ready, and took a potion from his belt. He uncorked it, slathered it onto his hand, and rubbed it over the wound. She screamed. He took off another potion, one of the especially foul ones, and placed it near her. She looked up at him, eyes of a mix of confusion and rage.

            “I won’t shed a tear if you die,” he hissed. “But if you do, that’s your fault. Not mine.”

            He stood, and winced as he turned away. Blood was dripping down his arm from a couple gashes, but he didn’t feel he could risk sitting here for too long. He searched the coinpurse of her dead comrades, then spotted the scimitar she’d dropped early on. He grabbed that… it was a decent enough blade. A bit heavy for his tastes, maybe, but it would at least sell well.

            He glanced back over his shoulder, and held up the sword with his good arm. “This?” he said, making sure she saw. “This is payment for the potions.”

            “Fuck your potions!” she yelled at him, livid.

            “Do what you like with them, but I’m still taking this sword,” he said, and began to walk away. She roared curses upon him from a distance, but they were just words… and he was close enough to the Imperial City now that, even if she did get up and running, she would have guards to contend with.

            Had he done a good thing there? A bad thing? Who could know? But Fang sighed, finally getting far enough away to uncork another potion. As he soaked a rag with it to use on his arm, he thought… well, he thought he probably broke even. Today, at least.

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