The Chasetown Lockdown

by Ironed Maidens

A story I never got around to finishing. Good story though.

The harsh sands of south-western Hammerfell blew from left to right in a swaying wall

Chapter I: The Desert Tower

The harsh sands of south-western Hammerfell blew from left to right in a swaying wall. The sun was just peaking down below the high dunes off to the west, their peaks lighting up like torches, reflecting the suns barren rays off of the tiny crystals of clear sand. Towards the east, dark stretches of purple and black slithered across the sky, reaching towards the fading orange behind the dunes. Somewhere off in the distance, a Dune Lizard popped his scaled and prone head out of his burrow deep within the sands, in the cool interior of the desert, away from the sun. He looked around for a second and retreated back into his lair. Night was falling on the Alik'r Desert. A small Hammerfell-style tower stood inside the vast region of heat and sand. As the sun finally settled beyond the horizon, Masser and Secunda rose high to their thrones in the nighttime sky, studded by gallant blue-green-red stars. The tower lit up with pale green candles, scented of exotic Hammerfell fruits. At the base of the miniature tower, standing only three stories tall, three camels were stationed at a wooden pole lunging from the ground, its sides split and cracked from the abuse of the arid winds and sun. The feeble wooden door that was the entrance to the tower lay kicked in and somewhat splintered on the ground a few feet inside the tower. The tower, itself, was vastly alone with only sand visible in all directions, save for when the sky met the sand off in the horizons.

An unwelcome group was making their new headquarters here. Inside the circular first floor, on a shabby table crafted of sandstone, there were an assortment of steel swords and tight leather shields, along with a drained bottle of Hammerfell brandy from the bazaars up north. Dust filed the mosaic tiling on the floor, flooding the cracks of grout. The rest of the room was empty, save a few spiders spindling glossy webs across the corners beneath the cement of the second floor.

On the second floor, heavily illuminated by the green candles, there were three men sitting at another, smaller sandstone table. A worn map lay in the middle of the table, a blue circle drawn around several different locations on the map. One of the men, possibly the leader; due to his flashy and seemingly more expensive clothing compared to his two comrades, who had faded tan and stained white rags; was sitting with a tin cup in his right hand, the syrupy liquor settled within the cup, half drank. His light brown eyes were fixated on one of the blue circles to the east. The four other circles had tiny red tick marks next to them, and two of them had even five or six tick marks next to them. The other two men sat patiently, waiting for their leader to speak. Releasing his hand from the tin cup, the head of the group gave out a heavy, chest-aching cough, and then looked up from the map towards his two henchmen.

"Alright," He began, the two other men shooting their eyes on the leader, "so as far as I can take it, we have a damned good chance to break into the vaults in Chasetown. Well, I mean, we already took over Riverview's, Shadymarch's, Lainbon's, and Gilane's vaults. If we still have our heads, then there is no way we can mess this one up. Chasetown is less secured then Gilane, I know that for a fact. Sense it's built atop of that mountain, they have only guards heavily occupying the outer walls."

"You're right, boss. Besides, me an' good old Sty here will have your back, I already know that the guards have breeches in their suits of armor, Chasetown provides poor protection to its guards so that the local taxpayers won't have to be charged as much. Ironic, we are going to rob them blind because they tired to save the people money. But thanks to those holes in the armor, we've got a good target for our poisoned knives. We'll have em' dead before they can alert any others." The shorter lackey said.

"Of course I'm right." Without warning, the leader flipped the map up into the air and caught it, folded it up and put it back into his pocket, then resumed speaking, "Now, after we stamp the vaults off, we are heading back to Vvardenfell. And we are meeting up at the Fogged Tree Inn back in Seyda Neen, if we do happen to get separated, agreed?"

"Agreed." Both of the men said in unison.

"Alright, good. Now which one of you has the Anguar Meat?" "Oh, I do, I'll go get it, it's in my pack downstairs." The other man said, getting up from his spot at the table. He shortly returned and placed a leather-wrapped package of light red meat on the table.

"Looks as satisfying as…well, I'll just lie to you and say it looks good." The leader said taking a portion of the meat and scuffing it down quickly.

After they were done eating, they went upstairs to the third floor where three bedrolls were lain out around another green candle.

"I'm going downstairs to give the camels water and to put the lights out." One of the men said.

"Good, and be sure to cover those weapons with that Guarskin tarp, last thing we need is for some Dunedwellers to come searching by in the night and stealing our arsenal."

The leader said and the lackey nodded. By the time the man returned to the third floor, the two men were already asleep, and so the third man quietly slipped into his mat and stared at the bulbous limestone ceiling for a while until finally drifting off to sleep, the faint scent of the exotic candles still lingering about the desert tower.

Chapter II: Dunedwellers

By five, the sun rose again, and the sands quickly heated up. The air was steady but hot in the early morning, and the men rose up at the same sound. The sound of distinct Dunedwellers' cries, echoing across the desert, a certain and unmistakable yelp, fortified greatly by three or four other Dunedwellers behind it; and it worried the group taking shelter in the tower. The leader rose up quickly and rolled his bedroll up in a sloppy and hasty fashion, his two comrades doing the same. They ran downstairs and the leader whipped the Guarskin tarp off of the weapons. They were, luckily, all still there. The cries became more and more clear, meaning the Dunedwellers were either quickly approaching, or just merely passing by, in pursuit of another target. It didn't matter to the men though. They just wanted to be sure that they didn't see them.

"The damn Dunedwellers, vicious and ravenous men," The leader said, giving out another chest-aching cough, as he and the other two piled the weapons and bedrolls onto the back of their camels and harnessed them on with strips of rotted leather. "Remind me of the rouge Ashlanders back on Vvardenfell."

There were leather sacks attached onto the sides of the camels, one on each side. They were overflowing with documents, raw minerals like glass and limestone, various relics, and of course, gold. The sun was a little higher then the horizon, but it still looked like a giant ball of orange, only willing to exhume more heat as it got higher into the sky. And it probably would. As the last strands of black throughout the sky started to fade, the men hopped onto their camels and rode off in a hurry, the Dunedweller pack was not far away, as the men could see a cloud of sand and dust rushing towards them from the west. The only problem was, to get to Chasetown, they had to go west, so they had to ride TOWARDS the enemy. As the men rode onward, at an angle to the left so that they could try and sneak past the Dunedwellers, the leader gave a brief speech,

"Ozone," He stated. The shorter man perked his head up,

"Yes, boss?" "If we DO have to fight them, we are taking their camels with us. We can haul more loot that way. And Sty," The leader said, looking at the other man.

"Yes?" He asked, not taking his eyes off of the fast-approaching clan. The leader sighed at the lackey's poor respect towards him, "That's 'Yes, BOSS?' You understand? How many times have I told you that?" "Don't know, BOSS." The man emphasized the words. The leader clenched his fist tightly so that his veins emerged to the surface just beneath his skin.

"Well," He started between slightly gritted teeth, "All I need you to do is take out your bow and a few of those Blinder Arrows. If any of them rush us, you aim for their throats, and then we ca-" The leader was cut off by an arrow flashing by right in front of him, so close, that he could feel the air brush by his face caused by the tail of the arrow.

"MEN," He yelled, the Dunedwellers chanting their war cry even louder, and rushing them from only a few hundred yards away, "KILL…THOSE…N'WAH!" The leader took a few darts out of his vest pocket and steadied himself on the pacing camel. He closed one eye and took aim at one of the Dunedwellers closer to the front. "Damn." He whispered to himself, "Too far away."

Sty pulled the twine on his Pristine Forged Metal Longbow and let a Blinder Arrow sail off towards the raid of Dunedwellers. It hit one of the five in the left shoulder and he hit the ground, shifting sand about blindly as the rest of his group rode on. Ozone pulled out three Silver Throwing Knives with his right hand and threw them with precision, two hitting one Dunedweller in the left breastplate and the neck, and the other one fastening itself into the leg of a camel of a Dunedweller from the middle of the pack. The camel hit the ground with an agonizing grunt and the Dunedweller mounted on top of it flew forward, face-first onto the isothermally increasing sand, snapping his neck on impact. Only two Dunedewllers were left, and they were almost face-to-face with the three robbers. One of them pulled out a shabby Iron Scimitar and slashed at Sty, who was to the left of the leader.

Sty was cut, but only on the surface. He did an acrobatic stunt and jumped from his camel onto the Scimitar-wielding Dunedweller's camel, drop-kicking the Dunedweller in the side on his way onto the camel. The Dunedweller flew off, but did an acrobatic trick of his own and landed safely on his feet. The other Dunedweller was felled, a single Ebony Dart penetrating the back of his skull. As he slumped off of his camel and hit the sand, a droplet-trail of blood followed him, painting the sand canvas a deep red. The acrobatic Dunedweller hurled Iron Throwing Knives at all three of the men, pathetically missing every throw. The leader of the men galloped his camel faster towards the only remaining Dunedweller and unsheathed a Silver Longsword from a side pouch on his camel. With an agile swipe of the sword, the Dunedwellers' body separates from his head and a spray-fountain of blood and muscle shoot out into the now-blue desert air for a few moments, then the body plummets to the ground and lays motionless, the terror still frozen on the head of the Dunedweller's face that lay a few feet away from the body.

