As Anton awoke he could feel grit between his teeth, he hadn't even opened his eyes but he knew where he was. The sun beating down on him and the hot sand upon which he lay, as he rolled onto his back he slowly opened his eyes and went to brush the sand off his sweaty face only to find his hands bound together. 'Of course' he thought to himself, trying to recall the events of the night before. It came back slowly as he sat up to think, a blurry memory of gambling in a dive bar on the docks in Kairou, The Dirty Dagger, and tricking an Argonian. That was it, that's why he was now sat bound in the middle of the desert, the Argonian must have become wise to Anton's scheme. This wasn't the first time he had woken up in the desert, and it wouldn't be the last, not if he kept on living life this way he thought to himself. A bead of sweat slowly crawled down Anton's cheek as he struggled to his feet, looking down he was surprised to see his boots were still there, but feeling around, all he had was the clothes he was wearing. He could see the town in the distance; it would be a few hours walk though.
Anton was tall for a Breton, and his tangled black hair somewhat fitted the life he had found himself living, his neat moustache the only relic of his heritage, the only sign that he was more than the chancer he appeared to be. His family were wealthy and well respected as alchemists living in Wayrest, the Liric family had been selling potions and the like for generations, however Anton and his two brothers had been allowed to roam. His sister would inherit the store, she was the best alchemist anyway, and Anton had always wanted to lead a more interesting life than what was available in Wayrest. He chuckled to himself as he staggered through the desert, remembering how he yearned for adventure as a boy, but walking through the Alik'r desert with a hangover he couldn't help but wish he was back in Wayrest. He needed a change that was for sure, one of these days he'll swindle the wrong man, or bite of more than he can chew in a bar room fight. Anton and his accomplice Titus had been frequenting questionable bars and robbing the questionable characters within them all the way up the coast of Hammerfell after meeting in Anvil and heading north, and they had very little to show for it, living out of a series of rented rooms and alleyways. Enough is enough thought Anton, it's time to earn an honest living, somehow.
That wasn't to be the case though, for as Anton approached the town he could see a familiar figure stood waiting for him. Titus stood lazily leant against a sign post, arms crossed chewing on a piece of straw. He too was a rather unkempt man, an Imperial with messy shoulder length light brown hair and a short scruffy beard, barely more than stubble. His linen shirt open as it often was in such heat, his sabre glistening in the sunlight hung from his waist. He seemed in a world of his own until he spotted Anton and jumped back to this one, picking up the bag by his feet and hastily walking towards Anton who could tell from this reaction something was wrong.
"Have a good sleep?" Titus called as the two men met, he grinned as he greeted his old friend seeing the sand still in Anton's hair, and the binds on his hands.
"How come it's always me waking up in the damned desert?!"
"Probably 'cos you're always getting caught!" Titus laughed seeing the sorrow in Anton's expression.
"Just cut me free and tell me what you're doing out here? Shouldn't you be asleep still?"
Titus scrambled around in the bag and pulled out a small dagger to free Anton's hands, explaining himself as he cut through the binds, "Well, we screwed up last night. That Argonian was some sort of gang leader, Haam-Ta they call him… Anyway we need to leave town." With that Titus tugged away the last of the binds freeing Anton at last and handing him the dagger "this is yours by the way, I brought your other stuff too"
"I thought it looked familiar" Anton chuckled, thinking through what Titus had just told him. They had only been in Kairou for a few days and were already being chased out, this was a record even for them. "Ok, so what's the plan?" he enquired whilst gathering his belongings from the bag, his sabre, his gauntlets and a golden necklace, another relic from his past life.
"There's a guy I know, an Imperial, setting sail back to Anvil today, I've managed to get us on board if we get there before midday. We just need to get to the docks"
Seemed simple enough the pair though as they entered the town, hurriedly passing through the gates. They opted to take the back streets so as to avoid any trouble, either from the Argonians they had angered or the guards. Halfway down a back alley the pair emerged into the main market place of the town and bumped into two elves bartering over some fish, apologising they moved on quickly but the small delay in their crossing allowed them to be spotted in the busy market. As they left though another alley a shadow appeared over the two, as they turned to see an Argonian with one eye filling the path they had just taken. The lizard-man stood tall, his scales glistening from beneath his leather armour, his hand poised on the hilt of his blade. Anton and Titus took one step back as the tall Argonian stared upon them like prey, the moment seemed to last for minutes not the mere seconds it took before the men turned and ran.
"It's them!" The lizard screamed as he started to give chase, the two men raced down the narrow alley, smashing into crates as the passage took a right turn, revealing the silhouette of another Argonian at the exit to the alley, slowing slightly the pair contemplate having to fight their way out when Anton spotted the rear entrance to the building on the left and hurled himself through the wooden door. Titus grabbed him, pulling him to his feet, they were in a kitchen for an Inn and a stunned chef stood silent, unsure what had just happened as the pair of rogues ran straight through, closely followed by the Argonians giving chase. They barrelled out into the empty bar area, vaulted the bar and out the front onto the street once more, they were on the waterfront, and within sight of the ship Titus had negotiated their way on earlier that morning, and it looked as though it was about to leave. They had to make it to that ship or they were dead, running flat out down the dock Anton turned to see the Argonians emerge from the Inn blades drawn and still chasing. As the pair approached the ship an Imperial shouted to them, "You two are just in time, the anchors already up!" climbing the walkway on to the main deck the board slipped away seconds after the pair crossed, and collapsed onto the deck. They had made it through the town and were heading to Anvil, any notion of settling down and making an honest living had been forgotten, and Anton was already thinking how they could make some quick gold in Cyrodiil.