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]

ghastley - yep, need to keep an eye on those those pesky archers. As for the plan, I'm going on the premise that not everyone in Tamriel is an enemy so the friendly old man was more likely to work out. Then it turns out these people actually are enemies. *sigh* such is life.

Acadian - The Argonianness is always something I'm thinking about. Yeah they can breathe water and resist disease and poison in the games but how would that come in handy IRL?
I'm afraid that Haa-Rei probably wouldn't be as prudent if he was alone, so it's nice that he has friends for a change.

Grits - Yay for Grits! Good to have you along. And you've picked up on the important-but-hopefully-kind-of-subtle Sjöfn references! Hope you continue to enjoy the story.


Chapter 5


I instantly regretted not getting in some practice with my new bow before engaging bandits. My arrow glanced past the Redguard’s shoulder, leaving a thin cut. The wound would be painful, but a Redguard pumped full of adrenaline can shrug these things off.

Before I could fire again the sentry fell, one of Sjöfn’s owl-fletched arrows buried deep in her chest. I nodded my thanks and readied another arrow. A cool breeze rustled through the damp trees. The sun had set, but the moon had bathed the area in an eerie white light. More movement in the fort caught my eye.

An archer dressed in huntsman leathers appeared at the top of the central tower, bow drawn, her large eyes fixed on her fallen comrade. She looked pale in the moonlight.

I tried to remain still, hoping that she would turn away and give me a shot. Between her and me was a knee high wall, but she had the height advantage. Fortunately on one side was a taller wall which shielded her from Sjöfn and Olorin. It was just her and me.

The Bosmer’s arrow thudded into the fallen tree, a few inches from my head. I guess I’ve been spotted.

I had time before she fired again and made sure to aim properly. Now or never.

Nock. Draw. Loose.

She fell from the tower and landed in the mud below. I let out a shaky breath which I didn’t realise I’d been holding.

Olorin sounded the all clear and dispelled his shield enchantment as we regrouped.

“Good start. Let’s hope there aren’t too many inside.” I nodded my agreement with the mage and followed him into the ruin.

The fort was much bigger than I first thought, with various underground passages disappearing off into the gloom. Olorin cast a couple of spells - what looked to be detect life and something similar.

“There are three sections. Eight Marauders in total.” The Altmer’s eyes seemed to pierce the very stone around us. I found myself wishing I wasn’t so inept at non-conjuration magic.

“I assume you have a plan, old man.” Jötnar was impatient to get started.

“Haa-Rei shall accompany me on this level. You two clear out the lower passages. Report back as soon as you’re done.”

With a final ‘good luck’ from the Nords, we parted ways. I nocked an arrow and started along the hallway, with Olorin following behind.

I wasn’t used to having people with me in these situations and I found myself wincing at every loud step he took. When we neared the first couple of marauders I drop into a crouch and motioned for my companion to stay where he was.

The first marauder proved no trouble, and fell with one of my arrows in her neck. The second was equally unarmoured and unprepared, but his hammer clattered to the ground and echoed through the tunnel, accompanied by a loud (albeit short) scream.

“Xhuth!” I swore loudly and dropped my bow as the third and final marauder dashed round the corner. A large Orc, with green skin so dark it was almost black. Unlike his allies he wore armour, though it had seen better days. I could see several gaps in the iron plates. My bow would be useless at this range.

I drew my sword to meet him, remembering too late that I had no shield. The steel hammer hit me in the side with all the force the Orc could muster. Were it not for my armour’s shield enchantment my ribcage would have been crushed.

Instead I was flung into the tunnel wall, winded but alive. Speed, not strength. The voice in my head sounded like a parent wearily scolding a child.

I got to my feet in time to dodge another hammer swing. And another, and another. Even an Orc of his size would tire eventually. Patience is key. I took any opportunity to jab my sword through the gaps in his armour, the dwarven metal slicing through his tough, green hide with ease. His blood looked almost black in the dimly lit tunnel.

Finally his frustration got the better of him and he brought the hammer down in a mighty overhead swing. I skipped to the side and drove my sword through a gap in his armour, deep into his neck.

A look of surprise washed over his face as he crashed to the ground. I retrieved my sword and used a piece of the Orc’s tunic to clean up. The metallic smell of blood stung my nostrils and I felt my chest tightening. No! Not now. I steadied myself on a wooden tunnel support and reached into the potion bag at my waist.

The medicine was bitter and made my eyes water but it did the job. I shuddered and put the empty vial back in the bag.

I glanced back along the tunnel, double-checking that Olorin was still there.

The old wizard was smiling widely, if he was concerned he didn’t show it;

“Very well done my young friend, very well done. Let’s search the rest of this level and then set up camp, hm?” It was more of a request than an order, his friendly tone was full of encouragement.

It turned out that the bandits were as poor as paupers, which would explain their lack of equipment. We found a small amount of gold and a single health potion. I swigged the potion and felt instantly better, it even healed a cut on my head that I didn’t know I had. Most likely sustained in my dance with the Orsimer.

It wasn’t long before the others re-joined us. Jötnar was covered in blood (none of it his own) whilst Sjöfn looked clean and refreshed as if she’d just had a relaxing bath. Their loot was only slightly better than ours.

“Well we came here to clear the ruin, not make money.” Olorin split the profits into four separate bags and handed it out between us all.

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have more.” Jötnar’s take looked especially small when he held it in his enormous hand.

“It’s enough for a room and some food at an inn. What more do you need?” Sjöfn’s comment was met with an ambiguous grunt by her brother.

She vanished into the tunnel for a moment and returned with an armful of wood. The marauders apparently had a well-stocked log pile.

After Olorin had lit the fire with a handy destruction spell he produced a large pot and various ingredients – including but not limited to; water, a rabbit (dead, skinned), carrots, potatoes, and onions. He had a pack similar to mine, though he apparently had an entire kitchen and pantry in his. Mine was full of books and tea.

Not one to complain though, especially when free food is on offer, I helped prepare some of the vegetables to go with the rabbit. This all went into the pot and produced a rich and delicious broth. The chunks of rabbit meat practically melting into it.

Once we had eaten and cleaned up we set up the sleeping area. I unrolled my sleeping sack a few feet away from the others, who were all set up around the fire. Sjöfn would take the first watch, and wake me after a few hours. I’d most likely be awake anyway but for now I was tired and sore.

The adventurer’s life was as satisfying as it was difficult.

This post has been edited by hazmick: Jul 9 2016, 01:05 AM