Chapter III: The Abandoned Fort

"Ugh…" Sty gulped, as he and his two comrades searched the bodies for anything valuable. The sun was almost at high-noon, and the temperature was turned up intensely in a matter of minutes. Thankfully, three of the Dunedwellers had medium-sized rough leather sacks, all of them containing water.

'Thank Vivec," The leader said before drenching his dehydrated mouth in the water from one of the sacks, "I swear, it gets hotter by the day here." The men found nothing else of much use, save for two Standard Restore Health Potions, a small stack of gold, a worn M'kain Longbow, twenty-three Copper Headed Arrows, and four camels. The fifth one's leg was broken due to the Silver Throwing Knife stuck in its leg and had to be killed, to end its pain.

"Oh, and I can't forget this." The leader said, walking over to one of the fallen Dunedwellers and plucking the Ebony Dart from the back of his head.

The trio continued on to the west, stopping on occasion to take a break on a small oasis or shaded area out in the seemingly-endless desert. The green was a pleasant sight to them. By four, the men saw a small fort in the distance, probably deserted, still there from some war waged centuries ago. They raced towards it with their small platoon of camels, stirring up sand along the way. It was a small fort indeed. Made of brittle bricks of Sandstone, it was a wonder that it was still standing. Sty kicked one of the bricks lightly, and it held.

"Well, good enough for me," He said as they walked up to the bark door. "Looks like it'll hold."

There was a small stick 'fence' surrounding the fort, little branches of dead trees poking up from the ground providing pitiful fortification. There were also some small desert shrubs growing inside the stick fence around the fort, and there was a ditch dug next to the eastern wall. Nothing was inside of it. The leader tired opening the dry bark door, but it was probably barricaded from the inside. He backed up and tackled the door; it opened slightly and swung all the way open by itself the rest of the way. Inside there was a decomposed corpse lying battered on the ground right at the entrance. A Chitin Spear was protruding from the corpses' chest. Ozone walked over to the corpse and plucked the spear from it. He walked outside to the camels that were rambling around the inside of the stick fence. Some were nibbling at the desert shrubs growing closely to the ground. Ozone walked over to one of the less-encumbered ones and fastened the spear onto it.

"Might be able to get some coin for that," He said returning back into the fort.

When he walked back in, he was greeted by a scream from the left adjacent room from the main room. It was Sty. The leader was already pulling the door to the room open; Silver Longsword in offensive position; before Ozone could run over to it. The leader jerked the door open and Sty was pinned against the western wall by his left shoulder, held in place by a rusty Iron Dagger.

"The hell happened?" The leader asked, pulling the dagger from deep within the shoulder blade.

"Damn, I'm having bad luck lately." Sty said, sliding his back down against the Sandstone wall slowly, "I opened that chest there," he pointed to an oak chest to his right, "and when I did, that closet right over there," he pointed again to another oaken item, a closet that had its left door wide open. "Shot a dagger out at me. I hear the door creaking open, so I turned to see what it was. All I saw was an Iron Dagger flying towards me, too fast for me to even think about deflecting."

There was a reverently deep shade of red beginning to stain his already dirty white rags up where the dagger had made impact. Suddenly, Sty's breathing quickened. He looked around, and everything began to rumble violently, making it almost impossible for him to see. Everything was shaking, except for the dagger that lye on the ground. He drew out his hand to try and grab it, but even his own hand was shaking too ferociously for him to control it or to know where it was going.

"T-the dagger! Ch-check it n-n-now!" He said, his voice even trembling.

Ozone went to pick the dagger up, but his Boss held him back with his might right arm.

"No." Was the leader's response, "I already know; it was poisoned. He might not make it. Ozone, try your Magick."

Ozone thought for a few moments, but those few moments for Sty seemed like eternity.

"D-d-d-d-do you know-w-w a spell o-o-or not!?" Sty was having a harder time even staying up. His back went limp and he slumped forward.

The leader caught him before he hit his face, and Sty vomited, the puke actuating from his mouth. It was red, and was thick. The leader gasped, he couldn't loose his Assassin. To Sty, the walls of Sandstone turned to walls of skeletal bones, bound together in large bricks by black, shining leather. His own vomit was a pile of organs; hearts still pumping, sending blood sailing through the room, splashing onto the bone walls, and also onto his face; as well as stomachs still digesting, the acidic green goop slithering towards him looking like Vipers. He started kicking his legs and flailing his arms about madly. The leader got him to the ground and put all of his weight on him, trying in vain to keep his comrades body still.

"He might swallow his own tongue." The leader said, still forcing Sty down on the ground.

"No, no you Necromancers, no! NO!! I won't let you have at me with your spells of flesh-melting!! NO!!" Sty was trying to break free of the leader's bodily harness.

"Ozone, right now, a spell would be useful!" The leader yelled over Sty's frantic voice.

Chapter IV: Sty and Ozone Part I - Thieving

Ozone stood there, looking at his friend. His BEST friend. They'd known each other for years, since they were both about six. They grew up in Molag Mar, both their parents worked out in the laborious ash wastes, harvesting Ash Yams and getting rid of any exoskeletons of fallen Silt Striders. They worked nineteen hours a day, and right when the came home they slept. The two boys stole to eat, stealing from vendors along the outside of the canton. They would loot all the bread and Kwama Eggs they could carry and return to their homes in the Underworks, the sewers. Along the years, they trained with each other, learning to sneak better and be more agile. They had had their share of being caught for their stealing. But they bettered themselves. It used to be that they only stole to survive, to get food; until one day. Sty saw a nice Common Amulet lying on the stall of a vacant vendor's cart. He ran over and grabbed it.

"What are you doing?" Ozone asked, wading up to him with his pockets filled with a few loaves of bread and some Kwama Eggs.

"Look at this," Sty said, his eyes glimmering as the sheen of the amulet reflected off of the mid-day sun onto his forehead. "It's an amulet. I bet it's worth something. Maybe I can sell it off."

He pocketed it and the two boys walked into the canton, to a trader set up along the catwalk of the upper floor. Sty swung the wooden door open and the scent of fresh cooked Hound Meat Stew filled his nasal cavities, sending them overflowing with the sweet scent. Ozone was equally entranced with the smell.

"Why, hello there little ones," The owner, an old Dunmer lady with white hair and deep wrinkles smiled at the two pre-teens who were tracing their wondered eyes all around the small shop.

They looked at the tarnished pine shelves that were filled with various trinkets; books with withered covers and torn pages, Comberry sprigs lying atop hunks of Rat Meat with Saltrice on the side, shiny Iron Weapons, tattered cloths, and even scrolls that had different mellow glows to them, green, blue, red, purple, all of the colors embossed the wall, fluttering about in harmony with the dim glowing pulse of the scrolls.

"A little young to be snooping around here, aren't you? Or are you two playing a game? I swear, I did see some rabid Guar run through here earlier, looks like they headed to the Underworks, better go get them." The store owner said, slightly chuckling at her own imagination.

"No, we are here for, well, a business proposal." Sty said with a cool and stark look in his eyes.

"Oh are you now? Business men from the Temple, are you? Picking up some new maces for the Ordinaters up on the plaza?" The woman said as she chuckled again, taking a sip of her now-cooled-off Hound Meat Stew that was bubbling in a wooden bowl next to her.

"Miss," Sty started.

"Don't be rude, now." Ozone warned his friend. He didn't want them to loose their business opportunity. The opportunity of their lifetimes.

"I won't." Sty turned to his friend and smirked. He then turned back to the elder Dumer. "I was actually wondering, how much for this finely crafted charm? I have had it since birth, miss, but I fear that rising costs in Saltrice shares are forcing me to sell it off."

He was indeed a very talented liar. For how young he was, anyway.

"Oh? Well my, my. Let's have a look then, shall we?" The owner said, her interest perked at the young boy's words.

Sty shuffled over to the counter and placed the amulet gently on the wooden surface. The owner inspected it closely and smiled.

"Such a nice amulet. Normally, around ten Septims, my young business man. But for you, I'll give you twenty." She smiled as she took out twenty gold coins from a chest behind the counter.

Sty got a look at what was inside the chest when the lady opened it. Money. Lots and lots of money. Twenty Septims was more money then his parents had probably seen at one time in their lives, yet alone him. He thanked the owner and took his pay.

"Wow! You were good back there!" Ozone jumped around, eyeing the coins cupped in his friend's hands, almost looking like a small gold statue.

"Yeah, for only twenty Septims." Sty said, his face growing kind of tricky. "But what about a billion million Septims?" He asked his friend, his ever-cunning plan playing out in his mind as he spoke.

