Seven, An Aela & Ungarion Prequel Options

[SubRosa]

The inspiration for this story came to me last week. As will probably be evident to many, this is an homage to the masterpiece by Akira Kurosawa. It is my humble attempt to translate that great story to the Elder Scrolls Universe. Following the old adage of striking while the iron is hot, I decided to put the TF on hold while I write this instead. Once I am done, I will get back to the TF, and wrap it up with one more chapter.

This is also a prequel, taking place eight years before the events of the TF, shortly after Aela and Ungarion graduated from the Arcane University.


Seven

Prologue

25th Second Seed, 3E425

Vishta-Zaw slithered through the mud with ease. In fact, he had to take care not to move too quickly, lest he overtake Dark-Eye. The other Naga would look upon that as a challenge for leadership of the company. A challenge that Vishta-Zaw was not ready to make, yet. For while his one-eyed leader's age was beginning to show in the fading color of his once dark green scales, his killing power had not subsided. The way he had dealt with the hackwing the day before had made that clear...

Soon the land began to rise, and the mud turned to drier, hard-packed dirt. That made the going slower for the pack of Nagas. Where folk with two legs had an easy time on such ground, it was more difficult for his race to propel themselves upon their serpentine lower halves. Unlike ordinary snakes, they had a torso, head, and arms to balance aloft above their thick tails. It was much easier moving through the swamp's water and muck, where their tails could whip them forward at speed. Yet still they managed without complaint. The latter was a sign of weakness, and weakness was not tolerated in Dark-Eye's company.

In time they topped a ridge and Dark-Eye came to a halt. Vishta-Zaw slithered up beside his leader and followed his one-eyed gaze down into the valley below. Stretched out there in the small, oval-shaped bowl of land stood the settlement of Agrigento, a collection of simple timber and reed homes raised up on stilts in the traditional Argonian fashion. At the center of the village rose a tall structure of the Imperial style. It's walls were entirely of stone, pierced by numerous windows filled in with hinged glass panes, and topped by a roof of glazed red tiles. A fence of simple woven reeds bordered the settlement, and beyond that water-logged rice paddies stretched in all directions. Dykes of hard-packed dirt spread out in a grid through the fields, dividing them up into numerous flooded squares.

Imperials, they just loved to impose their straight lines, squares, and rectangles upon everything. They seemed to think that their geometry would somehow bring them closer to the gods. Any Naga could have told them that nothing on Nirn was straight and neat. All their efforts did was separate them from nature. The Naga wizard knew that would only doom them to extinction. It was only a matter of time.

His eyes fell upon the Imperials laboring in the rice paddies. They went barefoot through the water, wearing simple dark tunics and conical reed hats to ward off the sun. Alongside them toiled their tamed Argonians. Once the Saxhleel had been a strong, proud people, Vishta-Zaw mused. But like so many of them now, these had abandoned the ancient ways of the deep swamp, and now what had they become? They were little more than slaves for the smoothskins. The Naga race would never fall so low.

"They are bringing in their crop," Dark-Eye observed. "Good, I grow thirsty."

"It will take them time to dry and husk the rice," Vishta-Zaw leaned against his staff, which was tipped with a large chunk of flame-red crystal. "Then they will need more time to brew their soju."

"To brew our soju," the chieftain corrected him. The side of his head that faced the wizard was gouged with deep scars leading through the ruin of his eye socket, which was covered with a jeweled eye-patch.

Dark-Eye turned to level his remaining indigo eye upon his lieutenant, and then the gang of other Nagas behind them. "We will give them six weeks," he cried. "Then we will return to wet our throats, and have some sport!"

That brought a chorus of assenting hisses from the other bandits. Some banged their spears against the rims of the small, bone shields. Others simply stabbed their weapons skyward in expectation of the revelry.

* * *

Hathei held his breath until the Nagas had gone. Even then he still waited, just in case any of them returned, or were still lurking in the shadows of the trees. Magnus crawled through the sky, and several lesser creatures crawled across the Argonian's washed out yellow-brown scales. Still he waited, not moving an inch, in the way that only his race could do.

Finally Hathei rose up from his belly and stood straight. His gaze darted through the trees that lined the top of the ridge, seeking anything out of place. Yet there came no hisses or croaks of discovery, no spears came flying out to pierce his scales, and no magicka crackled to snuff out his life.

