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Hydrophobia's Embrace
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By Syrubis (Hyenism / Hyaenidae)
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Updated Tuesdays Every Second Week
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Notes from the Author
(This story is from the perspective of Feij-Wuema, for Fanfiction from the perspective of Da-Scau Visit 'Kenophobia and the Fireflies')
Beast Physiology and Speech
For this story I've decided on using Skyrim's representation of the species. The only difference is the female structure which I decided against the point of females having breasts, they are not mammals so I don't think it's appropriate for them to have them. All the other gender differences are still in place though, such as wider hips, thinner structure and narrow shoulders, etc. There is also, on occasion, the mention of oblivion style argonians being defined by their marks of womanhood. I've consider them to be a different sub-species for this story, their brighter facial markings present in older woman but not younger.
For the purpose of this story argonians are cold-blooded and share many similarities between snakes and lizards but are in no way related to either. Nor are Khajiits related to felines. Think of them as a completely different creature that simply has common characteristics. I'll adjust them in any way I see fit to match the story and if it doesn't work naturally, I don't care. That's just how I roll.
In scenes where an argonian swims please assume it is the way they swam in Morrowind. Their limbs tucked to the side and their tail used to propel them through the water in elegant serpentine like movements. When they hiss it is in the exact manner of a big lizard, don't know what it sounds like? Google. It's an enchanting sound. The voices though I have to admit I always loved the old Oblivion and Morrowind accents I decided you can picture them however you like and I've not picked a preference. I may mention every now and then, for certain characters, that their accent is strongly Cyrodiilic or similar but I'll try avoid that where necessary.
Khajiits hiss in a similar way to large felines and depending on their appearances their roars very from tiger to lion. I did prefer the voices in oblivion so for the most part that's what I intended them to sound like but feel free to imagine non- Cyrodiilic dwelling Khajiits using Skyrim accents. For this story I have also modified heights slightly among the beast races so both argonian and Khajjit measure at a standard of seven feet. Argonian males are always taller than Khajiit males while female argonians are smaller than Khajiit females. Personal Preference and all.
Mentioned in an in-game book it was said that argonians don't have as many facial expressions as other races and were long considered to lack emotion because of it. This wasn't changed for the story so remember argonian reactions or normally quite subtle, even without proper training. A trained argonian would make very little movement if desired.
Skyrim and Cyrodill
The story is set only a few years or so after everything within the oblivion game has occurred so you need to keep in mind that the events in the Skyrim game don't take place for many, many years. As such the sanctuaries there are still very much alive. I have increased the size of Cyrodiil considerably and filled it with a lot more life as the game was rather limited in what I imagined would have been a very large portion of land. I do try and keep up with lore and would appreciate corrections where I have gone wrong but it may differ slightly to fit in with the current story, mostly with Skyrim's history.
The story is centered on the thieves' guild and dark brotherhood. I didn't like the cleansing in game so there was someone spared, I'm sure you can all guess who, and I make no apologies for it, I also thought it a little boring to have the thieves only in the imperial city, likewise the sanctuary only in Cheydinhall. So for this story every city has both, some larger than others.
For name meanings and more loose information check the bottom of the chapter and enjoy~
WARNINGS
There will be graphic gore, violence, langue and sexual scenes and themes alone the lines of abuse, murder, torture and several other troubling topics along with good old fashioned fluff and sexual frustration. I can assure you that there are some people who just won't like it, and then some who will have their demented bone thoroughly tickled... If any of these things offended you than just don't read, no angry comments or horrid reviews. If you don't like it, don't tell me. If on the other hand you like it but have CONSTRUCTIVE criticism than please! I'm not going to get any better if you don't point out my flaws! I'm here to get better not protect my delicate ego.