"What do you mean?" Ozone looked at his friend as they walked outside the canton.

"Tonight. I'm coming to get you at your house. Be ready at around ten." He said, pocketing the gold, "But for now, let's just eat. I'm starving, and we'll need our energy."

The two boys walked into the sewers of the Underworks, Ozone looking questioningly at Sty, wondering what plan he had built up in his mind for tonight.

Chapter V: Sty and Ozone Part II – The Heist

Outside Molag Mar, the air was crisp. The lake which Molag Mar resided on was still and calm, with the occasional Slaughterfish stirring about, creating small ripples that twisted and distorted the reflection of the moons off of its surface. It was about ten, and Sty's parents were fast asleep. Their adobe, or more like their closet, was very small, and hardly cozy. It was one room, a big square. A small wooden table was held up in the far right corner of the room, a small double-sized bed with two figures resting in it was right next to the table. There was a bedroll lain out on the floor to the far left of the room. And that was about it, aside from a few wooden bowls full of pummeled Ash Yams scattered on the floor. Sty rose up silently and snuck to the door.

He was a good sneaker, as his silhouette seemed to blend in with the darkness as he strode across to the door in effortless silence. He accidentally stepped into one of the bowls of Ash Yams and made a small 'clang' noise. His father tossed in the bed and muttered something.

"Oh that's the game played…grumble…what? Well, I'll show you who's the real Skooma addict HERE, Haara."

Sty froze in his place, literally still as stone, while his dad talked in his sleep. He had to shove a rising snicker from his stomach back down.

"Isn't Haara his brother? Uncle Haara the Sugar-Wise, I think that's what they used to cal him. They never did tell me what it meant though." Sty thought to himself, slowly making his way to the door once more.

He couldn't get caught. This 'heist' was too important to him. To Ozone, too. They needed the money badly, and as far at Sty saw it, he was still stealing only to survive; he was just making a profit off of it. He lifted the handle of the wooden door leading to the sewers, and gradually pushed it open. Luckily, it glided right over the bumpy surface of the flooring and made no noise. He extended his right leg far out into the canals and his left leg shortly followed.

He was soon closing the door silently again; a sigh of relief escaped his tensioned lungs as he quietly walked down the side of the canals towards Ozone's house. The smell of sewage swarmed the place. Through slits in ceiling, bursts of moonlight were protruding into the dark and vacant canals. The air was moist from all of the frothy blasts of water rushing through the canals, hitting against walls on the way there, sending small droplets of water spraying like a wall at all sides.

Sty had just reached Ozone's door when it slid open, creaking just a little bit when it was half way through the process. Ozone slid out and quickly shut the door, pressing on the middle hinge so that it wouldn't creak again.

"Hey." Sty whispered over the gentle roar of the water being pushed through the Underworks.

The two boys sat against a wall while Sty told him the plan.

"Ok, so here it is. You know that chest that the old lady has in her shop?" Sty asked while Ozone cocked his head to one side at hearing the question.

"Yeah, what about the stupid thi-" He stopped short. A grin expanded across his grey-blue face. He knew what they were going to do. "Oooooooh."

"You willing to try and pull it off with me? I know we can do it." Sty asked, rising from the wall.

Ozone nodded his head and the two made their way up to the Waistworks, looking out for any patrolling Ordinators, then onto the catwalk that ran around the upper part of the Waistworks. They found the shop, but the door was locked. No surprise. It was Temple rule for Molag Mar; a curfew was in strong affect for all citizens. No one was allowed outside of their residence after nine, and those caught out past then would be questioned. All shops had to be closed up by then, naturally. They figured that you were only out past the curfew to commit a crime. And also, due to Ozone and Sty's past record, the Temple Ordinators would eye them suspiciously every time they walked past, sometimes even following the two back to their houses in the Underworks to make sure they were not breaking the law.

Of course this gave them and their parents a bad reputation, but the two kids didn't care, they knew that the world was harsh if you were a third-class citizen. And their parents knew the same thing, so they couldn't object to the boy's habits either. Over the past few months, however, the two had not been caught. Their skills were increasingly innate, and they were now both sure of themselves, that they could pull it off.

For some reason, there were no Ordinators even near the inside of the canton. It worried the two, but there was no turning back, they were there. Sty reached down into his thin and worn leather slips and pulled a shabby lock pick from underneath his heel.

"Be look-out, Ozone. Tell me of you see anyone, and I mean anyone, and we'll make a break for the outside of the canton. Once we're out there, we can loose the person by ducking into the canals by our secret entrance, ok?" Sty instructed him as he hurriedly stuck the nose of the pick onto the lock socket.

He fumbled the pick around a bit when he intruded the lock socket and twisted hard, following it with a slight push upwards. Ozone was peering down the hall and across the catwalk, and even down onto the bottom floor of the canton. He saw no one, but something startled him. A loud 'clang' rang from the outside, somewhere near the two boys. Sty heard it too, and with some effort nudged the door open. It gave a reliving click, and the knob became slack.

"Quick, that might have been an Ordinator, let's get in!" Sty whispered loudly and he opened the door a little and ducked in. Ozone quickly followed, his eyes still panning around as he slowly back into the shop.

Once inside, the two had a thieves' field day. The shelves were still full of the magnificent trinkets, the scrolls, and the weapons. Sty unrolled one of the clear-glowing scrolls and gaped at the Daedric inscribing that was inked on the tough paper with deep dark ink.

"Oh, look at this," He said as Ozone peeked at the writing over Sty's shoulder. "Looks pricey." And with that, he took it along with the other four under his right arm. They were considerably light, like a feather almost.

Ozone grabbed a few of the weapons; an Iron Saber and a Silver Dagger. He could use the dagger and sell off the saber; both of them very much amused at the profit they would make off of the burglary. Sty flew over to the chest that was set up behind the counter. Thankfully, it was unlocked, and inside was a large sum of Septims. He gleefully pocketed the money, putting a large lump in his pocket. So far, the two had been relatively quiet and stealthy, but Ozone made an error that almost landed the two in jail for the rest of their lives. There was a potion in a slick, orange-tinted bottle, its contents casting a darkened shadow inside the bottle up to the neck of it. It was up on the highest shelf of the lot, and it was far over Ozone's head. He looked around and found a small wooden box sitting aloft a bigger one. He crept over to the box and lifted its lid. There was a stack of thirty gold inside of it.

Eccentric, he pocketed it and smirked. He then picked up the other-wise and now empty box and stationed it right beneath the shelf the potion was on. Ozone could eye it and tell that the box alone was not enough to give him the altitude needed. He was, obviously, a short little boy. He looked around once more and found two books resting next to each other on a shelf off to the left, along with many other less-thick books. Their green and blue covers shone lightly and dimly in the light, the only illumination for the store was a majestic bluish-silver paper lantern that hung high in the center of the ceiling. It gave the store a kind of maternal glow; it was calming yet mysterious. The paper had an obscure print on it, most likely a depiction of one of the Tribunal in some sort of heroic stance. If not that, it was a venally indentured character of sorts, perhaps a Knight or Squire. Sty wasn't sure why, but it caught his attention by a grasp. It mystified him. He could have sworn that it wasn't there when they had entered the store earlier that day.

Either way, he tried to not let it bother him as he purged a box of its contents; silky shirts with bright blue and gold patterns and shiny opaque buttons that glimmered even in the dull light. He rolled the four shirts up and carried them along under his arm to accompany his scrolls. It had only been mere minutes sense their un-wanted entering, and already they had a fortunes (to them) worth of merchandise. Sty saw Ozone grab the two books off of the shelf and leapt over to see what books there were. Sure, they were both illiterate, but Sty was a kid of unorthodox knowledge-seeking and his heart was adventure-bound. He yearned to learn everything there was about the world, and not only Nirn, but all worlds. Fantasy encored his brittle mind, and he wished he could be a gallant Knight or Paige, sweeping from land to land on a fine white steed, cleansing caverns of ill-spawned Dragons and Ice Titans. Ozone had a more Magick-based mind. He knew nothing of Magick and Magicka, or how it worked, be he had once seen an Ordinator; full-suit in his Godly golden armor, shining like a ball of pure holiness in the afternoon sun; use Magick on a man who attacked and nearly killed a slaver-runner. He claimed to be of the 'Two Champs" or the "Winced Tramps" or something to that effect. Ozone had a bad memory.

The Ordinator's hand got engulfed in a red mist and he hurled it at the Breton who was trying to run and jump off of the plaza to the lower perimeter of the canton. Ozone was up there by chance alone, as Sty was in his house brushing up on his skills while both their parents were at their back-leg-arm-chest-and-soul-breaking laborious and unjust work. They both hated slave-runners with a passion. Their parents were actually like slaves, only they were allowed to roam back to their houses for a few hours of sleep. Either way, Ozone's eyes got a big as a ravine and just a deep when he saw the red mist lunge towards the Breton and strike him in the back as he ran. He fell to the floor with a 'thud' and lay motionless. One simple spell. That's all it took to take down the man. And he was adorned in an impressive suit of Chitin and Woven Netch Leather armor, too. Ever sense that day, Ozone was silently obsessed with Magick and all of its attributes, but he knew he would never learn it. Never.

