The Quest for the Scroll
Jarell Cai slowly drew his long curved blade from the scabbard at his side, careful to keep himself quiet and hidden. By the noise, there were at least a few Falmer in the adjacent room beyond the door. He quaffed a foot-step muffling potion and carefully crept through, sticking close to the shadows.
There were six of them. Vile creatures, pale and blind, their elven ears twitched listening for any excuse to pounce. Any excuse for violence. They seemed completely oblivious of each other. Falmer. Disgusting. Jarell was particularly repulsed by the monsters. It was the smell . . . or perhaps the dagger like teeth.
Jarell had no intentions of battling any Falmer today. No, not if he could help it. He was here for the scroll. Nothing more. Nothing less. Maybe he would be able to slip in and out without notice. Stealth was his specialty after all.
Sure, he knew a few spells; healing, an orb of light, some very week fire-mostly for camp fires during his travels-but stealth was his best hope. His sword and his trusty bow were his final defense if he failed to stay hidden.
He stood motionless in the corner, holding his breath while he scanned the small room for options. The Falmer stood randomly about grunting and sniffing the air for skeevers most likely. He had already smeared skeever droppings about his person before he entered this nightmarish labyrinth. The Falmer likely caught wind of it by the way they shuffled and twitched about. Good. They had not detected him.
Across the room was the only other way out. Of course, right in front of the door stood the most hideous Falmer of the six. It had some kind of strange, almost organic, armor on. Including a full face covering helmet that only exposed the monstrosity's lower jaw. He carefully moved around the room, along the walls, and positioned himself right next to the armored Falmer. Quickly, he struck the creature through the neck with his blade, holding his other arm out to catch the falling body as it slumped dead. He gently cradled the carcass and let it down to the floor easily and silently as his potion wore off. With the exit right behind him, he stepped back, slowly letting his weight down on the balls of his feet. Careful and slow, until he was out of the room. He wiped his sword on his thigh and turned to go deeper into this hell.
He had to get that scroll. The Great Dragon himself had tasked him to retrieve it. The entire world hinged on his success. He would do what must be done. No cost was too high. Not even his own life. The world hung in the balance as he said another oath to himself. He would get that scroll. Or die trying.
Jarell had been wandering through these deadly halls for the better part of the day. He had eaten a few snow berries only. He was hungry and tired. Only his shear determination kept him going now.
He rounded the corner to find even more endless, empty passage ways. The smell of the Falmer was weak and stale now. Indicating the brunt of the beasts probably lay behind him. He allowed himself to pick up the pace. Jarell's weariness would only grow worse as time passed.
Suddenly, he felt a slight pop under his foot as a small portion of the floor moved beneath his weight. Purely on instinct he ducked low and rolled to the left, desperately flinging all his weight toward the hallway wall. A loud whoosh filled his ears as the trap's spiked limb flew over his head, only a fingernail's width away from smashing into his skull. He looked back at the trap, stunned. Thankful for his life, he let out a sigh of relief and started forward again.
In the distance he could hear what sounded like the clanging of a blacksmith's hammer. Steady and consistent. Loud. As he came closer to the sound, he saw it was a plethora of strange mechanical devices. Gears and gyros, built right into the walls. Bewildering remnants of the long gone Dwemer race. Machinations left behind to haunt the empty ruins. It was a welcome change. He could hide the sounds of his foot falls and rustling cloths behind the racket.
There was something else here as well, however. Some kind of . . . creature. It was made of the same brass colored metal that the wall contraptions were made from. It was as tall as a man, similar in shape and stature, only it was a complete mockery. A hideous abomination with a large ball for legs. It rolled instead of walked.
A spike of fear shot through Jarell. The Falmer he expected, but this was something else entirely. He'd never even heard of anything like this. Much less, how to deal with it. He decided-once again-stealth would be his best bet. He drank a few more sips from a sound dampening potion, one of his last two, and scurried to the near by, shadowed wall. The clanging noise along with some potion should be enough. He stayed low and alert, never taking his eyes off of the living Dwemer contraption.
The Dwemer machine cocked it's head as if sensing something. How? Jarell had barely moved! It somehow knew it was not alone. Jarell was sure of that. It had changed it's movement patterns and seemed to be . . . searching.
