The Argonian Maid?...Nope!

Thanks for the reviews, sunshine on a rainy day. I thought to made two parts, but kept it together because I always go nuts when there is a cliffhanger in other stories and how does it go?

 

Don´t do what you don´t want to have done to yourself.

I think I will get better with the story writing thing the more I write, also because I get more comfortable with myself and the thoughts in my head.

Kyrell will meet the Khajiit brothers again..I think the story is sometimes confusing to read with holes and shades just like an amnesic mind when you don´t quit right remember but act accordingly and your personality changes because of it. One time you are more like your old self and than like a puppy stumbling over everything and all is new and confusing...and you are confusing to people.

Amnesia is a thunderstorm in your head, whirling you around and you may make rash decisions..you can not really stay calm and in one place..or piece. 

Maybe the story turns smoother and more logical when Kyrells mind comes back..or it gets worse..I fear it will get worse.

 

 

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I woke early the next morning, the sun had not even gone up, but the nightly sky already turned a bit lighter.

The owner of the Inn was already fresh as day and so..unnaturally happy, sparkly I may say.

She shuffled around, one of the mounted guards awake too but...more grumpy.



I wonder if they ever take off their armour and if it is neccessary to eat with a helmet on...ah well...beeing on the road all day and maybe night is prone to make you a bit ...strange.

If that chick does not stop singing I fear I might hurt her(where did that thought come from?) Not that she is singing so

false but..it is too early to be so cheerful..have to ask her what she is taking, maybe she gives me a flask or two.

Ugh and the smell of fried eggs, I am not one to eat unborn of my own race, that might be my aversion to eggs overall.

Can´t imagine to eat something coming out of such a personal place and than also from the ass of a stranger. Would you eat something that comes out of the ass of a stranger?

Stop those thoughts, it is too early to think about strange eating habits of the natives..not that some argonians are better...



At least we are the two only customers awake yet and I just take some bread and fruit to tide me over.

Fortunately she is sensing my mood, only humming now while she literarely dances though the room.

Then I think about the horse and my food is forgotten for the moment as I get outside to check on him. Nothing...absolutely nothing tells about the attack yesterday. The potions may not work as fast but work they do.



And after feeling the relief that the stallion is no longer hurt, as soon as I breath out something heavy and dampening is back on my thoughts, a miserable feeling and I can not tell why or how, just stand there, hugging the animal around the neck and leaning on him..hey he is strong enough for that, so why not?

And why do I feel the need to justify myself before myself in my thoughts.



Restless again,going back into the tavern and paying for the meal but in the swing of the moment I really ask her what shetakes to be so jolly..and she tells me.

It is some special wine..something with shadows.

It was brewed long, long ago when all the ruins were whole and forts to defend the land were well equipped and the soldiers were given the wine.

Sure, mostly it should have given them nightvision, but beeing on wake and family far away you could get in a bad mood and soldiers with a bad mood are not good soldiers...so it lightened the mood without making them drunk because with beeing drunk the aim would be off if there would have been an attack. That would have been very unfortunate..nice brew, really.



But she would not give me a bottle, too rare they are, I should look for one myself in the ruins of the forts,there may be some bottles left.

I do not really want to go and look into spooky old ruins, at least not yet, better get going and bring the horse home.



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I really do not know why people bother with all the stupid stuff..reins..saddle..uncomfortable they are, but I guess the

horse should be brought fully equipped, so I deal with it, but my behind starts to hurt slightly.

As we pass some ruins on the way I ponder if I should make a visit there on my way back..if I get back.

Maybe Bruma is so nice that I stay? Seemingly I am nowhere at home, so I should make someplace my home...



The ride is nothing special, but it is a bit special that we can nearly always, from any place see the ivory tower. Makes me wonder how high it is...and how the rest of the city may have looked during the time of the elves...maybe like the city that was there before Bravil.



The beauty made my heart ache, and it still does, dampens my mood even more. How the Ayleides may feel if they could see what became of their culture? Lost just like I am.



I felt like umpa when the stallion stopped walking and wouldn´t budge an inch, wondering why because the street was empty,except some houses a hundred foot away.

"Hey sibling, rarely seen feathered ones of mine" a typical argonian voice spoke up, but nothing was to be seen, a bark andthe horse stepped aside, stood still.

"Oh excuse me, didn´t want to spook you. Unfortunate incident I guess, Sakepa is me and Bawa my dog...our little dwelling is invisible, or rather the inhabitants.

It was hard to find the eggs befor but now it is impossible" the invisible voice spoke on and on and I had a bad forebonding

"You want to ask me for help, do you?"

"Ah well yes, I would like too if you feel so free, you seem to be the only one not to bolt and scream 'GHOST'" his voice

getting a high pitch with the last word.

