You know how some days just really, really suck? And just when you think things can’t get any shittier, they do? Well today was a prime example of that kind of day.
First of all, I woke up in prison this morning. And not just any prison — the Imperial Pound-Me-in-the-Ass Prison. The sad thing is, I can’t even remember what I did to get there. None of the guards saw fit to enlighten me either, the jerks. Since I had a lot of free time on my hands and not much else to do for the rest of my life, I made a mental list of the most likely possibilities:
1) Drunk and disorderly
2) Playing the Penis Game too loudly
Really, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were both. Such is the life of a recapper.
So I sat around for a while, feeling sorry for myself and wondering why no one bothered to pick up the last occupant’s skeletal remains from my cell. My pity party was constantly interrupted by the asshat in the cell across from mine who kept yelling random shit and racial slurs at me. Just because I’m a Breton, he thought that was cause enough to call me a “stuck-up harlot” who uses “cheap parlor tricks.” Whatever. The daughter of the great Recapiere family is immune to such insults. Besides, he was a Wood Elf (or Bosmer, if you want to use the PC term), so I’m sure the fact that I have a vagina automatically put me on his shitlist, if you follow me.
That fucker shut up really quick when some new figures approached. One of them was a guy in fancy robes and jewelry. My heart sank — with that getup, he could only be the one they called “Lord Rapinator.” As if my day couldn’t get any worse! Lord Rapinator had two guards with him — a talky chick and a black dude. Sorry, “Redguard.” As I huddled fearfully in the back corner of my cell, the whole crew entered. The cell, that is.
Then, Lord Rapinator — an old guy with gray girl hair and Captain Picard’s voice — started talking like he knew me and that we had met by fate. Like it wasn’t bad enough that I had to deal with his…attentions…I had to play along with his weird romantic fantasies, too?
Luckily, I didn’t have a chance to voice any of this aloud, because it turned out that Lord Rapinator was actually Emperor Uriel Septim. Wow, that could have been awkward. What was His Majesty doing in an Imperial Prison cell, I wondered? Good thing he was in an exposition-y mood, because he told me. His sons had been assassinated, and in order to escape the same fate, he and his bodyguards — he called them “Blades” — were taking a secret escape route out of the Imperial City. And that escape route just happened to lead through my cell.
It was probably too much to hope that I’d get to use the secret exit, too, but I figured I’d at least get some information out of the guy before they left me behind. But he didn’t know why I was in jail, either. Instead of just being up front about that, he busted out some BS about the Gods putting me in jail so I could meet him. Then he started acting like I was going to be some sort of big shot in some upcoming conflict. That part sounded kind of cool, but he probably just meant that I’d become popular with the actual Lord Rapinator and his minions.
Some more guards showed up and the Emperor’s party proceeded into the secret opening (not a euphemism), but guess what! They totally left the secret door open and were all, “We don’t care what you do, just don’t fuck with us.” Awesome. The sweet taste of freedom was within my grasp.
Or not. Of course the stupid door couldn’t lead directly to the outside, but to a series of winding passages most likely filled with monsters. And I didn’t even have a sword! Or armor! Not to mention my fighting skills were all rusty because…well, okay. Because I’m lazy. Exercise isn’t my strong point. I decided to sneak along behind the guys (and gal) with weapons and let them take care of the scary shit.
Speaking of which, some assassins in red robes and armor kept randomly appearing from various entrances and attacking the party. They killed the talky chick right away, which I couldn’t feel too bad about. Particularly since I looted a sword off her cooling corpse. Sweeeeeeet.
Then the Emperor’s guards made a totally dick move — they locked the door to the next chamber behind them and left me to fend for myself. Can you believe that, Diary? If the nearby wall hadn’t been busted out, I would’ve been stuck for all eternity.
The next part is pretty boring, so I won’t bother to write it all down. I wandered through some dirt floored tunnels for a while, blasting Golden Retriever-sized rats with my flame magic. I was just getting back into the hang of combat when all of a sudden a fucking zombie came staggering around the corner. I almost shit myself. It was green and rotting and smelled like Tidus marinating in a week-old pile of feces. Sick. But you know what? As a recapper, I have to deal with worse than that on a regular basis. Since my entire reason for leaving my hometown was to restore the tarnished glory of the Recapiere name and become the most famous recapper the world has ever known, I couldn’t run away screaming like a little girl at every icky monster I encountered.
After fighting my way through about fifty billion miles worth of goblin caves, I ended up at a hole in the wall that led back to the Imperial Subterrane. And guess who I found there? Yup, the Emperor and his buddies. How awesome for me. Consulting my map for a moment, I noticed that they were in the room right beyond the locked door. Motherfucker. To add insult to injury, as soon as I jumped down to their level, one of the Blades accused me of being an assassin and tried to kill me. What a fucking prick. Thankfully, the Emperor had a prophetic dream about me the night before, so he called the guy off. He also said the three of them required my help. Which was kind of sad, really.
The Emperor had mostly gotten on my good side by saving me from certain death, so when he started babbling on about the Nine Divines, I played along like I was extra religious. Besides, if he was some crazy fanatic, I didn’t want to piss him off. Apparently, he was also into astrology, because then he started in on star signs and wondered what sign I was. Hmm, looking back, maybe he was hitting on me. Well, that’s kind of disturbing. Of course I had no freaking clue what sign I was born under, so I totally bullshitted and said “The Warrior.”
