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]

ghastley: Most of the Seven do not translate directly to the characters from Seven Samurai or Magnificent Seven. Something which I am glad for, since it gives Seven a bit of uinqueness. Only two characters really copy over, one of whom we will meet this installment. My primary motivation for the others comes from Aela's background, which she spoke of in The Witch of Bawnwatch Island in the TF. If you reread that, you will find that the most of the Seven were mentioned.


ThatSkyrimGuy: I think that armor pic came from Wikipedia. I did a lot of searching for Japanese armor. That pic was the best one showing lamellar armor with numerous small pieces, rather than fewer large pieces.

Aela feels most comfortable around Ungarion, so it is around him that she can feel free to be the most herself. Hence all the little jokes between them. I have always liked writing the two of them together. They each complement the other very well.


King Coin: Ungarion does use discuss pretty liberally! That is part of what makes him such a fun character. He is liable to do just about anything.

Do'Sakhar is an old friend, so he is in it just because of his friendship. Besides, no one is going to do it for the pay!


Acadian:Ungarion and Aela have definitely done this sort of thing before. Since Ungy is the wheeler and dealer of the pair, naturally he would step up and take charge of the recruitment drive.

I could not resist the wine in the mug and choosy comments. They added so much color to not only the scene, but AUs relationship. Kurdan was also one I was glad to insert into this story, it being a prequel. He is a well-known quantity to those who have read the TF, and tells us a lot about what kind of place the Suitor is.


Kazaera: That is funny, because when you wrote that, I was making home-made calzones!

Sometimes when it comes to Ungarion, no amount of common sense can make a dent! That is one of the things I like about him. You never know what he might do next!

I was not planning Ungarion and Do'Sakhar to be sniping at one another all the time. It just came that way the moment Do'Sakhar walked into the tavern, so I rolled with it. I enjoyed it just as much as everyone else has, so I kept it that way.


haute ecole rider: Remember, in the TF the counts/countesses are not hereditary monarchs, but patricians appointed to their roles by the Elder Council for set terms, like Roman propraetors or proconsuls were appointed to Roman provinces. Domitianus is just the guy who had the job before Terentius is all. It is one of the things I tried to use to show that this is set in a different time than the TF.

Wow, that is a coincidence with the name! I got the name Do'Sakhar from the UESP Wiki's page on Khajiit names. I think I picked the prefix 'Do' because it said that meant a warrior. The suffix was just from a name I picked out of the list. It just sounded good together.

Like I said to Kaz, I was not really planning on Do'Sakhar and Ungarion snipping at one another constantly, but I do love how it adds color to their relationship. Like you said, it shows us a lot about them both.


Previously On Seven: Our last episode found Aela and Ungarion back in Bravil, where they ran into the four Agrigentans once more, failing miserably at hiring mercenaries. Ungarion took pity upon them, and not only volunteered himself and Aela for the job, but he also took over the task of recruiting more fighters. Soon his efforts bore fruit, as an old Khajiit friend of AUs named Do'Sakhar joined up.


Chapter 1.3

"Are you sure it was Nashira you saw?" Ungarion did not conceal the doubt in his voice. "I know everyone without fur looks alike to you cats."

"Perhaps if one stopped looking down his long Altmer nose at everyone else, he might see what is plainly in front of his eyes," Do'Sakhar replied coolly.

"So how long have those two been married?" Ulpia whispered into Aela's ear.

Aela barely resisted the urge to giggle. "Almost two years now," she managed to get out with a nearly straight face. "We first ran into Do'Sakhar while exploring the Arimer ruins beneath the Imperial City. Our paths have crossed off and on since. He's a good friend."

"Who is this one Nashira?" Hathei asked. Like the rest, they followed Do'Sakhar and Ungarion down Riverwalk. Shops and warehouses lined the streets to either side of them, with more of the latter to their right, where Bravil's interior river and its docks lay just beyond the buildings.

"Who is Nashira?" Ungarion repeated aloud. "Why only one of the finest swordswomen alive. They say she has killed at least sixty people in duels, perhaps more."

"Aye, for once this one speaks faultless. Truly an event worthy of remark," Do'Sakhar said. "Nashira is a sword-saint. Some say that one can even create the spirit sword of her race's ancestors."

"And shoot lightning bolts from her rear no doubt," Aela said dryly.

They paused as the road came to an end. To their right a bridge led across the city's internal river to Castle Isle beyond. But they turned left instead, and made their way north along Silver Avenue.

"Do not scoff until you see that one in action," Do'Sakhar admonished. "This one has never witnessed a finer swordfighter."

"I'm just saying don't build your expectations up so high that no one can live up to them," Aela explained. "I'm sure she still puts her hose on one leg at a time, like the rest of us."

"Perhaps we shall see just that," Ungarion said as they passed the Fighters Guild. "Silverhome On The Water is just ahead. If the cat is right - for once - she will be within."

"Or perhaps without?" Ulpia said as they approached the elegant inn. "What is that crowd up there?"

Led by Ungarion and Do'Sakhar, the group moved through the crowd that had gathered outside the inn, almost completely blocking the traffic on the thoroughfare. Aela squirmed her way through with the others, and finally got a look at what was going on.