The aging Argonian was thankful for the bundle of reeds that was slung over his back. If not for them, surely the Nagas would have seen him. He had been lying on his stomach, just inches from their bellies, with only the camouflage of those reeds between him and certain death. Now that bundle of reeds slowed him down as he turned and ran for the village below. He was tempted to throw them aside so that he might run faster. But he knew he would only have to return for them later. At his age, he did not have the energy to do the same thing twice. So he labored on, as farmers always do.

His mind whirled as he made his way down the slope of the valley to the settlement below. They were coming back, again! They would take all of the soju, just like the last time, and the time before. Worse, the Nagas might take another of the women again, just as they had Rullianus' wife. What had been left of her after they had finished would have made a butcher sick. Who would they take next? His own daughter Meen-Sa?

No, not Meen-Sa. He could not let that happen to her. They had to do something this time. They just had to.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 5 2019, 11:00 PM

[SubRosa]

Darkness Eternal: Glad to have you aboard DE! It is indeed set in Black Marsh. Well, some of it at least. We will be in Bravil County for a while first, as the samurai gunmen adventurers are recruited.

I am not really basing the Imperials on the First Edition Pocket Guide jungle dwellers though. Not specifically at least. I was just thinking about living in a hot, humid environment like Argonia, and it struck me that the humans living there would probably end up dressing and looking like people in places like South-East Asia.


ThatSkyrimGuy: I understand just how intimidating those huge, older stories can be. It is hard to get into, let alone finish, something with over a hundred thousand words. It is even more intimidating when you put it that way!

I had to look up Hackwing too! I did a lot of reading on the UESP Wiki beforehand, especially The Lore Article on Black Marsh. I read the Argonian Account too, and some of the other things linked in that page. It helped me get a better idea of how to present the place. Though I am still creating many things whole cloth. The idea for soju is one. As H.E.R. pointed out already, it is a sweet-tasting rice liquor made in Korea, with a real kick to it (45% alcohol and up). It was one twist I wanted to put on the original tale of bandits who just wanted rice.


mALX: You have not seen the Seven Samurai, or the Magnificent Seven?!? Get thee to Netflix immediately! Both are outstanding movies, with Seven Samurai being the original, and Mag Seven a Western adaptation of it (which goes to show that Hollywood has been copying Asian movies for over fifty years). My prologue is actually a nearly identical recreation of that from the Seven Samurai, only translated to Tamriel. The entire story will not be that literal a copy of course, but I wanted to start it out with a clear nod to Kurosawa.

We won't be seeing that part of A&U's past though, that has was even earlier, back when they were both students at the Arcane U. Unless there are places where I can work flashbacks in.

The Nagas are only vaguely described in the ES gamebooks. They seem to be Argonians that are just more snake-like than the usual ones we see in the game. That sounds kind of boring to me, so I am going to use the more common Naga description of the human-like upper half, and snake bottom. So they will be like the Tsaesci, only not vampires. I will give a more detailed description when the Seven get to the village and actually see them face to face. I did not want to bog down the prologue with a lot of description.


ghastley: Maybe I'll do the Three Argonians? Two And A Half Imperials? Ten Little Bosmer?

I wound up going for Black Marsh because I needed a setting where the local authorities would not just move in and deal with the Nagas. It had to be somewhere out in the sticks, and Argonia is about the most remote place in Tamriel. Even at its height, the Empire never controlled the interior, and only barely hung on to the outer regions. Plus I wanted my version of this tale to have its own unique flavor. Argonia is one of the more exotic places in Tamriel, and Argonians one of the most exotic races.


McBadgere: I wanted Dark-Eye to really stick out in that scene, since he is the boss bad guy, and because after that scene we are not going to see him again for some time. He is really more based upon the chief bandit in Seven Samurai (down to the eyepatch). But that character never really did much. We will be seeing some Eli Wallach inspired scenes later in the story though, when we meet Dark-Eye again.


haute ecole rider: Both versions? I guess you mean Seven Samurai and Magnificent Seven from 1960? Not the original Mag Seven with Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen, and the tv remake with Michael Bein and Ron Perlman from 1998? I think it interesting comparing those two as well. I find I prefer the tv show better. The characters feel more interesting and fleshed out, and have more variety to them. The addition of the somewhat crazy holy man was especially a good touch IMHO, as well as the African-American medic. But I thought that even the characters directly ported from the 60's version felt more alive to me. Vin's background of the buffalo hunter turned bounty hunter with a price on his head was much better than the original Vin. Likewise, Michael Bien's version of Chris had more history to him as well, as a man turned bad after the murder of his wife. I especially liked how the newspaper woman inflated the story of the gunfight in the city at the start of the movie, and gave all the credit to Chris to try to scare off other outlaw types. It made me wonder just how much of Chris' reputation was real, and how much made up by other people for their own benefit?