"There is a magician in the old fort down the hill..right from you. Wouldn´t help if I pointed it out, would it? Better let

your horse here, I will take good care of him...come, just there is a paddock with our invisble sheeps, I guess he would like someone as company and there is a pint of grain also?"



"Yeah..well..good, why not..well is the magician dangerous?" I guessed not, or he would have done something more than just making everyone invisible.

"Noo...the others just don´t like him too much, grouchee orks and dunmer they are, but I do not care so much about magic.

Telvanni are really bad but he ...strange but nice I think."

I demount and walk alongside him...or as alongside as I can tell with him and his dog invisible

"So why didn´t you just walk there and ask him to rewoke this invisibility?" so there is a catch, or why wouldn´t he have

done it himself if the magician is no dangerous.

"Ah you see, the problem is, everything is invisible, also the beasts and monsters and once I tried to go there only Bawa was the reason why I am still here...he fought with something and I ran and he ran too..but you...you are a fighter, or not? So you have a better chance to get there and find him."



Sighing I shook my head slightly "Well, yes..I give it a try but if it does not work and I go on my own way...I won´t injure

myself for people I do not even know"..or see.. I declare and he seems to be ok with it, humming as I put my horse in thepaddock while someone invisble is harking the vegetable patch nearby, grumbling.

"Take care friend" I mumble, patting the nose of my horse before I walk down the hill, slide a bit because it is so steeply pitched. At least I can climb good enough and could take the same way back up much better than down.



Don´t you hate it too when you think about the tiniest things and your thoughts are never silent enough? Debating in your head is ok but if you get in an argument with yourself and get hung up on the tiny things this is really

straining..especially if you run into an invisble beast.



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You could not see what it was that hung on the argonian, trying to tear through the leathery armour, growling and snarling, but soon a steady flow of red made the enemy partly visible.

Too sure of itself because of the invisibility the beast could only yelp in pain, stumbling back as the knife tore a hole in its hide, red running down the shoulder and leg.





It did not give up, only the keen senses of the jungle dwelling argonian where scarier beasts called the land their home, kept him from beeing bitting in more sensitive places, keeping it from getting torn the jungular out as the invisibeast jumped.

Even when the argonian fell back, arms crossed to shield head and throat, he was not helpless. He could not really aim for something invisible, but it was enough to keep the attacks from reaching their goal.



For the beast had not known prey who could put up a fight, it made too many mistakes, jumping into the knife and another stream of red bloomed, dripped and painted a path in the grass.

Now it seemed the beast had lost its mind, not getting that the easy kills were not easy any longer, couldn´t take the fail and now the argonian striked.

Still laying on the ground he saw the red coming nearer, jumping and pushed the knife in a swinging motion upwards, hoping for a good hit.



A heavy body landed on the lizard, twitching quite madly, making wet sounds before it became visible with bloody foam on themuzzle as the knife was imbeeded to the hilt in the chest of the wolflike creature...too big for one, maybe a wild dog. Notthat the argonian cared, rolling around to get the creature off of him, away from the jaws which might take a bite still if not careful.



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I felt pitty. It was a big..wolf-dog or something, big and skinny. I could see how old it was, the fur rough and some patches where the fur was lighter, you could see the bones...

Surely the invisibility gave it a better chance to hunt, which had made him also a bit careless because..who could fight back against something invisible?



Gave me enough to wonder why the watchmen did not take care of those problems...but how should they know?

Bet not even this creature was crazy enough to attack a mounted guard and how should an invisible person make a pledge?

Seen as ghosts either people took a run or a mage would fight and injure them.



I hated getting bloody again...sure the thing wanted to kill me,but only for food..hey it wanted to eat me so why felt I pitty? I can feel what I want without making myself feel guilty, can I? No..



It didn´t make my day better, rubbing at least a bit of the blood off of me with some handfulls of grass before I walked to the fort which was only some feet away and as I wanted to enter I bumped into something invisible.



As you can guess it was the magician, unfriendly as first but delighted to see another magician and beeing rather eager to help ...not that this stopped him from complaining about the citizens of Aleswell(teh ale is well?)



So I took the scroll and climbed back up the hill, entering the vegetable patch and speaking out loud like he had instructed me(guess what..no ring for me)..so with a blinding light the people and animals turned visible again.



And I am really unlucky it seems, the male dunmer who owned the inn with his sisters hit on me...I guess... offering me a room whenever I needed a rest..joking that his ugly sisters better had stayed invisible. Too cheery, too nice for a dunmer and his sisters too grumpy.



I was not amused and forgoe my plans to ask in the inn for water and soap to clean myself up, but Sakepa was nice.