It wasn't possible with his way of living and his near-to-none intelligence. True, they were smart with the streets and the laws it held, along with their ability to tell which locks were more complex than others (a skill that they worked non-stop at, desperate to try and learn just the basics) and which picks were good to use and which broke easier, as if they could ever afford any pick, much less get their greedy little hands on anything more then an Apprentices Pick. But as far as book-smarts went, they were both a collection of blank pages. They had pretty much taught themselves everything they knew, and aside from knowing hardly any literary skills, they where spent with learning. They both tired, but they just didn't have enough resources to learn more. Sty never did tell Ozone about his fantasy and Ozone, alike, never told Sty about his. They both just thought that each other were all-wanting thieves, and didn't want to tell the other about their dreams in fear of being made fun of.

Either way, Sty braised through the ten or so books on the shelf, checking for any kind of visual images; insignias, small sketches, even symbols. But to no avail, all that was inside the covers was writing. Confusing writing, to him any way, and long words, very long words. He sort of felt a headache coming on as he tired to read any of the words. He left the shelf, half disgusted with himself, and moved on to a lower shelf were there were different ingredients such as Rat Meat and dried out Salt Rice bundles. He speedily filled the rest of his pocket space with the food and turned to Ozone. He had stacked the two thicker books on top of the small box and was towering on top of his self-made ladder.

"I…I almost have it," Ozone said with frustration, getting on his tiptoes in a last ditch effort to grab the damned potion that he worked so hard for. "I…" His small hand grazed the side of the bottle and he lurched forward, the small box giving a bellow under his body pressure. He grabbed hold of the potion, finally. "got it!" He smiled a bit. Then, the error occurred.

The box collapsed, sending small projectiles of splintered wood soaring across the room, a few of which decided to land themselves right in Sty's face, just below his right eye. He yelped and brushed his eye rapidly, only pushing the splinters further into his skin, causing them to almost protrude his eye socket. Blood spilled from the wounds and Sty almost lost it, but he couldn't. The ruckus that the breaking box had caused was too loud, almost abnormal, as if someone wanted them to be heard.

"Damn the Gods, I think we need to run." Sty said, shocking himself that he had actually cursed, for the first time in his life and heading for the door.

Ozone was lying on the floor, one of the books under his back. He lifted himself up and brushed his back off; he had the wind knocked out of him. With his free hand, Sty opened the door and motioned for Ozone to exit. Nodding his head and grabbing what he could salvage; the Silver Dagger, the Iron Saber, the incident-causing potion, and a few pieces of gold that fell from his pocket and scattered across the floor. Sty was watching with anticipation, begging Ozone to silently hurry up. Then he saw that the force of Ozone's impact with the ground had caused the paper lantern to fall to the ground, still burning. Sty ran over to it; there was something about it…something that taunted him to take it, almost commanded him to. He obeyed, blowing the precious candle out as to not have it catch on fire, and lofted it on his right shoulder, holding it in place with his free right hand. He and Ozone ran for it, exiting the shop and heading down the hall, exiting the door leading outside the canton.

They ran, and just in the nick of time. The bizarre 'clang' noise they had heard earlier was the noise of three Ordinators stationed on the plaza, one of them repairing his colleagues' armor, hammering away at the outdoor forge. But the noise, the bewilderingly loud noise at that, that they had caused inside had certainly and obviously aroused the Temple guards and they were running full speed down the steps of the plaza. Quickly thinking, Sty looked at Ozone and jumped. He literally jumped off of the side of the top section of the canton. He landed below with a thud, and Ozone had no time to reason with himself. The Ordinators were not racing towards the door the two had previously exited. He closed his eyes and jumped, still not knowing if his best friend even survived the fall, and braced for landing. He landed too with a thud, but recovered quickly. Sty, however, was not so lucky. Truthfully, Sty had never had any amount of luck in his entire life. He would always be in trouble.

Sty was trying to get himself up, but he had broken his left leg on impact. He still held onto his belongings, and the paper lantern did not rip at the extent of air that had flown through it on the way down, amazingly. It had acted as a type of parachute and even slowed Sty's fall. He still hit hard, harder then Ozone did for some reason. With not a second to even thing of sparing, Ozone grabbed hold of Sty with his own free hand by the shoulders and dragged him around into a corner. He then softly and gently let Sty's body hit the ground, Sty whimpering and squeezing his leg with his right hand. Ozone had to do something. The Ordinators had no doubt seen Ozone plunge off of the edge, and they were probably racing down to the lower section of the canton right at the moment. With a lead-weight feeling in his gut, Ozone looked at one of the scrolls underneath Sty's arm. He saw one that glowed a acidifying and somewhat velvet soft light blue. He picked it up.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sty asked, cringing every other moment due to the pain in his leg shooting up at random moments.

"Just relax." Ozone said, trying with utmost-vain effort to scribe the ancient Daedric writings quaintly but greatly deeply embossed onto the parchment paper.

"You…you don't even know how to read PLAIN writing, idiot. How do you possibly IMAGINE reading Daedric manuscript?" Sty said, a slight vain in his furrow pulsing just under his skin. The surging sharp pains were making him very shot-tempered and scrutinizing.

The night air was getting colder, as it was nearing one in the morning. The stars were still glimmering, and the sound of the Ordinators' boots clanging in a spine-tingling monotonous litany in chime with the shuffle of their Indoril Shields clanging off of their gauntlets was nearing the two from within the hollowed out Velothian-style canton. Ozone just closed his eyes, and imagined a Daedroth in a spectacular setup of a placid blue and white robe with ancient talismans dangling from the cuffs, twinkling gold and silver along with a scroll in his hands, unrolled and glowing the same magnifying light blue as Ozone's. The Deadroth was sitting on a throne of bones. Animal or Mer, Ozone was not sure, but the bones had a tainted brown tint to them. The leaky razor-sharp stone walls of a platonic cavern surrounded the Deadroth king, and there were servants bowing on either side of him. He read the scroll slowly, and with a human tongue.

"Eashira massad heillon." The Deadroth's alligator jaws moved smoothly as the tarnished words escaped his bellows.

Ozone felt possessed, as he read the same words effortlessly and with a perfect tone. The scroll started humming and pulsed much quicker, the light blue transcending into a gastro white. A blue ball hindered itself from the center of the unrolled scroll and gently rolled and somersaulted through the air like a Nymph, gracefully almost, and landed right on Sty. His eyes were wide with incoherent awe and his mouth was opened like a hatch. His leg felt completely better. Ozone had just saved his life, both of their lives, as he would many more times in the future.

The Ordinators were just beyond the door that the two were positioned at. With no time to spare, they both erected themselves and ran harder and faster then they ever imagined. The scroll must have temporarily boosted both of their speed, because the almost treaded on the air as the made for their secret entrance to the canals, leaving the Ordinators in the dust.

Chapter VI: Sty and Ozone Part III – Killing Field

Upon entering the canals, Sty and Ozone slowed their feet down and came to an eased halt. Sty just stood, looking at Ozone with a somewhat disconcerting look. His practically uneducated companion had just spoken a foreign tongue, and saved both of their lives, not to mention he had just proceeded to heal him of his wounds AND gave them both unmatched speed for a few brief minutes.

"What…was-" He started, but Ozone abruptly cut him off.

"I don't know!" He semi-squealed with joy, "Sty," He looked his best friend dead in the eyes, their red iris's meeting each other in the vacant emptiness of the canals. "I have to confess. I have always been fascinated with Magick!"

Sty blinked, rendered momentarily dazed, and shifted his eyes to the left in a kind of oppressed way, as if he was trying to hold back what he wanted to say.

"I…" He hesitated before continuing, "I have a confession too…I wish to leave this barren island and travel the lands, with a gallant steed and a trusty sword by my side. I can't mock you for your love of Magick. I am your best friend; you're like a brother to me. I will always support you, no matter what the circumstances. I will be at your side even if the Duke himself were to come to behead you for a devious, even outrageous crime, and I-" He was, again, cut short.

"I get the point." Ozone said, taking a stern look to his face. He held it for a few moments, and then the solid stare cracked into a smile and the two simultaneously burst out in laughter.

"I just never told you because I was afraid you'd make fun of me." Sty said shyly.

"Never. But ditto. I never did tell you for the same fear either." Ozone stated.

"Nah. I'd never do anything like that to you. I'm too self-centered to care." Sty smirked.

"Yeah, well…hey, we got away scat-free, didn't we?" Ozone was, with certain rights, astonished. He didn't think they'd actually pull it off.

