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]

Grits: One thing I love about writing a prequel is showing these little tidbits of how the characters developed the skills and abilities that we are so used to seeing them possess. Like Aela's use of spirits to help her sailing. I watched the Indiana Jones movies over the week, and one thing I loved about the third movie was how we saw young Indy get his hat, whip, the scar on his chin, and his fear of snakes. I just loved all of that.


King Coin: You are right, tt is basically a powered barge. It struck me as the perfect thing for river travel. It is actually a RL boat found on Lake Champlain.

I guess Talun-Lei is just going to have to sink or swim on his first contract! Thankfully as an Argonian, he can breathe water...


haute ecole rider: I never really thought of the spirits as being anything more than something to give a ship an extra boost, sort of like putting a turbocharger in an engine, but not completely replacing it. Maybe I am not taking the idea far enough? I sort of envisioned a spirit as being able to completely propel a small boat like Aela's dory in the TF. But perhaps a larger vessel the size and mass ofThe Niben Queen is too much for a spirit to push? Or it might take a much more powerful spirit, that the captain may not be able to summon? (one thing I would like to see is the same type of spirit with varying levels of power. In the game Shadowrun the spirits you summoned could be of any level of power, but the stronger spirits were more difficult to summon).

I know what you mean about Alga and Honmund, that is a bit of dialogue that has always stuck with me too. It made me think that Nords did not marry at all, but just lived together as long as they wanted to. Then Skyrim came along and threw all that by the wayside by having Nords all marry in a ceremony of Mara's in a chapel. Sounds pretty much like the Chapel Way to me!


Acadian: I always found the plethora of Khajiit sub-races to be rather confusing. I might change it to Cathay-Rats, but then again, I would still be changing something if I did that. So maybe I will just leave it as Pahmer after all.

We are going to have several more episodes just on the journey itself. This is one way that I am deviating from the movies. In those the seven heroes leave the town they are recruited in, have a few minutes of traveling scenes, and then the stories pick up again in the village. I am going to spend a little more time getting there, and use it to show us more of the characters.


McBadgere: I never heard of the horse-powered boats until I was looking up boats for the TF. It was just pure chance that I stumbled across this one from Lake Champlain. But I did love the idea the moment I saw the article on it.

You did get Aela's intentions correct on both counts. On one hand she is playing the welcome wagon. On the other she is making sure he can heal himself, taking her own words to heart about teaching him things.


ghastley: I think it is just going to be that the undine is cancelling out the drag on the hull as you mentioned, but that the boat still has to generate some of its own power as well. I don't want magic to be too overpowering. Plus I never put that much thought into it!

It is true that at least Talun-Lei does not need his hair to be done! We will see some training scenes in the future, as he learns what it takes to be a member of the Magnificent Seven.


Previously on Seven: In our last episode the seven's ship docked at Telamon, the settlement at the mouth of the Panther River. There they boarded a riverboat that will take them up the river. The seven finally noticed that Talun-Lei had followed them, apparently dead-set upon taking part in the quest to protect Agrigento. After a short discussion, Aela pointed out that if he was truly determined, they could not stop him. She suggested that someone teach him to fight, and took her own words to heart by going to him and teaching him a healing spell.


Chapter 1.9

Aela leaned back against the wooden awning that covered one of the waterwheels. She watched the brown water of the Panther River slide by as it fell behind the boat. The turning wheel churned up the otherwise peaceful water, and left a foaming wake behind the boat, marking a trail where it had passed.

She could still feel the undine down there, reversing the flow of the river so that the wheels - and the horses turning them - would not have to struggle against the current. She closed her eyes, and let her thoughts drift down into the water with the spirit. The undine was a joyful creature, and saw the exercise not as an onerous task, but rather as an amusing game. Aela danced and splashed alongside her - if only metaphorically - and whiled away the afternoon with the Nirn Spirit.