When I write I don't really go back and review properly, I check for spelling errors and grammar, give it a quick once over to see if it flows okay than pack and ship! It means I tend to not have my work as polished as it should be… If you notice anything I'd appreciate it if it was pointed out :3
And lastly, because I wouldn't be me if I didn't ask, review! Tell me if you like it! I don't want to write things that suck and no reviews = suckage with the story! Don't let me suck D:
XD
The Internal Monologues will be in ITALIC
Notes, data or information read will be in BOLD or `Italic`
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Chapter One xXx Slavery
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Song for Inspiration : None
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Fears, as she was often called, had always been a very timid female. She spent most of her younger years in the deepest reaches of Blackmarsh studying the herbs and wildlife there and it was only at the age of fourteen that she visited her first village. It was small and stunk of rotted plants and mould, like most out of the way towns in the vast marshlands, but it was also the home of her older brother Looks-Twice, the reason her and her parents had moved. Prior to her visit Fears had only ever known her life-givers or stray travellers that had gotten lost, so it was understandable that right from the start she found herself unable to interact with anyone and spent much of her time on the outskirts far from strange eyes. Of course her brother was a patient argonian and though she rarely spoke to him she enjoyed the silence in his company and he seemed to understand and reciprocate those feelings. He made many acceptations for her and when she found herself in a stressful situation he would gladly save her from it and never expected anything in return. So it was almost ironic that the one time he asked a favour of her she screwed it up. Badly, one might add.
She'd been asked to travel further out of the village than she usually did in search of mushrooms, her egg-brother knew next to nothing about alchemy and could very well have spent days searching for the right ingredients. Fears on the other hand could have grabbed them and been home in a day but only a few hours after leaving the safety of the walls she was grabbed by a group of imperial guards, beaten and thrown onto the back of a cart along with eight other females.
Grime clung to her tail, slicked her fins and filled her mouth despite her meek attempts at ridding herself of its unclean feel. It had been just over an hour now since she'd been forced onto the cart but already she could tell she was far from home with very little idea of where she was going or how to get back, though both were pointless topics to dwell on considering how obvious it already was that she'd never see home again. The thought alone was enough to make her whimper as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and her body shuddered, the painful bruising discolouring her sandy scales in patches of violent purple and brown. Hits-Hard, a small blue-scale, had attempted to calm fears' nerves, cupping the smaller yellow hands in her own and smiling kindly from time to time, as if to say 'don't worry, everything's going to be okay'. It was calming and it helped Fears' panic considerably, but not enough to slow the constant shaking.
The guards spoke among themselves often, their accent thickly Cyrodiilic. Fears had been taught their language as a child but she wasn't as fluid as her brother and she found it much harder to differentiate between words said by imperials than argonians. She caught phrases, sometimes full sentences, they were all harsh, cruel truths. Nothing the group didn't know already, even without being able to understand their captors, but they all tried to deny it, tried to smile and nod wordlessly as if it would turn the truths to lies. It wouldn't. The whole group was bound for the imperial city, the very centre of Cyrodiil, where they would find nothing but a lifetime of servitude and labour.
Fears looked up from her lap, grey eyes drifting from face to face as her fellow egg-siblings watched the floor. Females, the lot of them, taken from different tribes and villages. Some wore bright coloured war paint, others distinguished by different horns of fins decorated with rings, shells, feathers and fabrics. They were all wounded and many were bleeding, their pain magnified with every ditch in the unstable muddy track. Every bump would have the group whimpering or even yelping at the sudden onset of agony, sometimes they would grab at each other for support but would receive another firm clubbing to their thighs or upper arms. Fears watched sadly as the youngest among them sobbed quietly into a bloodied hand. The left side of her face was badly grazed and many of the scales were chipped or completely removed. The scales that remained were blotchy purple that contrasted with the nearby shimmering fire-red they once were. She was scared and hurt, angry for what these beasts had done and completely alone, fears couldn't even offer a comforting word, or reach out to hold her, because they'd both surely be hit.
It seemed quite Ironic, for years she avoided groups like this yet now it was the only thing to comfort her, if anything she wanted there to be more of them. If she wasn't so scared she would laugh. Hits-Hard squeezed her hand and tides turned to face her, then the direction she nodded her head. Up ahead of them was a particularly rough patch of road, the speed they were moving would see them all flying from their seats but the stupid imperials payed no attention. Hits and Fears caught the attention of the others by tapping their feet silently, distracting them from staring at their own. They all nodded, gripping their seats and bracing themselves. The cart slid before bucking back onto course but not before White-Scale had lost her grip and slipped from her seat, tumbling into the thick sludge of the marsh. Before anyone had even registered the occurrence the imperials had dismounted their horses and rushed at her, blocking her from view as they raised their clubs. The group gasped as the first sickening crunch echoed around them, louder than anything they'd ever heard. The second blow forced Tide-Walker, the largest of the group, to her feet as she lunged at the guards. Hit's hard grabbed her, restraining her despite her much smaller size.