"Yeah I know, huh!" Sty said, patting his pockets and gleaming.

As if on a horrible cue, the three Ordinators entered the canals the side opposite of the boys. They barged in and saw the two. Behind their golden and emotionless masks, the two could sense that they were gnarling, outraged at the two.

"You little FETCHERS!" The one in the lead yelled, his cataclysmic voice echoing through the canalworks. The two boys' parents were surly woken up at the voice. "We should have dragged you two repetitive FLITH into the chambers and left you to rot like the trash you are when we had the chance."

The two boys were frozen, but weren't worried. They would both skip town. No uncertainties in their brains, they would skip town and run to Vivec, and take the Silt Strider from there to Seyda Neen if they had to. They had it planed out far ahead of time. A sudden waft of air stirred up outside and sent a creaking noise through the sewers. The lead Ordinator turned to his comrades and they nodded as he whispered to them. He then turned back around and stared at the two boys with all of their stolen possessions cluttered in their arms and hands.

"Ok boys," The Ordinator said again. "you want to play that game? We will."

The three split up, one of them went towards Ozone's house and the other two marched towards Sty's. Both of their doors were kicked in and the Ordinators rushed in, Sty's mother letting out a scream to the sudden intrusion. Moments later, both of their parents were stepping out of their respective homes barefoot. The lead Ordinator glanced at the boys and clenched his gauntlet-epilated hand and the armor clenched together, his fist was a mighty wrecking ball of gold, looking almost like the sun. He reared his fist back and struck Sty's father in the jaw, his hit connecting with such force that from across the channel the boys could hear the 'crackle' noise that emitted from Sty's fathers now shattered jaw. His father however, just plummeted to the ground and laid still, moaning a bit, his head hitting hard on the tan concrete flooring. His mother began to whimper.

"Blame your son." The lead Ordinator said as he towered over Sty's fallen father. "Actually, blame yourselves for being such poor a'rria." He growled towards Sty's mother.

He kicked Sty's fallen father hard, his heavily plated boot snapping a few of his ribs on his right side. Sty just stood motionless and endeavored himself. He wanted to jump across the channel and kill the Ordinator. He just wanted the Ordinator to kill him. But he knew that he wouldn't. He was making him suffer by watching his own blood being beaten. Ozone's parents clenched each other, his father patting his mother's slick ebony hair back.

"It's ok," He whispered to his wife as the daunting Ordinator stared at his leader. "It's ok."

"Ehrre." The leader Ordinator shot out to the other that was standing next to Ozone's parents and he looked at him once again after letting his eyes fallow to the floor. The leader scoffed and nodded.

The Ordinator withdrew a small Wooden Club from the side of his legionary blue and gold ruffled skirt. He raised it up over his head as Ozone clenched his eyes shut in a pitiful attempt to block out any extent of the sight. He still heard a bearing 'tick' as the club bashed his father's skull. Ozone began to whimper and dozens of small trickles of salty tears built up along the corners of his eyes and began to flow as he huffed out exasperated amounts of air. He was on the verge of breaking down, but still kept his eyes away from the murder scene.

Sty saw it all too well though. The wood was now stained red and small drops of red rain oozed off of the head of the club and splattered on the floor. Ozone's dad looked crumpled up on the floor like an old piece of paper, a pool of blood sitting in the indentation of the side of his head. Bare bone rugged up and pierced the skin of his skull from the inside, small jagged mountains of white. Ozone's mother had her mouth agape and her eyes were well glazed over with tears. She fell to her knees and knelt beside her husband who had died all too early. Even Sty's father showed physical signs of anguish at the loss of his friend. And the worse part was…

It was all their fault.

Sty scouted around and found a piece of the wall foundation that had fallen loose; it was a large tan rock. He hurled it towards the lead Ordinator and it hit the left side of his face with a clang as his head bounced off of his right shoulder and tilted upwards. Dazed, the Ordinator looked at the two and shot his right hand straight in front of Sty's mothers face. Ozone looked up and saw what was certain to happen.

"Sty! No, we have to stop him!" Ozone stuttered between sobs and sniffs, as his nose was running.

Sty found another, smaller, part of the foundation and threw it with all of his might just as the Ordinators' hand started glowing red. It hit him again, this time in the back. He stumbled forward and lost his balance, the wind got knocked out of him. Without thinking again, Sty fetched a throwing knife he had stolen from the store that was placed in one of the belt loops of his tattered pants. It was a bland, but effective as the lead Ordinator would soon find out, Iron Throwing Knife. Sty closed his left eye and took a not-so-precise aim. He hurled the knife with all of his force and it soared through the air like a Sparrow. The Ordinator looked up and saw the projectile coming right at him, separating the air as it cut through it with a swift 'wshhhh' noise. It landed dead in his open eye socket and the handle was the only part that could be seen jutting out from the golden face mask. A small river of operant and devastating red began to flow out of the eye hole, the left eye hole. The golden mask was otherwise glowing with the reflection of the lamps studded around the canals epilating off of the now-demonic looking face mask.

Without a sound, the Ordinator fell forwards again. The other two Ordinators ran down the walkway instantly and tried to find a way to get across to the boys.

"You n'wah! You have just earned yourselves a death warrant!" One of them growled while trying to jump across the canal to the other side.

He failed, and fell right in the middle of the canal, the water rushing up over him from time to time. He spat out water and tried to swim to find a way out. Realizing that it was useless after a few moments, he yelled to the other Ordinator who was still trying to find a way across.

"Get over here and pull me out!" The Ordinator half pleaded.

The other Ordinator rushed towards where his comrade was and knelt over the side of the walkway that was jutting out a foot or so over the water, and extended his golden hand out. His spotless golden armor was getting blasted with little dots of water and leaving white spots all over it. The Ordinator in the water doggy paddled his was to the edge of the water and the other reached out further. They finally clasped hands and the other Ordinator started pulling the one in the water out; he was stopped short by a noise behind him. He looked around and saw Sty's mother, her arms wrenched behind her.

"No.' The Ordinator whispered as his eyes widened.

Sty's mother pushed the Ordinator in and watched them flail like crazed Slaughterfish in the water, both trying desperately to find a way out. Then, a blessing occurred. It began to downpour outside, the big, heavy raindrops pattering against the side of the canton, sending a war drum-like beat echoing itself throughout the canals. The water started flowing quicker and deeper, water gushing from the grates that brought the water from outside through the canals. After a few minutes, the water was well over the Ordinators' heads and they got pulled under buy the undertow, their lifeless golden bodies shifting around in a blur beneath the surface of the water, looking like two gold coins shimmering at the bottom of a wishing fountain. Sty and Ozone looked at the scene, then back up at their parents. They had disappeared, vanished without a trace or a goodbye. They were, with full rights, ashamed of their suns. Even Ozone's father's body was gone, a trail of smeared red blood leading up the ramps that led to the upper part of the Underworks. The two boys looked at each other and Sty sighed while Ozone wept. Sty patted his friend on the back and they both walked out of their secret entrance of the sewers towards Vivec. They didn't bother to take the Silt Strider, as the cabbie hated them both. He had caught them taking spare Septims from his 'Tips' chest and refused to ever give them service in their entire lives.

Chapter VII: Sty and Ozone Part IV - Suran

The path was dangerous to Vivec, and the pounding rain and agric winds pushed against them, making their travel even slower and more painful. The rain was like small stones being hurled at them and the wind left hot, stinging red marks across their faces and arms. They found shelter under an overhang that was on the western slopes of Mount Kand. They were curled up into little balls, as the overhang wasn't all too big, and slept, trying to ignore the occasional collapses of thunder and the nigh-brightening shades of white that crackled through the sky, lighting up both of the boys' small bodies a ghastly pale lavender color.

Day came, and with it, a very overcastted day. The two had just had the most painful and scaring night of their lives, even more scaring then any day they would have in the future, and they were still sleepy. But still, they knew that the Ordinators all over Molag Mar and Vivec would be searching for them, combing the area for any traces of them. So they decided to head north, then east, being chased by a pack of wild Diamond Headed Asps and a few Alts along the way. Once they began to head east, they found themselves headed south again and eventually setting up a small camp when the sun began to set. The two had not had anything to eat sense their feast of Kwama Eggs a day and a half ago, so they decided that they would eat some of what they stole from the shop. They found a small rock formation that was like an open-air cave, it was a small shelter, but good enough for the two. They set down all of their belongings and Sty told Ozone to stay guard while he found some wild Alchemic ingredients to pinch off of. He knew nothing of the flora or shrubbery, but found a red bush full of blooming red flowers, the outer edges of the petals were a pale yellow color. He plucked about a dozen or so of them off and searched for some berry or fruit bushes. He found one, luckily, that had small orange orbs on it.