Jarell reached into his pack and smoothly withdrew a scroll. Not the scroll he was here for. No, he was here for an Elder Scroll, as the Great Dragon had called it. What he held now was a spell scroll. A particularly nasty fire spell scroll he had purchased from a merchant in Whiterun. It was extremely dangerous. And expensive. But, he would take no chances with this awful mechanical being.
Without wasting anymore time, he loosed the spell directly at the creature. The spell exploded wildly on contact, flinging sparks and ash all over the fairly large room. Some of it splashed back all the way to Jarell, who was standing at least fifteen feet away. It singed his robes and the wave of heat washed over him, but he was unharmed. The Dwemer contraption, on the other hand, was completely demolished. All that remained of it was a strewn about ruin of metal pieces and smoke. The ball that was the things legs rolled slowly away and tapped against a pipe.
Jarell wasn't expecting the spell to work so efficiently against the contraption. Perhaps he should have saved the spell after all. What was done was done. No use worrying about it now. Jarell stepped over the pieces and dashed forward. He was getting closer to the Scroll. He could feel it. Or maybe he had been down here too long and his fatigue was getting the better of him. He shambled forth none the less, eager for the scroll. Eager to be rid of this Aedra forsaken place!
His instincts proved to be true. The next chamber he slipped into was something truly amazing. It was a very large room with no corners or angles but round, like the inside of a giant cylinder. The ceiling high above. Jarell squinted trying to see that ceiling but it seemed to fade into black shadow almost unnaturally.
The room contained another cylinder that also rose high toward the ceiling. A cylinder within a cylinder with only a space of about seven feet to separate them. The inner cylinder had a walk-way spiraling upward around it. Jarell hesitated only a moment before he began ascending the walk-way, keeping his eye on that ominously dark ceiling.
The higher he rose, the mystery of the ceiling came into view. There looked to be more Dwemer creations there, made from the same Dwemer, brass colored metal. Spheres hung in the air by thin metal rods that circled in on themselves. A larger Sphere was suspended in the center with strange white lights seemingly random in there arrangements.
Amazing. Jarell was sure this was where he would find the scroll. Most likely in that large center sphere. Something was housed within it. But how to get to it? How to open it? Jarell looked behind him and noticed a higher platform over looking the strange display of spheres.
He took the walk-way up to the raised platform to find some kind of control console. Strange blue lights and levers that Jarell could make no rhyme or reason of. Randomly, he began pushing, pulling and fiddling with the levers and lights. Each time he moved one of them, the white lights around the spheres would move.
Long moments began to pass as Jarell blindly guessed at what he was doing. He found himself wondering if this even mattered. Was the scroll even here at all? Was this just a waste of his time? Just as Jarell was thinking of trying his sword on the large center sphere-maybe he could pry it open-a fairly loud "click" rang out and the center sphere sprung to life!
The center sphere lowered and actually opened down it's center like a cracked egg. And there, in it's center, in all it's glory, was the Scroll. The Elder Scroll. He quickly leaped down from the platform and ran to it. He snatched the Scroll and slipped it in his pack. But, when he lifted the Scroll off of it's holding base, he suddenly heard a familiar "pop" sound. It was the exact same "pop" he heard when he had inadvertently sprung that trap that had nearly caved his head in. Instantly he flung himself to his left with all the force he could muster. He huddled into a ball and rolled, tucking his chin into his chest and skidded to a stop, terrified.
Moments passed and . . . nothing. Nothing seemed to have happened. He was fine. Confused, Jarell had heard the sound of stone rubbing on stone when he was scrambling in desperation. Something had happened. But what? Jarell scanned the room and noticed right away that part of the near-by wall was missing. Just gone, opening up to a narrow hallway.
Jarell wearily stalked down the corridor, blade drawn and at the ready. The corridor opened to a small round room with a single lever at it's center. Jarell gripped the handle of the lever in his fist and pulled. It gave way easily and the entire room began to move. Panicked, Jarell frantically searched the small room for escape. There was nothing. He was trapped!
Jarell, calmed himself to think. He could feel that the room was moving up. Perhaps if he-suddenly the room stopped and the door he used to enter opened to beautiful daylight! The sun light was glistening off the snow in sparkles all around the profoundly green needleleaf trees. He had made it! He got the Scroll with nary a scratch!
