This is my first TES Fan Fic, as I've come over from the Fallout threads. The title should speak for itself; the story of someone who doesn't want to live, but his body refuses to stop working. On the run, and in a depressed state, he's the only one who can save people from crime, monstrosities, and in some cases; themselves...
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Not everyone wishes to live forever. And not everyone wants to be a hero.

Some don't have a choice.


Prologue

How long could they keep one in a dungeon for a crime they were never proven to commit? Everyday for the last two years of my life I had wondered this. The guard proved it to be an eternity, until the one held captive succumbed to starvation, dehydration, natural causes, or what seemed to be my case... Boredom...

The Imperial Prison, as they called it, was such a dreary place. A crude table and stool were thrown in the corner of my depressing cell, with rusty chains hung from the walls and ceiling. I instantly assumed it was meant to scare me, when I first arrived. But in many cases, I learned it was used for punishment.

A single, tiny window kept the cell lit. But alas, it was too high to possible see through. I supposed I was lucky, however, as the cells across the hall from me were windowless, and dark. The light coming from torches seemed to end at the steel bars keeping my caged.

I remembered a time when I was fit, in shape, covered in muscle. I was a fighter in my past, an adventurer. I would have been the best, but no one paid any attention to the things I accomplished. I even helped fight the demons at Kvatch and Bruma. But who cared? The Champion was the only word floating around the minds of the civilians.

Spending two years locked up in a room of rock really did a number on me. I was weak now, stringy, scrawny... I was lucky I didn't have a cell mate, otherwise I probably would have been eaten by now.

My family never came to see me. I didn't know if they were not allowed, or if they had just forgot about me. Or if they simply didn't care how I was. After two years, two horrible years, I never got word from the ones I thought loved me. Two years of depression, two years of thinking about... Ending it all...

***

I added another scratch mark to the back wall. I had just started the tradition at the beginning of Year Two. I figured I'd start to lose track of time soon enough. I counted each mark, it came up to forty-six total. Twenty-five and a half months of nothingness.

Spitting on the floor, I made my way to the crude chair propped up against the table. It was on two legs, and I'd keep balance on it to sit in a more comforting way. No one else seemed to do such a thing.

The sound of metal hitting metal echoed through the wall, and I instantly walked over to the bars. I tried my best to look for the stairs, but they were too far away, and I was at an angle. I closed my eyes and I prayed that it was something for me. My family, my freedom, my execution...

Someone smacked the metal bars, and said, "Open your eyes. Get up. Or sit down, I have bad news that I am forced to tell you." The guard had a look of disgust on his face. Maybe it was anger because he had to get up from his lazy perch.

"What is it?" I said in my timid voice.

With no sympathy, and in a very brief way, I was informed my family was killed by... Something? That was it? Something? That's all the guard said, then he just walked away. I collapsed to the ground, my mouth agape. I covered my face with my hand, then lifted them up to examine them. I eyed my wrists.

***

Clang!

"Feeding time, scum." A guard said as he slapped his sword on my cell bars. He looked through, and exclaimed some sort of curse. I heard more metal hitting metal, as the guard ran to get more.

I sat on the ground, my bag against the wall. My neck was slung over and almost into my chest. A puddle of blood surrounding both of my hands, the backs were on the ground, with my fingers pointing upward. I weakly looked up, and saw the guard standing with another. The other looked of higher authority, with bits of gold lining his armor, and making designs. The Champion?

"He's still alive, should I take him to help?" The guard had said.

To which the Champion said, "No. Take him through the tunnel in the first cell. Throw him in the basin, make sure no one sees. I don't want this scum bleeding in my cell. Is that understood, soldier?"

"Yes, Champion!" The guard shuffled through his keys, and unlocked my cell.

That was the last thing I remembered in my cell. I'd occasionally come from unconsciousness, to see I was being dragged through a save. Rats were following behind my, nudging my feet with their huge snouts. I slipped into a sound sleep. I hoped I'd never wake again. But that was too much to ask for...

Your story idea sounds interesting, and your descriptions are great!

:goodjob:

Epilogue - 2 - Worst of Luck

I drifted through the water, but the water around me had shifted to more blood than water itself. I'd die soon, and like any dying man, I couldn't help but to reflect on my life. Not the last two years of my life, but the time before that. When my family was still alive, when my name was actually used.

It took me a while to remember what I was called, to be perfectly honest. After at least a minute of thinking, it finally came to me; Wilhelm was my first. Gericault was my ? and my family's ? last name. It's been so long since anyone has called me Wilhelm, or Mr. Gericault.