The orbs sent off the scent of a sweet and smooth kind of berry, so he picked more then a scores worth of them and headed back to the rocks. When he got there, he piled the flowers and berries out on the ground. The two sucked the stems of the flowers, which were very sour, almost like a sour candy, but it filled them up that much more. They then proceeded onto the berries, which tasted autarkic, very sweet like a jam or syrup. They munched down on them, both of their fingers and all around their mouths were stained orange. Ozone even had orange dye on the under part of his bicep.

"How'd you get that there?" Sty asked somewhat baffled.

"Don't know." Ozone grinned as he licked his fingers.

The two were rather full and tired from their day of running in terror and walking, along with their loss of sleep the night before, so they fell asleep at around eight, and woke up at seven the next morning, picking up all of their supplies and heading south again.

"We really need at least one bedroll." Sty said rubbing his back as they walked; passing a bubbling tar pit with the skeletal remains of some animal that got caught in the pit floating on the surface.

"Yeah, I know we do. That, and we need a travel sack or something, because most of out loot is going to get ruined if we aren't careful." Ozone warned.

The two did have a difficult journey with all of the loot they had to carry under each arm and all the walking they had to do. They had to take a break once every hour or so, slowing them down a little. By nightfall, after a little travel to the east, a few packs of rabid Guar and an utterly unbearable Cliff Racer that they could NOT loose no matter how many boulders they devised themselves behind or how many rocks they threw at it, they reached the Hlaalu city of Suran. They needed training on how to kill things, urgently. Just as they entered town, relieved at the sight of other men and mer, they saw a tall Argonian male in shackles running their way. He tripped (his shackles were around his legs, and they were very tight too) and fell on his chest, his scaly and glinting arms pushing him upwards off of the half dirt half stone walkway. A shorter Dunmer man was running behind him, decked out in a full set of Orcish Bashers' Armor.

"Get back here, worm!" The Dunmer said, unsheathing a brilliant Glass Longsword that was a powerful green yet still translucent, the buildings behind the sword looking distorted and a shade of green.

"The prey helps Digs-In-Dung, no?" The Argonain said, crouching down and hiding behind the two kids.

"Hey!" Ozone said whipping around to look the Argonian in the face…er…horned snout.

"What do you think you're doing, hiding behind US?"

"Yeah!" Sty chimed in, trying to sound tough.

"If you help Digs-In-Dung…" The Argonian looked at the loot the two boys were carrying, seeing the Silver Dagger that Ozone held, "Ah, I will teach the younglings the art of the Shortblade."

"Deal." Ozone said instantly. He looked at the Argonian. He was wearing nothing but a torn pair of light brown trousers that had etched stitching and multicolored patches along it.

"Stand aside, children." The Dunmer man said, "This isn't your business."

"Wait, um, how much for the slave?" Sty asked, tying to have a noble tone in his voice.

"Why would you care you little piper?" The Dunmer asked, his eyes narrowing to slits as he eyed the two younger Dunmer.

"Well, father is short a few hands, the escape plan that a few of the fish tried last week worked rather well, as they are hiding somewhere in the mountains just north of here. He needs another one, and this one looks like he's got some sprawl in him." Sty said looking at the mountains to the north, grey clouds gathering just above the summits of the small mountains.

"Ha." The Dunmer spat. "Like any noble's kin would be carrying around loot themselves with tattered clothing on."

"Well, if you knew much of anything," Sty began, raising his chin in the air, "we are just doing routine runs through the hills, running supplies back and forth from our estate to the manor here in town. We don't want to get our good clothes soiled with ash, and father says it 'builds good character' for us to run the supplies ourselves."

The Dunmer thought for a moment and a smile crossed his pale blue lips, revealing a set of pearled white teeth. "Either you're a rare type of ungainly noble, or a latent liar. Alright then, three thousand Drakes for the swine."

"Uh, w-well, you see, father only gave us limited funds. A few hundred drakes and some goods to barter off. Do you see anything you might be willing to trade for the slave?" Sty said, knowing that he and Ozone desperately needed training in Shortblades if they were to be successful thieves.

The Dunmer looked at what the two had bundled under their arms and saw the lavish clothing that Sty held under his left arm.

"Ok, fifty Drakes, and all of that fine clothing, and the slave is yours. A formidable steal, if you were to ask me." He said.

"Deal." Sty said, shelling out fifty coins from his pocket and handing the clothing over. It was quite a steal indeed.

The Dunmer man thanked the two for their transaction and they thanked him as well as he walked off, his silver armor dulling as the sun set and the dark clouds came rolling in from the north. The Argonian jumped up from his hiding position and divulged his long, slick arms around the two.

"Much thanks, masters." The Argonian said, winking.

"Yeah, yeah, enough of that. Now what about that training?" Sty asked as they headed towards an inn up a set of stairs on the south-eastern portion of town.

"Yes, training indeed. It will take time, and concentration, along with discipline." The Argonian said as they entered the inn and paid for a room.

They needed a way of income, and they would soon find out that Suran was a good town to loot. Over the course of the next few weeks, however, they trained, paying minimal upkeep for their room at the inn. When they weren't training, they would help the barkeeper around the inn by sweeping or filling up kegs or cleaning tankards and plates and eating utensils. They also used a small dagger to cut open packages with and to slice meats up with, and that too helped them with their training. They no longer needed the help of the slave, and to make a profit and be like traditional backstabbers/Dunmer, they sold the Argonian back to the slave market, being very hypocritical to their old, now elapsed beliefs. They now knew that to make it in the world, you sometimes to do dishonorable deeds, especially if you were in the situation that the two were in. One night, they decided that they would brush up on their skills, and rob a store. Little did they know that in doing so, they would forever change their lives and take it on a whole new path.

Chapter VIII: Sty and Ozone Part V - The Archer

The night was cold, it was nearing the end of Last Seed, and the blackness of space seemed to weigh down on Nirm. It was an excellent night for thievery, and the two (now teenage) boys were dressed up in their custom, as they called it, 'Ravaging Suits', and were equipped with Adventurers' Probes and Picks. Their affairs had prospered over the last few months. They had both turned thirteen, and had become even more agile then before, due to their excessive training and lambent freelancing. They were now both very well adapted to Short Blades and picking locks. They even picked up the art of freelancing, as well as Marksmanship.

"Freelancers around Vvardenfel as about as common as thieves in House Hlaalu." A Ranger told them at a tavern they were mending a little south of the Silt Strider in town. "Not too dangerous, not like you're a macerating warrior or anything. Just go from tomb-to-tomb and loot shit. Literally, most the stuff you'll find is worth less then a pound of Guar droppings, and half as useless."

"What about Rangers?" Sty asked as he leaned the broom he was using to sweep up the remnants of a broken mug against the tan wall of the tavern.

"Aye! We're the dangerous ones; we rely on our surroundings and our stealth to do our work. It also takes a good skill at Marksman, ya know. I personally rely on my Iron Longbow, but others I know like to use Chitin, the say it's…" The Ranger rambled on, and on, and on, and on some more, Sty incoherently and subconsciously blocking him out as he thought.

"Marksman, and freelancing. That's the two traits we need to work on." Sty instructed Ozone as they sat about their rented room on the third floor of the tavern.

The room was small, with two beds piled nearly on top of each other in the right corner, accompanied by a small maple table and a crudely-crafted maple dresser. Other then that, there were only three rotted-wood crates in the left corner aimlessly shoved there. Inside was their loot, anything and literally everything they owned that they were willing to sell (which was just about everything they owned) and a few provisions filled in small glass flasks. On the maple table laid the infamous paper lantern, never lit sense the night Sty took it. The tile flooring was obscurely placed enough, looking as if a drunken Nord did the job. The grout was also worn down, exposing small lines of dust beneath the floor. The walls were nervously thin, as the two had, unfortunately discovered the first night they took up hold in the place. Seems that the two Orcs in the room next to them were a bit…friendly.

"Why Marksman?" Ozone asked, stretched out on his bed, his Silver Dagger resting on the splintery headboard.

"Well, remember…" Sty was held back momentarily. The gruesome image of a golden face with a knife handle projecting out of the left eye socket flashed a million miles a second in his head, "When I threw that knife at the Ordinator?" He tried to shake the image from his mind, but to no avail.

Ozone was also taken back to that night, they night they both cursed. "Yes." He stubbornly said, letting his eyes drift over to the paper lantern on the table, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Well…that throw was luck of the Three, Ozone. Next time, if the need comes, neither I nor you will be prepared enough to make a shot like that." Sty took a quiet seat at the foot of Ozone's bed, his body weight making the rusty springs within the mattress squeal.

Ozone though for a second, still concentrating on the lantern. He sighed and tilted his head back forcefully, burrowing it in the stale pillow it was resting on. "True. We will ask the Archer who runs the pawnshop across the way tomorrow. Now let's sleep, I'm tired as it is and we will need our minds focused for the training."

Sty planted a big smile across his matured (for how young he still was) face and punched his almost-brother in the arm lightly. Ozone just shooed him away and he crawled into his bed right after blowing the small orb-like orange candle that was overhanging on the small roof and the room was plagued into darkness.

