A Mage's Best Friend
Hey, readers…
To answer some standard questions, yes, I am the same shadowgeneral88 writing the Seven Saviors of Cyrodiil. I plan to stop being a jerk and return to that story sometime soon. I have plans for it.
In the meantime, I got this idea while playing Skyrim, and I wanted to follow through with it. It will cover some of the adventures of an Imperial Battlemage-in-Training named Maximus Romulus, accompanied by a friend he meets randomly, and will grow to be fond of. I plan to make it relatively episodic, with a new adventure each chapter, but that's liable to change if I start to follow a storyline. I ask that you just take it as it further ado, I present you with chapter 1.
Chapter 1: Mage Meets Dog
Maximus Romulus wearily trudged under the arch of a town as the sun began its descent to the horizon. One of the two guards flanking the gate raised a hand lazily. Maximus stopped, leaning slightly on the gilded Staff of Flames in his left hand that had served as his walking stick.
"Hail, traveler, and welcome to Falkreath," the man said, the heavy Nord accent muffled even further by the helm concealing his face. "Did you happen to see a dog on the road on your way in?"
"No, sir," Maximus replied, glancing behind him at the road, then turning back. "Only some packs of angry wolves. Did you lose yours?"
"Nah, I don't have a dog. Lod, our blacksmith, was looking for one that he heard was wandering the area. Offered a reward to anyone who could bring it to him," the guard said, craning slightly to look up the road past Maximus. He then looked back at the weary mage.
"You look like you could use a hot meal and some rest, stranger. Head over to the Dead Man's Drink, and they'll take care of you."
Maximus thanked the man and walked to the inn, where he listened to the bard entertain the evening crowd while consuming two salmon steaks, grilled leeks, and potatoes, washed down with a whole apple pie and a couple pints of Nord mead. Head comfortably buzzing, and stomach thankfully full, he fell asleep to the softer notes of the bard's final tune for the late evening crowd.
"You'll know, you'll know the Dragonborn comes…"
Maximus woke early the next morning, drinking from a pitcher of water and washing up before thanking the innkeeper and leaving. He stepped out into the cool morning air as the sun fought to rise over the colossal mountains to the east, listening to the early birdsong and pulling his hood over his head. He left the town, set on heading west to Markarth. A travelling farmer he had met on the road had told him of barbaric Reachmen coming out of the mountains and attacking travelers and villages, committing horrible atrocities. He figured, if nothing else, that there were bounties to be fulfilled for the Jarl of Markarth by clearing out the miscreants.
The city was also rumored to be of Dwemer make, and to be home to Skyrim's greatest Dwemer specialist. Maximus' academic side definitely won him over to travelling in that direction.
Maximus was so lost in thought about the Dwemer and their mysterious disappearance, that his walk down the cobblestone road came to an abrupt stop as he tripped over something furry and warm. As he fell with a start, he heard a yelp, and went rolling down the slope of the road, his Staff of Flames rolling even farther away. He jumped to his feet with a shock spell at the ready. If he really HAD just tripped on a wolf, he wasn't going to let it get him. When he looked up and saw a shaggy gray dog with great, glistening yellow eyes, he stopped his spell short. The dog sat and woofed. Maximus moved closer, cautiously.
"Hello there, fellow," he said, "You must be the dog that's got everyone in Falkreath going puppy-crazy."
The dog tilted its head to the side and scratched behind its left ear with its hind leg. A voice suddenly spoke in Maximus' head.
"Yeah, I wouldn't doubt that," it said. Maximus whipped around, looking for the speaker.
"Uh, down here, the scruffy, adorable dog," the voice said. Maximus could only gape.
"A talking dog?" he finally said.
The dog stopped panting, and sat there giving him an even stare. After a quiet moment, an almost-resigned sigh sounded in Maximus' head.
"Let me get this straight: Skyrim is now host to giant, flying lizards and two-legged cat-men… And you're surprised by me? Yes, I just talked. And am continuing to do so."
Maximus' cheeks colored slightly.
"Well, you make a valid point, but despite the dragons returning, and the existence of the Khajit, talking dogs are still out of the ordinary," he said, his mind still playing catch-up with the reality that he was conversing with a dog.
"Then maybe if I clear up some confusion by finishing my introduction, this will go a lot better for you. I am Barbas. My master is Clavicus Vile," the dog said, with a chuckle in his voice.
"The Prince of Wishes? Is he here somewhere? I didn't call him!" Maximus stammered, looking around for a short stubby man with horns.
"Naw, he isn't here. You see, he and I had a bit of a, er, 'falling-out', and he's banished me until I find someone to resolve our argument," Barbas explained.
"Why were you arguing?" Maximus asked as he walked over to retrieve his staff, and Barbas followed.
"I, er, hid some of his artifacts so he couldn't spread them across Skyrim and Tamriel and cause more problems. When I wouldn't tell him where I stashed his goods, he got angry, and told me I was 'insufferable' and 'interfering'. I try to make sure he doesn't become the next Daedric Prince of Deceit and sticks to his wishes that he grants, but he is determined to amuse himself by retracting the wishes when he pleases if it will cause suffering to the mortals," Barbas said, accompanying his explanation with a sad whimper.
"What can I do to help?" Maximus said. He couldn't just leave a dog to its own devices, even if it was a daedra.
