Tale of a Scaled Knight., An Argonian in High Rock. Options

[jack cloudy]

This probably isn't fair for Tesfiction, but here ya go. A Daggerfall-era story.

Tale of a scaled knight.

Chapter 1: Hunter and prey.

The smell of decomposing plants was enough to give a zombie a headache. Mosquetos buzzed about in thick clouds, landing on every bird, snake or other animal foolish enough to come close. Dead fish floated on the surface of the murky lake. The water bubbled as gas rose up from its depths. A particular mound of mud shuddered slightly, sending the mosquetos into a mad scramble for safety. The mound lay silent then and shortly after, the little insects had forgotten its very existence.

One pair of bloodred eyes gazed up at the castle that sat at the edge of the lake. It was tall, with a round tower at each corner and another at the centre of the keep. Its walls were so overgrown with vines, even the windows had vanished behind thick green tendrils. The pair of eyes had inspected every single stretch of vine over the past three hours. At regular intervals, the eyes had shifted up in search of guards patrolling the walls. But there were no guards, at least none that could be seen. The mound shuddered again, briefly revealing the silhouette of a large creature covered in a thick layer of mud.

Was this castle really the one it had been looking for? The creature’s instinct said it was, but its senses claimed otherwise. There was no sign at all of any inhabitants. No sign at all, except…..all the death it was surrounded by had been fairly recent. That, and the vines growing over the walls were the only plants still left alive in the nearby area. With that knowledge, it remained where it was, till night fell. While there apparently weren’t any guards, it preferred the cover of the night for its plan.

When night fell, the mound rose up and stalked away. The mosquitoes now landed on the crawling creature in search of blood to drink, but the mud proved to be an impassable barrier to their tiny snouts. Often, the creature stopped and scanned the keep before moving on. What was less than a hundred metres, it took nearly an entire hour to cross. Never once did it see a sign of guards.

Now it was up at the base of the vines and stood up completely, balancing on its hind legs. As it rose, it shook off most of the mud, revealing more of its features. It was vaguely humanoid, despite the thick tail and somewhat awkward positioning of its joints. It was covered in simple clothes and with a large curved sword sheathed on its back. This was not just a creature, but a fully sentient being in its own right. It was an Argonian and if one would have had the chance to see the Argonian’s scales beneath the mud, one would realize it was a male Argonian.

He had to get inside the castle, but the front door was overgrown as much as the walls and even if it hadn’t been, he bet it was barred from the inside. No, he would have to scale the walls and find another way inside. Before he proceeded any further though, he reached out behind his back and unsheathed the Dai-Katana he carried with him. He carefully removed the rag he’d wrapped around the hilt and leaned the sword against the vines. He also took off his gloves and threw them on the floor before resheathing the Dai-Katana.

Now, he would have a perfect grip if he was forced to draw the weapon. The Argonian pulled on the vines to test them and began to climb. Unlike his crawl to the keep, he didn’t pause during his climb. If a guard came and looked down, he would see what looked like a pile of mud clinging to the vines. What had been a disguise had now become a dead giveaway. He still hadn’t found any proof of guards, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Once at the top, he smoothly vaulted over the edge and drew the Dai-Katana in one swift motion, sending a spray of mud into the air. His eyes drifted from left to right. The courtyard appeared as abandoned as the rest of the castle, except for one thing. The door leading to the central tower was flanked by two burning torches. The Argonian bared his teeth in a feral grin.
“So, you wish to invite me in? Well, I can’t possibly refuse such an invitation.” He hissed into the empty air. He took a second glance at the central tower. Unlike the towers at the corners, there were no vines growing over this one. Also unlike the cornertowers, this one appeared to be constructed to be a comfortable place to live instead of being a near impenetrable barrier. There were a lot of windows, large ones, sealed off with glass. There was a balcony near the top. There were no firingslits, no grooves for boiling oil, no reinforced door. There was nothing in its design to stop an attacking army, or a different kind of intruder.

The Argonian sheathed his sword and leapt down the wall, breaking his fall with a haystack. He then dashed across the open courtyard and begun to climb the walls of the central tower.
“I can’t refuse an invitation, but I won’t walk into your trap.” He thought as he made his way to the balcony. After he’d vaulted over the railing, he drew his Dai-Katana and took a deep breath.
“Alright, I know you’re in this room. You’ve always enjoyed high places.” He whispered before kicking in the door. The Argonian rushed inside, towards the person seated behind the desk.

[jack cloudy]

Well now that you mention it, that was indeed a bit too much perhaps. Oh well, if he wants to remain a suitable antagonist for Root, he'd better be hardcore. I mean, Root is hardcore.




Chapter 2: A chain of deals.

“You wish to know about what?” The old Breton stammered. He’d barely heard the question, having been mesmerized by the strange appearance before him.
“I wish to know about teleportation circles.” Root replied patiently. Ever since he’d left Argonia, he had gotten these kinds of stares from just about everyone. At first it had been annoying and he’d considered it a sign of hostility. Now though, several years later, he had gotten used to it. If he just gave the man a minute or two to recover, he could hold a proper conversation.

The Breton began to wring his hands as his eyes fluttered over the green scales of the Argonian.
“Sharp needle-shaped teeth….suggests a fish-based diet….nose is underdeveloped…..large fin structure at the back of the head….ornamental? Musculature…very humanoid…well-developed…Tail seems rather strong as well for a mere balancing appendage….hmm, it is wearing some form of clothing. Pants, and two belts that cross over its heart…..it can talk….low form of sentience, at the minimum.” He muttered to himself.
“I am not a specimen for your research. Could you please remain on subject?” The Argonian interrupted.