The proceeding morning, the two lulled into the pawnshop across the square in the middle of the first floor of town and entered, pushing the light stone door aside, allowing light to slice through the relatively dark building. The door swung back in place and the light was once again overcome by the dark. A few light blue candlesticks on silver stands were hulled up across the shop, giving it a suttee kind of feel. Ozone wondered off to a shelf full of scrolls. He hadn't had any practice with Magick since that night. He unrolled the few scrolls that were there; red, green, and deep golden treads of light shimmering off of the enchanted scrolls, planting themselves on the walls. They all had the Daedric inscriptions on them. He rolled up all but the red one and looked over his shoulder. Sty was busy chatting with the owner, asking him to train them. He took the opportunity to slip the red scroll into a small Alt hide travel bag they had found in a room in one of the taverns they took residence in once. He lapsed the strong Kresh Fiber latch over the opposite side of the bag and fastened it. He then walked over to join the two in their conversation.

"Well, you see, we plan to go freelancing and need to know how to throw, we don't even need to learn how to use a bow." Sty was bargaining with the man. He knew that he would end up training them.

"Huh…" The Archer huffed as he finished polishing off an enchanted Longsword and placed it back on display on the smooth tile counter he was standing behind. "Well, I usually lock up at about seven every night…and I guess I could train you two for near nothing, so long as you help me with some stuff around my loft."

"Sir, you have yourself a deal." Sty said as he shook the man's rugged tanned hands. "I always heard Bosmer were easy to haggle with." He barbarously mumbled under his breath and smiled.

For the rest of the day, the two brushed up on their Shortblade combat and went just west of town into the small lake, the murky green water polluted by algae and slick, grey seaweed. There they hunted Slaughterfish for their scales and also got a bit sharper at their combat skills. Ozone did get chomped on once, a pack of three larger Slaughterfish came up behind him and bit at his calves viscously, but were quickly disposed of, leaving a splatter of Ozone's blood lofting on the surface of the pond. At around six, they lugged back to town and sold off their pile of scales to the local Alchemist for a good collection of one hundred and sixty five gold, and thanks to Ozone's keen eyes, as he saw a glint at the bottom of the gastric clouded green lake, sold off a nice pearl the size of a Septim for an extra two hundred gold. They would eat well tonight.

Chapter IX: Sty and Ozone Part VI – The Suran Underground

As they headed back to the tavern, the sun was fading off behind the ash-piled hills to the west. Seven was approaching. And Ozone was all but cooperative.

"But Sty! I'm tired. I want to learn how to throw a damn knife just as much as you, but I seriously think that part of my leg is missing." Ozone was pleading with Sty as they walked down the hall in the tavern heading towards their room. It was warm inside, as the air outside was getting icier. A thick, sweet smell of boiling Trama Root was swirling around, seeping through every crack in the doors and walls.

"Ozone, you know they we may never get another chance at this." Sty jovially said, his pace quickening as they lured near their door. Ozone was trying to beg, but he was obviously loosing.

"But-" Ozone began to take another swing but was cut off as they entered their room.

"Here." Sty said with a slight impulse of anger and annoyance as he threw a potion encased in a slick, light green glass bottle. "Drink up."

Ozone caught it, disgruntled, and slammed it down. He could feel the wound on his leg getting tighter and tighter until it finally popped and was gone all together. "I hate it when you heal me." Was all he could, or wanted to, say to Sty as they placed their belongings down on their beds and exited the room, heading back downstairs and out of the door.

Outside, it seemed like the air was especially frigged. Small, piercing crystals hung, suspended in mid-flight in the air, and when they were passed through they ripped at the two's skin like microscopic daggers. Sty covered up his biceps with his hands, folding them over one another, and shivered a little.

"Damn, Ozone, is this coldness normal for this time of the year?" Sty asked as they approached the pawnshop, the windows still glowing dimly. Sty reached for the door handle and yanked it open, the stinging air melting as the warmth of the shop exhumed from within.

"I don't even know…what time of the year it is. I…I don't even know what year it is." Ozone said as they entered through the wooden doorframe. "Ah, hurry in now; don't want to let the heat out into that devastating night air. Oh, and to answer your question, it's the thirtieth day of Last Seed." The Bosmer chimed as he came around from behind his counter to greet the two in the middle of the shop.

"Now, if you will just follow me, I will lead you to my training grounds, just in the basement. Then, after that, you two can help me clean up around the place. Just some organizing, some dusting, basics." The Bosmer said as he headed toward a brown wooden door at the far end of the shop.

He dove his small right hand into the right pocket of his greenish pants and fumbled around for a moment. After a jingle for what seemed like keys came from within the pocket, he emerged his hand with a single, small, key tight in his grip.

"How many keys do you keep in that pocket? Seemed like a whole vaults worth." Ozone said as the Wood Elf proceeded to unlock the solid and sturdy door and swing it open.

"A few. One for here, one for the basement door, one for the upstairs, and one for home." He replied, not even a twine-like sense of curiosity or affinity in his voice.

The three swooped through the door and Sty closed it behind him, a she was the last one through. A few small torches lit the way down a flight of very unstable wooden planks that acted as a shabby and rather mug set of stairs. The air got cold again and was in turn filled with the scent of mildew and oddly enough, fresh severed wood. As they got to the bottom of the stairs, Sty finally was hit with a thought.

"Wait…what's your name again, Bosmer?"

"Oh, um, just call me Argon." The Bosmer replied with a bit of a surprised expression melting on his face.

"Right, then." Sty said still following close behind.

Argon took a right at the end of the stairs and there stood before him a tight but lengthy room filled with torches that burned a hot red. There were at least ten Chitin Shortbows lined across the wall, held in place by steadily fastened nails that acted as holders against gravity. Underneath the bows there was a carving table and a chunk of raw lumber lay on top of it. There were white and slightly brown shavings sewn all about the table and on the ground as well. Four finely crafted arrows, yet to be finished, lay in a straight and equal row next to a pair of prongs, a hammer, and a chisel. And beside the table even, there was a tall wicker basket, jammed full of other arrows, hundreds, maybe thousands.

"Wow." Ozone blandly said as he eyed the workshop.

Argon opened a door adjacent to the workshop that led into a long alley-like room with targets set up on the far end. A shifty counter constructed of boxes lay across the room, separating the entrance from the targets that were at least fifteen yards away, lined up across the back wall. The targets were wood cutouts of Alt with different rings painted around the legs, torso, and head, each respective target getting smaller. The two boys eyed the entire setting.

"H…how did you fit all this underneath your shop?" Sty asked as he ran his hand over the rough, bone-dry surface of the withered boxes.

"The Suran Underground…you've never heard of it? You two have been here for almost four months, and haven't heard of it?" Argon was slightly dumbfounded, thinking that everyone in Suran knew about it.

"The Suran…Underground?" Ozone tilted his head as if to think if he heard about the place in a conversation from way back when, but only drew up a clear blank.

Sty suddenly felt uneasy with the Bosmer, as if a dark side of him had just shown its face.

"Oh yes. It's a wonder…how you two don't know about it. It's the sewers of Suran, so to speak. Vast tunnels, dug from before the time of the second era. Suran was built over the tunnels; the excavators first discovered them only after they completed the city. They run far under the ground. This town was to have a well, because back in the second era, as you might not know, every town was smaller then it is today, 'sides Vivec. Turns out a gruesome tale came out of it all when it ended. Horrible monsters, they say, dug the tunnels and murdered almost all the crew that built the town. Never a word was spoken about it though, the town was already set up and the people need a place to live, you know. Well, that's how I got this here alley put in, runs right off of the tunnels." Argon explained as he got three of the Chitin bows off of the wall in the workshop and brought them back into the shooting range.

"Something's not right here." Sty said as his eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?" Argon said, placing the bows down on the crates. Ozone was also a little uneasy.

"Monsters in tunnels? What kind of monsters?" Sty asked with a shimmer of untrustworthiness.

"Can't say. Some folk claim they're Vampires, others say that some horribly disfigured minions of Dagoth Ur himself that tunneled all the way from Red Mountain in an a attempt to escape from the Ghostgate. I personally haven't a clue." Argon said

Ozone peered next to Sty and whispered into his ear, "Watch him while we practice." And Sty acknowledged with a slight grunt.

Over the next few weeks the two came back to his shop every day at around seven and trained. At first they were horrible shots and had to stray away from the Alt cutouts and had to practice hitting crates a few feet away from them, but as usual, they were quick learners and soon they worked their ways up to the Alt targets, guiding the iron-tipped arrows through the air to hit the precise center of the bulls-eye on the head. Sty seemed to pick up the bow better, while Ozone was very swift with the maneuverable throwing knives. That was it, they were set, they knew how to use Shortblades, how to use their Marksmanship skills, they certainly knew how to sneak about well enough, and Ozone had a bit of Magicka under his belt. And best of all, no zombies or Vampires tired to eat them while they trained in the Suran Underground.