I must have been convincing, because he didn’t bitch me out or catch on. Instead, he started talking about his inevitable death, which he was convinced would happen at any moment. Wow, I bet this guy is great fun at parties, I thought to myself. Since he kept going on and on about fate, I finally caved and asked him about my fate. Maybe in his prophetic dream he’d seen details about my awesome and successful recapping career. He didn’t mention anything about that, but he said something that seemed to imply that I would be responsible for saving the world from the coming darkness. As long as I promised I would help him out, he could die happy. I didn’t really know what to think about all of that besides, “I think our Emperor might be insane or at least senile.”
It wasn’t like he gave me a chance to respond right away, not when he could keep dwelling on his death. I briefly considered offering to kill him myself, since he was so gung-ho about dying at any second. That way, he’d have the satisfaction of being right about his imminent demise and I would have the satisfaction of not hearing him talk about it anymore. It would be a win-win. Well, except for the fact that his guards wouldn’t like that too much. I guess I should add that they were going on about their business, talking like they were fully expecting to get the Emperor out of the city safely. I could only assume that they were used to this type of morbid death talk from him and had learned to ignore it.
In the Sanctum, things really started to go to shit. Random gates started closing everywhere — a “trap” according to the Blades. Their solution? Leave the Emperor to be guarded by the chick with the low level magic spells, rusty sword, and fur boots while they go off and fight the assassins in the other room. Brilliant! While I waited with the senile Emperor, he suddenly turned to me and said his end was nigh. I wish I had written down exactly what else he said to me because it seemed kind of important. Something about how I was the only one who could stand against the Prince of…Darkness? Destruction? I was supposed to prevent this ominous-sounding individual from getting the Amulet of Kings. I remember that part because the Emperor handed the freaking Amulet to me and told me to take it to some guy named Jauffre, who knew the location of the Emperor’s last living son. No pressure. Oh, and I was also to “close shut the jaws of Oblivion.” Yeah, I’ll get right on that.
At that exact moment, an assassin jumped out of the wall and killed the Emperor right in front of me. Well, didn’t I just feel like the world’s biggest asshole? My two thoughts were, “Hmm, I guess he was right after all” and “Oh, I’m sure this will look really good to those Blade guys. Dead Emperor, Amulet of Kings in my possession…maybe I should start running.”
Luckily for me, Baurus — the one Blade who hadn’t croaked by that point — was one of those guys who likes to take personal responsibility for everything negative that happens. He threw himself a gigantic pity party over his failure to protect the Emperor, which I couldn’t argue with because he was the one who left my useless ass to guard His Majesty. Once he found out that the Emperor had given me his special Amulet — and that’s not a euphemism — Baurus exposited for a while about the Amulet of Kings and how its power allows it to only be worn by someone of the Septim Blood (which sounds kind of like a disease). There went my plans to take over the Empire! I’m just kidding. I was just happy that Baurus didn’t go totally apeshit on me, so I tried to cheer him up by telling him about my appointed mission to find the Emperor’s last son. That was a little bit awkward since apparently even Baurus didn’t know about this particular heir. I could only assume that he had been conceived…um…outside the marriage bed, to put it politely.
Jauffre, the guy I was supposed to deliver the amulet to, is the Grandmaster of the Order of the Blades, according to Baurus. I’m glad he filled me in on that, because I probably wouldn’t have ever found him otherwise. But before I could get to Weynon Priory (where Jauffre lives), I had to travel through the fucking sewers. My day was just going swimmingly. Baurus tried to butter me up by insisting I had more than enough skills to get past the rats and goblins since I was such an experienced Pilgrim. Pilgrim? I don’t think so. I somewhat icily corrected him that I was a Recapper, thank you very much. And as a Recapper, these are my main skills:
Alchemy: Recapping requires the use of mind-numbing potions in order to survive with my sanity somewhat intact.
Armorer: After the slings and arrows of the anti-recapping brigade, I need some way to thicken my mental and emotional armor.
Blade: I like phallic things. PENIS!
Conjuration: In order to conjure up the frightening mental images for my recap readers, I must practice by conjuring actual disturbing monsters.
Destruction: I destroy many a homophobic teenage boy’s fantasies in my recaps.
Restoration: Recapping can be scarring and mentally taxing. Much healing is in order.
Sneak: I must remain unseen by those I recap. Terrible things could happen otherwise.
Baurus didn’t give a crap about any of that. He just told me to get my ass through the sewers and to Weynon Priory immediately. While I fulfilled this urgent task, he was going to guard the Emperor’s corpse. No, I’m serious. And he said that to me with a straight face! I didn’t want to push my luck since he was better armed and a more experienced fighter, but I did give him a dirty look on my way to the sewers. Prick.
For all my complaints and bitchiness, the sewers proved to be a cinch — well, except for the rotting sewage. The less said about that, the better. Before too long, I was at the exit, and I emerged to the beautiful sight of the moon rising over some white ruins near the water. Ah, glorious freedom!
So there you go, Diary. My day, which had started out in the worst possible way, ended on a positive note. Well, except for the fact that I’m poor, weak, still not a famous recapper, and I’m running errands for a dead emperor. Awesome. I’ll be sure to update when more stuff happens.
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