Jarell, walked from the moving room into the delightfully, powdery snow, heading south. Time to bring this Scroll to the Great Dragon. Unexpectedly, Jarell heard a deafening roar from high above. He shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted to catch a glimpse. Through his fingers he saw what his greatest fears already knew he would see. The silhouette of a dragon. Not the Great Dragon. No, but an enemy. This one was here for the scroll. This one was here to stop him in his quest. He reached for his bow and knocked an arrow as he ran for cover by the nearest tree. This was bad. This was extremely bad! He readied his bow, anchoring the string to his nose and took aim. The fate of the world depended on him. He would do what must be done! He was Dovahkiin!
He loosed the arrow. Then, another. And another! Jarell hit nothing but air. The dragon was too far and flying too fast! Cover and patience would be a better tactic. He only had a limited count of arrows. Shooting air would do him no good.
This was not Jarell's first dragon battle. He'd faced two before. The first had inadvertently saved his life by attacking the town he was about to be executed in. He hadn't actually fought it that time though. No, the first one he faced, he ran from with all his will! He was one of only a handful to survive.
The second dragon he'd faced, he had fought. He fought and he won. It was for the Jarl of Whiterun. Well, for the Jarl and for the lives of the innocents living in Whiterun. The only problem was, the first dragon he had defeated, he hadn't fought alone. The Whiterun guards were there to lend a hand. This dragon he faced now, he would face alone.
Yes, patience and cover would be his best chance. There was no possibility of bringing the Scroll back to the Great Dragon with an enemy such as this plaguing his every step. Jarell looked through his fingers again, blocking out the sun with his hand. The dragon was flying lower now, searching for him. The noon day sunlight reflected off it's scales. Reds and oranges. Jarell's eyes opened wide with horror. An Ancient Dragon. Only Ancients lived long enough for their scales to turn orange. Jarell's luck seemed to be running out.
Suddenly, a jet of flame erupted from the Ancient's gaping maw as it flew by, low enough to engulf the land around Jarell. Jarell, held close to his cover. The large tree protected him well enough but the opposite side of it was ablaze with dragon flames now. This cover would not last for long. He scanned the immediate area and spotted a grouping of boulders about thirty feet away. He gritted his teeth and made a mad dash for it.
He only sprinted about ten steps before the world seemed to darken around him. The Ancient's shadow blotted out the sun for a heart beat. Then, the earth shook as the dragon slammed down, blocking Jarell's path. That horrifying mouth opened wide again, preparing another stream of white-hot flame. Jarell could see the recesses of the beasts throat! He dive rolled to the Ancient's right, narrowly avoiding the brunt of the fire breath. His left boot was aflame though. He let it burn a moment to loose an arrow straight at the dragon's right eye. The arrow struck true, puncturing deep into the dragons socket. It raged and flapped it's magnificent wings as Jarell finally stamped the flames on his boot out in the snow.
The Ancient was still thrashing around in it's pain. This was Jarell's chance! He dropped his bow and drew his sword, readying it. He launched forward, letting out a cry of rage in his battle lust. The neck was his target. Unfortunately, the Ancients thrashing wings caught him by surprise, knocking Jarell back a good ten feet! The air flew from Jarell's lungs leaving him breathless. He ignored it and was back on his feet, charging, in a flash.
The Ancient was beginning to calm and seemed to return to it's senses, but Jarell was already upon it's neck! He drove his sword deep, to the hilt, and twisted the blade. He pulled it free, along with dark-almost black-dragon's blood, and slammed it back down again, holding tight with his other hand, gripping one of the horns on the creatures neck. He struck again! And again!
The Ancient Dragon's movements began to slow. It's bellows were softening and sounding more and more forlorn. Jarell released his grip and dropped down, landing nimbly in the snow. He took some steps back away from the dying dragon, smoothly sheathing his curved sword as he watched. The Dragon's flesh began to glow, then break apart, as if disintegrating into the air. A swirl of energy rose out of the massive carcass, slamming into Jarell's chest. It didn't hurt, though the force of it caused Jarell to take a step back. The energy flowed into him like a bubbling river, bottle-necked into white rapids. And then, it was over.
A profound silence seemed to suddenly surround Jarell. He could hear the rush of his own blood pumping in his ears. His harsh ragged breath heaving his chest as he gasped for air. It was over. He had won. He placed his hand in his pack to make sure the Elder Scroll was still there. It was. He made it!
He let his hand linger on the Scroll in his pack. He smiled slightly, looking toward the great mountain he was headed for. He finally had the Elder Scroll. The Great Dragon would know what to do with it.
/end
...