Shutting my eyes, I remembered what I used to look like. It wasn't much different than I do now. Now, I just have longer hair and a rough beard. And of course, I'm much weak as I once was. Now, my hair was darker and much longer. Instead of a short brown, it was a greasy black that ended at my shoulders. I wasn't cleanly shaved like I used to, now it was a short beard, with bits of food in it. I lost much weight, because I was once a strong man.

Tilting my head back into the water I drifted through, I recalled my past family memories...

My wife was beautiful. I'm not saying she was like most men would, I was an envy to others. Because of it, my only friends were the already married men who were too once adventurers like myself at the time.

Her blond hair ran down her back, and her bright blue eyes could steal your soul. She had a personality to match the amazing looks.

I sighed, and tilted my head farther back into the water.

A wonderful son, too. It was an average family, to say the least. My son had brown hair, and freckles. An odd match, to be honest. But he was definitely my boy. He was adventurous, he'd always leave the town without us knowing.

And to think that they're both out of my life. I don't even know what happened. Killed by... something. I didn't know one person could feel so sad, so terrible, helpless, meaningless. Why was I still alive? I've lost so much blood, too much blood. Why am I still floating? I should be at the bottom of this basin by now.

I jerked around in the water, and yelled as loud as my feeble body would let me. Why haven't the killer fish eaten me alive? I can't even remember what they were called. It's been too long since I was outside.

Screaming once more, I heard more yells that didn't belong to me. I sloshed around in the water, and managed to catch my some onlookers watching me from the coast. Two men, one woman, three children. One man looked to the other, pointed at me and yelled something.

Without hesitation, the other man jumped in the water. The first man soon followed. I felt a hand grab my shoulder, and then another seconds later. Both men were taking me back to shore, spitting out lines such as; "You'll be okay", and "May Talon keep this man alive".

I mumbled, "No... No... Let me die..." The men didn't hear me, and instead they threw me onto shore.

The female spoke, "Is he still alive?"

"Yes, he is still breathing, he is very well alive. We need to take him to the guard, they'll take care of-"

I let out a yelp of pain. My hands were shaking, as I lifted them above my head to inspect the wounds. The cuts on my wrist were closed, but how? I felt a new sense of life fall over me, like I wasn't just floating in the river, left for dead. I bolted upright with a jolt, and looked at the people staring at me in what seemed to be fear.

"Please, you mustn't get up. We will get the Imperials here as soon as we can, they can help you." The female said.

Jumping to my feet, I backed away from the group, towards the woods. My hands were stretched out in front of me. I started to talk aloud.

"No, no, I'm all right. Just leave me alone, never tell the guards you pulled my from the river. Just leave me alone!"

***

The wooded area was a place I couldn't recognize. I didn't live in the area, I barely even left Leyawiin, my old home. I shook my head around as I ran, I even tried to dry myself like a dog. Still drenched in water and blood, I ran through the trees.

What am I doing? I thought, You could have went back to the guards, they could have killed you!

I groaned. I swore loudly. I made the mistake of being loud in the forest...

A growl came from behind me, and I quickly turned to look at the beast. A huge brown bear stood on two feet, it's mouth open giving off a vicious roar. Did I really want to die? Did the Gods want me dead? I slowly backed away from the bear, then turned and sprinted through the woods. Another roar came, I didn't once look back.

A great weight slapped my back, and I fell face first with a thud. I turned to my back, just in time for the beast to swat it's claw at me. I could feel the skin on my cheek rip open from the claws. I yelled in pain as my mouth filled with a rusty tasting liquid, and made a pathetic attempt at fighting the beast off of me.

Once again, it used it's claws and ripped my shirt. Blood started to pour from my abdomen. I yelled, this time in anger. I put my hand up to hit the beast, but it opened it's mouth and bit down on my arm. Blood oozed from the teeth holes.

Fwip

A piece of thin metal pierced through the bears head. It grunted, and let it's weight fall onto me. I started to suffocate, and struggle. Then I stopped, I wanted to die after all.

"Aha! I got it right through the head." A woman jumped down, crossbow in her hand. She came from nowhere.

Without any effort, she pushed the bear of my body. She was a nord. I could tell by the strength, and the various blue tattoos on her face and arms.

She cocked her head to the side, and eyed me strangely. I felt the pain on my face and abdomen go away. I wiped away the blood, then realized there were no more cuts. The holes from the beast's teeth slowly shut before my eyes, leaving not even a scar.

The woman let out a great laugh, "You must be a God with such an ability! Let me take you to a safe place! My home, far away in Bruma. You can call me Agata, friend."

End Epilogue.

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I'm just showing how powerful his special power is, so don't expect the entire story to be sudden monstrous attacks, and running away! This is all prior to the main story events

I enjoyed it

This chapter was riveting! Your detail is amazing!

