Memoirs of Mundus- The Adoring Fan

• Posted by Tenebrous January 12, 2016 - Filed in TSC: Short Story - 1,031 views

  The Adoring Fan

   

  Ian S. McClure

   

  “By Azura, By Azura, By Azura! The Grand Champion! Standing here! In front of me!”.

   

  Annoyance. That is what I thought upon seeing the Bosmeri youth, as I rolled my eyes and sighed beneath my opulent white beard. Oh, perhaps I would have accepted, even enjoyed his presence- 30 years ago, when I had first claimed for myself the title of Grand Champion of the Imperial City Arena. I remembered those years fondly- as I strode forth confidently, ebony warhammer in my hands, to the roaring crowd, to the announcer yelling: “And now, ladies and gentlemen... the one and only, Skullcrusher!”. Yes, perhaps then. But not now.

   

  For everything and anything can become mundane- even bloodsport was now ordinary for this old Orc. I almost wished that fate would take pity on me, and allow me to die a good death in the Arena. But I always won against my adversaries- rabid wolves, brutish ogres, powerful minotaurs, and naive challengers. And I refused to just stand there and die- Malacath would surely frown on that. And so, on I fought.

   

  My only hope now, apart from dying of old age (a quite real possibility), was to find a student- a lucky young whippersnapper that would learn from me the art of gladiatorial combat. Though I was most renowned for the ebony warhammer I carried to my fights, I was in actuality at least somewhat familiar with most weapons. And there was no doubt I was experienced in fighting. The question was, who was to be my student? Well, definitely not this Bosmer- he was but a boy.

   

  So, I tried to just keep walking, going to the Market District to get my warhammer repaired for the inevitable next duel. But the youth followed me as I walked, my plate armor clinking with each step.

   

  “Wow! You're the Grand Champion! I've heard of your fight against the Gray Prince! You're the best!” he said excitedly.

   

  I groaned a bit, turning to face the boy. “What in Malacath's name do you want?” I said. I should mention that the Skullcrusher was not renowned for his charming personality.

   

  The boy faltered a bit. Yet, his voice was still excited when he said: “Can I… Can I follow you around? I won't get in the way!”.

   

  “Not a chance in Oblivion.” I replied.

   

  “Aw, come on! Please, please, please, please-”.

   

  This continued until I got to the store, 'A Fighting Chance'. Finally, I snapped.

   

  “Damn it, boy! Leave an old Orc be.”.

   

  He blinked. “But- but you're the Grand Champion! You're my hero!” he whined.

   

  “Alright. Join the hundreds of other fans I got. I'm sure they won't mind.” I responded testily.

   

  And, saying that, I entered the store, to prepare my weapon for the next match. I was in there a long while, but when I got out, it was to see that blasted Bosmer again. My groan was more prolonged now.

   

  “You're persistent, I'll give you that. But I'm not. Going. To. Let you. Follow me!” I shouted.

   

  He blinked again. “But- but I can be useful. I can give you backrubs or hold your weapon or-”.

   

  I sighed as he faltered, thinking of more ways he could be of use to me. But then, an idea occurred. I was going to teach this youth the true dangers of life in Tamriel. I was tired of his constant nagging anyhow. So, I said: “You know what, kid? I've got an errand to do, up in the Jerall Mountains. You… can come.”.

   

  “Golly, you're the best! I'm going to follow you and watch you and worship the ground you walk on! Let's go!”.

   

  I immediately regretted my decision. But, I had given my word- and I am an honest Orc, if nothing else.

   

   

  By the eve of the next day, we were off. I had packed camping supplies and food for a long while- being a Grand Champion meant I had quite the large coinpurse. Oh, Owyn and Ysabel- how that old Imperial was still alive eluded me- they grumbled over my departure. But they knew better than to really try and stop me.

   

  We followed the Silver Road from the Imperial City, going from the Heartlands up north to the Jeralls. We had to stop in the village of Bleaker's Way for more supplies- damn Bosmer was ravenous. He never shut up, either. I hoped the growing cold of the mountains would curb his constant, inane talking. But, I was greatly surprised- and disappointed- to see that it didn't help in the slightest. The Adoring Fan- as I had come to call him, for he never divulged his real name- continued to offer his two cents on anything and everything.

   

  One day, just as we were going near an abandoned shrine to the Daedra Namira, the Bosmer youth exclaimed:

   

  “Oh, look, a Daedric Shrine! That's where the evil cultists go to do their- evil stuff, right? I don't trust those Daedra- apart from Azura, of course. She's nice. But, this one looks mean and nasty. I say we avoid it.”.

   

  I turned my head to the youth, to once again tell him to shut his mouth, when, in my peripheral vision, I saw a robed figure with a dagger, running towards us with murderous intent. The shrine wasn't abandoned after all. I drew my warhammer.

   

  “Get clear, kid, and see how a pro does things.”.

   

  I then swung my weapon at the assailant's head. He ducked effortlessly, then he smiled beneath his black hood. I swung again, this time in a downward motion. He merely rolled to the side, and grabbed the Adoring Fan, placing his dagger at his throat.

   

  “Halt there, Orc. One more step and the Bosmer's life is forfeit.”.

   

  I snarled, considering my options. This wasn't what I had in mind. Yet suddenly, the most unexpected event happened. The Adoring Fan surrounded himself in magical lightning, and with a single fell cry, fired a bolt that disentegrated the cultist!

   

  I stood there, mouth agape. The youth dispelled the magic, and smiled to me.

   

  “See, Grand Champion? I can be useful! I really can!”.

   

  I stood there for a while longer, my aging brain still processing the fact that the Fan was possibly the most powerful mage I'd ever seen. Finally, I stuttered: “H-How? I mean- you're only a kid! An Adoring Fan!”.

   

  He shook his head, still wearing the merry smile.

   

  “No, no, Grand Champion! I am, in fact, a member of the Psijic Order of Artaeum- have been since I was born! My parents are members too. But I came to Cyrodiil just to see you, Grand Champion, because I had heard so much about you!”.

   

  I nodded, mostly to myself. I was still shocked, but one thing was clear- he would do nicely. “So, kid. You've got talent, that's for sure. How'd you like to make a name for yourself in the Arena- be my student? Learn the ways of gladiatorial combat from this old Orc?”.

   

  His face lit up like a bonfire.

   

  “By Azura, By Azura, By Azura! I'd be honored, Grand Champion! Truly!”.

   

  I smiled- for the first time in a very long while.

   

  “Then it's settled. Just- one thing. Stop it with the 'By Azura'.”.

   

   

  Three years later, the old Orc lay dying, hearing the roaring crowd he had once loved so. The burning hole in his stomach was most definitely fatal. But he knew Malacath would be proud. He had died a good death. With the last of his strength, he said: “Nice… Going… Kid.”. The Adoring Fan smiled, a mix of sadness and happiness at his feat. “Farewell, Grand Champion.” he said softly. The Orc closed his eyes just as the announcer cried: “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the new Grand Champion, Spellslinger!”.

   

  “By Azura, By Azura, By Azura! I'm honored!” the Bosmer cried.

   

  Damn it, kid.

   

   

  ((Author's Notes)): And so here we are with the next Memoirs of Mundus story! I tried to use the Adoring Fan in a way that nobody would expect. I dunno if it worked or not, but I'm pretty happy with how this story turned out. Thanks for reading!