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 - If there's one thing Haa-Rei and I enjoy, it's a respite

ghastley - Tea is universal, my friend. I'm sure I heard something about ogres in my GCSE history lessons. Something about ogres getting stuck in the mud and defeated by Welsh longbows? I forget.


Chapter 7



After being born in Black Marsh, living in Lleyawiin, and adventuring in Morrowind, I’d encountered many weird and wonderful creatures. From mundane creatures like alligators and nix hounds, to magical beings such as atronachs, and everything in between. Ogres are something entirely different.

Ogres are just human enough to be scary, with the added savagery and brutality of a wild beast. It had the basic shape of a man (albeit a particularly large man) with long, muscular arms and legs. The torso was like a huge grey barrel, impossibly large as if it had just swallowed a wheelbarrow whole. The tiny head looked most out of place and primarily served as housing for a huge mouth – full of grotesque teeth which were clearly visible even at this distance.

Sjöfn and I were crouched behind a large blackberry bush a few metres away. The wind blew the scent of the ogre straight at us. It reeked of sweat and general uncleanliness.

“There, the bag.” Sjöfn’s barely audible whisper pulled my attention to the task at hand.

A large satchel was slung across the ogre’s shoulder. Dark leather to match his sandals and loincloth. The height of fashion for barbarians and beasts alike. More importantly however was the size of it – perfect for carrying several large potatoes.

We both fired at the same time, our arrows hitting the ogre with a light thud. With a growl and a wave of its massive hand the ogre brushed the arrows off as if they were mosquitoes on a hot day. By the Hist, its skin must be centimeters thick!

Sjöfn was much faster than me and fired again in the blink of an eye, this time her arrow glanced off of the ogre’s head. The beast was less than pleased, and turned its gaze to meet mine.

It had been a while since I’d been that scared. It was the eyes that terrified me. They were small and beady but held a small degree of intelligence. Enough intelligence to be dangerous, but not enough to use predictable tactics.

Sjöfn swore under her breath in Nordic. We needed help.

Raising my hand, I cast the spell. The storm atronach appeared moments later. Thiazzi had gotten me out of more tough situations than I could count.

The floating rocks formed the basic humanoid shape that would allow him to fight. Two massive arms pointed forward, sending an arc of lightning at the ogre. A direct hit left the beast with a large wound on its chest.

Roaring in what could have been pain, anger, or both, the ogre lumbered forward. Thiazzi also moved forward, floating a couple of centimeters off the ground to move faster.

The two proceeded to exchange blows with their large fists. The occasional rumble of thunder from the atronach made the fight seem like something from an old song. Every blow from the ogre was met with a small electrical discharge - it was practically punching itself.

Finally, after several minutes, the fight was over. The ogre staggered back, swaying on its feet, before crashing to the ground. Thiazzi roared triumphantly and turned to me, awaiting my next command.

“Thank you, my friend,” Over the years I’d developed quite the friendship with my atronach. The conversations were rather one-sided but it always made me happy to see him. Atronachs are hugely complex creatures, with thoughts and feelings like any living being. Most of the time Thiazzi seemed happy to just be there.

“Friend?” Sjöfn had joined us after making sure the ogre was truly dead.

“Oh, I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced. Thiazzi, meet Sjöfn. Sjöfn, this is Thiazzi. My most trusted ally and oldest travelling companion.” I’m sure I sounded quite ridiculous, but as always my confidence was boosted tenfold whenever one of my atronachs was around.

Sjöfn barely suppressed a giggle (yep, definitely ridiculous) before turning to Thiazzi and greeting him with a nod. The atronach let out a low rumble and likewise nodded. I always imagined that he would be quite eloquent and polite if he could speak.

I raised my hand once again and thanked him a final time as he faded back into Oblivion.

“So that was fun,” my Nord companion grinned as she held up the vanquished ogre’s satchel, “all potatoes accounted for”.

“Excellent. I’m just glad that it’s ogre.” I glanced at her sideways to see how well received my pun was.

She rolled her eyes but the smile never left her face;

“Good grief. You and my brother are going to get along perfectly. C’mon, let’s head back.”

We chatted a bit more on the walk back, mainly about the ogre. I made a mental note to purchase a book on native creatures at the next opportunity. I didn’t relish being in a situation like that again.

The inn was still as quite as ever when we returned. Olorin was dozing in a chair by the fire. Jötnar was still in the same seat as before, still engaged in conversation with Alix. The topic had apparently changed from farming to travelling. Had he even noticed our absence?

S’Jirra approached us as we entered;

“You have them! I can sense they’re with you!” I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little odd, but she looked beyond happy as Sjöfn handed over the satchel. “Oh my goodness! You found them! I could kiss you!”

I took a quick step back to avoid her attempt at a hug, leaving Sjöfn to be pulled into an embrace.

“That’s not necessary,” she could barely get her words out, the Khajiit’s happiness was practically suffocating her. I made no move to intervene, I’m not a hugger. Or a toucher at all. Or much of a speaker most of the time.

After an uncomfortable amount of time S’Jirra released my fellow potato detective;

“As promised, I owe you a reward for your efforts. I present you with my first batch of Famous Potato Bread! More valuable than gold!” She handed over four loaves of bread, before returning to her room upstairs with her beloved potatoes.

“More valuable than gold?” Sjöfn sounded as unimpressed as I felt.

“It does smell good though…and I am quite peckish after our adventure.” My stomach grumbled to prove my point. Slaying monsters is hungry work.

We sat down at the table in the corner, splitting a loaf between us.

The bread was soft and warm, and the potatoes were almost like butter. I glanced at Sjöfn to get her reaction;

“By Kynareth, this is delicious!” Sjöfn must have noticed the smile in my eyes, bursting into more musical laughter.

S’Jirra was right, this is more valuable than gold.

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