“Aha, right….teleportation circles….sure.” The old man began with a nervous laugh and licked his lips. He’d noticed the bone hilt of the Dai-Katana rise over Root’s shoulder. While having never seen anything worse than a bar brawl, he had the instinctive realization that if provoked, his guest could be lethal.
“I would love to tell you….but….” Root frowned and the Breton bit his tongue in fright.
“But you can’t tell those who are not a part of your guild. Is that right?” The Argonian finished for him. The Breton nodded.
“Well….in essence….yes.”

Root crossed his arms in front of his chest and thought about it. It had been over a week since he returned from the keep. While he'd searched the surrounding area, he had failed to find any tracks of his prey, which meant that the teleportation had been long-range. He knew he needed an outside source of information before renewing his chase.

The only thing he knew of teleportation circles where that they brought someone from one place to another, and how to recognize one. He did not know how to deduce the destination of a circle. For that, he needed an expert. The only sanctioned source of information on anything magicka, was the mages guild.
“Please, I ask you for an exception. It is really important for me to know how to find the destination of a teleportation circle.” He tried.

“Err…it is not my specialty. I would have to ask around and well….” The Breton raised his hands above his head.
“No one would tell me if I gave the reason.” He finished.
“You can’t lie?” Root asked.

For one moment, the mage seemed to forget about his fear.
“Lie?! Well yes, I suppose I could. But with everyone concocting truth serums in his or her spare time, it won’t be a good lie. There are fumes of the stuff all over the building!” He yelped. The Argonian sighed.
“I see.” He merely said and walked out of the door. When he was gone, the Breton wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Outside, Root stopped to gaze at the tall building behind him. Even as he watched, one of the upper floor windows exploded outwards in a blaze of fire. He shook his head.
“Mages, they’re all useless.” He said to himself.

“Oh hey, lad.” Root turned towards the sound. The tallest man he’d ever seen stood a stonesthrow away, watching him. When their eyes locked, the man flashed a grin, revealing a perfect set of teeth. That rather surprised the Argonian, for the man’s face was one large web of criss-crossing scars. He blinked and looked away as he lost all interest. It was probably just another person who had come to check out the exotic foreigner.
“Hey, lad. Don’t you go looking away. I want to talk to you.” The man said.

“You wish to talk? About what?” Root replied warily. He didn’t like where this was going. The man was too confident. The confidence practically oozed from every pore of his skin. It was in the way he stood, the way he talked, the way he casually stroked his moustache. It was even there in the way he readjusted the straps that tied a truly massive double-bladed axe to his back. The last gesture put the Argonian on full alert and he shifted his balance slightly, a barely perceptible movement.

The man saw it though, and his grin grew wider as a result.
“Say, you got trouble with the Sparkies?” He asked. Root frowned. The man had made no movement towards his axe, only readjusted the straps. Still, that didn’t say much. The subtle hints in the man’s posture revealed that he could draw that monstrosity as quick as Root could draw his Dai-Katana. The Argonian now took notice of the blonde hair that fell freely to his shoulders. He had only seen that particular colour of hair in Cyrodiil. The owner of that Nord had called himself a Nord. Perhaps this was another one.

“Sparkies?” The Argonian replied with feigned calm.
“Sparkies, Mumblejumbos, fingertwiddlers. I’m talking about the Mages here, my man!” The Nord laughed. Root tensed his muscles slightly more. He simply didn’t like the way the man talked. It was too loud, as if it was all a distraction for something else.

“I don’t see how that would possibly concern you.” He said evenly. The Nord waved away the comment with a hand that was as scarred as his face. Several of the fingers looked as if they’d been severed and reattached with a spell, more than once.
“But of course it concerns me! This is my town and when I see a troublemaker, I deal with him!” At the last comment, the man confidently jabbed a thumb at his own chest.
“You want me to leave.” Root concluded. The Nord’s grin faded, but the twinkling that came in his eyes was even more worrying.

“No, I don’t want you to leave. Not so soon. We haven’t gone through proper introductions.” With one swift motion, the man whipped out his axe, letting its head rest on the cobblestones. The handle was nearly as long as a spear and the head itself looked as if it could cleave a horse in one swing and still have enough momentum to cut down a young tree.
“And with proper introductions, I mean a duel! First one to yield, lose his weapon or touch the ground with any bodypart excluding the feet, loses!” He added. Root let out a low growl of frustration as he turned his back on the man.

“I don’t do duels, especially not with someone who just comes out of nowhere and challenges me to one. Good day.” He spoke and began to walk away. To his surprise, the Nord laughed.
“Brilliant, just brilliant! I like you, green one!” He howled. Root scowled but kept walking.
“I tell you what! You accept my challenge, and I will help you out with your mage problem. It doesn’t matter which one of us wins, I will still help. You have Erick Ice-fist’s word!” The man continued. Now Root’s interest had been piqued.

“You will help? I am looking for information, not the spilling of their blood.” The Argonian explained.
“Blood or information, I’ve got plenty of contacts to help out with either.” Erick claimed.
“So, are you game?” He asked next. Root closed and opened his fists trice and stomped on the floor to improve his blood circulation. Then, he drew his sword.
“Fine, I’m game. My name is Root.”



PS: And here he is, da man himself.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Mar 9 2008, 09:38 AM