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]

The Nord was grinning again as he hefted his axe and swung it around in a circle above his head. Meanwhile, Root dropped into a light crouch.
“I don’t like duels.” The Argonian thought to himself as Erick stormed across the distance that separated them. Root dashed to the side and turned to keep facing the Nord. Having put too much momentum into his charge, it took the warrior a few precious seconds to stop.
“It’s probably the fact that even though the intend is not to maim and kill, the weapons are still capable of it.” Root’s train of thought continued unhindered.

The two stared each other in the eye, but neither moved.
“Oh, come on! I made my first move, and now it is your turn!” Erick grumbled. The Argonian shook his head slowly.
“No, I already agreed to fight by your rules. But how I fight, that is my decision to make.” He replied. The Nord sighed and charged again without wasting any further words. He was obviously not the patient type. This was fine with Root. It presented him with a possible advantage.

This time however, Erick did slow his mad charge early enough to follow his opponent’s evasion. Root hadn’t yet stopped before he was forced to duck under a swing that would have surely decapitated him if he hadn’t moved.
“Watch it! I’m not the one wearing steel plate here!” He hissed.
“And I’m not going to let you borrow mine!” Erick countered as he swung again, this time a diagonal upward cut.
“He is insane!” Root thought.

The Argonian bent back and let the blow sail past.
“Hey? Is that weapon just for show or something? Use it! Or are you scared of blood?!” The Nord howled. Root didn’t answer but merely sidestepped again. Wearing heavy armour and swinging such a massive weapon, the Nord was at a serious disadvantage in a battle of attrition. The Argonian had noticed this and had placed his entire plan on it, seeing as how his Dai-Katana wasn’t capable of penetrating an armour of superior materials. Neither could he use it to block or parry any of the blows. Even if the sword wouldn’t shatter on the first hit, the sheer impact would drive him into the ground.

A small crowd of guards and citizens had formed, limiting the area the fighters could move in. They also placed themselves at risk to the Nord’s erratic swings. Root noticed and scowled in disapproval.
“Fools. Do they have a deathwish?” He muttered to himself, heavily frustrated. He couldn’t afford to move around and let Erick wear himself out anymore.
“Come on! Attack me!” The Nord demanded.

Root jumped back two steps and aimed the tip of his Dai-Katana at the man’s heart, resting the blade on the palm of his left hand.
“If you insist.” He calmly said and lunged. Erick grinned and brought up his axe to block. Instead of continuing his thrust however, Root flipped his blade to the side, crouched and spun around. The tip of his tail hooked behind the man’s ankle and he sweeped, sending the full weight of the Nord crashing down to the street.
“You have just touched the street with a bodypart that is not your foot. You lose.” The Argonian stated as he tapped the man’s chestplate with the tip of his sword.

For a moment, Erick looked flustered, then he laughed.
“Whaha! Good one, my lad! I’d completely forgotten about that rule! Only, your tail touched the ground during that move!” He clutched his stomach as he tried to catch his breath. Root sighed. He hadn’t noticed.
“So it is a draw!” Erick decided.

Root shrugged and turned to walk away. From what he’d seen, he seriously doubted Erick Ice-Fist could help him.
“Hey, where are you going?” The Nord jumped back to his feet and gave chase, pausing just long enough to pick up his Battleaxe.
“To the next town. Perhaps the guild will be more forthcoming there.” The Argonian called over his shoulder.

“Hoho! Not so fast my lad!” Erick called as he ran to catch up. Despite his earlier exertion, he seemed full of energy. Root stopped. He looked about at the guards and the townspeople that watched him warily. He was honestly surprised that no one had stepped in to stop the duel earlier.
“What is it?” He grunted.

Erick grinned and placed a hand on the swordsman’s scaly shoulder.
“This. How would you like to be a honoured member of the High Rock Fighter’s guild?” He asked. The Argonian’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“I don’t work for a guild.” He stated and shook off the hand before resuming his walk towards the citygates. Erick jogged along.
“Woah, I said not so fast! There are really many perks to being a member of our group. A free place to stay in every town where we have a guildhall. Free repairs of your equipment. A discount on training in any arm you choose. Legitimate contracts, all paperwork being taken care of by us.” He listed.

“Not interested.” Root said without bothering to face the Nord. Now, the man’s grin slowly began to fade.
“Geez, you green types are hard to please, aren’t you? Hey, what about that promise I gave you? The information?” He grumbled.
“I doubt you can help me with something that is strictly the terrain of a mage.” Root noted. A hand gripped his shoulder and brusquely turned him around.

“You just think I’m some kind of barbarian with a large axe, don’t you? Now listen, today I was only playing with you. I don’t charge without a thought in a real fight. Now here is the information you need. You want the mages to talk, you give them something they want. If not, you’re never going to get anything good out of them. They’re elitists.” Erick said.
“Give them something they want? I figured that out on my own already. Now move that hand somewhere else before I cut it off. Today I was only playing with you as well.” Root replied. The Nord took a large step back and folded his arms across his chest.

