Chapter number eleven. Sorry for one more week of waiting, my beta needed more time. By the way, this story had already passed 2,000 views milestone and jumped to the top ten fanfics with Nerevarine in all three rankings - followers, favourites and reviews. Thanks a lot guys, that puts a smile on my face.
Pietersiele - Well, looks like you are about to see her reaction to Rotheimaak, since the time has finally come.
Guest - I simply write how I would progress if I found myself with their skills in their situations, that is assuming I wouldn't make a fool of myself even more. As for the sentences, I am quite proud of those two. The first one sort of came up on its own without much thinking, it just felt right. As for the second, I realized the possible outcome of a Khajiit mage casting such spell long time ago, but only then I had an excuse to use it.
MehrunesDragonbro - The best joke is the one you don't expect. It works even if the joke itself is overused. Even I didn't know what was about to happen until it did happened. xD So I didn't do such a bad job at the descriptions of fighting, good to know. Don't say sorry for big reviews, I love those.
NoSkillzOnlyHax - Nah, the helmet bash only knocked him out. And sorry for the delay, but I have little control over this. I have to share the computer, which usually means I have no access at all until the weekend. If you want to help, track down the thief that stole my own and gently ask him to give it back. :)
Let's get started, shall we? I'll do as MehrunesDragonbro suggested and just warn you this chapter contains a brutal execution and other acts of violence everyone likes to read about.
This must be what Molag Bal's victims felt like when he was done with them… Except they also had sore asses.
Azirra returned to the world of the living, but pain, while no longer as terrible as it was before, still accompanied her. Everything was slightly blurred. Azirra groaned and suddenly felt a rising bile in her throat. She turned her head left and threw up.
The vomit was green.
Khajiit moaned a second time, lied down, and blacked out again.
"...And you missed again! Too slow!"
Azirra smirked. Her companion, while not exactly a novice, still had a lot to learn.
"I'm not too slow, my friend. You are just too fast." The mer sighed and set his weapon aside. "Let's be honest here. I'll never become as great with the spear as you are. Some in my tribe even say you already must have held it when you jumped out of the womb."
She frowned.
"Don't be like that, Alandro Sul. I had decades of training; you were only practicing it for a year." She grinned again and lifted her spear to point at him. "Come on, let's try again. I still have a few minutes before I must meet the Dwemer."
"Those strange people again? Why?"
She shrugged.
"Say whatever you want, but they are really nice if you don't point at everything in their cities and ask how it works. Also, they make great artifacts, they are better than any Wise Woman or Telvanni when it comes to that." She got into the stance. "Now, prepare yourself!"
Ugh. What an odd dream.
She was alive. Barely, but alive.
Downing one standard and three minor potions of healing, while not the best countermeasure against the poisoning (that would be a spell or antidote), allowed her to survive toxins. Her leg hurt as if Sanguine had thrown a party inside her bones and she still felt like not all of her internal organs were in the proper place, but she was going to live.
If I'll get out of this alive, the first thing I'll buy will be an antidote, thought Azirra grimly, pulling herself to her feet (well, foot - she avoided putting pressure on her hurt leg) and using a wall as support.
Khajiit somberly looked at the mess she made - both scattered loot and a puddle of vomit. She sighed.
Here I am, stuck in the ruins with smugglers. Probably each of them would be problematic on their own and they expect me now... It's over. Suddenly a realization struck. No, they don't. They know I was poisoned and yet they didn't bother to even check if I'm dead. They are sure I'm already gone.
A devious, evil plan appeared in Azirra's head. Mephala would be proud.
"Purrfect!"
She can't win in direct fight. Escape was possible, but unlikely - there was only one path to exit and more likely than not one of them already guarded it. However, since they believed the danger was gone, they might have scattered across the dungeon, which would allow her to attack them one at the time. Either way she must apprehend the situation not like a fighter, but like rogue. Strike by surprise.
First order of business, check the wound.
The arrow was of poor quality and it wasn't shot with too great a force. Even better, her greaves absorbed most of the damage, which prevented the projectile from burrowing too deep into her leg. Certainly could have been much worse. Just to make sure, Azirra cast Balyna's Soothing Balm several times - after that the only sign of injury was a scab.
Second problem, the backpack.
