Prelude - Entering the freeze.
Skyrim is cold.
The thought was etched permanently into the Argonian's brain as he crawled closer to the fire. The blankets wrapped around him did little to aid against the cruel wind that slid across his scales like a knife, a low hiss escaping from his jaws at regular intervals. Unlike the warm lush weather of Black Marshes, the entry into Skyrim was surrounded by snow-capped mountains that offered the first of many challenges to come. Visitors to Skyrim would have their courage and fortitude tested from the word go.
The Argonian's shivers were relentless as his bright yellow eyes once more scanned the area around him. Stendarr's Beacon was the name given to the small tower nearby. It acted as a way point between Morrowind and Skyrim, and a fall-back base for a group known as the Vigilantes of Stendarr. Vampire, werewolf and witch-hunters by trade and having an outpost so close to the border allowed them control of predatory creatures that looked to sneak into Skyrim. But for ordinary travellers, it offered brief respite on their travels. The Vigilantes had been helpful and welcoming to the Argonian – offering food, water, warmth and somewhere to rest.
The crumbling tower had seen better days, but still struck a powerful figure against the snowy backdrop. The Vigilantes themselves were resting for the night, as they cycled their sleeping patterns fairly.
His eyes now turned to a book beside him. Leather bound and rugged to any passer-by it held no real significance aside from the name 'Deejahl' on the front of it. The scaly fingers ran across the cover of the tome and in the midst of the snow-storm, he smiled warmly to himself.
Deejahl looked back to the fire once more and tightened the blankets around him as he delved once more into his thoughts. Memories of home, family and loved ones swarmed his inner eye as a sense of longing swathed through his heart like a heat-tipped blade.
His thoughts however were not to remain undisturbed as the sound of footsteps crunching towards him diverted his attention. Head snapping round quickly his yellow eyes picked out on of the Vigilants from the tower – A strong-jawed Nord with tousled brown hair known as Jorborf.
"Mind if I join you?" He asked, as his jaw curled into a warm smile.
Deejahl nodded once "Be my guest."
A heavy thunk as the Nord sat down, crossing his legs and resting his arms on his knees. Observing Deejahl carefully. "You don't have to sit alone you know, we might be vampire-hunters, but we're a friendly lot." He joked, that generous smile once more.
Deejahl's brow furrowed as his gaze travelled over to the Nord. Annoyance rushed up inside him, evidently he knew little of Argonian's – An untrusting race at best. Still he was trying to be friendly, and Deejahl could not fault him for that.
"I know, Jorborf. And I appreciate your hospitality. I prefer one-to-one conversations however, larger crowds somewhat make me nervous."
Jorborf smirked then nodded. "Come then. Let us talk. First off, what is your name? You seemed rather wary about giving -any- details when you came here."
Deejahl balked, hissed a little then grunted. What would it matter if he knew? "Deejahl."
A nod in return. "A pleasure then, Deejahl. Might I enquire then as to what brings you to Skyrim? It can't be anywhere near as comfortable as the Black Marshes."
His claws flexed beneath his robe. Gah, I knew he'd ask that.
Jorborf's eyes ran over the Argonian's features as he awaited an answer. Evidently the male had plans of his own agenda in Skyrim that he wished not to share, hence the pause in answer. The dark navy scales made the Argonian all but invisible if he closed his yellow eyes, and despite being wrapped up in blankets the Nord could tell he was of an agile and lean build. While no doubt stronger than the Argonian – He'd heard of their ruthless and guerilla like tactics in battle. If push came to shove, he wasn't completely confident of his own ability to win.
Thankfully, Deejahl answered after a short pause. "I'm looking for a friend. A female Argonian. She came to Skyrim not six seeds ago running from some Dunmar slavers. I received this note telling that she needed my aid, that she'd made it to Riften and would wait for me there. I can only hope the Dunmar haven't caught up with her."
Of course. Dark Elves. Jorborf nodded once in return. "That makes sense now. You Argonian's have hatred with the Dark Elves that goes back at least an Era. Do you think she will have evaded capture? Dark Elves can be cunning and resourceful in their actions. And they're usually wealthy. Peoples tongues will wag in Riften for even a small fee."
A sigh escaped the Argonian's lips as he nodded once in reply. "I know. But shes a smart women. I've no doubt she's alive. And even if she isn't, i'll find out where they went and slaughter them all." The anger and hatred in his voice was evident.
"Then may Talos bless you on your search Deejahl. Should you need directions to Riften, or any further aid – Do not hesitate to ask." Jorborf said, nodding once as he rose to leave.
"One question before you go."
The Nord froze. He knew this was coming, he'd simply hoped to avoid it. "Ask it."
"Did they pass through here? Both the Argonian and the Dunmar?"
A pause, then a sharp intake of air. The Vigilante seemed to freeze for a moment, before his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I am sorry. They asked where she was headed. Gold, talks."
Deejahl's yellow eyes burned into the back of the Vigilante, then he lowered his gaze back into the fire. "Very well." He muttered, signifying the conversation was over.
Once more Jorborf looked over to the Argonian. Opening his mouth to say something, he thought better of it and turned – Walking back to his post.
The blankets around Deejahl tightened once more, and his face crumpled with rage and annoyance. One name ran through his mind over and over again.
Kalesaa.