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 - Yep, isn't that just the way of things? You start one quest, then end up finding a dozen more on the way

ghastley - That's a good point. The drawback of working with others is that they always want you to share the loot!

Grits - Yeah I'm sure Jauffre won't mind that we thought a cute Nord's request was more important than his. Besides, it's not like Kvatch is going anywhere, right?



EVERYONE - I couldn't find a good place to stop, so this chapter ended up being twice as long as usual. What sort of length is good for you guys as readers? I'm conscious of things being either too wordy or too brief so all suggestions are welcome.


Previously - After a brief meeting with the grumpy grandmaster, Haa-Rei returned to Chorrol where Sjöfn informed him that she'd found them a quest...

Chapter 24


We set out from Chorrol the next morning, heading south. My Nord companion was practically bouncing with excitement as we moved through the forest.

“So let’s go over it again,” I began, “We’ve been asked to find and rescue a girl, from a village that nobody seems to have heard of.” I was feeling anxious that we had so little to go on.

“Right. The girl is called Dar-Ma, an Argonian. The village is called Hackdirt. Oh, and the girl has a horse with her. Called Blossom.” The lack of information didn’t seem to bother Sjöfn, and I was worried that her seemingly blind optimism would get us into trouble.

Hackdirt lay a few miles South of Chorrol. Our plan was to find this girl, and then go our separate ways – Sjöfn to Chorrol and myself to Kvatch. I was glad that my companion would be heading back, as I had a very distinct bad feeling about the whole situation.

“I think this is it.” Sjöfn whispered excitedly. We’d arrived.

Hackdirt, as the name suggests, is a rather unpleasant place. Years before our arrival, the Imperial Legion had razed it to the ground after the residents had turned to Daedra worship and human sacrifice. As Sjöfn and I walked through the village, it was barely evident that people still lived there. Of the dozen or so buildings, only 5 had been repaired or rebuilt. The spines on my head tingled to warn me of danger.

“I have a bad feeling about this…” I warned Sjöfn, resting my hand on the pommel of my sword.

“Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.” Sjöfn said with a wink and a giggle, and set off to talk to a scruffy looking resident who’d just emerged from the village store.

I caught up in time to hear him grumble something about ‘outsiders’ before he stormed off.

“Helpful?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Rude,” she replied, still smiling, “let’s look around a bit. We’ll split up to cover more ground.”

I didn’t like the sound of splitting up, but I could see the sense in it. I nodded and headed toward the inn, but stopped when I heard a noise. It sounded like…a horse?

The horse in question was standing in the shell of a burnt cottage. Fully tacked and ready for a trek through the forest.

“No food or water in here, and you’re all dressed up to go out. You must be Blossom.” The mare snorted again as I patted her neck. Now all I needed was to find the girl and get going. Perhaps it won’t be so difficult after all.

“You.” A whispered voice called from behind, but I’d heard them approach and managed to avoid jumping out of my skin.

“Me?” I turned to see a man standing a few feet away.

He was an Imperial, with a round face and short grey hair. His outfit seemed to have once been some leather pants and a linen shirt, but he’d patched it up with so many other bits and pieces that it looked more like a patchwork quilt. The most startling thing about him was his eyes, they were enormous.

“Sssh, we can’t talk here or they’ll get suspicious. The girl is in danger. Get your friend and meet me at my house, on the other side of town. Quickly.” He looked around nervously as he spoke, and left before I could answer.

I turned to look at Blossom, but she had little to say about the situation so I left her where she was and went to find Sjöfn. As I emerged into the village square, Sjöfn was exiting the chapel. She hurried over, and I told her about our invitation to the strange gentleman’s house.

“If you thought that was weird, look at this.” She ushered me out of sight and produced a large book from her pack. “I…found it in the chapel.”

The tome, called the Bible of the Deep Ones, was written entirely in a form of Daedric that I hadn’t seen before. Apparently the town’s Daedric history wasn’t history at all.

“Daedric. We should hurry.” I had nothing against Daedra worship, but in this case I had severe doubts that these folks were anything like the harmless Daedra worshippers you find at wilderness shrines. I lead the way to the meeting place, a small cottage just outside of town.

Inside, the cottage was as plain and scruffy as its owner, who was warming himself by the small fireplace. Aside from the fireplace, there was a bed, some empty shelves, and a cupboard. The man ushered us inside and bolted the door behind us.

“You came. Good. We don't have much time,” He paused for a second and glanced nervously out of the window, “You have to believe me, I didn't know what they were planning. They want to bring back the Deep Ones. I thought I did, too, but ... she's so innocent. They've got her down in the caverns. They're going to sacrifice her, you understand? You've got to save her! Here, take this key. It'll open any of the trapdoors down to the caves. Every house in town has one. The one in Moslin's Inn is your best bet. Nearest where she's being held.” He spoke so quickly that I had to wait a moment to take it all in.

“Easy there. Who are ‘they’? What’s a Deep One?” Sjöfn asked, her voice visibly soothing the man.

“I don't know much. Never seen them myself. Our grandfathers first found them, I think, digging in the mines. They helped us. Made us rich. But there was a terrible price. Blood -- and worse.” He paused for breath before continuing, “I was only a boy when the soldiers came. We hid, vowed revenge. But the Deep Ones never came back. Etira found some old books. Learned the runes, how to speak to them again. But they want blood, she says, or they'll not help us.”