He offered to clean my armour and gave me a tea to calm down, sitting next to me and talking about things I did not really care for, but it was nice to listen, like listen to bird songs while I cleaned my feathers with a wet cloth. At least they are low maintenance, not quite as good as scales but easier than clothes.



The shadow wine wouldn´t leave my thoughts..and there was a fort.

I had seen a door which lead obviously  into deeper chambers and with Ankotar the magician there, how dangerous could it be?

Did he live there?

Before my thoughts tormented me further I walked back down the hill and tried to find the invisble magician, walking up somestairs and entering a 'room' where magical equipment was.

Sakewa didn´t mind to keep the horse in the paddock, but he minded that I wanted to enter the fort, telling me to be careful and not to get blood on my armour again.



Didn´t seem as if the mage was here, but an open journal draw me nearer that lay open on a worktable.

I don´t know if I liked what I read there...experiments to create life..rats, wolves? Did he make the wolf? Maybe he is more dangerous than I thought..but I read on and he did not seem to me like a mad magician, bend on destroying

...maybe I should forget about the fort...



Turning and walking out of the room I bumped again into him, complaining to him about the real use of the invisibility and asking if he knew about the rooms behind the old wooden door.



As he declared never having been there, needing the fresh air and everything I decided to give it a try and enter.



Some rats I could easily take care of....





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Fortunately there were no rats- unfortunately there were mages.



When there was no one visible a group of magicians took shelter there, for they did not want to be found, nor did they want their experiments to be found and the area looked so pleasently void of human life.



Kyrell wondered a bit about this mage standing there in his robe, thinking if Ankotar knew him maybe. So, blue eyed like the argonian he is, walking up and poking him in the back, a friendly smile and greeting on his lips he was not prepared for the outragd cry from the mage and the curse that hit him in the back, rendering him unconcussiones.



One may wonder if there was more than one personality in the head of the little thing. The angry, the sad, the friendly, the distrustfull, the plain stupid one...well, we may find a couple of others if we dig further, won´t we?







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The soft bed in the inn had turned uncomfortable over the night and also someone had stolen my blanket..what a shitty inn.

Shivering I tried to roll over in search of my blanket, to get up but I couldn´t. Damn they also tied people to beds?

Groggily I tried to open my eyes, blinking to see something in the mostly dark room..hm, coulnd´t remember that there had been torches when I went to bed.



"..saw it walk up to you...adventurer...dumb as they come..tried to touch me?" there were three or four people talking..in my room?



When it came all back to me all I could do was not to cry out when the voices in my head berated me how stupid I had been.



I was in a cell, as I could guess somewhere deep down in the old fort where they had kept prisoners.



Outside three people in robes stood...mages?



As they realised I was awake, their servant came over to fetch me...then  I realised the were not only mages, but necromancers.



"So we caught ourselves a little stupid bird who flew into the open window directly in the cage, isn´t that amusing?" a

haughty female voice said as I tried to scramble up the walls. The strenght miracouously back in my limbs as the undead creature, no longer male or female or visible which race except no argonian or khajiit, wanted to grab me and drag me in front of them.





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"Don´t touch me, oh by all spheres of oblivion get that thing away from me!" the argonian screeched panicked "Just don´t let that half rotten, slimy thing touch me, I behave..give you money, just get it away"

Feathers are not so easy to take care of as scales, all the substances a corpse gives off will taint them, dry and glue them together. No wonder the feathered beeing reacted in such a way.

 

It takes knowledge to preserve an undead in a way it will not smear itself all over your property when you have it as a

servant while it is slowly decomposing, only slowed down depending on the magic the sorcerer has.



But all the panicked pleading only amused the necromancers who had their fun in forcing the argonian in an embrace with the decomposing thing...the smell could have killed, blobs of slime sliding down the raw muscles, some bones showing through in varied places and the strings of hair still attached..yuck.



Shuddering the argonian ceased all struggles, trying not to move too much and get even more of the vile substances on him.



The fear of preening all the stuff out of the feathers was greater in this moment than the fear of what the mages would do with the intruder they had at their mercy.



"You see, we do not need anything from you, except..you. Our servant will soon be no longer usable and we have to strip it off the last sections of meat..which we will use in potions"

The bosmer spoke, looking the argonian up and down.

"Maybe we will use the bones for an animated skeleton, but we prefer the flesh. It is so...interesting to see how a fleashy undead reacts do different magic" the woman continued, maybe a nord, maybe an imperial, maybe the wife of the other man from the same race in this cozy little group.



This made the argonian struggle anew, now not caring how much of the zombie he would carry with himself on his plummage, but his cries were soon silenced by magic and a bodybind later also the struggles ceased.