"Thank you for the training." Sty shook Argons' small, cracked hand.

"And thank you for helping with the upkeep." Argon smiled. "And here, take these gifts for your trouble. Besides, what's the use of being excellent archers if you haven't the right hardware for it?" He said as he handed over two Oaken Longbows and a quiver full of Iron Arrows and a bundle of Iron Throwing Knives.

"Are you sure?" Sty said halfway disconcerted.

"Yes, yes. You two really have a knack for this, and I, being the marksman enthusiast I am, am very excited to have trained you two. Just don't forget about me when you've plundered the most dreaded caverns, I want some loot too." He smiled as the gifts left his hands and fell onto the two boys'.

Chapter X: Sty and Ozone Part VII – The Night Watch

The two walked out of his shop's doors and into the cold, brisk dead of the night. It was then that it hit them. They were leaving Suran right when they got back to their hotel anyway. Over their course of training with the Bosmer, they had found that his store was easy enough to rob. While they were down in the tunnels training, one of them would say they had to use the bathroom, or go get some fresh air, as the air down in the tunnels was a bit musky and could be head-squandering if someone was down there for too long, and they would go up to the shop and find anything simple that they might need and slipped it into their pockets, waited a few moments, and then retreated back down into the training grounds.

Sty got lucky one day and found that there were two complete black suits laying on one of the shelves at the back of the room. Perfect for them, black shirt, black pants, black shoes, and black gloves. Sty thought that it suited them both well to have costumes to wear in the darkness and took back the pairs and ran back to the inn room with them, stashed them underneath his bed mattress, and ran back to the store. They had worn them once, just to test them. They broke into the weapon smiths' store after hours and ravened it for a book on Magicka that Ozone thought was great and a nice Steel-Lined Bronze Shortsword for Sty to hang on to. They pulled it off without a hitch, and so their costumes were then called their 'Ravaging Suits'. So the two got to their room at the inn and waited for a few minutes, it was nearing ten. They threw on their suits and headed out to the big Supply Shop up on the third hill of the town.

It was really large, as it was the supply shop for Mercenaries and Hlallu guardsmen and also a few of the Temple associates that had to guard a head Patron or escort a High Priest across the ash. It made good money and had armor, weapons, and scrolls that could fashion a small army up for war.

"Get pumped." Ozone said as they neared the shop, the glistening of the moon off the windows becoming brighter.

The hills all around the town were serine, not a noise except for a light wind that would stir up a few pebbles or so. Sty's pulse quickened as they took a left around the back of the building and silently lugged themselves up onto the top of it. Walking in a silent stance, they tip-toed across the Hlallu stone architecture and walked to the southern edge of the rooftop.

"I'll go inside, you keep lookout and use the signal if anyone is coming." Sty said.

"Right." Ozone meekly replied as he watched Sty loft over the edge down to a second story balcony. A light click was heard just seconds after, Ozone's head swiftly lurking about, checking every corner of every shadow, just incase.

Once he was sure Sty had gotten the door open, Ozone checked down both sides of the dimly lit street, not even a guard in sight, and he too floated down to the balcony. Inside, the sound of a snoring watch guard could be heard. Sty silently shut the door, using his trained eyes to scan the darkness. Ozone stood with his back to the wall right next to the door, waiting on his partner. After the door was closed, they studied the interior. They had never really been inside the shop, but they had seen the local guards traverse through it, and it wasn't a very "clean" business. The guards would come out staggering, but not from drunkenness. The stringent smell of burnt Kresh Weed lingering out of the opened front door was more than enough indication that they weren't Skooma users, but they liked to make their shifts a little less boring; and the building had no problem helping them out for a little cash on the side.

It was a large building, indeed, but not too complex. Two stories, three main rooms on the top floor with two hallways and the stairs leading down to the first floor in the hallways adjacent to the one the boys were in right now. They guessed that the three large rooms were holding quarters for the proprietor, his servants, and the guards. The snoring came from the hall adjacent. Sty cast a quick glance at Ozone and they both crept towards the door that separated the two halls. Sty opened it slowly, the pulsing ambient light from a candle pushing its way into the darkness as he inched the door open silently. The profile of Sty's slim face could be seen through the small crack in the door as his red eye looked around. To his left a watchman slept in a chair, a Dunmer with a leather cuirass on, and half-full bottle of Matze tipped onto its side on the smooth wooden table in front of him. Sty knew that the guard was most likely out cold, but he wanted to be careful. He beckoned Ozone to his right side.

"Guard's asleep, some Matze. There's some stairs all the way down the right of the hall, and there's lights lining the hall. We'll need to be quick." Sty whispered into Ozone's ear.

Ozone nodded in agreement and they both started off creeping down the hall. They got to the stairs and halted. A door opened up in the hall that they had entered in. Quickly, they both glided down the stairs just like shadows, weightless and blending into the darkness. A tall, chubby Breton man emerged from the side door, the light flooding his pale face, making it almost shimmer. He saw the slumbering guard on the chair and woke the slacking night watchman up with a quick knuckle to the head.

"Lazy Dunma'!" He proclaimed. The Dunmer promptly jolted awake and shuffled to his feet.

"N-not mu-much else goes on here, serjo." He replied, still intoxicated, and half asleep.

"No excuse, none atull. Now get back up into tha room, an' watch ovr' the shipment. Owght to keep you awake." He exclaimed as he pressed the Matze jug to his lips, the liquid splashing against the inside of the jug and down his throat.

"Yes, sir." The guard said as he got up and grabbed a candle off of the table and headed into the hall. A door opened and silently shut several moments later.

The Breton began to pace his way towards the stairs, near the boys. "Damn guards, cheap n' useless. Wello, at least ere' we've got that Suga' coming in." He mumbled to himself.

He cast a light spell into the middle of the pitch black main room, where the counter was and where the storage room was. He silently mouthed a small hymn to himself and a small orb lofted from his right hand. At first, it was a very dim ball, but when it reached the center of the room, it lit up immensely and instantly. A ring of light, almost like sunlight, encompassed the room. Sty and Ozone were just out of the reach of the circumference, as Sty's shoe was in the light for a brief moment, but he pulled out of the light just before the Breton man had a chance to look over where he saw a shadowed figure. He simply shrugged and patted his small bald spot in the direct center of his head before continuing to go behind the exquisite counter. It was yew, soft and light brown. It was carved by hand, probably off in Valenwood by the many master artisans that resided in the tree-top dwellings that kissed the clear blue sky and pristine, lucid waters. There were faces and many different trees carved into the base, and the countertop was smooth as marble. There was a large central carving on the top of a shield cracked down the middle, and two gates to Oblivion on each side of the crack on the shield. One was a tall spire with spikes erecting out of it, a delicate mist swirling above it. The other was a large face of a demented being, unknown horrors filling the eyes of the face, and the lips slashed vertically to be the opening of the gate, spiky, horrid teeth jutting out from the opening. Beneath the shield was a small pool in a natural stone vent. A single sword was standing out of the middle of the pool, vines growing from beneath the water's surface wrapping around the hilt and cross guard.

Once he rummaged though a few documents and found an envelope, he retreated back upstairs. The light spell was still active as he left the room, but a minute later the ball began to flicker before it disbursed completely and the room was suddenly again delved into complete, heavy darkness.

"Wow." Ozone whispered after a few more minutes went by. He let out a small sigh, "That was close."

"Yeah, too close. We're being sloppy. Trudge up, let's go. That door that was straight left of us; I think that that's the storage room." Sty said.

"How can you tell?" Ozone inquired as they both crept towards it.

"When the light was there, the man kept looking back towards it, glancing quickly, as if to make sure no one had left it open." He looked around some more as he stated his observation.

There was nothing worth taking behind the counter, as they took off all of the expensive items that were on display and put them back into storage to ensure their safety. As the two reached the door, Sty took out his pick and silently slid up to the lean, metal knob. It was locked, as he could tell just by looking at it. Almost the entire city of Suran used the same type of knob, and he noticed that if it was unlocked, the front, out-most part of the knob would be at a slight downwards angle, and if it were locked, it would be perfectly horizontally jutting forward. He got to work and made short work of the easily-endeavored lock. When the opened the door, they expected to find stock-piles of arms; iron, steel, silver, pristine steel, bronze, diamond-edged, enchanted types of war axes, war hammers, shortswords, long swords, daggers, clubs; even lightly knit chain armor, or Hlaalu guard armor, or Bonemold armor. But what they found was empty shelves, split open crates, and a small boy their age sitting in a corner with his knees to his forehead.

"What in the name of Vhek?" Ozone said with a sideways face.

The dark figure quickly shot up and reached for its beltline. A red glowing dagger emerged from behind its pants and the figure lurched forward, ready to kill.