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]

Captain Hammer: That probably is Bethesda's official line on souls. But it definitely is not mine. I do not see any difference between the divine spark that just so happens to currently reside in a body that possesses a fore brain large enough to do math, or one whose body lacks that cognitive power, or one that has no flesh and blood at all. To me divinity is divinity, and none of it is better, or worse, or more expendable than any other part. So there are no white souls, black souls, or polka dot souls in the TF or AF. There is just the divine. That in turn puts a very dark spin on soul trapping. As Grits said, the vanilla game version of Azura's Star is pretty sinister if you happen to have what they call a white soul.


Acadian: Valens is definitely the shiznit. He's also a fun character to write.

"Don't spit into the wind, don't pull the mask off the old Grey Fox, and don't mess around with Nashira..."

Mad Jack is probably on Number 3 or 4 at the time of this story. So they won't be the Number Seven you are hoping for.


Colonel Mustard: I hope the whole thing lives up to your expectations! I have always loved the Seven Samurai and Magnificent Seven. It is always neat to see the tale translated to new mediums. There is an anime named Samurai Seven that is quite good.


McBadgere: No apologies necessary. Talun-Lei is more like Chico than Katsushiro. You definitely called him right. The last time I watched Magnificent Seven I found I liked Chico best of them all. He struck me as the most interesting, and definitely had the most character development throughout the story. I loved the scene with him pretending to bull fight with the bull.


Grits: Get thee to Netflix as once! I think you guessed right. If you try to read back your reply three times fast I bet it will make you dizzy though...


ghastley: Chico was the hot-headed young Mexican from Magnificent Seven, who Yul Brynnr did the "Clap hands" test with. He's also the one who finds the women, and has the nice little romantic subplot going on.


King Coin: Talun-Lei just might make seven indeed. Or six depending on what order you count from.

I wanted to put a few limitations on magically assensing things. Having really powerful items overwhelm lesser ones seemed like a reasonable idea, like a really bright light can make you blind to anything beyond it.


ThatSkyrimGuy: Does that make Aela and Ungarion the Dynamic Duo? And adding Do'Sakhar the Terrific Trio?

That was a good call on the nit, I changed it to your way, since it looks much better to me.


haute ecole rider: Talun-Lei will be played by Horst Bucholz! He may indeed find love in Black Marsh, and a reason to stay. Stay tuned.


Kazaera: Talun-Lei is as green as he looks. But he does have potential, as we will see in the future.

The flinty-eyed bit was an attempt to acknowledge the way that killing people desensitizes a person. Its not something that we normally see in the genre, where swordfights are all glorious, and slaughtering scores of foemen with one's mighty thews is what barbarians do for fun.


Previously On Seven: In our last episode a young and clearly inexperienced Argonian named Talun-Lei tried to join the team. Valens easily defeated him in a mock duel however, and the along with the others told him to go home. The next morning when the team arrived at the docks to leave for Black Marsh, they found Nashira waiting for them. Explaining that if she remains in Bravil she will have to kill the brothers of the man she slew in the duel the day before, she decided to go with them.


Chapter 1.7

Boarding the wide-bellied hulk, the mercenaries and villagers spent the morning sailing across Niben Bay to Telamon. Aela noted that among the other travelers that made the crossing with them was a young Argonian. She said nothing to the others, and instead made her way to the prow of the ship. She sat down and leaned forward against the rail, her legs dangling over the side. From there she simply watched the water below as it foamed up around the ship's prow.

"Septim for your thoughts."

Aela turned to find Seridwe standing behind her. She had not even heard the elf approach. Which either said much for the other woman's ability to move silently, or for her own distraction.

"Nothing really," Aela shrugged, and looked back to the waves. "I just like watching the water. It always feels peaceful to me."

The high elf sat down beside her, and Aela stared down at Seridwe's armored legs as they hung over the water beside her own. Looking back up, she noted that not only was the other woman's hair a masterpiece, but even her makeup gave her amber eyes a subtle glow in the morning sun.

Aela could not help but to feel a twinge of envy, and turned away from Seridwe. For the thousandth time, she wondered what it was like to be born normal, and have the option of living an ordinary life?