Thank you, both of you. Here's the next part. The first major event starts next chapter! I promise! Haha.
I'm still showing what Wilhelm can do, so this is like one long introduction so far.
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I remember when I was first whisked away in the night by the Imperial Guards. They ripped the covers from my bed, and the cool breeze woke me up instantly; my wife still slept. Almost completely surrounding the bed, four suits of armor glared at me. Each face looked the same, hidden mostly behind their gray helmets. All their eyes showing the same hate towards me, for reasons unknown. None of the men knew me, but I could tell they felt this powerful hate towards me.

Their methods of arresting me were very unorthodox. I have seen many people arrested before, all of them were calmly escorted, or charged a small fine. The only times of violence was when arrest was resisted. But for some reason, I was instantly treated with violence.

Before I could even ask what was going on, two men grabbed me. One tightly clenched my feet, while the other came around my side of the bed. They flipped me over ? face first ? and threw me on the ground. I hit the wooden floor with a loud thump, and started to scratch at the wood as they started to drag me away.

I could see my wife quickly getting up with a jerk, and looking right at me with a look of horror. I opened my mouth, ready to burst out with apologies and my feelings for her. But one of the guards slammed shut the door between my old room and hallway. Looking down the hallway as they hurriedly moved towards the stairs, I watched the door open where my son slept.

When the door opened completely, I was thrown down the stairs. The guards quickly followed and forced me to my feet. They opened the front door of my home, and threw me to the ground. I felt a powerful blow on the side of my head, and everything started to get blurry, dark; black. But I was still awake.

Everyday, for the following two years, I woke up in a small chamber. No one ever came to visit me, and I never knew why. One day, I tried to end it all, but asking for death was for some reason foolish. I was saved; twice. It's been a year since I left the prison, and still, nothing has changed.

***

The basemant in Agata's home wasn't much different than the Imperial Prison cells. Stone-lined walls with a hint of moisture, but not enough to feel it's wetness. The only source of light keeping things visible was a very dim lit torch near Agata's assortment of wines. It was only there for convenience of easily finding wine when she wanted it. She never actually looked at the bottle, and she never poured them in a cup. She'd just removed the cork and take a swig.

That's where I was to live, however. My only other choice was outside, in danger of wild animals, thieves, and other crazies. And over the course of the year I lived with Agatha, the extremely uncomfortable cot I slept on became bearable, and a diet consisting of nothing but bear and meat became enjoyable. It was better than the prison, anyways.

Agata was my only friend, and the only person I could trust. Even with her at my side, I drowned my emotions with alcohol. Every day, still, I would eye a sharp object, and just think about it.

I was up stairs with Agata, staring at a knife on the nearby table. I shook off the sensation, and continue my conversation with my host.

"-And then they just took you away?" I heard Agata say, mid-sentence.

"That's all I can say happened." I replied, "Everyday since then was awaking in the morning, forcing down a meal of unknown things, and sleep. It truly was a tedious lifestyle."

"You never knew why they arrest you?"

"That is correct, yes. I couldn't ask, they would just beat me down..." I sighed.

"It's been a year, and I am just now hearing this story! Why have you never told me before? We should do something about this! We can leave for the city in a week, it wont be too long to make it there. I will demand answers from them!" Agata said, very enthusiastically.

"No, please, I'm not done. When you met me in the woods? That wasn't because I was a free man looking for a place to live, or for food to eat. I shouldn't be alive right now."

"Nonsense!"

"Please, listen. I floated face down in water, bleeding terribly for a good fifteen minutes. No one should have lived such a thing, the blood filled the small path in which I was floating. Not to mention the bear that tore me up!"

"You were fine. You have something special, deal with it." Agata said, still happy. She was never mean, no matter what she said, she said everything to cheery. She was just strict with her thoughts, and forced them on you in the kindest way possible.

An ear shattering scream interrupted my storytelling. It was scream of horrific terror, rather than a scream of playfulness of just being frightened. Another one soon followed. Me and Agata both made our way outside her side, we started to look around for a source.

"You truly are a raconteur." Agata said, "But I think your story must wait."

A loud thud came from behind the neighbor's house. Then, the sound of crunching snow started to fade away; as if someone was running from the scene. I hear myself yell something involuntary, and the two of us made out way behind the house. I guessed I was giving off orders.

Behind the house, a small female was curled on the ground in the snow. A miniscule amount of blood started to form at her throat, then it started to grow. Agata turned the body over, and exposed an open throat of blood. The woman's mouth was filled with the stick red liquid, and spit it out onto the ground. She started to struggle, while Agatha did her best to pressure the wound, and maybe miraculously save a life.