Blow after blow sent thick red liquid rolling into the stinking mud and flicked it up as each guard lifted their arm for the next blow. At first White-Scale screamed, twisting and clawing from beneath the mass of armoured soft-skins but all too soon she slowed, her movement more jagged, her voice carried into a gurgle.
"Stop! Enough! She didn't do anything!" Tide-Walker cried, wrestling with her sister in an attempt to help. Hits lost her grip and she lunged but a guard was ready for her as he swung his weight over the side and onto the cart then with one swift blow to her head brought Tide-Walker down. Falling unconscious against her legs Fears she almost lost her previous meal, tears gushing down her face as her body tumbled against her will.
"Let that be a lesson to you" the guard growled down to the others who, by now, where sitting with their hands in their laps and their heads low. Fears was the only one who understood him, but his threat was clear and as the cart was slowly pulled back into motion Fears looked up briefly, White-Scale's helpless gaze greeted her, grey eyes forever un-moving in a body that now seemed as though it were crushed under the weight of a million stones. She turned away quickly and began tending the wound on Tide-Walkers head, doing what she could to slow the bleeding with nothing but her dirty hands.
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They travelled for some time, and eventually, with the help of her sisters, Fears was able to slow the bleeding and properly tend the wound with shreds of her shirt sleeves. When Tide woke she was disorientated and took some time before she could sit, and even then the best she could do was lean against Fears' shoulder and curl up close to her side. She asked with her wide golden eyes for news of her sister and her fate but when she was greeted with nothing but averted gazes and grave expressions she could nothing but look away, her body going rigid as she tried to close herself off from the world. Her sky blue scales now dull grey from the loss of so much blood.
By nightfall the group had encountered repeated beatings, some because they cried, others because they looked up from their laps but the worst ones where for no reason at all other than to delight the slave masters. Every minute felt like an eternity and eternity felt longer when Fears was forced to hold yet another sister in her lap and hope she didn't bleed to death. Thinks-Fast was a young argonian, seventeen years at most and her soft lime green scales were still free of the traces of womanhood. She had been unconscious for too long and Fears knew she had lost a lot of blood already. She stroked her sisters back gently, more to soother her own mind than anything else, though the more she comforted herself the more she worried that the young argonian would not wake.
Hits-Hard, who was watching her intently, had been beaten several times now in poor attempts to protect the others. Everyone had cried until their tears ran dry, now the only one still sobbing was the red-scale argonian closest to the edge. No one knew her name but could tell how scared she was of falling off the cart and ending up with the same punishment White-Scales had received. Of the entire group, however, Silk-Tongue was injured the worst. Laying under the poorly constructed seat her breathing was harsh and shallow. Her leg had been broken, her arm sliced clean open from shoulder to elbow (Hastily wrapped by a guard so she would not bleed to death) and her right eye was smashed in. Fears tried desperately to avoid the sound of her sisters suffering; she tried to focus on the creak of the cart, the buzz of swamp flies, and the thick squelching sound of imperial boots in mud. Nothing worked. It was sickening. Soft-skins were monsters yet incredibly weak, if they didn't have weapons and armour they would have died long ago. The group could hear the guards complaining incessantly about the plant life. No one dared look at them, for fear they would earn another broken bone but they all silently rebelled, plotting ways to take their revenge.
Eventually the cart drew to a slow halt and everyone tensed. It was only now that Fears dared look at anything other than her own hand, with half closed lids she glanced up into the frightened faces of those who shared her fate, and then, into the face of an old Imperial. Her eyes snapped down instantly but not before he had noticed. She could practically feel his grin and it scared her.
"Set up camp boys, I'm tired." He said with a chuckle that made her skin burn with hatred and then feel ice cold as his voice was then directed at her. "Oi, you there, yellow scale." He snapped.
She couldn't move and her heart had tried to leap from her throat. She could hear her breathing increase in speed and despite her attempts she couldn't move her tongue.
"Your name, now." He demanded. She felt tides nudge her but she couldn't speak, she was incapable of anything more than a horrified pleading gaze at her sister and a tight grip on the unconscious argonian in her lap.
"Drag her off" he finally snapped.
What?
