Fish out of Water

Chapter 1

The Argonian's eyes flickered open, his nostrils twitching. It was an odd site, like his whole nose wrinkling up. Groaning, the scaled creature heaved itself up from a thin mat, all he had to sleep on. It leaned backwards, bending its back as each bone along its spine clicked. He sighed and flopped forwards, into a slightly slouched standing position.
"By the Nine, that damn bed-mat's gonna give me bone damage one day…" He scratched his chin and walked towards the prison cells door, peering through the bars, "Steal a loaf-a- bread, what do they do to ya? Put ya in the damn Imperial Prison,"
"Hey Lizard!" Came his neighbouring prisoner's first catcall of the day, "It must break your heart, huh? Being so close to the water—"
"Valen, Shut up! Haven't you taunted me enough lately?" The lizard growled back. Life in the prison was simple. Like, really simple. Most of the time, the day consisted of, waking up, staring blankly out his cell door, eating the daily rations and going back to sleep. It was so simple; it was mind-numbingly boring.
As he pondered upon this thought, and tightened the rope around his tattered trousers, a voice emerged from the stairway.
"No, they're dead… I know it," Three guards in loud, heavy-looking armour were coming down the stairs leading to the two cells. One ordered him to stand in the corner, and obliging resulted in them opening his cell door. As two of the guards walked in, the Argonian saw who they were guarding. An old man, with shoulder-length grey hair, wearing fine purple robes and a beautiful amulet adorned with a huge red jewel.
When the man entered his cell, he glanced at the lizard, before doing a double-take and looking for longer.
"…You…" He began, then continued with, "Are the one from my dreams," The Argonian's face twisted into surprise, his blue eyes widening,
"Uh… What?" He asked, confused. Ignoring him, the old man turned away and focused on the female guard. She was stood next to the cells stone wall, and carefully pressed a stone in, as she did so, a section of the wall rose up and slid open like a door.
"Better leave this one open," She murmured, "There's no way to open it from the other side." The stone door revealed a dusty misused path. As the Redguard guard clanked past, he whispered, "Well Prisoner, looks like it's your lucky day…" The lizard smiled slightly,
"It's Harrath, not Prisoner," He whispered back, but the guard had already set off down the path. Glaring at Valen across the hall, he did a taunting thumbs up, before snarling, "Hey Valen, it must break your heart, huh? Being so close to an escape route?" Laughing to himself, he set off down the path in a crouching position, deciding he didn't want to cause any trouble for the guards and old man.

Harrath walked in on a brawl. A man wearing red robes underneath dark silver armour was swinging his dagger madly at the female guard. She was backing off quickly, her sword raised in defence, but she wasn't able to move quickly enough in her heavy armour. She tripped over a fallen rock behind her, fell backwards and the madman's dagger was plunged madly into her throat, taking advantage of the weakest point in her armour. The Redguard quickly took him out from behind, swinging his sword and ripping the robed man's armour up, leaving him in a pool of his own blood. The guard turned to the old man and shook his head,
"The Captains down sir, we should move on quickly." The he turned back to Harrath, "Stay here prisoner, don't try to follow us." It was an order, not a request, but Harrath had no plan of listening to it.
As the two guards and old man left, Harrath turned his attention to the female guard, she was lying on the floor, katana hanging limply from her right hand, her blood flow had stopped, but a large pool had still formed around her. Grimacing, Harrath slipped a steel short sword from her belt, as it was still relatively clean. Taking a look around, Harrath searched for a way to get out. The door the three others had left through was locked, but he could feel a slight draft coming from his right. Following the air flow led him to a small gap in the wall, and peering through led him to believe he could escape through a door a few meters in front of the wall.
He could see a few rats and a well inside the room, but nothing to suggest serious threat. By smacking the butt of his sword into weaker looking points, Harrath managed to make a hole large enough to allow him to climb into the low roofed room. Squeezing through the gap, he immediately pressed himself to the wall, ensuring he was safe. For a few moments, nothing happened, so he peeled himself away from the wall. Harrath snuck over to a box to the right, and lifting its lid resulted in a high pitched squealing, and the sound of splintering wood. Seconds later, a force from behind sent him flying headfirst into the box he'd just opened. He rolled onto his back, dazed and confused, just as the creature launched itself at his face. Harrath screamed in the manliest way possible, grabbed his sword and swung it madly, by pure chance he hit the thing, and it went skidding across the floor.
Getting up, he snuck over and peered at it, "….Phew… Just a rat. Ahehehehe… But by Talos, have I lost my edge." Forced to crouch by the low ceiling, he moved back over to the box, inside was a broken club and a few gold coins. Sighing, he pocketed the gold and turned around, timed perfectly to be hit in the face by another rat launching itself like a missile. His short sword was knocked out of his hand, and he grappled with the rodent's fur, pulling it up from the ground, he smashed it against the wall several times. With each hit, the sound of cracking bones and a sick sort of squelching resounded in Harrath's ears.
He dropped the dripping thing to the ground, and moved across the room to where a skeleton lay as if asleep. He peeled the leather armour away, undoing straps and belts, he slipped it on, adjusting the size to fit him.
He checked in the wooden box next to the dead man, full of gems, he pocketed them all, hoping to sell them later, but the bag just had a pair of trousers in. Disappointed, he turned away and made his way to the door. Lying on a pile of rocks was a dead goblin. He was unwilling to touch it, but spying a key sticking from its pocket swayed his decision, as he pulled it out, a sticky green substance followed it. Retching, he put the key in the lock and twisted it. The door creaked open, and Harrath attempted to prepare himself for what could be waiting for him on the other side.