During her search for puzzle box she found a lot of Dwemer made objects. She also... Liberated those weapons of her enemies that were small enough to fit in. The entirety of it weighted her down a lot. First, she set aside iron saber, various Dwemer utensils and the strange device. Her expensive robe was placed on the pile as well, just like the book she found in the ruins. She also did something unforgivable and decided to leave behind all her coins, both Dwemer ones and septims. Some Khajiit gods were surely going to be furious, but at least this way there was nothing to make a noise in her pockets. One dagger was set aside, the other she put in her pocket under the greaves. Now that she thought about them, she left them too, since both times she was detected during sneaking was because they made a noise. Then came the rations she bought all the way in Ebonheart and Azirra realized eating them should have been her first objective - she didn't know how long was she stuck down there, but it was enough to make her very hungry. Her two lock picks, probe, and the last healing potion (a standard one, fortunately, not minor) ended up in her other pocket, just like throwing stars.
She was as ready as she was going to be.
"I can't believe it!" shouted Irbran Kirbatha. He and Bato Veranius just entered Heaven's Gallery, the deepest part of the ruins, where they encountered the intruder few hours before. "Five people dead, one knocked out, and two just disappeared! Who in Oblivion was that cat?!"
"You think he's from, what was their name... Moral Thong?" asked his dumber companion. The Nord carried a long metal beam which they were going to use to bypass the lava lake and loot the body.
"It's Morag Tong, idiot. I don't think so. As far as I know, no one in the band angered any House members. Then again, they might have been searching for the boss, I don't know that much about him." The beam brushed against his shoulder when muscle for brains moved it into more comfortable position. "Watch where you swing that thing! Speaking of the Khajiit, I think it was a she. I'm not sure thought, with all that fur and in armor it could have been a male."
Irbran walked down the stairs and stopped when lake appeared in his sight. Something was amiss about the picture. Suddenly he realized and his eyes widened - the spear, the Dwemer spear intruder dropped before his attempt at escape, was gone.
"Bato... Liore hadn't picked up that spear, right?" He asked the Nord over his shoulder just before the enemy struck.
The Khajiit jumped from the ceiling and the beam fell from the hands of a dead man, a spear lodged near his neck. The burly Nord collapsed like many before him.
Where... How?! Breton looked up in bewilderment. That's when he realized the enemy somehow must have gotten to the upper level of the Gallery.
"I'm starting to like this weapon."
He looked back at the Khajiit and went red in the face. How dare she just walk in like that and wipe the entire team out... He brought his hands up.
"I'll burn you alive!"
The Khajiit dived behind one of the desks, barely avoiding his Greater Fireball. The Breton gritted his teeth. I won't let her get away. Without word, he casted three spells on himself to boost his powers. Just as he finished the third one, an enemy left the cover and sent a ball of lightning in his direction. He dived to the ground - he might have cast Reflect on himself, but those spells were never a perfect defense.
His dodge however was part of her plan. The Shock Ball was followed by another spell, one which Kirbatha couldn't avoid at the moment. It struck him... and bounced back, hitting the Khajiit. She opened the mouth, but no yelp was heard. He couldn't believe his luck - of all spells, she picked the one that, if reflected, would leave her defenseless.
For a second they were looking at each other, he with amusement and she with confusion combined with terror. The moment passed very soon and the invader ran away, soundlessly screaming. Kirbatha sent two Fireballs after her, but the cat got lucky and avoided both, jumping into the side tunnel. He smirked.
"I could finish her off right now, wouldn't be too hard with her magicka stunted..." He muttered and his smile disappeared. "Then again, she killed a lot of our guys. Magic might not be her only weapon. It's better to overwhelm her with numbers."
Welp, there goes my plan, thought Azirra somberly as she watched from behind the corner the spell caster leaving the room. Now he's going to return with more people that want me dead. Just great.
Let's think. He will return with the archer, that much is obvious. They mentioned one smuggler was knocked out, so that might be one enemy more. So, I will have to deal with three enemies... assuming I haven't missed someone on the way here. The mage already saw my surprise attack, so jumping to the higher level from one of the desks is not going to work again.
In other way, she was completely fucked. Unless...
Yes, that might give me a fighting chance. But if I want to do it, I need to start right away, it takes some time and the main chamber isn't too far. Alright... The proper finger alignment was a triangle, if my memory serves me right.
"Ahem," So she can speak again. Good.
I'm sorry, my friend. Looks like I have to break my promise.