"We'll teach her not to ignore her master's"
Laughter that chilled her to the bone snapped her out of her fearful trance and she instinctively slid her sister from her lap as Hits-Hard wordlessly took over. She was expecting another beating and had braced herself for it, no one even moved, no one dared look up but when rough hands grabbed her throat and pulled her forcefully from the cart several of her sisters stood and where hit in response. Her back hit the cart wheel with a frightful noise and the shock of the impact came long before she felt any pain. Without time to turn her body the back of her head slammed into the mud and met sharp rocks and sticks buried beneath the surface. She couldn't decide if the warmth that she could feel oozing down her neck was blood or muck; it just felt like thick sweat.
Shielding her face with her arms her body let out a shrill cry against her will but no blow followed like she had expected, instead there was more laughing and she slowly peeked out from behind her scaled limbs. A bad idea, she was grabbed roughly again, this time by the ankle, and dragged a small way from the cart. She could feel things biting and cutting into her flesh and she dreaded what bugs and objects lay hidden beneath the thick sludge of the marsh.
"Please don't!" she begged but it was lost to the sickening echo of mocking Imperial laughter. It seemed one of her sisters knew what was about to happen long before Fears did. She heard the creak of old wood and the loud hiss. Not the hiss one might use in polite company but the solid, drawn out breath of a very angry argonian, a hiss that chilled Fears to the bone.
"Don't touch her you dogs! Don't-" The sound of breaking bones reached Fears' ears while the rest of the world stood silent. She wouldn't allow her sisters to suffer on her behalf. Even with the Imperials wrestling with her clothes and pushing her arms down hard Fears' managed to yell out one last time before someone shoved something in her mouth and pushed down on her throat.
"Don't do anything! Don't sisters!" she pleaded, cut short as she choked on the dirty fabric. There was still a great ruckus from the cart, hissing and scuffling but several more blows silenced them quickly. The next few moment where the longest Fears had ever experienced yet it happened so quickly she didn't even have time to brace herself. The full weight of an armoured soldier on her throat made her gag and writhe in the thick stinking muck. More weight on her legs and arms made them burn; the more she struggled the more painful it became. Sweaty hands grabbed at her thighs. Part of her being told her to stop fighting, to stop everything while another, more dominant part of her, refused. Never in her life had she thought she was so inferior. It was like the world had slowed, allowing her to feel every little tension in her bruised muscles. Every scrape and every nail dug into the tender point of her skin. The pain she was in made her stomach lurch as she forced all her energy into not vomiting.
Somehow she was able to cry again, her dry red eyes now pooling with salty liquid.
Eventually she couldn't fight anymore. Three guards had wrestled her legs wide and pinned them in place, she couldn't twist her body, couldn't move her arms. She could hardly breathe as she coughed helplessly into the material in her mouth. She had lost all fear now and was simply furious and sick and when the first blow struck her she screamed, louder than she had ever screamed before. The second felt like someone had shoved an axe into her gut, the liquid she felt between her legs was definitely blood and it flowed. The continued moments that followed made her entire being burn in pain so intense she could no longer place an area to the torture. She felt the vomit rise up her throat and all the guards did in response was turn her head so she didn't choke on her own filthy reaction.
For hours they violated her, one after the other. She lost track of the faces and the number of times they grabbed at her, laughed at her, and damaged her. After a time she no longer struggled, they ungagged her and she didn't scream. The stopped restraining her but her limbs were so weak with pain she could do nothing until finally sithis gave her what she begged for. Nothingness, the vast emptiness of the void all argonians worshipped.
When she woke up she found herself in the back of the cart again, a burning white light scraping at the inside of her eyelids. When a shadow moved over her face she finally drew the energy to peer up through slitted lids and hiss softly at whatever was above her. The cool scaled hand of her sister was a blessing, her muscles relaxed and her eyes fluttered shut again. She couldn't tell how long she had been unconscious but she guessed it was roughly midday. Her gut hurt like a painful bruise on the inside and when she tensed her muscles she could feel something tear and she hissed again in pain.
"Shut her up" came a deep voice from close by; she recognised it vaguely from the night before. She wasn't offended when she felt her sister's hand across her mouth, clamping her jaws together. She actually smiled beneath them to show she understood. It didn't help the pain but it helped remind her that her suffering was nothing and if she wanted to keep her sisters safe she had to keep silent. Instead she focused on the guards as they spoke.
"We will have to avoid Leyawin, those do-gooders will be a bigger pain than the slaves are worth."
"Just bribe the count, it's not like he would care, as long as he gets his coin."
"Again, more than these slaves are worth"
The other guard grunted and fell silent for a few minutes before another chimed up. "What about that guy we saw on the way down?"