Acadian: Oh noes, not Seven of Nine!

As you have already thought aloud, I would not put too much stock in the view of the Naga wizard. Like you said, he has his own agenda, and worldview, which is more about serving himself and justifying his actions (and arrogance) than anything else.


Previously On Seven: Our last episode found a group of Naga bandits led by Dark-Eye observing a farming village in Black Marsh that was bringing in its rice crop. Dark-Eye declared that they would return in six weeks, after they had distilled the rice into soju, and take it for themselves, and anyone else they wanted. Unknown to them, a villager named Hathei was hiding in the brush just inches away. He sped back to the village to warn them of the impending doom.


Chapter 1.1

"This would be much easier to carry if you would just summon up one of those archaeans again." Ungarion hefted a sack bulging with goods over one shoulder, and struggled with a second canvas bag with his other hand. "We did not graduate from the Arcane University just to drag heavy objects around the countryside."

"No, we graduated so you could learn to use feather spells," Aela shot back as she hefted her own bags of loot. She was thankful for her knowledge of Restoration, which among other things allowed her to fortify her strength. "Perhaps you should have majored in Alteration?"

"I found it more expedient to major in financial transactions," Ungarion winked. He set down each of his sacks in turn, then filled his hands with yellow light. Aela recognized the feather spell he cast upon each bag. She also noted that the high elf made no move to cast the same spell to lighten her own sacks of loot. Instead he now raised each over-stuffed bag with ease and nodded down the street before them. "I thought you majored in Conjuration though."

"I did," Aela said, "as well as Restoration. But you know how summoning spirits gets the hayseeds out here in the country excited. They're the next best thing to Alessia Ottus. They'd be coming at us with pitchforks and torches before you could say 'Nirn Spirit'"

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"Aye," Ungarion smiled, "and then we'd have to kill them all. With nary a gold coin or gemstone to loot off their bodies. Best to let them live instead."

Aela could not suppress a wry smile at her friend's joke, and continued on down Telamon's main street. It was a simple affair of hard-packed dirt, kicking up small clouds of dust about their ankles with each step. One and two story buildings of stone painted with whitewash lined the avenue, roofed with red-glazed tiles that fairly blazed in the light from Magnus overhead. Horses and carts clattered to and fro around them, as did other pedestrians, and the pair of magicians had to watch their steps to avoid collisions.

Most of the people around them were Imperials clad in the threadbare flax or wool of peasants. A few wore the linen of the artisan class, and her eyes spotted a single patrician clad in velvet riding in the back of a carriage. Here and there she saw one of the tailed folk, and even more rarely an elf.

Most paid little attention to her and Ungarion, but once in a while an Imperial stopped to stare at Aela. She knew that look all too well. She had been receiving it ever since she had transitioned to living female at University. It was partly a gape of shock, and partly a sneer of disgust, as if she was something unnatural and revolting they had the misfortune of discovering upon the bottom of their shoe.

Each time Aela felt a tiny dagger prick into her heart. It was not the hate that bothered her. Every race in Tamriel hated every other one, or so it seemed. Rather it was the fact that they had seen through her female presentation. After everything she had done to change herself, and all of the study and hard work to get there, some people still saw the maleness within her. It made it feel like it had all been for naught, and she would never be able to live as the person she truly was within.

Aela sighed, and tried to ignore the people around her, and the disquieting feelings they conjured up. She wished they were back in the forest again. At least the animals and the trees saw her for who she really was, rather than simply as the body she had been born into. Even Imperials often said that animals were good judges of character. It was too bad they did not find a lesson in that…

"Maybe we should sell some of this here?" Aela stopped and nodded to a shop whose sign depicted a shield and pair of crossed swords. "We could unload some of the larger pieces."

"I suppose we could." Ungarion dropped one sack with a clanking of metal, and thoughtfully rubbed his chin with one hand. "We might find a better price out here in the backwoods for some of this than we will in Bravil. They probably don't see mithril or dwarven gear very often. Then again, they probably won't have as much coin to buy with as the merchants of Bravil..."

"Well then, let's dazzle them with your sparkling personality my dear, and part them from those few coins they do possess." Aela set down her bags and filled her hands with power. In her mind's eye the Altmer became taller, handsomer, and more distinguished than he already was. Laying her hands upon the black silk of his robe, she poured her magicka through that image and into the high elf.

