Volumes of Veezara

Volumes of Veezara (III)

Redcrest walked through Stormhold. An extra layer of disgust shaded his face. Redcrest loved his country, but Stormhold and its history left a bad taste in the mouths of many Argonians. Many wished the king would change the name back to Silyanorn or give it a proud Saxhleel name.

"What better way for us to not forget our history?" That was always the king's retort. Silyanorn was taken before, and it can be taken again. For this reason, the Argonians never truly came back to the city, and it showed. The effects of war were still present. Stone buildings with heavy damage. Timber temples that had been caved in or burnt to the ground were never built back up. The growth of trees, normally controlled, was now chaotic. Vines and brush ran wild. Weeds even broke through the paved city streets.

But something was different. Something was off. Redcrest looked around as he walked through the city.

Can I even call it that he thought to himself. Stormhold didn't look as though it was holding anything. Even for the lesser state it's been in since its recapture, it seemed deserted.

"No,  not deserted," he whispered to himself. He heard windows creak as they were slowly closed. The brush of leafed curtains being drawn caught his attention. Many of the townsfolk were shying away.

Redcrest spotted an Argonian near the entrance to the marketplace. His eyes were sunken and glazed over. He was missing many of his teeth, and a lot of his scales were hanging loose. The scales that weren't yet on the brink of falling were a pale brown, much like the rags he wore.

Redcrest approached him. Standing over him, he was met with an outstretched claw.

"Ruheeva, my fellow Saxhleel," Redcrest greeted, trying to coat the disgust in his voice. "Hewei, this area seems barren. Even by Stormhold standards."

"Krona Nushmeeko," the Argonian snarled back. "I expect a Reel-ka to know better than to look down on someone, but you're still a Deek, a sapling."

"I'm here on the King's orders. Be a Deelith. I am here to help." The outstretched claw stretched out further.

"Then help." Redcrest met the Argonians eyes. The stare was intense, but the Argonian didn't shy away. Without breaking eye contact, Redcrest undid the pillow tied to his belt and dropped it in the Argonian's hand. The case wriggled, almost as if in protest.

"These centipedes will be the starting point. Give me information. Let's start with your name."

"I am Stormscale." Stormscale gave a grin that was near toothless. He stuck his hand into the pillow case and took a few to eat. "What do you seek?"

"I was told there was trouble in this area. What have you seen?"

"Slavers."

"How many? Where are they?"

"Numbers, I can not say for sure. But there are three main ones."

"Three? Not two?"

"Well, one is above the other two. But he's less frequent. The other two carry out his will."

"Where are they? When were they here?" Stormscale grinned that near toothless grin.

"When did they leave?" Redcrest was taken aback. His head was on a swivel, but it was too late. Soldiers clad in bold-mold armor poured out of the houses. Some came out with Argonian hostages. Some women, some children. Redcrest tail rose and waved aggressively. He hissed and bared his fangs. They surrounded Redcrest, roughly 20 soldiers. The hostages were put at the front. Redcest turned to face all of them and showed his claws.

"This little lizard has walked into the wrong garden," a voice called out from behind. Redcrest turned back around to see a dark elf. He had two blades that he held in one had. His other hand gave Stormscale skooma. Stormscale happily accepted it and scurried off, disappearing into the crowd of soldiers. The dark elf wore black light armor, reminiscent of that of the Thieves Guild. His eyes were a burning crimson. His black hair was in a Mohawk ponytail. Red war paint covered his face in various patterns.

"Dunmer," Redcrest growled with detest.