"That is a lovely necklace." The elf's words broke Aela's chain of thought, and she followed the other woman's gaze to the silver pendant that she wore. Shaped in a spiral, it hung above her small breasts from a chain of slender silver links.

"My spiral?" Aela said. "Among the Bosmer - and we Witches here in Cyrodiil - it symbolizes the never-ending cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. It's also enchanted to fortify my magicka."

"I would not think that one with your gifts would require more magical energy?" Seridwe lifted one elegantly plucked eyebrow ever so slightly.

"I don't anymore." Aela felt a wry smile come to her lips, and stared down at the pendant. "But when I first started casting spells in real combat, I had a tendency to use much more magicka than I needed. I was like a pugilist throwing a haymaker with every punch. It took me a while to learn to only use as much energy as was truly necessary, especially with my absorption spells. Now I keep it as a reminder to pace myself. And because it was a gift from a friend."

"You did not make it yourself?" Seridwe looked confused.

"Oh no," Aela confessed. "Ungarion enchanted it for me. He has always been much better at that than I am. He did all of our gear in fact: his robes and rings, my clothes, even Do'Sakhar's axe and shield. The only thing he didn't enchant were our staves. We found those underneath the Imperial City, in the old Arimer ruins down there."

"Forgive me, I thought that… well… being ardhanari you…"

"Could fly through the air and shoot fire from my toes? Not hardly. Well, I can do the first with some help from a sylph." Aela smiled. "The truth is Ungarion is a much better mage than I am in most of the schools of magic. The only ones I ever really had much interest in are Restoration and Conjuring. So I double majored in them at University. The others I never spent much time on, only the basic classes that everyone is forced to take."

"I see." Seridwe leaned back and seemed to take in the Breton Witch, as if looking at her for the first time. Aela wondered if now the high elf was finally seeing her as a real person, rather than an idol? Aela hoped so. She did not think she would much care for being put on a pedestal, not any more than she liked being abhorred. Why could not people just treat her the same as everyone else?

"I am sorry," the high elf blushed. With one slender finger she swept aside an imaginary lock of hair from her eyes. "You must be faced with these silly questions all of the time. It's just that ever since I was a child I was taught that people like yourself are gifted."

"I would not call it a gift," Aela frowned. "But it has made me what I am, for better and worse."

"It must be difficult, living in a human land," Seridwe thought aloud. "It is obvious why you would study Restoration. So why Conjuration too? Why not Illusion, or Destruction?"

"At first I started summoning just to stay alive," Aela said. "Ungarion and I have had to go into some pretty dangerous places to make ends meet. But even before that I always enjoyed conjuring. Summoning the Aedra is all about nurturing your relationship with the spirits of the world: of the rocks, of the trees, of the sky, the sea, and so on. When I am with the Aedra, I can be myself. They always see me for who I truly am, not what other people think I should be."

"I grew up in a city - Wayrest in fact - but I have always loved the countryside," the Breton continued, "the woods, the ocean, the wild places untouched by people. When I did my internship at Bravil in my final year of school, I was finally able to really get out into the wilderness for the first time in my life. I walked up the Larsius until there was nowhere left to go. I fell in love with the forest then, and met my spirit guides."

"You have spirit guides?" Seridwe raised an eyebrow again. "You sound like a Bosmer."

"I am a Witch," Aela nodded. "It is about the same thing. I met Turtle my first trip into the woods. He has taught me patience. Turtle is all about getting there, no matter how long it takes. Later I met Butterfly, who taught me the secrets of transformation. Then there was Bear, who brought me healing."

"You said that you and Ungarion have to make ends meet?" Seridwe noted. "Is that why you became adventurers?"

"Yes," Aela nodded. "I transitioned to living female in my fourth year at the Arcane University. My parents disowned me and cut off my funds. Then the University cancelled my scholarship. So I had to borrow money from a slaughterfish named Fathis Ules to pay my tuition. I graduated a few months ago, but I'm still paying him off. I will be for a long time."