"This is a bad idea, Kirbatha," stated Idhdean Tailas or, as the mage called him, the wimp of the group. "I don't even have my dagger, only a club. I know nothing about using those!"
"You know nothing about using daggers as well!" laughed Coirtene Liore, the ranger of the band and one of the few competent people in the ruins. Now, after the unexpected visitor, he was in fact one of only the two competent people around. "Also, it's not that hard - you swing it and hit the enemy with the bigger end."
"The Heaven's Gallery is just behind the door, get ready. Don't underestimate that cat, she already killed too many of us."
"Still, to think my poisoned arrows would fail... Looks like she had an antidote. You might be right, Irbran, she's well prepared. How about this: Idhdean will rush at her and we will pelt her with arrows and spells." The archer prepared an arrow.
"So that I will be caught in the crossfire?! Not a chance!"
"Shut up, both of you!"
The mage casted a few protection spells on himself - Shield, Reflect, and Resist Magicka - and pushed the replaceable member of the group towards the door.
"Why do I always have to lead the charge?" grumbled the other Breton before kicking the door open and stopping. "Um... What is she doing?"
The wizard glanced at the intruder over his ally's shoulder and froze. The Khajiit had her thumbs and forefingers connected into a triangle in front of her face. She was whispering something. The disturbing part? Despite the numbers of her enemies she was smirking. Kirbatha's eyes widened.
"Stop her!" he bellowed while preparing to cast a spell. "Don't let her...!"
They failed to react on time, though. With a hum of magic, a navy-blue portal opened between two parties and out of it stepped an undead being.
There are many types of abominations walking in the tombs of Tamriel. Some are weak, some are strong, all are repulsive. This one, however, while definitely not the strongest, was the most disgusting of them all. The moment the monstrosity entered the plain of the living, a terrible stench of rotting flesh hit smugglers. Chances are it wouldn't be the last thing to hit them in this battle - bonewalkers, as they were known in Morrowind, had a nasty habit of casting spells that lowered strength and endurance, not to mention the high probability of being infected with the Brown Rot disease. As if that wasn't bad enough, the bastards were very resistant to frost, lightning, and poison damage.
Also, they had a temper so terrible they were the main reason for which most people thought all undead hated the living with passion.
"Bonewalker, attack the archer!"
The abomination roared (somehow, don't ask how does it work without head) and shambled towards the group. Both Bretons yelped and jumped aside, while the target raised his bow and shot the enemy... which was about as effective as throwing a pebble at it - as mentioned poison is useless against this monster and the arrows were hardly the best weapon against undead, since they drop (completely) dead only if the body itself is falling apart. A few sticks stuck in their bodies had dealt pretty much no damage at all.
The ranger must have realized this, since he screamed like a little girl and rushed to escape. The bonewalker walked past the two men to his sides to pursue its pray, at the same time casting spells that would wear the Imperial down and allow the monster to catch up to him.
"Yes!" cheered the Khajiit. "Now come back here and keep the mage busy!"
The undead completely ignored her and disappeared from sight to continue the chase. She gaped after him.
"...You've got to be kidding me."
"Charge!" commanded Kirbatha to his companion. When at first the other Breton failed to respond, he glared at him and that did the trick – the useless thug rushed at the intruder with a club raised high. The Khajiit managed to react on time (not that it was too hard with this enemy) and block the swing with her spear. Sadly, she also dodged the fireball the mage send in her direction.
"HEY! I said no- URRRGHHHH!" The fighter leaned forward and grasped his stomach after the cat grabbed his wrist, clearly casting some spell by touch.
"You will DIE!" Another fireball was sent towards the cat, this time aimed at the feet to make it much harder to avoid. To his surprise, even that wasn't good enough - she forcefully turned his weakened ally around and, holding him by the arms, positioned him between the two of them. While he still dealt some damage, judging by the loud yelp, it was clear from an agonizing scream that Tailas took most of it.
This tactic clearly appealed to the adventurer - instead of tossing the badly burned smuggler aside, she held him up with her singed palms and charged at the spellcaster. Since the distance wasn't great in the first place, he barely had the time for another fireball before the body was tossed at him and he fell to the floor. Now his clothes were also on fire.
"AAAAAACH!" The Breton started rolling on the ground to put out the flame.
By the time he was safe from burning to death, he found himself threatened by much less painful, but also harder to avoid death - the Khajiit stood above him with her spear raised. She was standing too close to cast his favourite spell, but not close enough to use touch based magic. He wouldn't even manage to stand up before she was to make a move.
