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 - I think you might be right, on both counts. We'll have to wait and see.

Grits - Glad you liked it! I always go to him for anything bow related.

Acadian - Chilly weather is quite nice when you're inside with a cup of tea, but having to battle through it on an early morning is the toughest part of any adventure.

So glad you enjoyed it, and that I did Daenlin justice. Those Bosmer sure know a thing or two about bows





Previously
Haa Rei had an early start, visiting Daenlin the Bosmer bowyer. To the Argonian's surprise and delight he was given a bow made from Hist wood, in return for clearing out a nearby ruin when he's next in town.

Chapter 11

The rain had almost cleared up by the time I left Daenlin’s. The freezing downpour was just a slight drizzle as I made my way back towards Silverhome.

The rest of my companions were emerging from the inn as I arrived. Inns seemed to agree with Sjöfn and Olorin, the two looked cheerful and well rested as they greeted me.

Jötnar looked only slightly worse for wear, and in the subsequent conversation I learned that he’d spent the evening with one of the musicians at the inn. A gentleman whose name he ‘didn’t quite catch’.

“There’s nothing like a strong drink and a good bedding after a day’s travelling. Isn’t that right?” The question was aimed at me.

“If you say so.” Truthfully I would prefer a cup of tea and a good book, but the Nord had already begun telling me the (rather lengthy) tale of his sexual exploits.

“Please don’t ruin such a pleasant morning with those stories, I’ve just eaten breakfast.” Sjöfn reached up and cuffed her brother over the head. She turned to me, “Did you find a bowyer?”

I took the opportunity to show off my new bow, though it was difficult to explain the significance of Hist wood to them.

“So the Hist are like your gods, right?” Jötnar asked.

“Well, kind of…but not in the way that you think of your gods. They created us, and look after us, and we revere them, but they’re physical beings and we don’t worship them in the same way that you might worship Akatosh or something.” Great explanation Haa Rei, you could be a shaman.

“I see.” His facial expression suggested that he did not see at all.

Not to be deterred, I tried again:

“We don’t have temples or priests or prayers. If we want to communicate with the Hist then we can just go and talk to one - They grow all over Black Marsh.” Jötnar’s face hadn’t changed, and I probably sounded like I’d been punched in the face by Sheogorath. As I said, it’s hard to explain.

We set off a few minutes later, after Olorin had told us the plan for the day. We were still heading south, and would have to spend the night outside. I was to scout ahead again, looking for a good place to camp.

The road from Bravil was quiet. I encountered some fisherman near the city, but everything was otherwise deserted. The rain had made the ground soft underfoot, and all the smells of nature were amplified. A gentle breeze brought with it the scent of nightshade flowers, which grew in abundance this far south.

I stopped for lunch under the high noon sun at the urging of my grumbling stomach and found a large rock, overlooking an inlet from the Lower Niben. The sun had dried everything off so this would make a perfect picnic spot.

Sjöfn had packed our lunches with traditional Bravil trail foods. Dried, smoked salmon cakes with some sort of berry mixed in, and some tough strips of smoked venison. After I’d devoured everything I took a long drink from my water skin, wishing it were tea.

I remained on the rock for a while longer, watching various creatures go about their business. Birds flitted through the trees, plucking insects from the air with pinpoint accuracy. A mudcrab was sitting on the shore, enjoying the sun, but darted back into the water at the approach of a Spriggan.

The forest creature was barely visible amongst the trees and undergrowth. Moving without a sound, I hadn’t noticed her until now. Her skin resembled the bark of the nearby Alder trees, with a few leaves growing from her head and shoulders, and a nightshade flower blooming from her knee. Her eyes were the colour of tree sap. We regarded each other silently for a few moments before she carried on with her woodland patrol, thankfully deciding that I wasn’t a threat to her part of the forest.

I too resumed my journey, and after only a few minutes I passed into Blackwood. The feeling was instantaneous. It felt familiar, as if I was coming home. It felt like…Hist. Argonians born in Black Marsh can always feel the Hist. Not too noticeably, but they’re always there in the back of your mind. It’s a comforting feeling, but a feeling that diminishes as you get further away from The Marsh.

“Why can I feel it so strongly now? And why does it feel…wrong?” I asked the question to nobody in particular, but I’d reflexively readied my bow.

The warm wood made me relax a little, but there was still something off about this feeling. It made my scales itch. I shouldered my bow and carried on heading south, trying to think of pleasant things.

It was getting dark by the time I found a good camping spot to the North of Water’s Edge. An old wayshrine to Stendarr lay just off the road, concealed by a large tree.

I called a spell into mind and raised my hand. The Flame Atronach made a singing noise as she appeared. Floating several inches off the ground, she danced through the air like a fish through water.

“Master?” Her singsong voice was warm like a campfire on a cold night.

“Hello Eithne. I have three companions on the road behind me, could you go and tell them where I am, please.” It was getting dark faster than I’d like, so a note in the road might go unnoticed.

“Of course.” She swam through the air back towards the road, singing to herself in a language I couldn’t understand.

While I waited for the others I set about finding firewood and food. When they arrived the Mudcrab and marsh rice stew was bubbling away nicely in its shell. The original Argonian recipe also includes several other plants, but I wasn't sure which were safe for the others to eat. Better not risk killing everyone just for a tastier stew.

I thanked Eithne and dispelled her.

“How many of those things have you got anyway?” Jötnar waved his hand through the air where the Flame Atronach had been.

“Just the two. Eithne isn’t fond of fighting but she’s a good messenger. You’ve already met Thiazzi.”

“You have quite the talent for Conjuration. People usually start with Scamps and Skeletons. Where did you study?” Olorin always seemed interested in magic, and I had no doubt he was quite good at it…or at least a great deal better than me.

“Nowhere. I’ve read a lot, and sort of taught myself. I summoned Thiazzi almost by accident a few years ago, and worked from there to figure out how to summon Eithne. I can’t work out how to do much else though.” I wasn’t even sure how I did what I did now.

“Well in that case I have somewhere I’d like to visit with you in Leyawiin.” He didn’t say more, instead he took a seat on a nearby stone as Jötnar dished out the food.

After our meal, everyone else went to sleep almost immediately. I’d volunteered for sentry duty, and was to wake Jötnar in a few hours to switch out. That uncomfortable feeling from before was still there. I wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

This post has been edited by hazmick: Jul 9 2016, 01:07 AM