Ungarion cleared his throat, and took a moment to straighten up his attire. Even dusty and travel-worn, he seemed to almost glow with magnetism. Aela could swear that light glittered from his teeth as he smiled, and Magnus himself seemed to bend his rays to bathe him in a radiant shine. More than one person walking past actually paused to stare with admiration as he hefted his bags of loot and strode to the door of the weapon shop.

The proprietor within seemed less moved by Ungarion and his magically enhanced personality however. Yet he did buy several daggers from them, as well as a Dwemer arming sword that had once been the property of a marauder chief. In the end they walked out with lighter bags and heavier coin purses.

"Well that is a start," Ungarion said as he blinked his eyes against the sudden glare of the sun. "By the time we sell all of this off, we should be able to pay off Fathis Ules for several months in advance."

Aela wrinkled her nose at the thought of the Imperial City usurer. She owed him more money than she cared to think about. But without his loans, she never could have paid for the Arcane University. Especially after all of her scholarship applications had been turned down. It was ironic that even though she had graduated at the top of her Restoration and Conjuration classes, she was not academically gifted enough to earn a financial deferment from the school.

She gripped the necks of her bags with her enhanced strength, and pretended they belonged to Irlav Jarol and Martina Floria. There had been many at the University who had taunted and teased her, but those two had done their best to have her thrown out entirely. She was thankful for the more open-minded staff members like Raminus Polus and Selene Duronia. Aela knew that they had championed her right to study there. Neither one ever spoke much about it, but she could tell from what little they did say, that the Mage Council Chambers had been a battlefield.

The screeching of gulls came to Aela's ears, and a turn of the road brought them into full view of Telamon's harbor. The muddy brown waters of the Panther River flowed by from the left, emptying out into the deep blue expanse of Niben Bay in the west. Between the two lay a small semicircle of calm water cut into the coastline at the mouth of the river. Two stone quays ran out into the inlet. Flat-bottomed barges and horse-powered riverboats were tied up to the one on the east. Heavier sailing craft were docked at the western pier, and it was to these deep-water hulks that Aela and Ungarion made their way.

The docks were small, but busy with people and animals making their way to and from the vessels. Given that the port was the main reason for Telamon's existence, that did not surprise Aela. They got in line behind many others waiting to board a packet ship bound for Bravil, and dropped their bags with a clatter of steel.

Aela took the time to produce a hand mirror and comb, and went to work straightening her long, sandy brown hair. Once she was finished she proceeded to check the light dusting of makeup around her eyes, and the soft shade of rouge on her lips.

As she had a thousand times, she sighed as the plain features that stared back at her in the silvered glass. She looked convincingly female enough for most people to never give her a second glance. But there was always one person in every crowd who noticed her adam's apple. While her magic had given her an hourglass frame, her shoulders were still a bit too broad, and her hips too narrow, and her breasts too small. Never mind her man-hands. Some things even seven years of Restoration magic could not repair. At least not yet. If only she had been born a normal woman…

She put the mirror away and tried not to look at the women around her. There was no point reminding herself how she did not look after all.

"Excuse us good folk," Aela turned at the sound of a husky Argonian voice. "But these ones could not help but notice from your staves and your baggage, that the two of you are adventuring mages?"

Aela and Ungarion found a pair of Argonians and a pair of Nibeneans standing behind them. The Argonian speaking was dressed in good, cream-colored linen edged with red embroidery. The scales of his skin were deep green, and each side of his long head was crowned by a row of horns. Beside him stood a much older lizardine with washed out yellow-brown scales, wearing the worn and dirty clothing of a peasant.

One of the humans with them was a young man with dark hair and eyes. He too was dressed in rough attire, and bore the calluses and tanned skin of a farmer. Finally there was a middle-aged woman with similar black hair and eyes. She wore a dress of good green linen, and Aela imagined from the worn skin of her hands and paler skin that she was an artisan, or someone else who worked indoors with her hands.

The Breton Witch glanced down at her bags, whose tops had fallen open to reveal the hilts of swords and other looted weapons, along with helmets, breastplates, and bits and pieces of armor. It was easy to see how the newcomers had discerned their profession. As if Ungarion's black silk robe with its silver-stitched diamond patterns was not a dead giveaway, or his dark staff and its blood-hued crystal. Her own white, vine-entwined staff was the only real clue to her profession. Otherwise her simple white chemise, brown bodice, and sturdy pants were hardly noteworthy. Except of course for the pads of hardened leather that protected her knees and a few other vital areas.

