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 - I wasn't originally planning to have Eithne accompany us to Oblivion, but I quite enjoy writing about her. Glad to see she's made an impact.

Darkness Eternal- Yeah I wouldn't personally want to visit the Deadlands, but I can see why the scamps like it so much.

ghastley - Not to worry, the bow problem is all in hand. Or rather it will be soon(ish).




Previously - Haa-Rei and Eithne journeyed to the Deadlands - realm of Mehrunes Dagon. After several heated encounters our Argonian managed to get his claws on the sigil stone and was enveloped by white light...

Chapter 27


The mysteries of Oblivion have always been vast and unknowable to mortals, but the Oblivion Crisis (as this period of time would later be known) gave us an incredible amount of knowledge. We now know, for example, that a sigil stone can be used as a power focus for many different conjuration rituals. We also know that sigil stones will trigger a transplanar teleportation when they are unceremoniously yanked from their anchor points that hold open Oblivion gates. In simpler terms – when I grabbed the stone it caused the Oblivion gate to close, and I was spat back out into Nirn.

I landed with a heavy thud on the scorched ground around the gate. For a moment I simply lay there feeling rather dazed, staring up at the clear night sky. Stars twinkled overhead, and the twin moons glowed brightly as if to welcome me back. After a second or two I remembered how to breathe, and began gulping huge mouthfuls of clean air and coughing up the sulphurous fumes of Oblivion.

I was mostly uninjured, but for a few scratches and sore scales. My armour was in a sorry state, with scorch marks covering almost every part of it. My quiver had suffered a heavy singing and most of the arrows were ruined, though mercifully my bow was intact. The greatest loss however was my sword, which was nowhere to be found.

On the other hand, or rather in my sword hand, I had gained something else though. The sigil stone.

It was perfectly spherical and made of some sort of glass material. Within its depths I could see shifting and swirling patterns of red and black. The surface of the stone, which at first appeared smooth, also seemed to shift slightly to match these patterns. It was one of the most captivatingly beautiful objects I’d ever seen, and it struck me as odd that something so pretty could be found in such a harsh landscape.

It also seemed to hum with energy, and as I moved it from one hand to the other, the palm of my gauntlet disintegrated into a pile of ash. Prolonged contact with the stone had simply burned through the leather, and I was thankful that I hadn’t picked it up with bare hands. On closer inspection I realised that it was no longer giving off any heat, so I concluded that it was the initial contact that had done the damage. With that in mind I carefully wrapped up the stone in a piece of tough cloth and stowed it in my pack.

I turned to ask Eithne more about the stone when I suddenly realised that she wasn’t there. I shakily climbed to my feet and looked around, but my flame atronach companion was nowhere to be seen. I tried casting the conjuration spell, but it simply fizzled out. Daedra can’t die, they simply dematerialize back into the waters of Oblivion until you call for them again. So why can’t I call her? Where is she? Could she be trapped in there? I looked at the smouldering pile of rocks that used to be the Oblivion gate, and my heart felt heavy.

My body, however, felt tired, and the night air had grown chilly. I left the gate behind and wandered in what I hoped was a south-westerly direction. I stopped once I found a suitably large boulder, and set about gathering wood for a fire.

It took longer than expected thanks to the landscape of the Imperial Reserve, but I soon had a small campfire and enough wood to keep it going until morning. After several more minutes of rooting about in my pack, I heaved out my bedroll and lay it between the fire and the boulder. It was hardly an armchair in front of the fireplace, but it was as cosy as one could be in such a situation. I munched on some dried strips of beef and couldn’t help but smile to myself. This is the life.

I awoke the next morning feeling rather groggy, and the thick fog that had descended on the landscape did nothing to warm me up. The cool mist on my scales was rather refreshing though, so I woke up the slumbering campfire and warmed myself as best as I could before gathering my things and setting off.

If my calculations were correct then I would be arriving in Kvatch in about 2 days. Unfortunately I hadn’t foreseen my trip to Oblivion or the dense fog that had now slowed me down to a yawning crawl. For 3 days I wandered through the mist, unable to see more than 20 feet in any direction. The occasional sounds of a passing deer or snapping twig seemed to echo through the air, but just when I was getting rather fed up with it all, the fog cleared.

I was standing atop a rather large rock, catching my breath, when a strong breeze blew in from the south and pushed the fog away. Ahead of me I could see the city of Kvatch, and it was burning.

Great plumes of smoke formed puffy grey pillars reaching up into the low clouds, as if the city was holding up the sky. Even at this distance I could see that many buildings had been destroyed. The wind blew again, carrying with it the scent of burning wood, bodies…and Oblivion.

The spines on my head were tingling as I clambered down from the rock and set off at a run towards the city, almost slipping over on the damp grass.

“Here we go again.” I sighed.

This post has been edited by hazmick: Jul 9 2016, 01:17 AM