"Go!" Agatha yelled, motioning towards the footsteps in the snow. She pulled a short sword from it's sheath, and tossed it to me. In the same motion, I grabbed it and ran; following the steps.

The footsteps led to the cellar of someone's house. A hand print of blood was on the handle. I shook off the fear, and looked back for Agata. She was completely out of sight, but I could hear her yell. I watched through an alley as a group of guards ran towards the calls. I let in a deep breath, gulped, and opened the cellar doors.

The cellar was well lit, with boxes and liquor everywhere. Watery foot steps ended just a few feet from the entrance. I sighed, and clenched the short sword in my hand. I heard a crash behind me, and turned around instantly. A man was standing behind me, but I couldn't get a good look at him, as he smacked me with the broad side of his sword.

I fell down on my stomach, and turned to my back in an instant. As soon as I turned, I brought the sword with me and deflected what would have been a fatal strike. The man stumbled back, and came forward to me with a swift kick in the groin. I grunted in pain, and rolled away.

As I got up and turned around, I was greeted by a sharp metal blade. A sharp pain grew in my chest, while blood came down warming my abdomen. I grabbed my chest, and flung forward with the short sword. The man jabbed his blade forward, which, much to my horror, was much longer than my sword.

The blade pierced through my abdomen. I stood still, with the man still holding the handle. Getting a good look at his face, I could see he was a young man. He looked terrified.

My mouth started to fill with blood, and I spat at the man who had stabbed me. He jumped back with a shout, when he realized I was still alive enough to do such a thing. He started to shake, and his mouth opened wide. I looked down, and saw the gash on my chest heal itself.

The pain in my stomach grew, however. I looked down, and saw the silver blade still jutting from my gut. Shaking myself, I grabbed the blade, and started to pull it out. My hands ripped open, as the sword cut me, until I finally was able to throw it across the room.

I threw up more blood, then look up to the man. A look of terror on his face. I fell over on my stomach, and shut my eyes.

"The steps lead here!" I heard a familiar voice say, followed by footsteps leading to the cellar.

"By the Divine! This man is still alive." Another yelled.

I coughed up more blood, and said, "I'll be fine, unfortunately..."

"Gericault?" I heard a man say, as I stumbled to the wall and leaned. I looked up, and saw a man standing in full Bruma armor. His face wasn't familiar at all.

"How do you know my name, guard?"

"You're supposed to be dead! I watched you drift away from the city. I saw all the blood that came from your body! Only a God could live such a thing. You should be dead, you coward!"

I jumped toward him, and pushed him back slightly. "You watched as I drifted to my death! How do you sleep at night knowing you've taken so many lives? Knowing you could do such horrible things? All for what! Because the 'Champion' had wished for it to happen? You're the coward! Any man with a sense of right and wrong would have questioned the Champion!"

The guard pushed back, "I tried! You heard me suggest to take you to help! But it was the wish of my superior, and I was to follow it under strict authority!"

"Well if you're so obsessed with following orders of a superior, then you shall follow orders from me. Only a God could live what I went through, you say? Perhaps I am a God, and any God is more superior than you, you pathetic excuse of flesh!" I knew I was no God, but what else could I have said?

"How can your spouse ever love a man with such anger!?" The guard retaliated, "I could kill her in the cell which she populates with the snap of my fingers, if I wished to!"

My heart sank. The cell?

Different. :goodjob:

I have to go with RemkoNL on this. Your writing is great, your detail amazing - where the story is going is interesting - but I'm not quite hooked on this chapter. I understand the premise, but being indestructable can put him in the position of being UBER, which can be a death to the interest. Thank goodness he has the vulnerability of loving his spouse, that may keep him on a mortal plane.

I'm posting this from my iPod, everyone. Unfortunately, my CPU has fried. That being said, I won't be able to post anything for... A while.

But, to respond to your comment, I had an original plan for weaknesses; Magic, Deadric weapons. And there would be one enemy against Wilhelm, while the common man would just slow him down.

I guess this can be done with, for now, since I won't be able to get on my own computer for a while. Sorry readers...

Oh noes.... Sorry to hear that m8.

Awwww, no. Hope you'll come back to this!

Woo! I have access to a computer for the night, and tomorrow. I'm going to post another chapter tomorrow, so I can keep things going along. Afterwards, I can't say how long it would be again. Probably until next Friday, though.
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The Guard stood back, far back, looking at me with nothing but rage in his darkened eyes. I tried to return the stare with an equal or greater force of hate, but it fell short of the standards when I unwillingly twitched in pain. I looked down to my abdomen, where the blade had pierced my skin, and saw the wound still bleeding greatly, with a ferocious-looking black mark surrounding it.