“We should hurry to the inn then.” Sjöfn suggested.

“Wait. You said every house has a trapdoor. Does that include this one?” I asked. The man nodded dumbly. “If we go to the inn we’re likely to be spotted. I’d rather get in and out without anyone seeing us.” I had my doubts that the townsfolk would just let us wander in and out of their secret caverns with their sacrifice.

Sjöfn nodded and the man opened a trapdoor in the corner for us. He stopped to warn us before we went in:

“Those of us who've changed the most, we call The Brethren. Live down in the caves, to be nearer the Deep Ones. They don't like the sunlight much. Dangerous, too. You'll want to avoid them if you can help it.”

“Thank you.” I nodded, then climbed down the ladder and into the cavern.

It was dark. With no torches or signs of life at all. It was a wonder anyone could actually live down here, but in hindsight it was the perfect place for a murderous Daedric cult. The smell was the worst part though. An indescribable mix of rotten meat, men, and mud. I readied my bow, and Sjöfn followed my lead, but not until she’d tied a square of cloth around her nose and mouth to block out the smell.

We moved through the caverns as slowly as we could, ever alert for the mysterious ‘Brethren’ that we’d been warned about. When we encountered the first one I barely recognised it as a human at all.

He was wearing nothing but a pair of old breeches. His pale skin was covered in filth and blood, his back was crooked from years of walking through low tunnels. His hair fell in a greasy mess around his shoulders, covering his face. A crude wooden club hung at his waist. We froze when we saw him, but even at this distance I could smell him, and apparently he could smell us.

He stopped rooting around in a pile of filth at his feet, and turned toward us with mace drawn. He brought a hand to his face to move some hair out of the way, revealing a pair of impossibly large eyes. He was utterly grotesque, and he was coming right at us.

I was the quickest, and loosed an arrow which struck him square in the chest. Sjöfn’s arrow lodged itself in his shoulder a second later. The creature stumbled and went down, landing heavily on the stone floor. I moved forward cautiously and prodded him with my bow, but he was dead.

“By the Hist. That must be one of The Brethren. How did…he…see us from so far away?”

“Let’s just find Dar-Ma and get out of here.” Sjöfn wasn’t smiling anymore.

We met three more Brethren in the tunnels, and left each of them lying in the dirt with two arrows for company. The cavern system was enormous, with half a dozen tunnels branching off in every direction. We were moving towards what we hoped was the inn on the surface, and eventually found the right path, and Dar-Ma.

She was sitting in the corner of a large metal cage. The floor of her cell was liberally scattered with bones, and a few bits of straw that might have once made a rather comfortable bed. She was wearing a cream coloured dress, with a brown bodice and matching shoes. The dress was stained with mud and torn in several places. She looked up as we approached, but said nothing. She was young, younger than me, with bright eyes and bright scales. She spoke to us in a hurried whisper as Sjöfn started picking the lock on her cell.

“You’re here to rescue me?” She asked in a surprisingly un-Argonian accent.

“Yes. I’m with the Legion, and she’s with…your mother.” I hoped it would reassure her, but a noise from one of the tunnels drew my attention. Two of the Brethren. “Get her out of here. I should be able to deal with these two.” I didn’t need to look at Sjöfn to know she’d agree.

As the first Brethren fell to my arrow, the cage door clicked and swung open. Dar-Ma and Sjöfn hurried towards a ladder which would lead to the surface.

The second Brethren had closed the distance, and I dropped my bow to draw my sword. Even though he was using a heavy wooden club, the man-creatures attacks were brutally quick. All I could do was parry and dodge, looking for an opening to attack. He began shouting incoherently and drew back for a large swing, and I followed suit, swinging my sword in a large arc toward his chest. Our weapons met halfway, and the wooden club exploded in a shower of rotten splinters. My sword kept going, slicing the unarmoured torso from shoulder to hip. He fell to the ground like a sack of grain, and shuddered once before moving no more. I picked up my discarded bow and hurried to the ladder, the sound of bare feet shuffling toward me through the caves.

I emerged in the inn, which was deserted. The door stood open and I could see Sjöfn and Dar-Ma, now mounted on Blossom, standing outside. I quickly joined them, and turned back to see a Brethren pop his head out of the trapdoor. Even that brief glimpse of sunlight was enough to send him reeling back into the caves. We were safe.

“Well. That was more excitement than I thought it’d be. I’m glad I brought you along.” Sjöfn’s smile had returned, but I could tell she was still a little shaken from our jaunt through the caves. It occurred to me then that she’d always had Jötnar and Olorin with her, and part of me wanted to accompany her back to Chorrol. The other part of me realised that she was a talented huntress and I had nothing to worry about, so I gave her a quest of my own.

“Take this,” I began scribbling a note down on a piece of parchment, “to the captain of the guard in Chorrol, along with that book you found. They need to know what happened.” I signed my name and rank at the bottom of the note, and handed it over.

“You’re always thinking, aren’t you?” Sjöfn scanned the note and tucked it into her pack. “Have a safe trip.”

After thanking me again, Dar-Ma coaxed Blossom into setting off back to Chorrol, and Sjöfn followed closely after waving goodbye.

I turned and made my way out of Hackdirt, only stopping once I could no longer see it behind me and smell it on the wind.

“Right then,” I said to myself, “Onwards to Kvatch.”

This post has been edited by hazmick: Jul 9 2016, 01:15 AM