They obviously couldn´t let their victim damage their failing servant any more than it already was.



A stonetable was already prepared, the argonian was laid down there and his limbs fastened with shackles, laying on old,dried blood and soon to donate more to it to paint the runes for his own demise.





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Fear, fear, fear...choking fear and disgust, feeling ill with the stench, the knowledge of what I lay on and wondering how many had lain there before me.

Not even my eyes could move, no tears would come even with the searing pain that they caused with whatever they did, sliding something down my arms. Only my blood flowed unnaturally warm to me, more panicking..how long would this go on?

How long would I have to endure it until I could sink down in the painless bliss of death, or would it never come, forever caught in this state in my flesh and bones, doing their bidding without a chance of afterlife.



The tought to be their servant, to be in my body and have to act after their wishes was the worst, it felt revolting, too

wrong..absolutely wrong.

I didn´t want to follow anyone, not blind and mindless and not them...definitely not them...never.



This was when I started to chant pleads in my head, calling forth to anyone that might listen, crying for help and offering what I did not have if I just could be taken from this nightmare.

I couldn´t take it, the thought that I might be forced to serve them without any chance to rebell while I would feel how I decomposed slowly.

This was just wrong. It should not be this way.

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A slave can only follow one master. But who is the master and who is the slave is not always clear.

If the slave wants to serve and finds his gratification in it and the master is enamoured by it, fulfilling the slaves wishes to serve, is he a slave to the slave?



Even masters are slaves to their wishes and desires and some bonds are stronger than others.





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Even my tongue burned through whatever they did to me, my teeth..every cell. I would surely have shivered if I could have moved, burning up through their magic and cooling down because my blood left me...how much was still in the vessels left...my heart felt strange.

Beating so fast and abruptly slowing down, but the next beat shook my beeing..deep and long it sounded through my body, as if counting down.



I didn´t know anything could cause such strange pain, but even greater than that was the feeling that something was amiss, missing...lost. Only in Bravil I had felt similiar, but not so cold.



Something was so deeply wrong and missing and if I were dead I could no longer find it, it would be lost...and a sadness swept over me, washing the pain away on it´s highest point and bringing..nothing.





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The necromancers would never know what had caused it, a breaking of their spells, a sorrowfull scream out of the deepest pits of the soul of their victim. Blood that already glowed with their magic to bind the body in servitude stopped in its flow, like a pet hearing its master and running back to him.



Only here it was the blood, even intensified in its glow, tinting the walls in the same colour as itself, turned back into its broken vessels without even a drop left behind.



The runes already drawn by the blood flow glowed on their own even when the paint draw back from the floor, up the stone slap.



Some other kind of magic worked here and it was not more than a whisper, but with a kind face for the argonian, not clear if male or female ~I create life, not death~

And that seemed the mightiest spell.



The stone crumbled under the unconcussioness body, but it stayed still in the air, glowing like the blood before while the artifacts used for the process gave an unearthly sound, turning higher in seconds which made the ears of the necromancers bleed, their hands and spells doing nothing against the high pitched tune before the artifacts burst and turned to ash.



The body sank down slowly and it was not over yet..whatever it was.



The undead servant seemed renewed, the human it once was, breathing with bliss showen on a young face before it faded into nothing. Not even dust was left.

But the dust from the artifacts was something else.

The crystals and statues, now dust and flowing through the air seemed to choke the necromancers.







You may not be harmed by touching what you do not understand, but most times it will have bad consequences sooner or later.



And so the spirits they called no longer listened to them, bound they had been, free they were now and revenge they wanted.



From dust they were born, formed by water and fire, now dust again they also caused the necromancers to turn back to what they had once been made.



With a lost mind they tried to grab on to the dust into which their body steadily turned, falling away slowly and giving

sight to their flesh, muscles, bones and organs before they also slowly turned to dust which their hands could not hold, dust wandering from a point on the chest outwards up and down..solely the heart was not touched until the end as the faces turned into silent screams and fell to ashes.



Only then the hearts sunk lower into the pile of dust, sinking in it..maybe becoming dust themselves before they turned into streams of light and than to the body of the argonian who now lay on the ground as if sleeping.



Two simple rings and a bracelet formed, three red stones the colour of blood bound to silvery, cristalline metall as the dust flowed into place, liquidy and than congealed into metall and stone.



So there lay the argonian, the rings and the bracelet the only 'clothing.

The one he had worn taken away and laid in a pile together with his other belongings.

It did not seem as if there was anything that could touch the body, nor cold or warmth, sleeping and looking very strange in such old, long forgotten and dusty surroundings.



Nothing had withstood the strange power, what had once belonged to the necromancers, gone without any traces, just a bad dream, nothing more.