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"Why indeed we are!" Ungarion declared. "I am Ungarion, the finest warlock of the west! And allow me to introduce you to my partner Aela, the most brilliant Witch of Niben Bay."

Aela could not help but to roll her eyes at the Altmer's theatrics. He always did like to put on a show. She would think that a black marketeer would want to keep a low profile. It was just her luck to befriend the only smuggler in Cyrodiil who wanted everyone to look at him.

"If you will allow us to introduce ourselves, my name is Ulpia," the human woman began. She gestured to the linen-clad Argonian, then the older lizardine, and finally the Nibenean man in turn. "This is Stalks-The-Marshes, Hathei, and Rullianus. We are from the village of Agrigento, and are in need of fighters such as yourselves."

"I am afraid I have never heard of your settlement," Aela said. "Is it here on the Niben?"

"No, not quite," Stalks-The-Marshes said. "Our village lies beyond the headwaters of the Panther, across the border in the Black Marsh."

"You have come a long way then," Ungarion whistled.

"This one comes here often in fact," Stalks-The-Marshes said, "to sell our soju in Bravil. Or at least this one used to. So it is not an unfamiliar journey."

"So what is it that you need mages for?" Aela asked.

"Naga bandits," Ulpia said plainly. "For years now they've been preying upon us. They come twice a year, every time after we have distilled our soju. They take it, and anything else they want, and kill anyone who tries to stop them. Or just anyone at all."

"This sounds like something for the Imperial authorities?" Ungarion raised an eyebrow.

"The Imperial Legion has better things to do," Rullianus practically spat upon the quay beneath them. "We tried appealing to the Imperial Governor in Soulrest. He couldn't give two shats from a crocodile's tail about us."

"The Empire's authority does not extend as deeply into the hinterland as these one's settlement lies," Stalks-The-Marshes smoothly continued. "It never has. That was one reason these built there. To avoid… Imperial entanglements."

"Such as taxes and duties," Ungarion nodded his approval.

"But now your strategy has backfired," Aela said dryly, "and you lack the protection those taxes and duties pay for."

"Unfortunately, yes," Ulpia agreed sourly. "That is what we need people like yourselves for."

"What is the opposition?" Ungarion asked.

"Thirty or forty Nagas," Rullianus frowned, "give or take a few."

Aela coughed. "It will take more than a pair of mages for that. You'd need at least, oh a dozen good mercenaries. People with experience, who aren't afraid of long odds. Or perhaps half that many, if they are really good."

"What is the pay?" Ungarion asked, his eyes taking on that crafty look they always possessed when the subject of gold came up.

"These ones can feed you," the aging Argonian Hathei finally spoke. "Three meals a day, and offer some soju as well."

"Feed us!" Ungarion sputtered. "That's it? Good luck finding anyone that hungry!"

"Wait!" Rullianus held up his hands before Ungarion could turn away. "I once heard the Naga leader say that there was a price on his head. You could take it to Soulrest to collect the bounty. Or any other Imperial fortress."

"The Nagas have loot as well," Ulpia added. "They are highwaymen, preying upon those who travel from Gideon to Stormhold. They have many stolen goods, gold, jewels, you name it. All would be yours if you can defeat them."

Aela noted the sharp look that Stalks-The-Marshes shot the Nibenean woman. The Witch imagined that he would prefer to keep that loot for himself and the village. Aela could not blame the Argonian for his greed. Some of the treasure was doubtlessly their own to begin with.

"Well, we just finished with a band of marauders in Morahame," Aela declared. "We have to sell off our own loot, and have accounts to settle. So we cannot go anywhere with you. I suggest you try the Fighters Guild in Bravil. They might take your contract."

"These ones are indeed headed for Bravil," Stalks-The-Marshes declared. "These ones expect that shall be the best place to raise a force from. Perhaps when your business is concluded you will come find us?"

"Perhaps we shall indeed," Ungarion said. Aela noted that the high elf had that thoughtful expression again. She knew that he was thinking about that bounty, and imagining what kind of loot a band of Naga robbers might accumulate. The marauders in Morahame had collected quite a haul of goods, especially in the form of their armor and weapons. The Breton had to admit that she was thinking about it herself. But first things first. She owed Fathis Ules money, and needed to make a deposit at the Temple of Zenithar to keep the money-lender off her back.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 5 2019, 11:01 PM