Standing in the street was a Redguard woman wearing red and brown. She was in her middle-years, and wore her raven-black hair back in a braid behind her head. A long, gently curved scimitar of Dwemer steel hung from her hip. However, it was a stick that she held in one hand, rather than a weapon.

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Standing before her was an Imperial clad in mail. He towered at least a head higher than the Redguard, and likewise gripped a length of wood in his fist. Aela imagined it might have been a limb from a small tree, which had been cut off and denuded of its leaves.

"That is Nashira indeed," Ungarion said. "I saw her in the Arena once."

The crowd was silent as the two stared at one another. The Imperial took up his stick with both hands, and held it over his head so that the tip pointed up and away behind him. Even though she knew little of longswording, Aela recognized that stance as the Roof. Given that the Imperial knew enough to use it, it was plain that he was a formally trained fighter.

The Redguard calmly swept her stick back behind one hip, its tip low to the ground. While it made her appear to be undefended, Aela likewise knew that as the Near Ward stance. Clearly, both of them were experienced swordfighters.

The Imperial bellowed like a bull, and crossed the distance between them in a flash. He brought his stick down at Nashira's head. But the Redguard was not idle. Her weapon swept forward and whacked against the Imperial's thick neck muscles. Perhaps at the same moment, his stick smacked down upon her head. It was all so quick, that Aela had trouble telling just who struck first.

The crowd gasped, and let out a collective sigh before beginning to chatter in many voices. Aela easily heard the rumbling of the Imperial over them all however.

"A tie then," he said, almost ruefully. "We will never know."

"No," Nashira said plainly. "You lost."

The crowd grew silent once more as the two stared at one another. The Imperial's face grew red, and his lip curled up in a snarl.

"I did not!" he insisted.

The Redguard stared impassively back at him. "You did," was all she said. Then she tossed her stick aside and turned to leave.

"Don't you walk away from me!" the Imperial growled. His hand went to the arming sword at his hip, and bared its blade in the late afternoon sun.

Nashira stopped and turned back to him. She eyed him intently, then filled her hand with steel as well.

Like the others in the crowd, Aela held her breath as she looked on. They were really going to do it! She never once thought of trying to step in to stop the pair. She had no idea what the history between them might be. Or what either of them would be willing to do. She was certainly not going to get a blade stuck in her back by some stranger in the street.

As before, the Imperial brought his sword up above his head, tip pointed backward. Nashira swept hers back behind her, point low to the ground. Again he charged, and again she countered. The entire scene took only the blink of an eye to play out. This time however, the Imperial's head flew from his body, even as his skin frosted over with ice. A moment later his partly frozen corpse fell to the cobblestones.

The Redguard stood by impassively, and wiped her scimitar clean with a small cloth. Even as far away as she stood, Aela could now feel the magicka pulsing within the enchanted sword. Barafu was the name it announced itself as. 'Ice' if Aela recalled her Yoku correctly. The feeling of power gradually subsided as the warrior slid the weapon back into its sheath, and its frost enchantment grew quiescent once more.

The crowd roared in excitement, and Aela remembered to breathe. She lost track of the others in the bustle around her, and for once she wished for the height of an Altmer. She pushed and squirmed through the mass of humanity, looking for Ungarion's dark red locks above the heads of the others around her.

After several minutes of being pushed and jostled, finally the crowd began to break up. Aela soon found the reason why. The Bravil City Guard had arrived, and was shoving everyone back with their kite-shaped shields. Aela caught a glimpse of the soldiers encircling Nashira. Rather than fight them, the Redguard woman calmly accompanied the guardsmen toward the castle.

"Well, that was exciting, if fruitless," Do'Sakhar's raspy voice nearly made Aela jump. Turning, she found the Khajiit warrior standing right beside her.

"Do'Sakhar!" she cried, holding one hand to her heart. "One of these days you're going to scare me to death."

"Apologies goodwoman," the tiger-striped feline bowed his head. Then he looked up and smiled. "But you know what they say: Khajiit like to sneak."

"I thought they liked to sleep?"

Ungarion appeared from the thinning crowd, with the four Agrigentans in tow.

"Thinking is not an activity this one associates with certain butter elves," Do'Sakhar replied dryly.

"So did you talk with Nashira before the guard took her away?" Aela asked, before Ungarion could sling a verbal fireball back at the Khajiit.

"I did," the high elf shook his head. "But to no avail. She is not interested in questing, or fame, or coin. The only thing she cares about is perfecting her art. I imagine that the City Guard will keep her for questioning for a while before they release her. One thing the law always loves to do is talk. If they were smart, they would take lessons instead."

"That was horrible," Ulpia said. "How can people just casually slay one another in the middle of the street! What kind of city is this?"

"As opposed to the finely cultured capital of Tamriel, where they do it in an Arena instead?" Aela observed. "Or in the alleys, where they stab one another in the back for scraps?"

"Or on rice farms, where they do it for sport," Rullianus spat. His eyes glowed with a fervor that Aela had seen all too often. He had lost someone dear to him. To the Nagas no doubt.

"Not if we have anything to say about it." Ungarion declared.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 13 2013, 03:34 PM