"You would really trust someone who crawls out from a trap door in the middle of nowhere covered in blood?"
"Well… He said he might be interested in some children…"
"That doesn't sound wrong to you? He was probably mad, or a vampire. It would be easier-"
"What if just I go check? If I don't come back then you can leave and presume I'm dead. I mean, did you see his coin purse? It was huge! He could be a wealthy eccentric or explorer, they pay top dollar. Especially for a group of argonian whores."
The guards where silent for a moment before they all grunted in agreement. Fears curled her clawed fingers into a fist before pushing herself upright. Her head spun and she had to force her eyes closed merely seconds after opening. She could feel many hands attempting to soothe her and her stomach screamed in agony. She didn't care. She opened her eyes and blinked away the brightness, shielding her face with her arm. The thick air of the marsh was gone and her lungs felt strange breathing in the crisp alien air. There was no scent of decay and the wagon travelled level on a dusty road. Though the land was still muddy in places and vines hung from swamp trees there was a vast decrease in insect activity and for the first time in her life she wasn't blinking away flies.
The cart slowed to a stop and one of the horses was unhooked, the chink of metal the only sound in the heavy air. With only one horse left there wouldn't be a whole lot of distance it could cover with them in the cart so the imperials settled down and began drinking from their water skins, exchanging words and the occasional laugh. Her sisters began to lick their lips and her own dry mouth itched with idea of a cool drink. Fears expected the jerks to mock them but they seemed too exhausted, which was probably a good thing. It gave the group a chance to look up from their laps without being hit.
During the moment of relative calm Fears took the opportunity to examine the landscape, keen to take in as much detail as possible for the rare chance she was able to escape. For the most part the seemed to have followed a road right up through the marsh, the area still held some familiarity, though the air was cleaner and the beast called with different vocals. Of course she wasn't able to take in much more than the obvious before an imperial called them off the cart, his eyes narrowed and his sword held firmly in his right hand. White-Scale was not omitted from this and though she couldn't stand she was forced to get down on her own, unable to reach for her sisters. One by one they were cuffed and chained, ankle to ankle, wrist to wrist, in one long line. They couldn't run like this and if they tried and one fell they'd all be doomed. Of course that wasn't to say anyone even planned on trying, it was just pleasant to pretend you had a chance.
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It wasn't until well past sunset that the other guard returned, his steed panting with exhaustion. He spoke to quickly for fears to understand but all the while those horrible eyes were pinned on her, she could feel her stomach curdle as memories tugged at her concentration. She didn't look away, just stared back with a vacant expression.
The guard grinned widely as he dismounted his steed, soothing it with a few gentle pets before his shoulder was clasped firmly by the larger soldier of the group. They all laughed in a way that made Fears' skin crawl and bile flood her mouth. She despised these men with every inch of her violated being. They had no right trading the lives of others. What kind of sick and twisted race could allow that? They began speaking again, slower now.
"Ten gold each, he wants them dropped off just through there."
"He wants the lot?"
"All of them, as many as we have."
Fears' expression grew stern, her eyes narrowed as she concentrated on making sense of their foreign words. Tide, apparently sensing the tension, gripped her sister's arm fearfully. Fears longed to be able to calm her, to tell her that everything was going to be okay, and to hear the same told to her, but that just wasn't something that could be said, by any of them. She wanted those imperial dogs to suffer as they had made them suffer. She was going to get her revenge on these monsters one way or another. Those, those, things, where going to wish they had never laid a hand on her. She hissed lowly.
A voice boomed nearby. "Oi, Savages, on the cart."
"Yeah, breaks over, cattle!" One of the soldiers chuckled.
Something was shoved hard into her back, she hissed under her breath and her sisters flinched with her pain. If she was a stronger woman she would have stopped where she was, stubborn and unmoving, but instead she moved faster, climbed into the wagon and bowed her head like a broken animal. Cattle. Those bastards. She wanted to go home and she wanted to see her mother and father. She was scared and hurt and her stomach burned with each breath. They had dirtied every single part of her being and she could do nothing. She couldn't even stop the tears that built in her eyes, threatening to spill out over her dirty cheeks.
The quiet argonian girl who was still nameless among them now sat beside Hits, curled into her side like a hatchling. Fears didn't want to look at her, she didn't want something to happen that was beyond their control but as the guards talked mindlessly among themselves Fears finally leaned close, her voice less than a whisper and her face so still it looked like she had hardly breathed. She spoke in Hist, the native tongue of blackmarsh.