"If you could arbitrate and convince Clavicus to take me back, I could see to it that you are rewarded. You seem like a smart sort of person, not like these lumbering, axe-dragging natives. If anyone can help me, it's you!" Barbas said, with an air of certainty and mild desperation.
Maximus' helper-complex kicked into high gear, and he nodded.
"Lead the way, Barbas," he said.
A few hours later, after narrowly avoiding a bandit rock trap and annihilating the bandits responsible, they passed through a place that Maximus had hoped to avoid seeing ever again.
"Helgen," he breathed. Barbas paused and looked at him.
"What's the matter? It's just a burned city," Barbas said.
"It's nothing, let's go on through. But watch for bandits. They're the only thing I could see moving into a destroyed city and decorating the entrances with severed heads and bodies on pikes," Maximus cautioned, trying to shake off the apprehension and anxiety.
They began their trek through the ruined city, with Barbas in the lead, and Maximus following cautiously, his steel longsword and Staff of Flames at hand to fight the bandits they encountered. They came into an open square that tickled at Maximus' memory unpleasantly.
"See? We're in the clear, here, no other bandits around. Nothing to lose your head…over…" he trailed off as he came to the large rectangular headsman's block in front of the tower. He looked at Maximus, who nodded knowingly.
"Oh," Barbas simply stated. "Well, you have to admit, the timing of that turn-of-phrase is rather comical."
Maximus grinned sheepishly. He was glad Barbas knew how to lift his spirits. They pressed on, and made it out of Helgen, back onto the cobbled forest roads. Maximus let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was still holding. They made the rest of the short trek to Haemar's Shame.
"The shrine is just inside," Barbas barked, "Come on!"
Maximus followed the dog in, thankful that he might only have to deal with some unskilled bandits, at the worst.
Maximus seized the opening he spotted, swatting the attacker's longsword out wide with his staff before ducking in close and impaling the black-robed figure. He heard a hiss in his ear as the figure feebly moved a fanged mouth toward his neck, before collapsing into a heap of cloth. He didn't need to look in the bundle to know that he would find ashes of the being he had just defeated.
"Vampires," he gasped, catching his breath looking back as Barbas finished off a frenzied Thrall with a swift bite to the neck. "You neglected to mention we'd be fighting vampires."
Barbas walked up with a whimper.
"Sorry, boss, but I didn't think you'd help if you knew the whole story," he said.
Maximus reached over and gently patted the dog on the head. Barbas flinched, at first, but then he relaxed, and even panted like a normal dog.
"It's all right," he told Barbas, "If you know your alchemy, vampire dust can be worth its weight in septims. Help me gather this into this sack, would you?"
They collected the ash and moved on. The calamity of the battle had called all of the vampires in the vicinity to battle, and Maximus and Barbas found they had a much easier time of making their way to the central chamber.
The wind whistled into the cavern from a concealed back entrance, and the cavern was illuminated by torchlight, and the glowing mushrooms growing abundantly in the walls of the cave. They went and stood before the statue of Clavicus Vile, whose left hand rose clutching the infamous Masque bearing his name, as his right hand hung down next to him, over a noticeably-empty spot in the wall. A voice, nasal but loud, suddenly echoed in the cavern. Barbas woofed in triumph.
"Ah, well, I am very glad to see you, Master Mage," Vile said. "Your timing couldn't be better! These poor bloodsuckers were in here, begging, crying, and pleading for me to end their curse of vampirism, and you come along and completely annihilate them! Good show!"
Maximus and Barbas exchanged mildly guilty looks.
"Clavicus Vile," Maximus said, nervously grinding the butt of his staff into the snowy dirt by his feet, "I have a wish for you."
"Oh? Well, then speak and it shall be considered! What kind of deal can we make?" Vile wheedled. "Money? Fame? Women? Unlimited magical power?"
"I ask that you accept Barbas back at your side," Maximus said. Barbas barked.
"NO! Absolutely, positively not! No deal! None! That insufferable pup can stay gone! I'm quite happy without him sticking his furry wet little nose into my fun and spoiling it!" Vile exclaimed, and Maximus had the image of a short little man with horns slapping the surface of a table angrily.
There was a few moments' pause, and Barbas whimpered.
"Although," Vile continued, "Not having him with me makes it incredibly difficult to go anywhere..."
Vile seemed to consider taking Barbas back calmly for a few moments, and then resumed his tirade.
" No, NO! I won't take him! I'm perfectly content with not having him nag me! Even if I am stuck here... In the middle of... nowhere."
Now he was sulking.
"I may consider it, if you bring me something in return," Vile said. Maximus grew wary. He had heard the tales as a small child about the whims and desires of the daedra. It could be anything, from a single golden septim to his firstborn child.
"What is it you want?" Maximus asked, trying not to shift nervously.
"An axe... A very powerful axe. The Rueful Axe, in fact. Barbas knows where it is. Bring it to me, and I'll consider giving the pup a place back at my side!"
"Very well, Clavicus Vile," Maximus said. Barbas immediately ran up the stairs to the back of the cavern. Maximus followed, and they exited the cavern, emerging into the cold mountain winter typical of Skyrim.
There you have it, readers. Chapter 1. Before you wonder if I'm novelizing one of the most straightforward Daedric quests in the game, let me reassure you that I am not. I have a whole plot in mind for Maximus and Barbas, the Daedric Doggie. You'll see new faces and old familiar ones. I hope you'll also be intrigued by the intrigue and story to come. Thanks for reading! I'll try and update soon!
-MG