//------------------------------// // 5: Ripa 'Moramee: Hydra Slayer // Story: Arbitration // by Uberdeathninja //------------------------------// Upon awakening that morning, Ripa was in a stupor. His dream had caused a great disturbance in the massive elite's head, but he did not let that bother him. After all, he was already a bit touched in the head; he made a deal with the madgod, after all. So, in an attempt to not let this minor infraction ruin his day, Ripa walked to the entrance of his new camp and began meditating on his nightmare, in an attempt to glean its meaning himself. There was something familiar about the apparition, but the shadow figure was new to Ripa. It was as if he had seen it before, but then again, he had seen a lot of 'ghosts' in his eighty two years of life. It could be any female he had seen even once, as he slew countless human females before, though why one would be weeping over HIM was quite a mystery. Perhaps only time will tell. Finally, his thoughts turned to the dark corridors of the ship, with the grotesque sights of limbs and rivers of blood. They were of little significance in and of themselves, but they were likely representations of somewhere. What was the point of the nightmare? That staff... How was it relevant? Suddenly, an interesting thought crossed Ripa's blood-soaked mind: Sheogorath had said he was the daedric prince of madness. The word 'prince', that implies there are multiple beings like him. Maybe one of his peers sent the dream? From what he could guess, Sheogorath preferred to be either depressing or, to coin the human term, "trippy", making the theory that it was not HIS doing all the more likely. But back to the main part of the nightmare, what did he represent in the dream? Ripa had so many questions and few answers to them, to his frustration. He soon ended his session on the thought that this was merely another daedra's doing, and then began to focus on his own need for shelter; He couldn't sleep under a tree forever, it just wasn't healthy. Perhaps if he could gather a strong enough labor force, he could restore and upgrade the old, ruined keep he had found nearby during one of his hunts. Maybe... Maybe... Ripa tilted his head, thinking of how that old fortress must have looked in its prime. Surely, it must have been grand, and once the Arbiter could repair it, he would own that grandness, live in it, sleep in it, maybe rub it in the ponies' faces. His fort, no, his keep, would trump all others, and from it, he would bring this petty world to it's knees, kneeling before the prophets as all good races should... if only they were here... Gilda watched her taskmaster look over his usual resting spot. He looked over it with contemplating eyes, but for some reason, he remained silent, which was odd for the hulking alien: He was almost always boasting about how much bigger he was than they were, and constantly torturing her with his constant monologues of "how prison was better than this trash heap of a camp", and how she and Trixie were "the worst indentured servants it had ever been his misfortune to govern over", among other things. Normally, the proud griffon would easily give this monster a piece of her mind, but she quickly turned back to her work of cooking instead, seeing as how the rude and boastful alien could crush Gilda with his thumb. The big, split-lipped warlord's size alone was a constant reminder that they were alive only because he willed it so, so arguing with him would result in more than another lecture: It would result in her premature funeral. Even worse, there was no point trying to run from the titanic alien, as he could easily catch her. Heck, she once saw him catch a bird flying at full speed in a single leap. After catching it, he then lectured it on trying to flee him, and finally crushed it to death with a 'light' squeeze. If that monster could catch a bird in flight, Gilda had every reason to doubt her own chances. So, she resumed her duties, and Trixie continued hers, though neither of them enjoyed the backbreaking work the Arbiter put them through. Trixie had been assigned to do the prepping up of the camp, like moving rocks and the occasional tent, and Gilda had been gathering rat pelts to make a few coats for the winter. While skinning rats, though, she had a clever idea to keep herself from going hungry every time the Arbiter collected his 'let the pitiful natives live tax', and she quickly voiced it to the giant alien once he pried his attention from his resting spot. "Food's ready." Gilda said as Ripa helped himself to one of the rats. No matter how many times she saw him eat, she could never get used to it. He finished and gave a pound to help the rat down. Then, she filed her opinion: "Say, alien..." She said, but was cut off by the arbiter: "It's ARBITER to you. Now what do you want, peon?" The Arbiter growled, clearly not in a good mood. "Well, I noticed you've been eating all our food, lately..." She tried again, but the Arbiter, master of impatience, interrupted her again. "Are you calling me 'fat', worm?! Your next words had better be chosen with extreme caution, or I will skin you and wear your hide as a cape!" Ripa shouted, but Gilda quickly shied back, correcting herself. "No, no sir! I was just saying, you're leaving none... to... go to waste... so I figured, we could build two fires, one for you, and one for us, just to make things easier, you know?" Gilda explained, her expression hopeful, and Ripa seemed to contemplate this, his orange eyes narrowing in thought. He could let them starve for their ungratefulness of him taking on the strenuous task of being their master, but dead slaves tend to not be very useful... "Very well, we will build another pit, despite your