An Argonian's Account, Haa-Rei's adventures in Cyrodiil Options

[hazmick]

Chapter 1

The room was furnished as most high ranking Imperial offices were – dragons everywhere. Dragon curtains (red), dragon floor mat (red), dragon banners (red). I wouldn't be surprised if the guards outside were wearing socks (red) with little dragons on them.

“So we just need to go over a few things here,” the clerk’s piping voice interrupted my thoughts. He studied the notes in front of him “you were born 3E 408?”

“Yes.” I wasn't half as nervous as I thought I’d be, but my mouth was almost too dry to speak.

“Our first official record of you is not until 19 years later. An Imperial prison transport fished you out of the Inner Sea of Morrowind and took you to the port of Seyda Neen. Yes?”

He didn’t look up from his notes, instead arching an enormous grey eyebrow. There was more hair on those brows than on the rest of his head.

“Yes.” Though my mouth was still dry my hands were now clammy. Please gods don’t make him go in for a handshake when this is done.

“Your occupation is listed here as ‘adventurer’. You also seem to have aided the Twin Lamps organisation, among others.” He licked a bony fingertip and turned the page. “This is around the time that you officially joined the Imperial Legion, rising to the rank of Agent.”

“That’s right.” My face reddened slightly when he looked up at me. Apparently a ‘yes’ would suffice.

He took a sip of his drink, a dark gold substance, and winced slightly as it went down. How anybody can enjoy that sort of thing was beyond me. I much prefer tea.

Looking back to his notes, the clerk continued listing various people I’d met who were considered important enough to have an opinion. Mainly guild leaders and Imperials.

I managed to steal a glance at the page, most of which was concealed with black ink.

“Well this seems to be in order. On account of your previous work for the Empire and the skills you have at your disposal, I have no doubt that you will do some good with us.” He stamped my file for approval with an official looking dragon stamp (red).

I grinned widely (any display of emotion towards humans must be greatly exaggerated) and thanked him as he shook my hand firmly.

“Welcome to the Blades, Agent Haa-Rei.”

This post has been edited by hazmick: Jul 9 2016, 01:03 AM

[hazmick]

Acadian - What's the point of magic if you can't use it to impress your friends? Conjuration is always popular at parties. And yes, we both have a weakness for redheads (and tea).

Chapter 4


Even for someone who can breathe underwater, waking up in a cold bath is not a pleasant experience. I numbly climbed out of the tub, dried myself off and got dressed. It would be a few minutes before my body warmed up and I got some energy, so I prepared some tea to speed up my morning.

The sky over the city was grey and cold as I left the Boarding House to gather all of the necessary equipment. By the time I’d purchased some new leather armour, some lockpicks, a steel bow and some iron arrows I was thoroughly fed up. Apparently the wealth of the Empire comes from the ridiculous prices of the capital city - most of my money was now gone.

I crossed the bridge leading away from the city just as it began to rain. My armour was waterproofed and I stowed most of my gear in my bag (an enchanted one I’d picked up in Morrowind – impossibly bigger on the inside to allow adventurers to carry more gear easily). The one thing I’ve never missed about Cyrodiil is the rain.

My fellow adventurers were waiting at the centre of the village. It was actually more of a ‘collection of buildings’ than anything else, with a couple of thatched houses and an inn. The entire place smelled like slaughterfish, which was probably the main food source for anyone around Lake Rumare. I’d rather eat my own boots to be quite honest.

“Good morning!” Olorin waved, his beard already beginning to look bedraggled in the rain.

Jötnar and Sjöfn greeted me with a smile and a nod, the latter from beneath a large hood (presumably to keep her hair dry). I suddenly realised that I’d completely forgotten to purchase a hood of my own. Not to keep me dry of course but more as a fashion accessory. Not to mention camouflage (my horns and head spines caught the light especially well, kind of like a human with a bald head).

“Everyone ready to go?”

“Yes, here’s a map of Cyrodiil if you don’t already have one. This is our route.” Olorin handed me a cloth map and indicated our route with a wrinkled finger. Everyone huddled closer to keep the rain from ruining the material.

We were to follow the Red Ring Road South and East around Lake Rumare, before turning South on the Green Road to Bravil and Leyawiin. Then it was a short journey from Leyawiin to the ruin. If everything went smoothly we would only need to make camp three times. The first location was an old fort near a village called Pell’s Gate.

It was refreshing to be with people who had planned everything so well – Olorin was quite the leader. Planning was never something I bothered with, mainly due to being lazy and deciding that everything would work out eventually. Fortunately I have since learned my lessons, but that comes later in the story.

We made good time on the road, with no bandits or wildlife to give us trouble. Say what you like about the Empire but the Legion patrols do a good job. I spent most of the journey scouting ahead, marvelling at all the new flora and fauna. Even the weather was on our side and soon the rain stopped and the sun began to shine, the greens and browns of the forest likewise bursting into life.

Every so often I’d backtrack to check on the others. Olorin and Jötnar were following the road while Sjöfn was acting as rear guard about half a mile behind. The two men were slower and less agile due to age and heavy armour (you can guess which was which) but Olorin’s calculations were correct and I spotted the village in the distance just before sunset. The village was not our destination however, so I crossed over to the north side of the road to investigate the fort.

To call it a fort would be an overstatement. At one point it might well have been an impressive structure but most of the walls were now just rubble, with only the main structure left standing. The pale grey stone of the large round tower was covered in moss and ivy, glistening from the recent rainfall as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon. But even in its ruined state the fort was not abandoned. A lone figure stood guard, barely visible in the shadow of an old doorway.

I dropped to a crouch and edged carefully to a low wall. Bandits? Fellow adventurers? It would be safer to just shoot them now, or avoid the fort altogether, but I wasn’t working alone anymore. I slowly retreated to inform the others.

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“Bandits, most likely.” Jötnar’s look of distaste was clear, and I had no doubt that he wanted to clear the fort. Olorin remained calm:

“We need to be sure before we just run in. I’ll approach the fort alone to gauge their reaction.”

“Are you mad? What if they attack you?” Sjöfn had caught up with us.

“Well then it’ll be a good thing I have two fine young archers to cover me.” Olorin winked at her and gave me a nod.

“Okay. If you’re sure.” It was quite a good plan, even if the two Nords didn’t agree.

We would either find some friendly adventurers and have a peaceful night, or we would find some bandits and be forced to clear them out. It’s not unheard of for such people to live so near a settlement, they could easily resupply there and keep robbing people on the road without moving very far. Fighting them was not what worried me – protecting Olorin was much riskier. If there were more bandits hiding nearby or if they had bows too...

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“Good evening!” Olorin’s voice was friendly as ever when he addressed the lone Redguard sentry. She, however, was not so courteous and began to charge.

The bandit, for that was what she was, wore no proper armour. Just some dark hunting breeches and a dark green shirt. Her weapon was more professional - a large steal warhammer that was polished to a high shine. The weight of it slowed her advance, allowing me plenty of time to attack.

I was crouched behind a fallen tree slightly to the right, my leather armour blending in with the dark bark. I had three arrows stuck in the ground before me (just in case) and one in my hand. I steadied my breath and tightened my grip on my new bow.

Knock. Draw. Loose.

This post has been edited by hazmick: Jul 9 2016, 01:04 AM