"Your name, egg-sister."
The young argonian shuddered and glanced around nervously. Nevertheless she lowered her head and replied. "Ruska" (which meant Rushes in Cyrodiilic.)
Fears nodded and leaned away. Ruska.
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The cart slowed, and with it any hope the argonians had slowly fell out of motion. This was it, the place they'd spend the rest of their lives. She had to admit, she was grateful she wouldn't be alone… She didn't bother looking up to see where they were, no one did. The air was cold, the sky navy and her stomach grumbled with hunger. She didn't even care anymore, it all seemed so surreal. The blood on her body, the sounds of hooves in the mud. Her breath. None of it felt real. So in a way she shouldn't really have been surprised when the unusually pleasant voice echoed through the silence like water over smooth stones.
"It's not every day you see imperial soldiers trading in blood money, not that I mind."
"We just want the gold so we can be on our way, sir."
"Of course, of course, please excuse my manners." He said with a sinister chuckle that made her blood sweep with an uncomfortable chill. Though Fears didn't look up as the familiar chink of coin greeted her ears, the monsters making their wretched exchange. It wasn't long after that the chains between them shifted and one by one the abused females were herded out, doing their best to stay standing despite their injuries. Sitting in the cart was painful but getting in and out felt like running around a city several times. Not that Fears had seen a city before, but she could guess they would be big.
The group was lead around several large trees and further into a scarce forest. The smell of marsh was thicker here but it was a cool, crisp smell. Familiar yet so foreign to their sensitive noses. Fears only dared glance up once to see her sisters all staring at their feet, besides Hits who offered up her shoulder to balance their badly wounded sister. The guards where following either side while in the lead a tall figure dressed in a pitch black robe lead the way, his hood drawn tight around his face. His voice had sounded similar to the imperials though it was smoother and more peaceful, in a very dangerous kind of way.
They were lead to a trap door not far from a large expanse of water, it was propped open and a rank smell of bad flesh seeped into the air around it. The slavers didn't seem to notice but it definitely began to itch at the inside of Fears' nose. Her sisters even, wounded as they were, began to fidget uncomfortably. They were forced down the stairs, a difficult feat when you can't use your hands or feet. A few made it down while the rest fell on broken limbs, including Fears who landed on her bruised stomach.
"From the sound of it these women were not treated particularly well these last few days, am I correct?" the hooded figure hummed from above, his silky and sinister voice carried by the breeze. He sounded almost pleased.
"They're animals so we treated them as such." An imperial dog replied, slightly defensive.
"Oh? I was under the impression people didn't rape animals, unless they were sick in the head."
"Fuck you."
"Fuck me indeed" he chuckled. "From here on out any khjiit or argonian slaves you acquire I will purchase." This was not a question, it was a demand, and within seconds he had dropped through the trap door and pulled it shut, locking out the low cursing from the imperial scum above. He landed gracefully, his black cloak fluttering down only seconds after, and landing with a heavy thumph.
When he turned on the group of marsh sisters his eyes where narrowed and almost invisible beneath his hood. He made a show of walking around them, stalking them like a khajiit, before standing before them, a table behind him covered by a dirty brown sheet. He kept his eyes on them for a moment as they struggled with their wounds to stand, then with a flick of his wrist the sheet fluttered to the ground to expose a large assortment of weapons, rusted but definitely dangerous.
"Evening ladies" he said, his voice dripping with malice. In return all he received was a chorus of hissing and a few select phrases from Hits-Hard.
"Wonderful" the man drawled. "Just what I needed."
Fears would have loved to say that she was unaware of the almost sick approval in his voice, despite the way he spat the words. The last thing Fears expected was for the bastard to smile, even less for that smile to seem... Kind? A vicious kind, though it was definitely meant to intimidate, nevertheless she guessed there was some mark of sincere kindness in it, it wasn't the smile those dogs outside had used, but it didn't strike comfort, far from it in fact.
Reaching into his robe he pulled out a dirty leather bag, the sound of glass bottles chattering inside as he dropped it on the table. He didn't turn his back to the group as he reached in and pulled out a small jug of metallic pink liquid and flicked the cork out with his thumb. Some of Fears' sisters flinched while others let out another low hiss. He didn't seem to care as he bravely stepped up to Fear and her heart clung to the inside of her throat.
