Killing in the Emperor's Name, A collection: An argonian assassin's world Options

[The Metal Mallet]

I wonder how much Al had to drink that night? Probably a bit to not keep his voice down when discussing murdering the head of the Commona Tong. Looks like it's going to be problems for him here on out.

[Lord Revan]

Yeah, it looks that way. Great story Canis, I've failed to post here before, but I hope to remedy that problem.

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Jan 21 2007, 10:41 PM

[canis216]

Has No Sail

The fire burns lowly and slowly, not giving off much warmth or light but providing some level of comfort and companionship. The Divines know I need it right now, reclining on the rock, gazing across the water to the faint light of Seyda Neen and its beacon lighthouse. How did I end up here? All sorts of vague feelings, associations, and memories swirl through my head, congealing into a great tower of… I don’t know. It is complicated, I suppose. The simple answer is that I hustled out of Ebonheart early this evening with most of my gear in tow. Before setting off in my little rowboat, Has No Sail, I barged into Sirollus Saccus’s smithy to purchase extra bolts and make minor repairs to my armor and weapons.

I think that it may be somewhat ironic that I now camp perhaps a bolt-shot west of the very run-down port in which I destroyed what little peace and comfort I had established in this life. A bolt-shot… hah! I pick up my crossbow, stand, and look to Seyda Neen. A solitary cliffracer hovers over the lighthouse. I aim, high, towards the star-mage. The bolt leaves my dwemer crossbow in pure piercing trajectory—I speak a low ‘thank you’ to the old dwemer smithcrafter and my repairman, Saccus—and flies true to the cliffracer, which drops ever so gently by the lighthouse door.

Then I turn back to the fire, and a bottle of brandy.

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Before the first rays of Magnus the sun could clear Seyda Neen I shove off. The little island is pleasant, but I have no intention to be caught near Seyda Neen in daylight. I harbor some doubt that Elone would have me pursued by the law, but what of the those fighting fools? They would want an accounting.

But I also have a destination in mind, something my old clanbrother Nine-Toes once told me about. A place that would be convenient, yet safe.

I row past the dunmer tomb just northwest of my camp. If I were some fool adventurer I might explore it, questing for gold or artifacts or excitement. But then, I am no adventurer. I have been fortunate in my time on Vvardenfell to never enter such a tomb and have no intention to start doing so now.

I keep rowing, maintaining an easy pace. This would be much easier with a sail, but I’ve never learned to use one properly and, in any case, sails are easily visible—they attract intention. There are countless smuggler’s caves along this Bitter Coast, and most of them are serviced by rowboats. The larger vessels generally stay off-shore, or they stay out of sight of towns and off the main routes of commerce, berthing at mysterious docks within the mystical, mystifying swamp. I had run into one of these ships once, south of Hla Oad.

It is still there. Near mid-day, sun now up and shining into my eyes, I pull harder upon my oars to work my way past the ghost ship. Her crew still lies dead under the deck, their throats opened wide. I shudder for a moment at my own handywork—why can’t I let being be? I had no contract, no mandate to kill those nords. Yet, I tell myself, they were smugglers, probably runners of slaves, and certainly aligned with the thrice-deposed Sixth House. Still, it was a dirty piece of work.

My progress is slow. I can only travel so quickly under my own power… might I take the ship? Absurd thought, of course. I could not possibly handle the craft on my own, and it sure would be a conspicuous way to pull in… and what of the bodies? Dragging them overboard would be such a hassle…

I pass Hla Oad hoping to avoid the eyes of the House Guard, for what is more suspicious to a thug dunmer guard than an argonian in a rowboat? Aside from any khajiit?

------------------------------------------------

I make my second camp on what little flat ground I can find amidst this pile of rocks jutting out of the water, just offshore. I hesitate to camp on this arc of barrier islands which I am astride, for they are littered with daedric and dwemer ruins, locales infested with creatures, daedra, crazed daedra-worshiping dunmer, and worst of all, adventurers.

My barren camp is immediately south of one of these daedric ruins; a flame atronach wanders about well within range of one of my bolts. But there is no point to molesting it, the elemental daedra will not cross the water to molest me, I don’t think, and I aim to stay out of sight and mind. For a while.

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The camp of dunmer is sundered and scorched. A single argonian crouches amongst the ruined remains. One dunmer male in chitin is punctured by iron arrows in heart, head, thorax, and throat. He clutches a steel sword close to his breast, perhaps because the hilt is inscribed in elegant script, “To Fardryn, with love…” Closest to the now-extinguished fire a dunmer in a fancy robe is perforated with still-more arrows; two in his heart, one in his eye. He clutches an ebony blade, a shortsword. The argonian works it loose from the mer’s grasp, which has been tightened by rigor mortis, and holds it up to the light.

“Find something you like, Heik-Auri?”

The argonian looks up, startled. Another argonian stands before him, maybe 15 feet away. He is smiling.

“Don’t go sneaking up on me like that, Nine-Toes. It’s not healthy.”

“I know it. But that’s a nice blade there.”

“It is.” Heik-Auri dropped his old iron wakizashi to the ground. “And I’m going to put it to good use.”

------------------------------------------------

I awoke with my ebony in hand. A mudcrab was trying to work its way onto my little isle—I arose and thrust my blade through the carapace, deep into the body core. I guess I’ll be having crab’s meat for breakfast again.

Today I heave off with the sunrise; I am close now, I need not hurry.

-----------------------------------------------

I pull up to the near-crumpled dock at midday. Nine-Toes told me about this shack one time; he said he’d run into it once while mapping the impenetrable swamplands we are so adept at navigating. A few near-empty barrels sit atop the dock, just under the eaves of the old abandoned shack. The shack itself is a mess, but still features a comfortable hammock, many crates, barrels, and baskets for storage, and a very strange book which I proceeded to hurl as far into the Inner Sea as possible from my dock.

In the evening I watch the sun’s warming rays fade out upon the dwarven ruins which form my southeastern skyline. I think that it may be a chilly night.

This post has been edited by canis216: Jan 28 2007, 08:19 AM

[canis216]

An Obsession- Part One

“Where did you get that?” The argonian, arrayed in netch leather armor, asked his compatriot. The other, a slightly taller person-of-the-root wearing chitin, glanced down to the dagger in his grasp.

“It’s a souvenir from Shadowscale training, Nine-Toes. Do me a favor and don’t tell anyone about it.”

“I see. Does this mean I can have that ebony blade of yours, Heik-Auri?”

Heik-Auri laughed. “No, clanbrother, I’ll be keeping that one. I intend to use both.”

“Yes, we’ll be needing your blades, friend. The time is nearing.”

“So Gei-Tekri means to go through with the plan?”

Nine-Toes grinned ruefully. “Yes, he does. It’s been his dream—his obsession really. It’s only gotten worse since you’ve been gone. This last raiding season was devastating. Whole families were lost. Some of our own band were taken. We’ve been trying to recruit more fighters, but times are difficult.”

“Do you think raiding Tear will help? We stand to lose a lot if it fails.”

“Either way, I think the situation is untenable. I’m not sure that it is the best approach, but I know that we cannot just sit and wait for them to come to us.”

Heik-Auri held his new blade before himself, rotating it, checking the balance absentmindedly. “No, no we can’t. Tell Gei-Tekri that my blades have returned to seek their vengeance upon the Dres.”

----------------------------------------------------

The encampment, buried deep in the swamp north of Chasecreek, was not more than a scattering of moldy shacks, mud-brick huts, and yurts loosely arranged around a central firepit. The main building, if you could call it that, sat between the two old hist trees which gave the encampment its shelter. A smattering of argonians solemnly wove their way between the shacks and tents, looking to fix their arms or armor or just for a good nourishing meal; whatever was needed to sustain their meager fighting force. Nine-Toes and Heik-Auri emerged from a yurt on the outskirts of camp, discussing the campaign to come.

“It’s the biggest slaveyard in Morrowind” Nine-Toes explained, “so we have a bit of a force problem. We thought about hiring on some mercenaries to augment our forces, but they’re untrustworthy and we really can’t spare the gold anyway. We’re going to recruit best as we can internally and arm ourselves with whatever we can get. You’ll probably have the finest weaponry in the entire raiding party.”

Heik-Auri nodded, “ My blades are good, that’s for sure, but I’d like to upgrade my bow. I think the wood is getting a little moldy and brittle.” He held up a bow hewn from the wood of the hist tree.

“You should have taken better care of it, friend. That bow was your father’s after all.”

“That’s the problem, it’s old. I need something modern, like that crossbow of yours.”

“Ah well, it’s a bit of high maintenance weapon itself. Still, it works well; I picked this steel off the body of a dead legionnaire.”

“A legionnaire?”

“Drowned in a mudslick west of Thorn. I don’t know how it happened, and I don’t really want to know. Took me long enough to get the mud out of the trigger.”

They reached the main building, a low log structure chinked with mud, peat, and whatever else was available, just as a stocky gold-skinned argonian in chainmail stepped out.

“Good morning, Gei-Tekri. How can we serve?” The two younger hist-men bowed their heads.

“I am glad that you are here, Nine-Toes and Heik-Auri, for we are to discuss our final plan of attack this night. You will both be needed, and badly.” He paused, in thought. “Tell me, Heik-Auri. How was Shadowscale training? Might we receive more aid?”

“I regret to inform you that the training did not go as planned, Gei Tekri.” Heik-Auir hung his head. “I think our relations with the Shadowscales may be quite damaged. I am sorry.”

“That is unfortunate. But we haven’t time for regrets or recriminations. We will speak of this again at a more appropriate hour. Right now I need you two to be ready to fight, and soon. Tonight, you will see that this is true. Now I must go. We have reinforcements coming from Tenmar Wall and they must be attended to.”

When the battlechief had gone his way, Heik-Auri turned to his friend and clanbrother. “Tenmar Wall? Just how big a force are we putting together?”

“One does not take on the Dres slavers, in Tear, with just raiding party.”

This post has been edited by canis216: Jan 28 2007, 08:57 AM

[Black Hand]

Ah-Ha! Youre post machinng it up!!

I like both updates. Soul Searching is a difficult thing.

The last one, showing a connection between Heik-Auri and his weapons, reminds me of the Samurai Tradition of considering ones Sword to be both alive, and an extension of ones soul. Likely, it was to blame the sword for taking lives, for psychological reasons, as I imagine many Assassins would do.

Great Stuff.

P.S. I see someone has killed Nine-Toes to see what he has in his inventory before! (Guilty!!)

[canis216]

Actually, since I play on PC, I just looked into his inventory via the Construction Set. The CS makes writing the story go a lot smoother, I find, because some things are a pain to play-test (especially if you need to go back and check something) and because it's possible to copy-paste dialogue (like in the case of Adusamsi, in Rotheran).

I should also give some praise to The Imperial Library, which has maps of Tamriel that make it possible for me to reference place names outside of Vvardenfell.

And thanks everyone for your comments and praise, which I will strive to live up to here. You can expect this little foray into Black Marsh to last for at least a few posts, I think, and I hope to really make it live.

[jack cloudy]

Yeah, the CS is a fanfic writer's best friend. At least when the story takes place in Morrowind. I don't have the Oblivion CS and I don't plan on getting it without the game.

I like the 'flashback'. Insight in a character's history is never a bad thing.

[canis216]

An Obsession - Part Two

The encampment grew by the hour, swelling with ranks of the hist-folk from across Argonia’s northern marshes. By evening the lonely patch of earth within the dismal swamp supported a force of 70 or 80 betmer. They all gathered around the central fire pit, craning for space and a glimpse of faces both familiar and not. The battlechief Gei-Tekri stood closest to the fire, nearest the mid-point of the great circle.

“I am pleased that you could all make it, friends and comrades, in this time of great need. We have resisted the Dres slave raiders for as long as we can remember, and even longer still. This is what the Hist tell us, and what we all know in our hearts. Is there not one of us who has not known one taken into brutal servitude?”

No one spoke, for there were none present who had not experienced such loss, the inexplicable vanishing of brother or sister, mother or father, son or daughter. Most of the assembled stared down at their feet. Eyes boiled and burned in red and orange and yellow, the colors of fire and hate and vengeance.

“There is no one. I myself have lost my entire family to the Dres, as you all know. I returned home from my hunting to find my family stolen, my home leveled and burned, my entire village despoiled. The elderly, the sick, those who could not make slaves were instead killed. You know of what I speak. You have all seen it.

“I know that a few of you have been enslaved and escaped, only to return to fight here. I thank you now for your courage and strength, and for the information which you provide. Your sacrifice will be repaid soon! I swear it!

“We cannot undo that which was done, but we can ensure that it will never be done again. Not here! Now we take the fight to the Dres! Now we make them feel our pain four-fold! We will free our people, and Tear will burn to the ground!”

This post has been edited by canis216: Jan 29 2007, 12:07 AM

[The Metal Mallet]

This recollection of yours is going really well so far canis. It has been an enjoyable read so far and I hope that the next update continues that way (all the rest have, so it's very likely ).

[jack cloudy]

Oh, nice speech. And so true, so true. The Argonians really suffer at the hands of the conservative Dunmer.

[Malpense the Dark]

ok, I actually printed your story out last night and had a read away from the computer and first thought- 'Wow' Seriously you have set yourself a huge challenge in your writing styles, third person, first person, present tense, past tense- It makes for interesting reading and as the storyline progress I just get sucked in even more. Can't wait for more!

[canis216]

An Obsession - Part Three

“He means to burn Tear to the ground with just eighty men?” Heik-Auri was walking ahead of the raiding party, along with Nine-Toes. They were to be the scouts.

“We’re relying on surprise and stealth. We’re not going to be able to burn the whole of the city, but we’ll try to take out the centers of power, and the slaveyard. It’s not like we’re going to try and occupy the city. We sneak in, we strike, and we get the hell out of there.”

The two argonians stepped over a fallen log. “Yes, I know how the plan goes, Nine-Toes, but I worry. Eighty just seems wrong. If it were more we might overwhelm the city guard, for a while. If it were less we could sneak in easier and burn the city with no one ever knowing we were there.”

“We need the extra men to assault the slaveyard. It might take just a few of us to set the fires, but we need to free the slaves too—and it can’t be done so easily.”

“Yes, the slaveyard—say, did you see something move ahead?” Heik-Auri became quiet, and held up a hand.

“Just on the other side of that clearing ahead. You take the left, I the right.”

Heik-Auri nodded his response, and readied his bow. The argonians crept through the trees, each using every shadow to his advantage. They skirted the edge of the clearing, Heik-Auri on the west, Nine-Toes on the east. As they crept along a party of eight dark elves broke abruptly into the clearing, walking single file but not being especially careful; the one in the rear stopped briefly to roll and light a hackle-lo leaf while the two in the lead appeared to be engrossed in some sort of bawdy story-telling; the argonians couldn’t quite tell what.

“So then the filthy khajiit said…”

Heik-Auri took out the leader with a bow shot to the throat while Nine-Toes shot bolts into the rear of the party. Those who didn’t fall immediately broke into a running retreat, as they could not see their assailants. Two more, a male and female in chitin armor, fell at the edge of clearing. Two made it to the trees; one had an arrow stuck in his shoulder, one was somehow unwounded.

“No survivors! Come on!” Heik-Auri shouted as they took up the pursuit. He placed a running arrow shot in the back of the already-wounded elf; Nine-Toes finished him with a bolt.

The other dunmer, a female, kept running, fast. Nine-Toes snapped a shot off that sailed by her shoulder and lodged into a tree. Heik-Auri kept running, bow in hand, sending another running shot off that missed low, at her feet. The trail took a sharp turn to the left—to run straight through the marshy woods was to invite disaster—and she tried to take it too fast, slipping and falling. She tried to scramble up, but was pierced with an arrow shot, then another. She still struggled, but now Heik-Auri was on her, with his new daedric dagger drawn.

“She’s a tough one, Nine-Toes.”

“That she is. Lot of good that’ll do her. Let’s finish this and report to Gei-Tekri. He’ll want to know about this.”

Heik-Auri raised the dark elf’s head and raked the dagger across her throat, letting the blood spill freely and easily upon the sodden black earth.

“Shall we report to Gei-Tekri now? It’s about lunchtime. What do you say we have a bite to eat first, Nine-Toes?”

[Black Hand]

Bloody Wonderful

[The Metal Mallet]

I personally wouldn't feel like eating anything after spliting a mer's throat wide open, but I guess Al's got a strong stomach, or that stuff simply doesn't effect him.

Great work as usual.

[canis216]

Well, by this point in this life he's already far too familiar with death and murder--it usually doesn't affect him too much. And what assassin worth his salt doesn't have a strong stomach?

And as always, thanks for the compliments. I'll keep trying to live up to them.

[canis216]

An Obsession – Part Four

The scouts emerged from the thinning marsh-forest onto the edge of a broad plain strewn with rough farm shacks and great far-flung manors of fired mud-brick. They had scarcely spoken since slaughtering the party of dark elves—the border patrol—and reporting to the Battlechief.

“Have you seen it before, Nine-Toes? The Deshaan Plain?”

“Yes, once. I was out hunting and got lost—I was still young then, and didn’t know my way as now. I crept around for a few hours, then fled back into the forest as the sun rose and I saw our kin working in those fields. I think it was over there” he pointed off to the west. “You see that manor house, two miles distant?”

“This is my first time, Nine-Toes. I approached the edge of the trees once, perhaps four years ago. I couldn’t bear to get any closer. I was afraid of what I might see. You know about my mother—“

“Don’t speak of it, friend. I know it was hard.”

“Oh, I guess I’m alright. I’ve seen too much now, I think. Father took it much harder.”

“Have you heard from him since he sailed for Hammerfell?”

Heik-Auir shook his head, slowly. “Another of our clan met him in Stros M’kai, or so he told me when he returned to the village. He’s tending the bar at a tavern there, or he was. Apparently they have a tradition of our people serving drinks in that city. That was two years ago.”

“Why didn’t you go with?”

“Unfinished business, Nine-Toes. Unfinished business.”

They stood there for another moment, silently taking in the scene.

“How are we going to lead our force through here, Heik-Auri?”

“I’m wondering myself. I don’t know. It’s so… open. I’ve never seen a place so open before. I think I can even see the lights of Tear itself…”

“Tear… if we are very fortunate we shall see it ever the more brightly on our way back.”

“Fortunate indeed. Nine-Toes, the way I see it we have only two options, and they’re neither very good. We can race by these plantations fast as we can and hope to reach the city before the alarm can be raised, and try to overwhelm the initial resistance. Like the fires they say can race through the dry brush in Elsweyr. Or, we wait until dark, try to sneak through these plantations with eighty hist, and maybe reach Tear by two or three in the deep night. Maybe. Then we might be able to do our work and flee town by sun’s rise, when we hope the Dres guards and the Legion aren’t cutting off our retreat.”

“Only those two options?”

“You have a better idea?”

Nine-Toes thought for a moment, then a moment longer.

“We get the hell out of here?”

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“What is our course, Gei-Tekri? There isn’t a single tree on those plains to hide under, nor a single hill to slink behind.”

The band—it could hardly be called an army—had settled down within the last sheltering grove of trees before the opening of the grand Deshaan Plain, and Nine-Toes was consulting with Gei-Tekri while Heik-Auri kept up the watch.

“You don’t think we could fight our way through, Nine-Toes?”

“No. The manor guards alone, out on that plain, could outnumber us. The slaves might join us and rebel, but with what would they fight? They are sickly and weak, most of them. We all know the stories—some of us have lived them. Worse still, if a few survive and teleport away to the city, or ride off on their guars, or entire mission would be stunted before it could even start. I don’t know how many guards and legion troops there are around Tear, but they would all be sent our way.”

“And even if we could successfully fight through the plantations and to Tear, we would lose half our number along the way. Yes, I understand. Thank you Nine-Toes. So we must wait until dark, and take much care.”

“Wait!” Heik-Auri shouted from the edge of the forest. “I have a better idea.”

[Black Hand]

Hmm, whats the better Idea?

[The Metal Mallet]

Oooo! A plan! What could it possibly be!? I'd like to know, but nooooo, you have to tease me with this cliffhangers!

I'd also like to point out how fleshed out the comraderie between Nine-Toes and Al are going. Nine-Toes seems to be one of the few to get a decent discussion with the Argonian; pretty neat.

[jack cloudy]

Ok, I have a feeling that this raid will turn out to be a fiasco and cost a lot of lives. Still though, I'm sure that you'll be able to make it a good read. Fine as always.

Note: I really like the way this series has turned out. At first the stories all seemed loose without anything to bind them apart from the fact that the same character made appearances. Now it has involved into this subtle exploration into the depth's of Al's soul with a well-progressing recount of his past.

[canis216]

An Obsession – Part Five

“Fine idea, Heik-Auri. Now we take all the risk.”

Nine-Toes and Heik-Auri slinked through the saltrice fields, perhaps fifty yards from a complex of mud-brick manor buildings and slave shacks.

“Three-and-a-half hours to sundown, Nine-Toes. And ten miles to cover with eighty hist, undetected, through three of these damned plantations. How else are we going to do this?”

“We could have taken a few others.”

“No, you and me. It’s the most discreet way to do it. If there weren’t so many Dres to take on I’d do it all myself.”

“That’s crazy.”

“That WOULD be crazy. Now you’re with me, so it’s fine. We clear the place up, send the signal, and the others advance. We can even arm some of the slaves, if they’re willing. Here, give me a boost.” The two argonians had reached one of the manor houses; it looked like a guard tower. After receiving a bit of push from Nine-Toes, Heik-Auri began to scale the exterior wall. “I’ll lower the line when I’m done.”

Nine-Toes waited at the bottom of the tower, crossbow ready in case he should be discovered. A few moments after Heik-Auri disappeared over the tower parapet a thin gray robe dropped down beside him, which he quickly ascended. At the top he found Heik-Auri, a trap door into the tower, and a figure in bonemold lying prone in a rapidly expanding pool of blood, chitin short-bow at the side.

“You didn’t hear me from down there, did you?”

“No, Heik-Auri. I believe that you were as silent as the dead.”

The assassin grinned. “For both our sakes let’s hope that continues. Care to silence the door? It would be a pity if we were detected on the way in.”

Nine-Toes cast a spell of silence upon the door, which Heik-Auir gently opened as his friend readied his crossbow. No one was waiting below.

“I’ll lead” Heik-Auri whispered as he lowered his body through the opening.

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The pair encountered four more guards in varied states of preparedness. Heik-Auri killed the first three by creeping up behind, clasping a free hand over the guard’s mouth, and slashing the throat with his new daedric dagger. The fourth turned immediately before the attack but died before he could bring his sword into play. Nine-Toes watched.

“That dagger... it is enchanted, yes? What does it do?”

“It absorbs health, Nine-Toes. A lot. And it never fails.”

“Never fails? You mean...”

“Yes, I stole it from the Shadowscales. And yes, they’re probably still looking for me right now, trying to take my head. No more questions, no more answers.”

Silence reigned, for a moment.

“Alright Nine-Toes, let’s move on to the next building. Once we’ve cleared the main buildings we’ll take out the exterior guard. That might be a little harder. We’ll need your crossbow.”

“Back to the top of the tower?”

“Yeah, we can’t risk going out the front door. We’ll work outside in. No one escapes.”

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Three more guards patrol the grounds, unaware of the fate of their mercenary companions. Nine-Toes crouches behind the parapet atop the shipping house; Heik-Auri stalks the courtyard below, two blades drawn, edging up behind a fair-haired nord in heavy armor. He must be sweltering, Nine-Toes is thinking; Heik-Auri is thinking about a helmet-less skull. He spirits himself forward, bringing the hilt of his ebony blade hard down upon the nord’s skull. He is down, the nord; Heik-Auri cuts his throat and raises a free hand to the air. At the signal Nine-Toes launches bolts at the other two guards—the first is struck in the throat and falls, the second is struck in the shoulder and charges forward to the shipping house, totally unaware when an iron arrow launched from a hist bow strikes him from behind.