By look of their faces, I could see that those around me had just noticed the wound also. They all looked like they were going to be ill, or like they were scared something would break from my stomach and attack. I didn't know what to think, other than the word: "What?"

Looking down on my hands, I realized small burn marks on the palms, surrounding the cut marks from when I pulled the sword from my abdomen. A sense of panic rained over me, as I looked around the room, my mouth open in horror. As I looked at the faces around me, the blade I had pulled from my abdomen caught my eye. It's black, rock-like design seemed to have blood flowing from the inside, with transparent veins creating designs around the blade. Again, all I could think was: "What?"

"Good God!" A voice interrupted the short silence.

Everyone looked up, towards the voice. Another guardsman stood there, with his hands around his neck. The murderer was behind him, hidden in a black robe. His face was as black as the garment, with marks of red creating what looked like a tattoo. His teeth were sharp, and small spikes pushed his hood up very slightly. His scowling face showed he wasn't human at all.

It let out a cry of War, as lightning burst from its palm. The electricity forked, and hit one guard and Agata; both flew back from the force. Another spell struck me, full on, and I too was forced back against the wall. Finally, the Dremora walked slowly up to the scared Guard who had accidentally informed me of my wife, and struck him down with his fist. With a blinding flash, the monster was gone.

I looked down to examine my wounds; only then did I realize I couldn't feel any pain. The burn mark from the lightning took over the right half of my chest, while the black mark from the Deadric weapon stayed the same size. I looked to the guard who was hit, and saw a gaping whole in his stomach. Agata had met the same fate. The guard who was struck down was still alive, but on the verge of death.

His face was already losing color, and he was slowly trying to gasp for air. To my astonishment, words started to flow from his mouth.

"Do you? Do you know how lucky you were to have someone like your wife?" He said.

I stuttered, "Y-yes."

"You are fully aware of the envy that even the most powerful of men felt against you?"

"Very." I said, sadly.

"Like a vicious love story straight from the books," The Guard took in a deep breath, "The Champion wanted your woman, Prisoner. And under his strict authority, you were taken from your home ? leaving your wife broken and alone; just a single mother taking care of her sad child.

"The Champion comforted her. As if he didn't know what had happened. He claimed he did his best to free you, to get you back to her. And she believed him." The Guard paused for me to speak.

"And they? Married?" I asked.

"No, not at all. But she felt very fond of the Champion. He showered her in gifts, he gave her as much power as he could have wished. Until she snapped at him. She wanted no more of the Champion, and she forced him out of his life."

"And that is when she was taken captive?"

"Yes, Prisoner. I'm sorry."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I want the last words from my mouth to be the most honest words I've spoken. In a life full of lies and deceit, I wish for a chance of redemption.

"Prisoner, she was taken to the Imperial City Prison. Not into a normal cell, and kept like the others; but into a hidden passage behind the walls of the Champion's old cell. In there, she resides.

The Guard continued, "The greatest heroes of our time have been brought from the jails of Tamriel, and nothing stops your from becoming another."

I replied, "You do not have to die, Guardsman. You are still alive from the Demon's strike, and as am I. We can both walk out of here, and you can fight another day of redemption."

The distinct sound of running and yelling sounded off in the distance. Soon, they got closer to the basemant.

"No man can walk out of the murder scene in which they were the cause of."

I felt a twinge of pain in my body again, "What are you say-"

The affect of the magic and Deadric weapon had gotten the best of me. My body fell over limp, and my sight went black.

***

I awoke calmly. The room around me was simple, and appeared to be in a large brick castle. A small, metal barred window was to the right of my bed. Cheering came from outside, but not from happiness, it was from excitement. Without thinking, I tried to get up from my bed; but I was stopped with a stinging pain all over my body. I remembered what happened before, and sighed.

The door suddenly burst open, and sad-looking man stepped inside. His robes were furry, and covered in different colors. His eyes were copper, and his cheek bones were petruding from his face. He pulled a hand through his pony-tail, and smiled.

The man said: "My name is Maelus. Let me take you to the outside festives. Shall we go?"

"Hold on," I hesitated, "Where am I?"

"The castle in Bruma. The guest room, to be more precise. The head of the Guard had wished for you to stay there, as he lay dying. We would be brutes to not heed his dying wish, would we not? Despite him admitting his crimes, he was a lawful and faithful man until that day."

I paused, "How long has it been?"

"A week, is all." The man replied, "Please, let me help you up..."

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What do you all think of the story's direction? Good, bad, okay?