"Why did they do those things?" Seridwe looked confused. "Because you are ardhanari?"

Aela nodded, but said nothing.

"But that is mad!" Seridwe exclaimed. "You have been blessed by Magnus to walk between worlds, just as magicka does. I would think they would want more people like you in their University?"

"You don't understand humans," Aela shook her head. "They are not like elves. They are herd animals. They value uniformity, the known, the expected. They all follow along like everyone else, never daring to be different. To them anything strange or unusual is frightening."

"Duty, loyalty, and obedience are what define humans: to their race, to their nations, and especially to their families. They grow up learning to think and feel what their parents tell them to, they marry who their parents tell them to, they learn the trade their parents tell them to, and so on. Most of all they have children and carry on the family name. That is the only way humans can achieve immortality: through their children and grand-children. To them, their family's honor is just as important as its wealth and health, more so in fact. A disgrace passes down through generations, and taints the entire family."

"To them, people like myself are dangerous," Aela declared. "We are proof that you are not defined by your birth, or what everyone else tells you that you have be. We make our lives in spite of what their world says. Make no mistake, people whose power and position are based upon their birth find that absolutely terrifying. They in turn have a very easy time turning the rest of the herd against us."

"But what you are describing is every elf," Seridwe argued. "Among our people, it is a given that we all must find our own true calling in life. No one can choose the fate of another. Just as no one can live the life of another."

"And that is one of the reasons why humans and elves do not get along very well," Aela observed.

"I suppose it is," Seridwe lamented. "I have lived most of my life surrounded by other elves. Even though I was born in Daggerfall, I lived in an elven neighborhood. The humans call it Little Summerset - even though there are Dunmer and Bosmer living there as well."

"So how did you become a warrior?" Aela steered the conversation away from herself. Not only to avoid the unpleasant feelings it brought up, but also out of genuine curiosity.

"The usual," the archer shrugged. "Excitement, adventure, fortune. Many of the others in Little Summerset work for the Mages Guild, or as freelance magicians. The rest are artists or artisans. My parents spend all day making copies of books, pamphlets, royal proclamations, and such. One of their neighbors is an enchanter. He sits in his apartment all day and makes warm cloaks. Another works the docks casting feather spells on barrels and crates."

"Too dull for you?" Aela guessed.

"Exactly," Seridwe nodded. "Every future I saw was just so… dreary. I cannot sit in a room all day scribing, or spinning a pottery wheel, or chipping at wood or stone. Or at least I thought I could not. Was I ever surprised that archery means standing outside doing the same thing over and over again!"

"Well, at least you get some sun and fresh air that way," Aela laughed.

"I do!" the high elf exclaimed, "and I still have more time for my hair and makeup."

"You do both very well," Aela admitted as she looked into the Altmer's eyes. She hoped that she was not blushing. "You're beautiful."

"That is so kind of you to say," Seridwe breathed. "But look at you, with that lovely long hair, and those soft brown eyes."

"Aye, hair brown as sand, and eyes brown as bark," Aela grumbled, looking back down at the waves below.

"Nonsense!" Seridwe exclaimed. "Well, your hair is rather of sandy, and your eyes are brown of course. But there is so much more to you than that."

With that, the elf pushed herself back across the planks of the deck. The next thing Aela knew, Seridwe was hunched over her back and gently taking up her hair in her slender fingers.

"Let's do something with this," the high elf suggested. "We'll start with a braid around either side of your head, then tie it all in back into a tail. Then we can do something with your eyes. We'll start with some eggplant color on your lashes. That will make the whites of your eyes really shine. Then we'll put some gold shadow on your lids, which will make the brown in your eyes glisten. It will give you more color, without being overpowering. When you want that, we can use cobalt shadow, and deeper black on your lashes."

A small, white-winged butterfly danced across the rail before Aela's eyes. She could not repress the grin from her features, and knew that she was blushing now. But she could care less. For the next few hours she forgot all about human prejudices, ardhanaris, loan-sharks, and everything else. She was just a twenty one year old woman having her hair and makeup done by a friend.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Aug 9 2013, 06:42 PM