"Don't fear me, darling." He whispered, handing the jug over. At first Fears tried to avoid looking at anything, her eyes at her feet and her tail tucked close to her legs but a gentle hand was placed under her chin to tilt her head up. She shied away from the touch but he was firm and gradually lifted the jug to her lips. She wasn't as scared as she was before, maybe because they outnumbered him. Maybe because she had been scared for too long and her body was just dead, limp and unwilling. Regardless, she allowed him to soothe her and eventually the liquid flowed down her throat smoothly and though it tasted and felt almost like drinking air the liquid had a strong fruity scent, and when it hit her stomach she began to feel warm. Little tendrils of heat curling into every part of her body and within moments her pain seemed to vanish, her heavy limbs felt like feathers and her exhausted body felt like it had woken up from a nice long and comfortable rest.
When the glass was taken from her lips Fears wasn't even sure what was going on, she felt so light. Things were happening quickly around her, her sisters taking the liquid into their belly's by force or willingly. She could hear the snap and creak of bones as they reset or watched almost dreamily as the man re-broke them and healed them by hand, rubbing the liquid into their skin. He healed them like a mother would a child's scraped knee, he was gentle but forceful and when the liquid ran dry everyone seemed better. Several of her sisters still bore hideous scars and Silk-Tongue would forever be blind in one eye, the skin and scales around it a soft pink.
"So I'm going on a whim to say you all hate those men?" he asked coyly, his words easily distinguishable as being their own tongue, but they still sounded foreign spoken by anything by an argonian. Placing the jug back in his bag before glancing around at his audience he continued.
"That's not surprising-"
"When you next lay your head to rest a will slit you from ear to ear, soft-skin." Hits-Hard said slowly, her voice more terrifying then Fears had heard yet. Fears wasn't sure why but she felt it wasn't needed. This man had healed them, tended their wounds… Maybe she was just… It had been too much.
"Oh will you now?" he grinned, his pearl white teeth glittering from beneath his coal-black hood. "Let's get you started then, hmm?" he mocked before walking towards the table and dropping a key. They group stiffened and he chuckled.
"I'll just leave this key here next to all these weapons and if a slave happened to escape and just maybe had the energy to slaughter those lovely slavers, well I suppose it wouldn't be my fault. I am just one man, even I can't fend off a group of escaped slaves..." he rambled in a hushed tone and without looking behind him left the room, shutting the door behind him and locking it. The trap door, however, shivered in the breeze, the latch chattering as it blew in the wind.
A… test?
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Submit your ARGONIAN OC's via comment or private message and I might be able to include them, if only in passing 3 Also, I'm uncertain whether or not this should be a fears/Lucian fic? Do you guys have any preferences? Again, this is set long before a lot of skyrims characters are alive, but I do so love Cicero. XD Anyway, maybe I should pick an OC out of a hat? Should Fears be gay? XD Oh, I'd like that.
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Naming my Beasts
Khajiit names, particularly among males, often have a prefix before them, usually though not always separated by an apostrophe. In general, the rest of the name following the prefix should be capitalized, though the games are not consistent on this point. Some names also have a hyphenated suffix (e.g.: '-Dar') indicating two titles which, according to Jobasha in Morrowind, is considered foolish. The meanings of the prefixes are as follows:
Dar = Thief, clever ~ Do = Warrior ~ Dro = Grandfather/Grandmother ~ J/Ja/Ji = Bachelor, Young Adult ~ Jo = Wizard, Scholar ~ M/Ma = Child, Apprentice, also used to imply virginity ~ Qa = Unknown ~ Ra = Shows Status ~ Ri = Status, often tribal leader ~ S = Adult
There are three types of argonian names, 1-word names, Hyphenated Argonian names (sometimes the hyphen(s) are omitted), Tamrielic/Cyrodilic names, with or without hyphens
argonians often refer to their non-Cyrodilic names as their "Black Marsh name."
In some cases, the Cyrodilic names are just translations of their Argonian hyphenated names. There are only two cases where we know both the Argonian and Cyrodilic names of a single individual, "Haj-Ei" ("Hides-His-Eyes") found in Suran, and "Gah Julan" ("Great Benefit") outside of Dren Plantation, both in Morrowind. In other cases, the argonians were evidently given Cyrodilic names without any consideration for their Argonian names. The Cyrodilic name may be used preferentially when the person's argonian name cannot be pronounced by non-argonians.
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