ingratitude. However, I will build it, seeing as this one looks as if it was constructed by the rats on which you feast." the Arbiter declared, glaring at the griffon, who sighed a breath of relief that she didn't have to do any more work. "However, first, we hunt once more. That vermin you prepared did not satisfy me." Suddenly, all hope Gilda once had was replaced with horrible, despairing emptiness, because whatever the Arbiter wanted to hunt, if he needed them with him, it likely wasn't gonna go down easy. "W-what?" Gilda asked, and the Arbiter grinned wider, scaring her even more than usual. " Are you deaf, peon!? I said prepare to hunt! We leave in one half-hour." Ripa said, spitefully as usual. Gilda never figured out where he got that attitude from, but it was really a pain to deal with. Still, she got ready while the Arbiter watched for any intruders. One half hour later, and after some complaining on Trixie's part, much to Ripa's chagrin, the Arbiter and his companions set out on the hunt. Despite having only two swords, Gilda was still impressed by Ripa's skill in hunting, seeing as he could catch squirrels and rabbits with his bare hands. She would have to ask him about where he learned those skills later. Later, though, a loud crash resounded through the forest, and Trixie and Gilda both shrieked in terror as not one, but THREE roars sounded off behind the trees. "What was that?!" Trixie asked hastily, turning her head left and right in search of whatever was attacking them. "I don't know!" Gilda screamed, and as if to answer their question, the trees parted, and a great, hulking, three-headed reptile stormed from behind them, sending the earth shaking in its wake as it bellowed a howl most horrible. "What in the name of the prophets is that?" Ripa asked calmly, drawing his blades in response to the beast's sudden appearance. "T-that's a... A hydra!!!" Trixie screams, and she flees behind the Arbiter, who grunts in disgust at the display of cowardice. But soon, the alien's gaze turns to the massive predator, and as it roars and glares at Ripa, he begins to pull his split lips into a giant, predatory smile that even made Gilda feel uncomfortable. And at last, the massive alien spoke: "Huh. Is it dangerous?" Ripa asked as he drew his blades, and both Gilda and Trixie looked in dumbfounded confusion at the massive, nonchalant alien before them. "... Um, yes it's dangerous! just one of those things is worth a thousand soldiers on its own!" Gilda pleaded, but Ripa 'Moramee did not react, and simply kept his curious gaze on the massive roaring creature before him. Then, at last, he spoke, his tone dripping with condescension. "Is it, now? Well then, I'm not sure whether I'm proud of this magnificent beast, or sorry for the pitiful worms you call soldiers. Either way, I hope that this thing puts up more of a fight than your weak little 'princess'." And at that, Ripa threw his arms to his sides and roared back at the massive hydra, daring it to put up or shut up. And not to be outdone, the hydra thrust its weight forward, and charged the belligerent elite. Needless to say: that was the last mistake it ever made. Having seen the hydra charge, Ripa leaped into the air, engaging in battle with the mighty beast. He leaped for the heads first, and they in turn twisted and writhed as they tried to catch him. But as he grabbed hold of the first head, the one in the middle, Ripa 'Moramee's eyes began to glow with an internal fire, and his blades seemed to dance through the air around the Hydra, even as wounds appeared where no contact seemed to be made. And as he slashed, his energy swords naturally cauterized the wounds they left, making short work of the behemoth. It took a few minutes, but when Ripa had finished, much to his servants' horror, he had deprived the monster of two of its heads, and stabbed the center head in the eyes with his massive blade. Then, with one last death-howl, the hydra finally dropped to the earth, shaking the area as it fell, and the elite fell with it, landing on his hands and feet with an impact almost as ground-breaking as the hydra's itself. And finally, as though it were the most normal thing in the world, Ripa 'Moramee sighed once, popping his back, and looked expectantly at the two flabbergasted creatures he had the misfortune of calling his slaves. Then, finally, he spoke: "Well? My trophy isn't going to move itself!" Ripa bellowed, and the two shook their heads, finally over their mild surprise at what the Arbiter had just done, and reluctantly got to work on moving the dead behemoth. By day's end, they all returned to camp. Just like they left it, there was a wagon, a tent, and a fire pit. Ripa then dragged his trophy kill in by the only head he had stabbed between the eyes, as all the others were severed and with no grip. Gilda and Trixy were impressed by the tyrant's strength, but horrified all the same. No matter how many times they saw his 'demonstrations', they never seemed to get over their perpetual and ever-present fear of the alien tyrant, who could crush them both at the same time with one hand tied behind his back. The Arbiter, However, was plagued by other thoughts, none of which concerned his impressive strength. He knew that winter was coming soon, and they would all need more sufficient shelter, or risk death. Well, maybe only the servants would, but the Arbiter would then be deprived of his only workforce. But even so, was that so bad? The grunts he now had been tricked into babysitting seemed to be capable of very little, and only seemed to slow him down. So, resting beneath his tree, the Arbiter decided that, tomorrow, he would turn the pitiful creatures loose, and try to find his own way to become feared in this world.