Hard footsteps clanked across the wooden planks of the deck nearby. They stopped as a dark shadow fell across Aela's body, blocking out the warm rays of Magnus. The cool light of a star washed over her instead, and the scent of roses wafted across her nostrils. Wood creaked loudly in her ears, and Aela felt the planks of the deck shift under her as a heavy weight lowered itself down upon them nearby.

The Breton opened her eyes to find Valens squatting beside her. The Nibenean wore his black armor, even in the summer heat, and stared out at the waves beyond. Then his dark eyes turned to meet her own.

"So just what in Oblivion are you anyway?" he asked bluntly.

"I'm Aela," the Witch replied. Her heart doubled its pace at the loaded question, but she did her best to keep her voice neutral. "That is all you need to know."

"So what do I call you," the Imperial went on, "'he' or 'she'?"

"Do I look like want to be called 'he'?" Aela still fought to keep the anger from her voice. "I'm not wearing a bodice and a chemise because I want to trumpet my masculinity, and I'm not wearing makeup to impress everyone with my manhood."

"Fair enough," Valens nodded. He looked from her to the water, and stared into its depths for a long time before he went on. "You know, Seridwe thinks you're some kind of prophet or saint."

"The elves aren't ruled by petty bigotries, as humans are," Aela replied.

"Well, not the same ones at least," Valens almost smiled.

Aela did not reply, and Valens did not speak again for long moments. "They say people like you have special powers," he finally said. "That you can do things no one else can."

"I put my pants on one leg at a time, the same as everyone else," Aela declared. "But it is true that someone who lives between worlds as I do has some advantages when it comes to magic. That is what magicka does after all - travel between worlds - shining down from Aetherius to Mundus. So people like me can manipulate it better than most."

"It must be hard living in the Imperial Province, with everyone who knows what you are treating you like an aberration," Valens observed. "Why do you stay here? You could go to Valenwood or Elsweyr, they love your kind there."

"Because I have just as much right to be here as anyone else," Aela insisted. "I won't be run out by a bunch of narrow-minded provincials. I would think that an Azura worshipper like yourself would be a little more enlightened. She is the goddess of transitions after all, of traveling from one state to another. That is what dusk and dawn symbolize: endings and beginnings."

"I'm no Azura worshipper," Valens stiffened, as she had accused him of a crime. "I've got no use for the Nine - or the Daedra - and they've none for me."

"Really?" Aela pressed on, "is that why you carry the very essence of the goddess of twilight and magic given physical form? Why do you worship her every morning and evening?"

"I don't worship her," Valens grumbled. "I'm just… thinking."

"What is the difference?" Aela asked.

"Plenty," the Nibenean insisted. "I serve myself. No one else. This world - and the gods - have never done me any favors."

"What, you think you're special because you've suffered?" Aela said. "Because your past has been taken away from you? Well join the rest of us."

"What would you know about it?" Valens shot back.

"What would I know about it?" Aela replied hotly. She noticed that several of the others were now staring from their positions around the boat. But she could not contain herself. "My whole life was taken away from me when I changed. My family, my home, my future, the people I thought were my friends, everything. I lost it all."

"But you know what? It wasn't the end of the world. I have a new family." Her eyes glanced to Ungarion. The Altmer mage stood by with his arms crossed, and nodded back to her. "I make my own future now. One day I'll make a new home as well. The gods didn't create the world we live in, or our fates. We are the gods, and we make them all ourselves, every single day. What world are you going to make?"

"I don't know," Valens sighed. With that simple honest admission, Aela felt her anger ebb away like the evening tide.

"Well that is a good place to start," Aela said.

Valens stood, and looked about at the others, who were all staring back at them now.

"So what do I call you Valens?" Aela asked, still sitting against the wheel house. "My friend, or something else?"

"I am your friend Aela," the Nibenean rumbled. "Of that let there be no doubt."

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Aug 24 2013, 02:17 AM