“You’ve got attitude. I like that. Alright, I’ll give you something more then. A mage is guaranteed to kneel on the floor and kiss your toenails if you give them a Daedra’s heart.” He revealed.
“A heart? Is this some kind of joke?” Root inquired with open hostility.
“Not a joke. The heart of a Daedra has amazing magical properties, so I’ve been told. Only, there is a catch.” Erick began to grin again. By now, Root had figured that whenever the man was grinning, he was about to say something he really didn’t want to hear.
“That catch is, you need my help to find a Daedra. But that isn’t all. You need more than just a location. That fancy toothpick of yours isn’t going to cut off a Daedra’s fingernail. It’s too soft and brittle for that. Too blunt as well. And if you want to survive in battle, you’d better wear some solid, top-notch plate. Otherwise, those buggers will kill you in a heartbeat.”

The Argonian folded his own arms across his chest as well, subconsciously mimicking the Nord’s stance.
“Let me guess. In order to get the correct equipment, I need to join your guild.” He observed. Erick nodded.
“That’s right!” He answered. Root rolled his eyes.
“….Fine. I guess I don’t have much of a choice here.” He admitted.
“But if I ever find out you are just playing some kind of trick here in the hope of getting a trustworthy sword, I will make you regret it.” He added.

For a long and silent moment, the two looked each other in the eye. For once, Erick didn’t grin. Perhaps his confidence had been shaken, or maybe he simply didn’t enjoy the possibility of a fight to the death with the Argonian. For all it mattered, the only reason Root hadn’t won the duel was due to a technicality, a simple rule that wouldn’t matter at all in a real fight.
“You won’t ever have to, I promise.” The Nord merely said at the end of the silence.
“Good.”

At once, Erick’s jolly mood returned.
“Alright, that settles it! Now we’re palls for life!” He bellowed and clasped the Argonian’s shoulder once more. Root resisted the urge to shake off the hand.
“Now, about that equipment and location?” He hissed instead. Erick began to drag him off through town.
“Are you crazy? You want to run off right away?” The Nord asked.
“Na-ah, we can’t do that. Not till you’ve proven yourself worthy of the goods.” He then added with a sly wink.

“Proof myself? Didn’t I just beat the guildmaster in a duel? What other proof do you need?” Root countered. Erick’s jaw snapped shut.
“How did you know I was the guildmaster?” He inquired warily after a moment. The Argonian shrugged and took the opportunity to brush the other’s hand off his shoulder.
“You have the guts to challenge a complete stranger to a duel in the middle of the street, the guards don’t bother to interrupt the whole event and finally you recruit me without even bothering about formalities such as requesting permission from superiors. How much more obvious could it possibly be?”

Erick sighed.
“Oh great, I picked up a fighter with brains. This is bad, really bad.” He muttered.
“How so?” Root asked.
“Cause all a fighter needs to know is how to follow orders and bash skulls, that’s why! Geez, I was looking for a warrior, a barbarian. Not some sort of agent.” Erick complained in a louder tone.
“Tough luck. It’s not my problem. Rather, I think a dumb fighter is all that, swordfodder, a stupid berserker who charges right into a phalanx of pikes like the crazy fool he is.” Root replied nonchalantly.

The guildmaster jabbed a finger at the Argonian’s chest.
“Really? Then what do you think that you are?” He spat. It was obvious that the insult aimed at fighters had seriously angered him. Root drew his katana and spun it around in a flourish before resting the tip on the cobblestones. Erick stepped back and his hand went up to the hilt of his axe at what seemed like a sign of upcoming violence.
“So soon? Did he decide to turn on me so soon?” He thought frantically. It was then that he recognized the manoeuvre for what it really was. It was some kind of salute.

“I am Root Lich-Bane, knight in the order of the Blue Serpent, heir to the lands of Sapphire-hill, son of Green-Fire, former knight in the order of the Blue Serpent, lord of the lands of Sapphire-hill.” Root said formally and spun his sword once more before returning it to the scabbard on his back. Erick whistled.
“A knight, eh? Quite an important one, judging by all the titles.” He said and smirked.
“So then, what would an all-important knight and heir of his own little fiefdom no less, be doing here?” He added.

Root bared his teeth.
“That is none of your concern.” He hissed sharply. Erick was unimpressed. Now that he knew he was dealing with a knight, he knew that he was perfectly safe as long as he didn’t insult the Argonian’s honour. Of course, this safety all depended on whether or not Root was the rare kind of knight who actually held his code of honour in high regards. From what the fighter had seen, Root was indeed such a knight.
“Fine, I won’t ask. But if you’re a knight, then where is you armour?” He pressed on.
“Sold it for daggers.” Root replied uneagerly.
“And what happened to the daggers?”
“Sold them for information.”

A pair of guards marched past. Both of them cast a wary glance at Erick, instantly averting their gaze the moment he looked back.
“I wonder what he’s up to this time.” One of them whispered to the other, loud enough to be heard by the subject at hand.
“I can hear you louts! Simmer down or do I have to show you who’s the real boss here?!” Erick shouted and the two guards marched faster. Root sighed.
“Wonderful, he believes he owns the place. Well, he probably does, if the guards don’t do anything to stop his antics.” He thought.