20Hello again everybody! It's been a while since I've been up here, and I am glad to be back. Not sure when the next chapter will be up; kind of on a day to day basis as of right now. Anyways, without further ado, we return to our feature presentation...
Soul-Swimmer's breath caught in her chest as the mysterious dunmer stalked about in the shadows behind her, idly pacing up until he was directly behind her. She felt his hot breath against her neck, and tiny beads of sweat rolled down her scales as the odor of brimstone grew more intense. She tried to speak, but again the wires tightened, their sharp barbs cutting slightly into her flesh. The dunmer placed his hands on her shoulders, and slowly ran them down over her body before bringing them up and cupping her chin, lifting one of her lips with a gloved finger. Padfoot was terrified; all of this, his voice, the sulfurous odor of brimstone, the slight scent of blood on his breath… all of it hinted at some dark memory long suppressed, urging to break free, calling for her to run, to hide, to find the darkest corner in the most remote reaches of Thamriel and curl up into a ball, sequestered from the world. The dunmer chuckled, shifting one of his hands and caressing her neck, tapping the metal barbs ever so slightly.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten, little one," he whispered, his breath hot against her cheek. "A little house in Morrowind, the stench of that wretched little swamp village burning… your mother's scream as I tore out her heart? Your father's death at my hands?" The dunmer shifted his body around so his head was just within her view, his thin lips in a mock pout. "I thought I would have made quite the impression. Soul-Swimmer felt the adrenaline coursing in her veins, but she was paralyzed; something about him was linked to her past, to her parents' death, but the memory just wouldn't surface. The dunmer grinned, and with a whisper of "perhaps this will help?" drew his sword. The long, straight blade burst into flames as the ebony claymore was released from its bindings, the deadric runes inscribed into the blade glowing bright red in the heat of the inferno.
Without warning, a rush of memories flooded Soul-Swimmer's mind as the scent of brimstone filled her nostrils, the wisps of smoke stung her lungs, and the bright light which nearly blinded her in contrast to the near complete darkness. Once again, she was a helpless little girl watching her village burn… and the dark elf with the flaming sword hack apart anything that moved. Her eyes widened in shock at the realization, and the dunmer grinned, his unusual cat eyes shone in the dark.
"So you do remember then?" he whispered, his grin widening sadistically. Soul-Swimmer's breath quickened, and she managed to whisper a reply.
"What do you want from me?" she whispered meekly, the confident warrior she had been gone in the face of this old terror, one who had plagued her dreams for years.
The dunmer smiled and took a step back, rubbing his chin as though admiring his work. "My group and I have been contracted by the Akavir, and for quite a considerable sum." Soul-Swimmer stared at him, not quite understanding. He chuckled, and leaned in, putting his face mere inches from hers. "Don't you see, lovely? You're bait for a certain Argonian warrior!" The vile dunmer laughed as Soul-Swimmer's expression quickly turned from confusion to horror, reveling in the cunning of his plot. "Of course, since he'll take a while to get here, we get to have a bit of fun first!"
Padfoot stared at the violet-scaled Argonian in shock as the realization of what he had just said sunk in.
"Break… break the seal? On the hollow?" Amori nodded, his eyes grim with determination. For the first time since she turned, Padfoot saw a ray of hope in her otherwise bleak existence: if the hollow was opened, it would mean a cure for the wretched disease that kept her from the life giving rays of the sun unless she fed off the blood of other living beings.
"If it means that you will help me save Soul-Swimmer, then yes," he replied, his gaze steady. Suddenly, he noticed something behind Padfoot: a Ka'Po'Tun, one of the Akaviri tiger men, lay slumped on the ground in the rubble behind her. He was rather small for his race, but his most surprising feature was that he was, in fact, still alive. "Who's this?" Amori asked, motioning to the soldier. Blankly, Padfoot turned her head to look at the man, confused. She stared at him for a moment, not replying.
"I… I don't know…" she said slowly, trying to recall the events from during her blood rage. "I went into some kind of frenzy last night… during the battle… I don't remember much." Amori grinned, revealing a few wickedly sharp teeth.
"Well, it's a good thing you left one alive," he said, grinning. "Perhaps he can answer a few questions."
Voranis skulked outside the stone door, bored that he had been posted on watch in a hideout that was obviously quite safe. The brutish dunmer was huge, standing at least seven feet in height, and a massive axe was strapped to his back. The dunmer woman who leaned against the wall across from him grinned slightly as another set of muffled screams from the Argonian woman Deran was working with issued from behind the door. Unlike her sulky companion, she was slim and petite, dressed in flowing black and red robes with a black hood shading her slight features. Voranis scowled at her, annoyed.
"Why do you keep laughing, Vera?" he asked, shifting his stance slightly. The dunmer woman looked at him, smiling.
"Oh, just wondering when the boss will give me a round," she says, flexing her fingertips. "I've got some new spells I've been working on, and this little Argonian seems to provide the perfect test subject." Voranis shook his head, his scowl deepening in his irritation.
"Bah, you wizards and your magic," he muttered, remembering the good old days when a slaver or a bandit could just smash someone's skull in and be done with it. "I don't see why we don't just kill her and be done with it; it seems like we're wasting our time here." The screams in the room died down to whimpers of pain, before going silent. Deran walked out of the room a few moments later, wiping bloody water from his hands.
"We don't just kill her, Voranis, because she is valuable bait, and because she owes me a debt of humility, which I intend to exact in blood. With her here, we can lure Amori directly to us; he won't even be able to put up much of a fight!" The dark elf grinned, drawing a line on the stone wall with a trail of blood. "We should contact the countess of Leyawiin… she'd probably like to get in on the fun!" He turned to Vera, still grinning slightly. "Vera, why don't you send a couple of your Fleshwalkers out to find our Argonian friend? After all, we wouldn't want him to get lost!" The dunmer woman smiled, relishing the opportunity to put one of her creations to use.
"I have just the thing."
Hmm, looks like Soul-Swimmer's in quite the predicament, and Amori and Padfoot have something sinister headed their way! What happened to the others... well, only time will tell.
The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever changing patterns.
- Baeowulf