What is a Game?

Chapter 25 - The Warning

AN: Welcome to "Major divergences from cannon 2: Electric Boogaloo." Hope you enjoy.

Breaking cannon aside, the last 3rd of the chapter is her fixing her stats up and getting a perk. I'll summarize it all in an end of chapter (pre year 3) write-up if you don't like reading the long form of it and just want to see the effects.

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When I woke up on my birthday, I had a number of very odd feelings. First, I felt oddly stronger than when I had fallen asleep. Second, like this birthday wouldn't quite be the same as the others.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, I felt like I was in immediate danger. This is probably important, as I don't normally wake up before the sun. Not in the summer, when it rises around 5:00 am.

I roll out of bed - towards the center of my room and snatch both my wands out of their holsters, one under the pillow, one on the bedside table.

Then I realize what's wrong, here.

Oghma is in my room, looking at me bemusedly. For those who can't picture it - let me describe the god of writing and the arts for you.

He isn't very tall - maybe 1.8 meters, brown hair, brown eyes, pretty plain face. Really, he looks like some guy I'd run into in the market. Except his clothes. He was wearing a traditional robe, like the kind you'd imagine Merlin wearing. It's super fancy, with gold and silver embroidery. He has a thick belt, with a large tome on one hip and a scroll-holder on the other. There's no less than 12 scrolls of varying sizes on it. I can see another scroll on his back. He seems to have a number of pouches on his person, and I can see at least one of them must contain ink-stones. Another seems to hold a brush.

So a super rich writer from Arthurian times. Then you get to his aura, which is undeniably divine. So much so that it almost hurts to stand in his presence. This is undoubtedly the thing which woke me up.

I guess turning 13 is a magically significant year, but what the hell is this?

"You weren't told?" Oghma says, sounding genuinely confused and displeased. "Well, allow me to fill in what your foolish father failed to do," He says, grabbing and unrolling one of the many scrolls on his belt before passing it to me. "Simply put, the most intelligent, powerful and able-bodied of the generation following the current head of house must take up headship. This can be anyone from the main branch. So even if you can't produce an heir, I can take a niece or nephew as head. The most able of all current house members is made head, immediately. You, being the fifth-most so of your house - very impressive for your age - will overtake your own father and become head of house no later than your eighteenth birthday. As such, having divined everyone's potential in your family, I know yours to be the greatest," he tells me while I read what is clearly a contract.

The Line of Hawthorne and the Abstract entity of Art, Thought and Writing, Oghma, were bound to each other. Basically we worship him by furthering and improving all arts we're in (Magical, Mundane, it does not matter.) and in return, whoever he picks out of a generation gets his blessing - which is laid out on the paper pretty clearly. We're basically the 'archpriest' of his religion, though he really doesn't care for formal worship. He cares for the production and furthering of his domains. Because when you write something - you're worshiping. At least that's what I've been taught. So we create great works which help us and further his domain. He doesn't mind if you don't share, even. Just that it exists. But he knows that to be the head of a group of excessive bibliophiles and researchers/artists is hard, and the head needs to understand what all the projects mean. To this end, he gives boons to the head, and line as a whole. The ones I think are most important are as follows: