Tale of a Scaled Knight., An Argonian in High Rock. Options

[jack cloudy]

This probably isn't fair for Tesfiction, but here ya go. A Daggerfall-era story.

Tale of a scaled knight.

Chapter 1: Hunter and prey.

The smell of decomposing plants was enough to give a zombie a headache. Mosquetos buzzed about in thick clouds, landing on every bird, snake or other animal foolish enough to come close. Dead fish floated on the surface of the murky lake. The water bubbled as gas rose up from its depths. A particular mound of mud shuddered slightly, sending the mosquetos into a mad scramble for safety. The mound lay silent then and shortly after, the little insects had forgotten its very existence.

One pair of bloodred eyes gazed up at the castle that sat at the edge of the lake. It was tall, with a round tower at each corner and another at the centre of the keep. Its walls were so overgrown with vines, even the windows had vanished behind thick green tendrils. The pair of eyes had inspected every single stretch of vine over the past three hours. At regular intervals, the eyes had shifted up in search of guards patrolling the walls. But there were no guards, at least none that could be seen. The mound shuddered again, briefly revealing the silhouette of a large creature covered in a thick layer of mud.

Was this castle really the one it had been looking for? The creature’s instinct said it was, but its senses claimed otherwise. There was no sign at all of any inhabitants. No sign at all, except…..all the death it was surrounded by had been fairly recent. That, and the vines growing over the walls were the only plants still left alive in the nearby area. With that knowledge, it remained where it was, till night fell. While there apparently weren’t any guards, it preferred the cover of the night for its plan.

When night fell, the mound rose up and stalked away. The mosquitoes now landed on the crawling creature in search of blood to drink, but the mud proved to be an impassable barrier to their tiny snouts. Often, the creature stopped and scanned the keep before moving on. What was less than a hundred metres, it took nearly an entire hour to cross. Never once did it see a sign of guards.

Now it was up at the base of the vines and stood up completely, balancing on its hind legs. As it rose, it shook off most of the mud, revealing more of its features. It was vaguely humanoid, despite the thick tail and somewhat awkward positioning of its joints. It was covered in simple clothes and with a large curved sword sheathed on its back. This was not just a creature, but a fully sentient being in its own right. It was an Argonian and if one would have had the chance to see the Argonian’s scales beneath the mud, one would realize it was a male Argonian.

He had to get inside the castle, but the front door was overgrown as much as the walls and even if it hadn’t been, he bet it was barred from the inside. No, he would have to scale the walls and find another way inside. Before he proceeded any further though, he reached out behind his back and unsheathed the Dai-Katana he carried with him. He carefully removed the rag he’d wrapped around the hilt and leaned the sword against the vines. He also took off his gloves and threw them on the floor before resheathing the Dai-Katana.

Now, he would have a perfect grip if he was forced to draw the weapon. The Argonian pulled on the vines to test them and began to climb. Unlike his crawl to the keep, he didn’t pause during his climb. If a guard came and looked down, he would see what looked like a pile of mud clinging to the vines. What had been a disguise had now become a dead giveaway. He still hadn’t found any proof of guards, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Once at the top, he smoothly vaulted over the edge and drew the Dai-Katana in one swift motion, sending a spray of mud into the air. His eyes drifted from left to right. The courtyard appeared as abandoned as the rest of the castle, except for one thing. The door leading to the central tower was flanked by two burning torches. The Argonian bared his teeth in a feral grin.
“So, you wish to invite me in? Well, I can’t possibly refuse such an invitation.” He hissed into the empty air. He took a second glance at the central tower. Unlike the towers at the corners, there were no vines growing over this one. Also unlike the cornertowers, this one appeared to be constructed to be a comfortable place to live instead of being a near impenetrable barrier. There were a lot of windows, large ones, sealed off with glass. There was a balcony near the top. There were no firingslits, no grooves for boiling oil, no reinforced door. There was nothing in its design to stop an attacking army, or a different kind of intruder.

The Argonian sheathed his sword and leapt down the wall, breaking his fall with a haystack. He then dashed across the open courtyard and begun to climb the walls of the central tower.
“I can’t refuse an invitation, but I won’t walk into your trap.” He thought as he made his way to the balcony. After he’d vaulted over the railing, he drew his Dai-Katana and took a deep breath.
“Alright, I know you’re in this room. You’ve always enjoyed high places.” He whispered before kicking in the door. The Argonian rushed inside, towards the person seated behind the desk.

[The Metal Mallet]

Haha, I'm sure they won't mind. Plus, another story from the great Jack Cloudy is always appreciated here!

[Agent Griff]

Great, a Dagger-story. A Dagger-story from one of our favourite authors no less. I liked the Argonian's methods. Thorough, with no room for error, all precautions taken etc. Much like a Witcher. By the way you advanced up to the point where the Argonian reached the top-room on the tower, I think he's either hunting a vampire or looking for a friend. Anxious to see what's really going to happen.

[Olen]

Hmmm... I suspect the seated person doesn't really want to see the Argonian but my interest is most certainally piqued. It will be nice to see where you take this.

[redsrock]

This probably isn't fair for Tesfiction, but here ya go. A Daggerfall-era story.

What do you mean?

[jack cloudy]

Cause this one is the only story that was unique to Tesfiction. Everything else (which just means Redemption, I admit.) was already posted here. And there's a lot more posted here than there. Of my work, at the least.

But there is good news. Tesfiction is further ahead in this story than Chorrol. Oh, and I'll be posting an update over there in a moment.

PS: The following update includes a conversation that can be quite confusing.


He stopped just before actually reaching the cloaked person and levelled his sword.
“Turn around, slowly.” He ordered.
“This is High Rock, quite a ways from the Black Marsh. What is an Argonian doing here?” The person simply asked in response.
“I could ask you the same. Now turn.” The Argonian said. The other chuckled.
“Root, oh Root. Are you still restricted by your honour?” He questioned in a mocking tone of voice.
“I will not strike from behind like a coward. Now turn!”

“So basically, you’re saying that as long as I don’t turn around, I’ll live?” The Argonian mused. Root bared his teeth and tightened his grip on the sword.
“You’ll live either till the moment you turn, or till the moment my patience runs out. Either way, you die.” He hissed. The seated Argonian stood up slowly but kept his back towards Root.
“You are rather presumptious, but I can’t deny you are a stubborn one, to chase me all the way here.” The Argonian muttered.
“Alright, I’ll play your game.” He added and turned. Root swung with all his might.

The grey cloak ripped under the blade, but he did not feel any resistance of flesh underneath. Quickly, Root reversed the grip on the Dai-Katana and stabbed backwards. This time, he did feel the familiar resistance. There was a shriek of pain and a splatter of blood.
“You should have placed your anchor farther away. Teleportation does you no good if you leap right into my blade.” Root said, yanked free his sword and spun around while swinging it horizontally. Scales parted and bone cracked. The mage fell backwards and hissed in agony. The swordsman risked a fast look at the wounds he’d caused. He’d cut through the palm of his opponent’s right hand and severed three fingers. His last attack had cut across the ribs, cracking the chestbone. Neither of the two wounds was lethal, but the latter had the potential for it. Even a single deep breath could snap the chestbone completely now and puncture the heart.

Root placed the tip of his sword at the other’s throat.
“And now, you die.” He whispered.
“Wait. Don’t do it. At least, call me by name.” The fallen Argonian pleaded. Root’s eyes blazed with a held-back fury.
“Giving you a name would mean I give you a soul. You are not worthy of one.” He sneered and stabbed. The Dai-Katana stabbed down into the floor and stuck in the wood.
“Tsk, you can’t kill what you can’t strike. You are strong, but your potential is lost on this primitive obsession with iron. I congratulate you on your effort, but I won’t die today, Root.” The wounded Argonian laughed before stumbling out of the door and starting to descend a staircase.
“Wait!” Root shouted and pulled with all his might to free the blade from the wood. Looking back, he realized that if he hadn’t stabbed with such force, he could have wrenched his sword free and attacked before the other got a chance to slip away.

For a moment, he considered giving chase but he opted against it. His foe was wounded and slow, so it would be easy to catch up if nothing opposed him. However, from previous experience he knew that there would be hefty opposition to stop him from going down the stairs. Skeletons and zombies, the previous inhabitants of this place. Taking them all down would slow him considerably.

No, taking the stairs wasn’t an option for the same reason he’d climbed to the balcony earlier. He finally freed the Dai-Katana and made a move towards the balcony, but stopped and stepped back involuntarily. A large fire had erupted in the doorway. Black and charred pieces of steel were suspended by the fire, like some hideous skeleton. Root backed up further.
“A creature of fire? Can’t kill it with my sword.” He thought and winced.
“So I have to take the stairs in the end.” Despite his annoyance, he gave the creature a quick salute before running for the stairs. While not a single blow had been exchanged, the thing had bested him and deserved the honour of being recognized. He just hoped it wouldn’t give chase.

Scarcely five steps down, he was greeted by the first skeleton. Root didn’t falter and flung himself ahead, slamming into it with his full weight and scattering the bones all over. The skull bounced down the steps, still grinning. The Argonian paused for a moment to regain his balance before pressing on, following the trail of blood his enemy had left behind. More skeletons rushed up to meet him, only to be struck down by fists, feet and tail, not by the sword. They were hard to hit with a blade and even then, a single impact with a blunt tool could scatter their bones much more effectively than even the largest sword. While it wouldn’t kill the undead warriors, without their bones tied together, they could do nothing.

Root actually laughed when he found the first zombie, roughly halfway down. Zombies were easier, if they still relied on their physical musculature. This one was still fresh and did. The sword sweeped up and down, cutting tendons and severing flesh. The corpse staggered and was sent down the stairs with a light kick.
“Halfway down and nothing is going to stop me, unless another of those fire-beings is waiting for me. I should find another path, a quicker one, just in case.” The Argonian thought. He turned and ran up for a bit, till he reached one of the windows. Bending down, he picked up a skeletal leg and used it to bash in the window. He then climbed through while ignoring how the glass shards cut into his hands and feet. Outside, he quickly climbed down and dropped the last two metres. He then waited.

Ten minutes later, impatience got the better of him.
“He should have reached the door by now. Hmm, maybe he did worsen his wounds and died? I can’t rely on hope though.” He hissed to himself. Warily, he stepped forward and pulled the doorbolt. The door opened easily, revealing a small chamber that was empty safe for a circle of burnt-out candles. Root sighed and put the Dai-Katana back in its scabbard.
“A circle of teleportation. Damn. I should have known.”

[Olen]

I'm impressed he could move at all with a cracked sternum but then old mages are hardcore I suppose. Anyway root doesn't mess around. Good opening I'm likeing it.

[jack cloudy]

Well now that you mention it, that was indeed a bit too much perhaps. Oh well, if he wants to remain a suitable antagonist for Root, he'd better be hardcore. I mean, Root is hardcore.




Chapter 2: A chain of deals.

“You wish to know about what?” The old Breton stammered. He’d barely heard the question, having been mesmerized by the strange appearance before him.
“I wish to know about teleportation circles.” Root replied patiently. Ever since he’d left Argonia, he had gotten these kinds of stares from just about everyone. At first it had been annoying and he’d considered it a sign of hostility. Now though, several years later, he had gotten used to it. If he just gave the man a minute or two to recover, he could hold a proper conversation.

The Breton began to wring his hands as his eyes fluttered over the green scales of the Argonian.
“Sharp needle-shaped teeth….suggests a fish-based diet….nose is underdeveloped…..large fin structure at the back of the head….ornamental? Musculature…very humanoid…well-developed…Tail seems rather strong as well for a mere balancing appendage….hmm, it is wearing some form of clothing. Pants, and two belts that cross over its heart…..it can talk….low form of sentience, at the minimum.” He muttered to himself.
“I am not a specimen for your research. Could you please remain on subject?” The Argonian interrupted.

“Aha, right….teleportation circles….sure.” The old man began with a nervous laugh and licked his lips. He’d noticed the bone hilt of the Dai-Katana rise over Root’s shoulder. While having never seen anything worse than a bar brawl, he had the instinctive realization that if provoked, his guest could be lethal.
“I would love to tell you….but….” Root frowned and the Breton bit his tongue in fright.
“But you can’t tell those who are not a part of your guild. Is that right?” The Argonian finished for him. The Breton nodded.
“Well….in essence….yes.”

Root crossed his arms in front of his chest and thought about it. It had been over a week since he returned from the keep. While he'd searched the surrounding area, he had failed to find any tracks of his prey, which meant that the teleportation had been long-range. He knew he needed an outside source of information before renewing his chase.

The only thing he knew of teleportation circles where that they brought someone from one place to another, and how to recognize one. He did not know how to deduce the destination of a circle. For that, he needed an expert. The only sanctioned source of information on anything magicka, was the mages guild.
“Please, I ask you for an exception. It is really important for me to know how to find the destination of a teleportation circle.” He tried.

“Err…it is not my specialty. I would have to ask around and well….” The Breton raised his hands above his head.
“No one would tell me if I gave the reason.” He finished.
“You can’t lie?” Root asked.

For one moment, the mage seemed to forget about his fear.
“Lie?! Well yes, I suppose I could. But with everyone concocting truth serums in his or her spare time, it won’t be a good lie. There are fumes of the stuff all over the building!” He yelped. The Argonian sighed.
“I see.” He merely said and walked out of the door. When he was gone, the Breton wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Outside, Root stopped to gaze at the tall building behind him. Even as he watched, one of the upper floor windows exploded outwards in a blaze of fire. He shook his head.
“Mages, they’re all useless.” He said to himself.

“Oh hey, lad.” Root turned towards the sound. The tallest man he’d ever seen stood a stonesthrow away, watching him. When their eyes locked, the man flashed a grin, revealing a perfect set of teeth. That rather surprised the Argonian, for the man’s face was one large web of criss-crossing scars. He blinked and looked away as he lost all interest. It was probably just another person who had come to check out the exotic foreigner.
“Hey, lad. Don’t you go looking away. I want to talk to you.” The man said.

“You wish to talk? About what?” Root replied warily. He didn’t like where this was going. The man was too confident. The confidence practically oozed from every pore of his skin. It was in the way he stood, the way he talked, the way he casually stroked his moustache. It was even there in the way he readjusted the straps that tied a truly massive double-bladed axe to his back. The last gesture put the Argonian on full alert and he shifted his balance slightly, a barely perceptible movement.

The man saw it though, and his grin grew wider as a result.
“Say, you got trouble with the Sparkies?” He asked. Root frowned. The man had made no movement towards his axe, only readjusted the straps. Still, that didn’t say much. The subtle hints in the man’s posture revealed that he could draw that monstrosity as quick as Root could draw his Dai-Katana. The Argonian now took notice of the blonde hair that fell freely to his shoulders. He had only seen that particular colour of hair in Cyrodiil. The owner of that Nord had called himself a Nord. Perhaps this was another one.

“Sparkies?” The Argonian replied with feigned calm.
“Sparkies, Mumblejumbos, fingertwiddlers. I’m talking about the Mages here, my man!” The Nord laughed. Root tensed his muscles slightly more. He simply didn’t like the way the man talked. It was too loud, as if it was all a distraction for something else.

“I don’t see how that would possibly concern you.” He said evenly. The Nord waved away the comment with a hand that was as scarred as his face. Several of the fingers looked as if they’d been severed and reattached with a spell, more than once.
“But of course it concerns me! This is my town and when I see a troublemaker, I deal with him!” At the last comment, the man confidently jabbed a thumb at his own chest.
“You want me to leave.” Root concluded. The Nord’s grin faded, but the twinkling that came in his eyes was even more worrying.

“No, I don’t want you to leave. Not so soon. We haven’t gone through proper introductions.” With one swift motion, the man whipped out his axe, letting its head rest on the cobblestones. The handle was nearly as long as a spear and the head itself looked as if it could cleave a horse in one swing and still have enough momentum to cut down a young tree.
“And with proper introductions, I mean a duel! First one to yield, lose his weapon or touch the ground with any bodypart excluding the feet, loses!” He added. Root let out a low growl of frustration as he turned his back on the man.

“I don’t do duels, especially not with someone who just comes out of nowhere and challenges me to one. Good day.” He spoke and began to walk away. To his surprise, the Nord laughed.
“Brilliant, just brilliant! I like you, green one!” He howled. Root scowled but kept walking.
“I tell you what! You accept my challenge, and I will help you out with your mage problem. It doesn’t matter which one of us wins, I will still help. You have Erick Ice-fist’s word!” The man continued. Now Root’s interest had been piqued.

“You will help? I am looking for information, not the spilling of their blood.” The Argonian explained.
“Blood or information, I’ve got plenty of contacts to help out with either.” Erick claimed.
“So, are you game?” He asked next. Root closed and opened his fists trice and stomped on the floor to improve his blood circulation. Then, he drew his sword.
“Fine, I’m game. My name is Root.”



PS: And here he is, da man himself.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Mar 9 2008, 09:38 AM

[Marcel Rhodes]

Why am I thinking that this Nord has more to him, despite the typical 'picking fights with strangers' thing their race is so good at? Maybe he's playing a part.

Great stuff, Jack.

[Olen]

I'm fascinated. That nord sounds too bright to be just a guard. And he wants a fight, interesting.

I'm certainly interested to see where this goes.

[jack cloudy]

The Nord was grinning again as he hefted his axe and swung it around in a circle above his head. Meanwhile, Root dropped into a light crouch.
“I don’t like duels.” The Argonian thought to himself as Erick stormed across the distance that separated them. Root dashed to the side and turned to keep facing the Nord. Having put too much momentum into his charge, it took the warrior a few precious seconds to stop.
“It’s probably the fact that even though the intend is not to maim and kill, the weapons are still capable of it.” Root’s train of thought continued unhindered.

The two stared each other in the eye, but neither moved.
“Oh, come on! I made my first move, and now it is your turn!” Erick grumbled. The Argonian shook his head slowly.
“No, I already agreed to fight by your rules. But how I fight, that is my decision to make.” He replied. The Nord sighed and charged again without wasting any further words. He was obviously not the patient type. This was fine with Root. It presented him with a possible advantage.

This time however, Erick did slow his mad charge early enough to follow his opponent’s evasion. Root hadn’t yet stopped before he was forced to duck under a swing that would have surely decapitated him if he hadn’t moved.
“Watch it! I’m not the one wearing steel plate here!” He hissed.
“And I’m not going to let you borrow mine!” Erick countered as he swung again, this time a diagonal upward cut.
“He is insane!” Root thought.

The Argonian bent back and let the blow sail past.
“Hey? Is that weapon just for show or something? Use it! Or are you scared of blood?!” The Nord howled. Root didn’t answer but merely sidestepped again. Wearing heavy armour and swinging such a massive weapon, the Nord was at a serious disadvantage in a battle of attrition. The Argonian had noticed this and had placed his entire plan on it, seeing as how his Dai-Katana wasn’t capable of penetrating an armour of superior materials. Neither could he use it to block or parry any of the blows. Even if the sword wouldn’t shatter on the first hit, the sheer impact would drive him into the ground.

A small crowd of guards and citizens had formed, limiting the area the fighters could move in. They also placed themselves at risk to the Nord’s erratic swings. Root noticed and scowled in disapproval.
“Fools. Do they have a deathwish?” He muttered to himself, heavily frustrated. He couldn’t afford to move around and let Erick wear himself out anymore.
“Come on! Attack me!” The Nord demanded.

Root jumped back two steps and aimed the tip of his Dai-Katana at the man’s heart, resting the blade on the palm of his left hand.
“If you insist.” He calmly said and lunged. Erick grinned and brought up his axe to block. Instead of continuing his thrust however, Root flipped his blade to the side, crouched and spun around. The tip of his tail hooked behind the man’s ankle and he sweeped, sending the full weight of the Nord crashing down to the street.
“You have just touched the street with a bodypart that is not your foot. You lose.” The Argonian stated as he tapped the man’s chestplate with the tip of his sword.

For a moment, Erick looked flustered, then he laughed.
“Whaha! Good one, my lad! I’d completely forgotten about that rule! Only, your tail touched the ground during that move!” He clutched his stomach as he tried to catch his breath. Root sighed. He hadn’t noticed.
“So it is a draw!” Erick decided.

Root shrugged and turned to walk away. From what he’d seen, he seriously doubted Erick Ice-Fist could help him.
“Hey, where are you going?” The Nord jumped back to his feet and gave chase, pausing just long enough to pick up his Battleaxe.
“To the next town. Perhaps the guild will be more forthcoming there.” The Argonian called over his shoulder.

“Hoho! Not so fast my lad!” Erick called as he ran to catch up. Despite his earlier exertion, he seemed full of energy. Root stopped. He looked about at the guards and the townspeople that watched him warily. He was honestly surprised that no one had stepped in to stop the duel earlier.
“What is it?” He grunted.

Erick grinned and placed a hand on the swordsman’s scaly shoulder.
“This. How would you like to be a honoured member of the High Rock Fighter’s guild?” He asked. The Argonian’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“I don’t work for a guild.” He stated and shook off the hand before resuming his walk towards the citygates. Erick jogged along.
“Woah, I said not so fast! There are really many perks to being a member of our group. A free place to stay in every town where we have a guildhall. Free repairs of your equipment. A discount on training in any arm you choose. Legitimate contracts, all paperwork being taken care of by us.” He listed.

“Not interested.” Root said without bothering to face the Nord. Now, the man’s grin slowly began to fade.
“Geez, you green types are hard to please, aren’t you? Hey, what about that promise I gave you? The information?” He grumbled.
“I doubt you can help me with something that is strictly the terrain of a mage.” Root noted. A hand gripped his shoulder and brusquely turned him around.

“You just think I’m some kind of barbarian with a large axe, don’t you? Now listen, today I was only playing with you. I don’t charge without a thought in a real fight. Now here is the information you need. You want the mages to talk, you give them something they want. If not, you’re never going to get anything good out of them. They’re elitists.” Erick said.
“Give them something they want? I figured that out on my own already. Now move that hand somewhere else before I cut it off. Today I was only playing with you as well.” Root replied. The Nord took a large step back and folded his arms across his chest.

“You’ve got attitude. I like that. Alright, I’ll give you something more then. A mage is guaranteed to kneel on the floor and kiss your toenails if you give them a Daedra’s heart.” He revealed.
“A heart? Is this some kind of joke?” Root inquired with open hostility.
“Not a joke. The heart of a Daedra has amazing magical properties, so I’ve been told. Only, there is a catch.” Erick began to grin again. By now, Root had figured that whenever the man was grinning, he was about to say something he really didn’t want to hear.
“That catch is, you need my help to find a Daedra. But that isn’t all. You need more than just a location. That fancy toothpick of yours isn’t going to cut off a Daedra’s fingernail. It’s too soft and brittle for that. Too blunt as well. And if you want to survive in battle, you’d better wear some solid, top-notch plate. Otherwise, those buggers will kill you in a heartbeat.”

The Argonian folded his own arms across his chest as well, subconsciously mimicking the Nord’s stance.
“Let me guess. In order to get the correct equipment, I need to join your guild.” He observed. Erick nodded.
“That’s right!” He answered. Root rolled his eyes.
“….Fine. I guess I don’t have much of a choice here.” He admitted.
“But if I ever find out you are just playing some kind of trick here in the hope of getting a trustworthy sword, I will make you regret it.” He added.

For a long and silent moment, the two looked each other in the eye. For once, Erick didn’t grin. Perhaps his confidence had been shaken, or maybe he simply didn’t enjoy the possibility of a fight to the death with the Argonian. For all it mattered, the only reason Root hadn’t won the duel was due to a technicality, a simple rule that wouldn’t matter at all in a real fight.
“You won’t ever have to, I promise.” The Nord merely said at the end of the silence.
“Good.”

At once, Erick’s jolly mood returned.
“Alright, that settles it! Now we’re palls for life!” He bellowed and clasped the Argonian’s shoulder once more. Root resisted the urge to shake off the hand.
“Now, about that equipment and location?” He hissed instead. Erick began to drag him off through town.
“Are you crazy? You want to run off right away?” The Nord asked.
“Na-ah, we can’t do that. Not till you’ve proven yourself worthy of the goods.” He then added with a sly wink.

“Proof myself? Didn’t I just beat the guildmaster in a duel? What other proof do you need?” Root countered. Erick’s jaw snapped shut.
“How did you know I was the guildmaster?” He inquired warily after a moment. The Argonian shrugged and took the opportunity to brush the other’s hand off his shoulder.
“You have the guts to challenge a complete stranger to a duel in the middle of the street, the guards don’t bother to interrupt the whole event and finally you recruit me without even bothering about formalities such as requesting permission from superiors. How much more obvious could it possibly be?”

Erick sighed.
“Oh great, I picked up a fighter with brains. This is bad, really bad.” He muttered.
“How so?” Root asked.
“Cause all a fighter needs to know is how to follow orders and bash skulls, that’s why! Geez, I was looking for a warrior, a barbarian. Not some sort of agent.” Erick complained in a louder tone.
“Tough luck. It’s not my problem. Rather, I think a dumb fighter is all that, swordfodder, a stupid berserker who charges right into a phalanx of pikes like the crazy fool he is.” Root replied nonchalantly.

The guildmaster jabbed a finger at the Argonian’s chest.
“Really? Then what do you think that you are?” He spat. It was obvious that the insult aimed at fighters had seriously angered him. Root drew his katana and spun it around in a flourish before resting the tip on the cobblestones. Erick stepped back and his hand went up to the hilt of his axe at what seemed like a sign of upcoming violence.
“So soon? Did he decide to turn on me so soon?” He thought frantically. It was then that he recognized the manoeuvre for what it really was. It was some kind of salute.

“I am Root Lich-Bane, knight in the order of the Blue Serpent, heir to the lands of Sapphire-hill, son of Green-Fire, former knight in the order of the Blue Serpent, lord of the lands of Sapphire-hill.” Root said formally and spun his sword once more before returning it to the scabbard on his back. Erick whistled.
“A knight, eh? Quite an important one, judging by all the titles.” He said and smirked.
“So then, what would an all-important knight and heir of his own little fiefdom no less, be doing here?” He added.

Root bared his teeth.
“That is none of your concern.” He hissed sharply. Erick was unimpressed. Now that he knew he was dealing with a knight, he knew that he was perfectly safe as long as he didn’t insult the Argonian’s honour. Of course, this safety all depended on whether or not Root was the rare kind of knight who actually held his code of honour in high regards. From what the fighter had seen, Root was indeed such a knight.
“Fine, I won’t ask. But if you’re a knight, then where is you armour?” He pressed on.
“Sold it for daggers.” Root replied uneagerly.
“And what happened to the daggers?”
“Sold them for information.”

A pair of guards marched past. Both of them cast a wary glance at Erick, instantly averting their gaze the moment he looked back.
“I wonder what he’s up to this time.” One of them whispered to the other, loud enough to be heard by the subject at hand.
“I can hear you louts! Simmer down or do I have to show you who’s the real boss here?!” Erick shouted and the two guards marched faster. Root sighed.
“Wonderful, he believes he owns the place. Well, he probably does, if the guards don’t do anything to stop his antics.” He thought.

[Agent Griff]

I love it thus far. Vintage Jack Cloudy, to quote Mallet. There is a certain style in all your fan fics, a style that caters to high-adventure. I think we have the makings of a nice fellowship here, though the Nord is less than lovable. He has his moments but he isn't anything special. Kind of like my own Beomir character if the comparison isn't too much of a stretch.

Also, about fiefdom, it is most definitely a word. It means the land owned by a noble, not necessarily a city-state. Even a barren field could be regarded as a fiefdom. I liked Root's formal introduction however. Very lordly. Lordly is a feature I have not seen in your fics before Jack. They appear in almost all of mine yet I've never seen things related to nobles in your stories.

Keep up the great work!

[jack cloudy]

And more Root. Lot's of talking, more sword-drawing etc. (is there ever an update in this story where Root does not draw his razor?)

Oh, and I had to insert a quick Arthago-reference here.


Chapter 3: Grunt’s work.

“You want me to do what?!” Root slammed both fists down on the wooden table to emphasize his words. The table protested loudly and its legs wobbled dangerously in their sockets. Erick noted how the table trembled and couldn’t help but smile with glee inside.
“This lizard is a strong customer. Perfect. If only I can get past that damn pride of his.” He thought and removed his feet from the same table.

“It’s just as it says on the letter.” The Nord patiently said. Root bared his teeth.
“The letter speaks of a job in this town.” He hissed.
“A job to remove bats from a house.” He continued, leaning heavily on the table with his fists.
“Can’t they do it themselves? Now if we were talking about Goblins, then I would gladly accept the honour. Or a haunting, that would be a task I was willing to accept. But bats, those are below my standing.”

Erick began to laugh.
“Hohoho! You’re a funny guy, aren’t you?” He bellowed. Root merely opened his hands, so that his claws pressed into the table.
“Please enlighten me, and explain to me what’s so funny.” He demanded. The Nord had to wipe the tears out of his eyes before he could answer.
“You don’t seem to get it, do you? You’re a fighter now. A low-ranking fresh recruit. And a fighter takes the job he’s given. You may be a noble back in your stinking swamp. But here, you’re a runt, a meatshield, fodder, a little pawn.” He sneered.
“I warn you, do not insult me.” Root interjected.

Erick turned to face him while subtly inching closer to the massive axe he’d leaned against a wall.
“Oh, what are you going to do? Hack off my head?” He taunted. Root rose up from the table and took a step back towards the door.
“I will evict those bats from their home. Upon my return however, you will either give me a lead or dispense with this foolery and banish me from your guild. Anything else, and I will cut off your head.” The knight threatened. Erick merely shrugged.
“A couple of bats in exchange of a big step towards your goal of slaying Daedra? That’s one harsh deal.” He muttered.
“Think about it.” Root said and left the room, not bothering to close the door behind him.

Once he was gone, Erick slumped back into the room’s only seat and sighed.
“He’s a handful. Strong though. Might just work out, if I don’t pull his strings too much.” He spoke to himself and chuckled.
“But pulling his strings is so damn funny.”


Outside the guild hall, Root let out a sigh of his own.
“Such a despicable person.” He seethed.
“But, I did agree to the deal at first so for now, I will see if he can live up to his promises.” Without lingering any longer, Root made his way to the site of his first mission as a fighter. It wasn’t a long walk. In fact, the client’s home was literally right next to the miniature castle that was the guild hall.
“I wonder why they even bothered to write a letter instead of coming in person. Perhaps it’s protocol.” Root thought and knocked on the door.

“Yes…just a minute. Coming.” A voice came from the inside. Half a minute later, the door opened and a head peeked out, before instantly pulling back again. The door was slammed closed in Root’s face. Grumbling under his breath, the Argonian knocked again.
“Go away, monster!” The shack’s occupant screamed.
“Erick sent me. It has come to his ears that you face a slight dilemma with bats in your abode.” Root called, deliberately talking in a more formal manner. It had the effect he’d hoped for.
“That’s one heck of a vocabulary for a monster. What are you going to do, eat them?” The man asked as he opened the door again. Root shook his head and controlled the urge to grin. He maintained a blank expression instead, as he realized that showing his teeth might scare the small Breton again.

“I have no intention of eating anyone or anything. Would you grant me permission to enter?” He said. The man shrugged and opened the door wider.
“Sure, come in, come in.” He replied. Root stepped through the door and surveyed the scene. A hammock in the far corner, a simple log that served as a table and the house’s only other piece of furniture. Light peering in from countless cracks and gaps in the wall and ceiling. A hard, half-eaten loaf of bread on the log. And huddled on the ceiling in the darkest part of the shack, there were three bats. He also noted that the ceiling was too high for the Breton to reach, and that the bats were of a bloodsucking breed, albeit mostly harmless. Three pairs of gleaming eyes looked back at him, as if the bats were defiantly telling him they would not leave.

Root shrugged and drew his Dai-Katana, which brought the Breton in a state of near panic.
“Wait! Don’t kill me! I know, I lied about being able to pay! Look, I’ll make it up, ok? I’ll get the money, somehow! Just don’t kill me!” He screamed. Root paused to look at him.
“Rest assured, I will lay no finger on you.” He grunted, then flicked the blade towards the bats on the ceiling. With a few gentle nudges, he drove them to the door and outside where they flew off in search of a new hiding place.

His task over, the Argonian sheathed the sword, much to the relief of the Breton.
“Forgive me for asking, but what exactly was the price you were to pay?” He inquired.
“Umm….a hundred septims.” The Breton stammered. Now, Root could no longer maintain his blank expression and he bared his teeth. There wasn’t anything in the shack that suggested the man had even as little as five septims, let stand a hundred.
“A hundred septims. And you could not go lower than that?” He asked. The sight of his sharp teeth unnerved the Breton who moved back till the wall kept him from moving any further.
“I tried, but you insisted on a hundred!” The man whispered. Root sighed.
“There is no need to pay. I will deal with Erick.” He said before leaving and swiftly marching back to the guild hall’s front entrance.

“Damn that Erick. Bossing around the guards, playing me for the fool. All that is fine. But sucking out citizens who can barely afford their bread, is something I can’t forgive! I’ll give him a piece of my mind.” He thought and kicked in the front door.
“ERICK! GET YOUR UNPLEASANT EXTERIOR OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!”




PS: Fair is fair, I decided to show you all where I got the inspiration for Erick's humongous axe on a spear.


It's Shin-Getter 1, dudes!
(For a good-guy mecha, it sure manages to get the demonic look down. Too bad I've only seen it in games, never found the anime.)

[jack cloudy]

You know, I think I'm going to do this story for the contest instead. Ripples in the water is a rush job and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with it. This one however, has nearly reached its end. (It will be an open ending so I can pull off a sequel.)

Anyway, it's showdown time!




“Just what do you think you’re doing?!” The Fighter’s guild doormaster barked and hastily pulled his toes out from under the door. The man, a Nord just like Erick albeit at least a head shorter, reached for the small hatchet he wore on his belt. Root noticed the movement and pressed the tip of his sword under the doormaster’s chin.
”I’m doing what is right. If you value your life, step aside.” He hissed. The Nord swallowed hard but there was little he could do. The slightest movement, and the blade would ascend up into his brains.
“What do you want?” He asked while his hand dropped down to his side.
“Justice. Now step aside.”

“Root, Root. What got up in that egg-sized brain of yours?” Erick came out of his office, bringing neither his axe, nor his armour with him. What he did bring was a whistle which he used now. Within moments, the small hallway was crowded with armed Fighters. The Doormaster pressed himself against the wall and the Argonian brushed past till he was stopped by the wall of steel that now opposed him.
“I have figured it out. This isn’t a Fighter’s guild. This is just a gang of bandits, lowlifes. Degenerates. You intimidate the guards, you oppress the people. There is nothing honourable about what you do. And I, am going to change it.” Root answered. He showed not even the slightest bit of fear as he looked at the many swords, axes and maces that were pointed his way.

Erick laughed and had to lean on the wall for support.
“You’re going to change it? Man, you are one funny lizard! And a strong one. It’s just a shame you had your brain filled with that crap about honour.” He said. The Argonian didn’t reply, but merely reversed his grip on the Dai-Katana and stabbed backwards. The iron blade pierced soft flesh and the knight felt a vibration run through it as his victim entered his deaththroes. He pulled out the sword and aimed it at the mob in front of him. Blood dripped from the edge.
“My actions are bound by my honour, yes. However, do not ever assume this makes me vulnerable to your ambushes. By the way, was this man your brother?” Root commented with feigned nonchalance.

Erick was no longer laughing. His eyes burned with rage.
“You have no idea what trouble you are in.” He snarled, chest heaving as he fought to control his anger. His blood beckoned, demanded that he would fly at the Argonian in a berserker rage. But his mind held him back. He knew that unarmed, he was no match for Root. However, Root was now blocked on both sides, Fighters in front of him, guards on the other. The Nord gestured at the guards standing just outside. But to his surprise, they merely shook their heads and remained where they were.
“Don’t expect help from those you oppress. They won’t help me, true. But they won’t stop me either.” Root said. That was the final drop.
“You…You’ve had your chance! Kill him!”

The Fighters rushed forwards without any coordination. That was their mistake.
“Four side by side, three lines. Plenty of weapons, all unsuited for such a packed formation. No armour. Trying to use this plan of attack against a single opponent in such a crowded hallway….fools.” When the first line reached him, Root merely jumped back while swing the Dai-Katana, dismembering two of his foes. The wounded Fighters panicked and got in the way of their colleagues, giving the Argonian the chance to attack. And attack he did. Like lightning, he descended into their midst. Stabbing, slashing, cutting, piercing, cleaving. He never allowed any of his opponents the time to comprehend the situation. He never allowed anyone to retaliate. It was all over within moments.

“Now it is just you, Erick.” Root spoke solemnly as he stepped over the pile of corpses.
“Who...what are you?!” The Nord stammered and began to step back, towards his office where he carried his axe.
“I am Root Lich-Bane, knight in the order of the Blue Serpent, heir to the lands of Sapphire-hill, son of Green-Fire, former knight in the order of the Blue Serpent, lord of the lands of Sapphire-hill. Trained in the art of combat against multiple foes in any environment imaginable. If you wish to stop me, don’t send in amateurs.” The Argonian replied in a solemn tone of voice. He wasn’t even breathing hard.
“But that sword is made of iron, blunt and practically falling apart. It’s not possible!” Erick objected. He had reached the door to his office.
“It is not the material of the weapon that matters, but the material of the warrior. And you, are no warrior. Just a brute.” Root answered as he approached. Erick reached behind the door for his axe.
“Oh, we’ll see. We’ll see. You think I got my position just like that? I had to work for it, fight for it. I had to fight for every single bit of power in this good for nothing town. I’ll show you exactly how I fought for it!” He roared.
“Be my guest, ErickIce-Fist.”

[Olen]

He's an interesting one (and seriously tough - six opponents and he fought fair). And an interesting update, most enjoyable as ever. I'll try to get a fuller crit later.

Keep them coming.

[treydog]

I like this one, Jack! Maybe because I have been playing Daggerfall lately? More likely because I really enjoy your style.

[Ethelle]

*applauds* Great updates! Will you post them on TES Fiction too?

I like the verbal war between Root and Eric, though that now seems to have resulted in a real war. Too bad, I kind of liked them the way they were, but this is Root's only logical course of action. I'm eagerly awaiting the next installment.

By the way, I very much liked the following part:
“Erick sent me. It has come to his ears that you face a slight dilemma with bats in your abode.” Root called, deliberately talking in a more formal manner. It had the effect he’d hoped for.
“That’s one heck of a vocabulary for a monster. What are you going to do, eat them?”

[jack cloudy]

Well, I would love to post it at Tesfiction except, I've been getting a damn bloody 'server not found' error for weeks now whenever I try to connect to it. I know the problem lies at my side but I'll be damned if I know where. Not that knowing would help me much. I don't have the authority needed to fiddle around with the internet.

Anyway, here's the fight. I'm honestly a bit unsatisfied with it. Any ideas on how to pump it up, make it more exciting?



“Be my guest?! Don’t be so cocky, lizard!” Erick stormed forwards, swinging his axe even before reaching his foe. Root ran backwards and jumped over the pile of his previous victims.
“No armour weighing him down, so I can’t rely on attrition. No allies to impair his movements and that axe is too large to dodge within such tight quarters. I have to lure him outside, then.” The Argonian thought.
“Cocky? It is not cocky, when I already know how easy you are to defeat. After all, I did it once before, didn’t I?” He jabbed as he pulled back.
“Uah! SHUT UP!” Erick screamed furiously.

The Nord was faster than Root and caught up with him before they’d reached the door. Just like the last time they fought, the knight was forced to duck under a horizontal swing.
“Same plan of engagement as last time? I can work with that.” Root thought. The next strike was a diagonal upward cut, exactly the same move Erick had used last time.
“Is this really the only pattern he knows? It is hard to believe he could bully the entire town with such poor skills.” Root frowned.
“I see, he is attempting to fool me.”

Again and again Erick swung his axe, never pausing even a single moment and fluidly shifting from one attack into the next. Again and again, Root dodged the blows despite the cramped arena they were in. The fact that he knew exactly what was going to come next helped. But he realized he couldn’t rely on Erick to keep using the same, useless, pattern.
“If I were him, and I wanted to fool me, how would I do it? I would seize the moment I would feel as if I had the upper hand. Namely, the moment I stepped outside.” He reasoned as he kept backing up towards the exit. A plan began to form in his mind almost naturally.

“Outside, three more steps. Two…one…now!” His right foot crashed down on the hard wood of the fallen door. One short jump backwards and his left foot hit the cobblestones outside.
“Got you!” Finally, Erick switched his pattern and performed a strike he had never used before. Namely, he levelled the axe and thrust it forwards like a spear. But Root had already realized his opponent’s plan and moved with a strike of his own.

He knew that he could not dodge the axe this time, but he also knew that Erick had made a fatal mistake. The Argonian’s tail sweeped forward and hooked under the door. He then flipped the door up with every muscle he could bring to bear. The sheet of wood flew up where it struck the axe. Even before Erick’s weapon had made contact with the door, Root dashed after it. He knew that the axe would cut the door like a razor through a butterfly’s wings. He hoped that the impact would change the axe’s path far enough for him to get passed it in one piece.

One heartbeat later, he knew he had succeeded. Erick was now behind him. With a quick reverse, Root stabbed his sword solidly in the Nord’s back.
“You lose, Erick.” He hissed.
“I lose? You’re bleeding as well, Root.” Erick grunted in response. Root cringed as the wound came to his attention. He was bleeding from a large gash in his side, there where the axe had managed a glancing blow.
“But unlike you, my wound is not lethal. Mine will heal even without care, yours will not. The moment I pull out this blade, you will begin to bleed and die.”

Erick attempted to laugh, but was cut off by the bloody spittle that welled up from his throat.
“Ack. Indeed, I guess I shouldn’t have taken off my armour when you left. So what’s next? If you planned on killing me, you wouldn’t be talking now.” He gasped. He noticed how the hand holding his axe began to tremble. Even with the Dai-Katana closing his wound like a plug, he was weakening rapidly.
“I do not wish to kill you, but I will if you leave me with no choice.” Root said solemnly.

“You don’t wish? Why, you had no problem killing my pawns. I’m the worst of the bunch, I admit so myself. Why?” Erick desired to know. The Argonian was confusing him. The axe now felt as heavy as a wagon. He couldn’t hold on to it any longer. The weapon hit the floor with a loud thud.
“Because their sin was the lightest, and because they stood in my way. You have brought great harm upon this place, Erick Ice-Fist. So great, that I will not allow you to seek refuge in death. You will live, and you will atone.” Root explained. He let go of his sword with one hand and grabbed a burning torch mounted on the wall. He then pulled out his sword and made a quick slash across the Nord’s knees, cutting the tendons. Finally, he pressed the torch against the now open wound.

Erick gasped and grit his teeth but there was nothing he could do to defend himself. He couldn’t stand anymore and even if he could, the axe had become too heavy for him to wield.
“Damn, I should have picked a faster weapon against you.” He managed to say before passing out. Root threw away the torch.
“Indeed, you should. But for one thing, it does appear as if you’ve helped me. Now that I’ve freed the town of your rule, the mages will consider helping me. And they will help, I’m sure.” He whispered to the unconscious Nord before stepping outside.

“Someone, have a healer attend to him. He won’t bother this village anymore. Feel free to make him face trial for all that he has done.” He told the large crowd that had gathered outside. It appeared as if just about everyone had come to watch the fight, with the notable exception of the mages. Root grinned.
“Mages, utterly useless but at least they’re not a bother to anyone.”

[Olen]

Nice update, Root is certainly fairly hard. I'd not like to be whoever he is hunting.

One thing that slightly confused me was that if the space was too enclosed to dodge a weapon surely such a big weapon would be a bit cramped too... But that doesn't really matter.

[jack cloudy]

You're right. I kinda forgot about that. And I forgot about it again when I edited it. Too late now, for I've already sent it in.

Anyway, I've done some touching up, changed the ending for a bit. So here's the big showdown again. For the most part it is the same, but the dialogue has been modified and as I already said, the ending.


Chapter 5: Showdown at sunset.

“Damn that Erick. Bossing around the guards, playing me for the fool. All that is fine. But sucking out citizens who can barely afford their bread, is something I can’t forgive! I’ll give him a piece of my mind.” He thought and kicked in the front door, with the sun shining on his back.
“ERICK! GET YOUR UNPLEASANT EXTERIOR OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!”

“Just what do you think you’re doing?!” The Fighter’s guild doormaster barked and hastily pulled his toes out from under the door. The man, a Nord just like Erick albeit at least a head shorter, reached for the small hatchet he wore on his belt. Root noticed the movement and pressed the tip of his sword under the doormaster’s chin.
”I’m doing what is right. If you value your life, step aside.” He hissed. The Nord swallowed hard but there was little he could do. The slightest movement, and the blade would ascend up into his brains.
“What do you want?” He asked while his hand dropped down to his side.
“Justice. Now step aside.”

“Root, Root. What got up in that egg-sized brain of yours?” Erick came out of his office, bringing neither his axe, nor his armour with him. What he did bring was a whistle which he used now. Within moments, the small hallway was crowded with armed Fighters. The Doormaster pressed himself against the wall and the Argonian brushed past till he was stopped by the wall of steel that now opposed him.
“I have figured it out. This isn’t a Fighter’s guild. This is just a gang of bandits, lowlifes. Degenerates. I said that you were either the guildmaster, or the thug of a crimelord. Turns out that you are all three. Guildmaster, thug and crimelord. You intimidate the guards, you oppress the people. There is nothing honourable about what you do. And I, am going to change it.” Root answered. He showed not even the slightest bit of fear as he looked at the many swords, axes and maces that were pointed his way.

Erick laughed and had to lean on the wall for support.
“You’re going to change it? Man, you are one funny lizard! What is this, more of this knightly honour? You’re strong, for a lizard, I give you that. It’s just a shame you are a knight.” He said and took a single menacing step forwards.
“Knights and their honour belong in the past. Today, only the strong can rule.” He taunted. The Argonian didn’t reply, but merely reversed his grip on the Dai-Katana and stabbed backwards. The iron blade pierced soft flesh and the knight felt a vibration run through it as his victim entered his deaththroes. He pulled out the sword and aimed it at the mob in front of him. Blood dripped from the edge.
“My actions are bound by my honour, yes. However, do not ever assume this makes me vulnerable to your ambushes. Even if my back is turned, I am still aware of anyone who attempts to sneak up on me with an axe. By the way, was the late doormaster your brother?” Root commented with feigned nonchalance.

Erick was no longer laughing. His eyes burned with rage.
“You have no idea what trouble you are in.” He snarled, chest heaving as he fought to control his anger. His blood beckoned, demanded that he would fly at the Argonian in a berserker rage. But his mind held him back. He knew that unarmed, he was no match for Root. However, Root was now blocked on both sides, Fighters in front of him, guards on the other. The Nord gestured at the guards standing just outside. Surely they would rush the foolish knight. After all, they didn’t dare to oppose him and the Argonian was just one lone swordsman. But to his surprise, they merely shook their heads and remained where they were.
“Don’t expect help from those you oppress. They won’t help me, true. But they won’t stop me either.” Root said and settled into a defensive stance.
“I’ve defeated you in public earlier today. That is what freed them from your grip. They fear you, yes.” His nostrils flared.
“But they fear me even more.”

That was the final drop.
“You…You’ve had your chance! Kill him!”
The Fighters rushed forwards without any coordination. That was their mistake.
“Four side by side, three lines. Plenty of weapons, all unsuited for such a packed formation. No armour. Trying to use this plan of attack against a single opponent in such a crowded hallway….fools.” When the first line reached him, Root merely jumped back while swinging the Dai-Katana, dismembering two of his foes. The wounded Fighters panicked and got in the way of their colleagues, giving the Argonian the chance to attack. And attack he did. Like lightning, he descended into their midst. Stabbing, slashing, cutting, piercing, cleaving. He never allowed any of his opponents the time to comprehend the situation. He never allowed anyone to retaliate. It was all over within moments.

“Now it is just you, Erick.” Root spoke solemnly as he stepped over the pile of corpses.
“Who...what are you?!” The Nord stammered and began to step back, towards his office where he carried his axe.
“I am Root Lich-Bane, knight in the order of the Blue Serpent, heir to the lands of Sapphire-hill, son of Green-Fire, former knight in the order of the Blue Serpent, lord of the lands of Sapphire-hill. Trained in the art of combat against multiple foes in any environment imaginable. If you wish to stop me, don’t send in amateurs.” The Argonian replied in a solemn tone of voice. He wasn’t even breathing hard.
“But that sword is made of iron, blunt and practically falling apart. It’s not possible!” Erick objected. He had reached the door to his office.
“You…you’ve been lying to me! That crummy weapon, it is an illusion, isn’t it?!”

“It is not the material of the weapon that matters, but the material of the warrior. And you, are no warrior. Just a brute.” Root answered as he approached. Erick reached behind the door for his axe.
“Oh, we’ll see. We’ll see. You think I got my position just like that? I had to work for it, fight for it. I had to fight for every single bit of power in this good for nothing town. I’ll show you exactly how I fought for it!” He roared.
“Be my guest, Erick Ice-Fist.”

“Be my guest?! Don’t be so cocky, lizard!” Erick stormed forwards, swinging his axe even before reaching his foe. Root ran backwards and jumped over the pile of his previous victims.
“No armour weighing him down, so I can’t rely on attrition. No allies to impair his movements and that axe is too large to dodge within such tight quarters. I have to lure him outside, then.” The Argonian thought.
“Cocky? It is not cocky, when I already know how easy you are to defeat. After all, I did it once before, didn’t I? And I already told you before. Do not address me with lizard.” He jabbed as he pulled back.
“Uah! SHUT UP!” Erick screamed furiously.

The Nord was faster than Root and caught up with him before he’d reached the door. Just like the last time they fought, the knight was forced to duck under a horizontal swing.
“Same plan of engagement as last time? I can work with that.” Root thought. The next strike was a diagonal upward cut, exactly the same move Erick had used last time.
“Is this really the only pattern he knows? It is hard to believe he could bully the entire town with such poor skills.” Root frowned.
“I see, he is attempting to fool me.”

Again and again Erick swung his axe, never pausing even a single moment and fluidly shifting from one attack into the next. Again and again, Root dodged the blows despite the cramped arena they were in. The fact that he knew exactly what was going to come next helped. But he realized he couldn’t rely on Erick to keep using the same, useless, pattern.
“If I were him, and I wanted to fool me, how would I do it? I would seize the moment I would feel as if I had the upper hand. Namely, the moment I stepped outside.” He reasoned as he kept backing up towards the exit. A plan began to form in his mind almost naturally.

“Outside, three more steps. Two…one…now!” His right foot crashed down on the hard wood of the fallen door. One short jump backwards and his left foot hit the cobblestones outside.
“Got you!” Finally, Erick switched his pattern and performed a strike he had never used before. Namely, he levelled the axe and thrust it forwards like a spear. But Root had already realized his opponent’s plan and moved with a strike of his own.

He knew that he could not dodge the axe this time, but he also knew that Erick had made a fatal mistake. The Argonian’s tail sweeped forward and hooked under the door. He then flipped the door up with every muscle he could bring to bear. The sheet of wood flew up where it struck the axe. Even before Erick’s weapon had made contact with the door, Root dropped on his back and rolled backwards. He knew that the axe would cut the door like a razor through a butterfly’s wings. He hoped that the impact would slow the axe just far enough for him to escape.

One heartbeat later, he knew he had succeeded. Blood trickled down from his snout where the flesh had been parted till the bone. But his skull remained intact and the wound did not require immediate attention. He could still fight. Erick did not run out of the building, but had retreated just beyond the doorway. Root calmly lowered his sword to the ground.
“Come out, Erick! It’s over!” He shouted.
“Over?! Who says this is over?! I’ll kill you, mark my words!” The Nord replied furiously.
“You can’t kill me unless you step outside.” Root observed. He knew why Erick refused to leave the safety of the guild hall. It wasn’t because he feared the crowd. No, fear was something the Nord couldn’t feel, not towards the people he’d oppressed.

The reason why he refused to step out into the open was the sun shining low behind the Argonian knight. If Erick stepped out, he would be blinded momentarily and that moment would be fatal. While he cursed himself for admitting it, he feared Root’s sword.
“Why don’t you step inside? I’m not moving. I’ve got all the time in the world.” Erick said. Root bared his teeth in what vaguely resembled a victorious smile.
“I see, then we’ll just build a wall in the dooropening. Then this hall shall be your tomb. Rather fitting, for a poisonous spider and a powerless coward.” He gloated.
“And an easily provoked hothead.”

Erick grit his teeth.
“I’m no coward. You don’t know anything!” His blood was boiling even worse now. Root merely blinked. Then…he laughed.
“Know nothing? My oh my, the signs are there for all to see! You send your lackeys after me, you try to make the guards kill me from behind. You do anything you can just to avoid me! You are a coward Erick Ice-Fist. A coward. I pity you.”

“I SAID, SHUT UP!!!” Erick stormed out without a further thought. The sun blinded him when he moved beyond the door and at that moment, he realized he had been tricked. Vaguely he saw a silhouette rush passed him. Then, something pushed into him from behind. Something warm. Warm, with the blood of others. He looked over his shoulder at what could have pushed him like that. An odd cold feeling began to crawl up his spine as he did so.
With a quick reverse, Root stabbed his sword solidly in the Nord’s back.
“You lose, Erick.” Root hissed. He had his back turned to the Nord, and his Dai-Katana was pointed backwards. Back to back they now stood, connected through the sword that dug into Erick’s flesh.
“I lose? You’re bleeding as well, Root.” Erick grunted in response. Root cringed as the wound came to his attention. He was bleeding from a large gash in his side, there where the axe had managed a glancing blow.
“But unlike you, my wound is not lethal. Mine will heal even without care, yours will not. The moment I pull out this blade, you will begin to bleed and die. Even if I do not pull, the wound will kill you in the end.”

Erick attempted to laugh, but was cut off by the bloody spittle that welled up from his throat.
“Ack. Indeed, I guess I shouldn’t have taken off my armour when you left. So what’s next? If you planned on killing me, you wouldn’t be talking now.” He gasped. He noticed how the hand holding his axe began to tremble. Even with the Dai-Katana closing his wound like a plug, he was weakening rapidly.
“I do not wish to kill you, but I will if you leave me with no choice.” Root said solemnly.

“You don’t wish? Why, you had no problem killing my pawns. I’m the worst of the bunch, I admit so myself. Why?” Erick desired to know. The Argonian was confusing him. The axe now felt as heavy as a wagon. He couldn’t hold on to it any longer. The weapon hit the floor with a loud thud.
“Because their sin was the lightest, and because they stood in my way. You have brought great harm upon this place, Erick Ice-Fist. So great, that I will not allow you to seek refuge in death. You will live, and you will atone.” Root explained. He pulled out the sword and instantly, blood poured from the wound in a thick stream. No longer supported by the blade, Erick sank to his knees. He felt something tugging at his soul.
“No…NO!!!” He panicked, but there was nothing he could do.

“You will aid me in my quest, Erick Ice-Fist. Through that, you will atone. Once you have paid for your sins, you will be released into the eternal slumber of death.” Root said to the ominous black gem he held in his hand.
“And you have already begun your redemption. Now that I’ve freed the town of your rule, the mages will consider helping me. And they will help, I’m sure. For now they no longer need to fear your thugs every time they step outside to search for ingredients.” He whispered to the unconscious Nord before stepping outside.

“You are free from Erick. Do with the fighter’s guild’s possessions whatever you wish. I have no interest in the spoils.” He told the large crowd that had gathered outside. It appeared as if just about everyone had come to watch the fight, with the notable exception of the mages. Root grinned.
“Mages, utterly useless but at least they’re not a bother to anyone.” He thought before looking at the soulgem he’d taken from the necromancer’s castle.
“We were both wrong. This gem was destined to hold neither of our souls.”







PS: Yeah, the soulgem is new. That's something I added to the beginning. The Necromancer left it behind on a table.