Since she hadn't yet killed him, she clearly wanted something. Given the situation he decided to play along... for now.
"Two questions, bastard. Answer them and if I like answers I'll only knock you out instead of killing."
He eyed the tip of the spear, at the same time searching for something behind his back. "Ask away then." Come on, I'm sure it fell somewhere there...
"How many of you are still left?"
"After you passed through the ruins? Only those I brought with myself here," he grumbled. His own curiosity decided to reveal itself. "You walked in and destroyed everything that tried to stop you... Who in the Oblivion are you? Some kind of assassin?"
"I'm the one who asks you questions while holding a spear pointed at your throat. Where's the Dwemer puzzle box?"
"Dwemer puzzle box?"
"Yes, the damned puzzle box. The thing I had to cut my way inside for. It's a cube made of Dwemer metal."
At last, his hand found the object he searched for.
"Here's your puzzle box!" And with that shout he dived to the side. He failed to entirely avoid the attack - the spear cut the skin on his cheek - but that was alright. He paid her back with the club smashing into her shin with all of his might.
"YAAAARGHHHHH!" The shriek of the crippled Khajiit was like a music to his ears. The woman fell to the floor, being in too much pain to remain standing, not to mention continue to fight, while he slowly rose, the club in hand. At last, the cursed cat was about to answer for her slaughter - for even though he didn't care about them as long as he survived, with most of the smugglers dead and some just gone the group was going to fall apart either way, meant he had to search for a new band. That meant a loss of money and that was unforgivable. Had it been a woman of another race, he would find another way for her to... make up for most of his loss, but a filthy Khajiit was just going to die.
"Now then... Hold still, so that I don't have to tire myself too much..." he said to the cat, even though she was probably in too much pain to even understand him. Hard to tell, with the way she was squirming on the ground. He lifted the club. "Or not, it's up to you. That would mean more pain for you before your death, either way is fine."
And that's when two rotting hands grasped his arms.
Great, I broke a leg and a nail, observed Azirra with a frown, while holding her paw, damaged by her fall. With her healthy foot, she kicked the downed man in the stomach in retaliation. Perhaps 'downed' wasn't the best word to use here. He was clearly doing some stretching recently - after all he was stretched all over the place, the floor, walls, even a little bit of the ceiling. Quite gruesome, but hardly unexpected, that's what happens when a more powerful version of a zombie jumps an unarmored opponent. One could be immobilized by pain, the other couldn't.
Azirra sighed in relief. If the bonewalker returned, it clearly meant the archer was at least as much dead as the mage, undead were very stubborn and throughout when it comes to such things... When it comes to all things in fact.
She wasn't proud of her ability to cast this spell, even though back in Cyrodill it wasn't illegal, merely frowned upon. It was however a memento from one of the darker moments of her life. She still remembered how she was approached by a seemingly young wizard in a dark robe when she was in the middle of her favourite pastime, reading books in the bookstore of her friend... How she was introduced to a group of kids of varied ages, all sharing a trait of being born with a greater magicka pool and more natural talent than other people... And other things she would rather not remember. Most people involved were dead, some less fortunate wished they were only dead, others were just arrested. Several kids avoided any direct consequences, like her or her older friend - she again ended up on the streets, nothing new, while he made a total turnaround and become an acolyte in the Temple of Akatosh in Kvatch.
In this short time period, she learned only one necromantic spell from her teacher, but that was already more than most kids of her age did. Back then, when she succeeded for the first time, she wet herself when a mutilated mass of flesh rose in front of her and attempted to kill everyone but her. Good old times indeed.
"At least it returned when I really needed some help," murmured the Khajiit while reaching out for her last healing potion before gulping it down. She cringed at the taste. "Ajira was right, healing potions might be useful, but taste worse than a raw rat meat." She knew what she was saying, she truly did. She watched as her leg slowly changed from a leg shaped object into a proper, if very swollen, limb. She touched the shin with a forefinger and hissed - while there was no longer constant pain, a little bit of pressure resulted in definitely more than just a tickle. With a sigh, she started casting Balyna's Soothing Balm and continued to do so until she run out of magicka. Even then her leg was far from healed - she managed to stand up, but it still hurt and she was slightly limping.
At least it's all over, assuming the bastard was speaking the truth, which is likely. Unless someone from unexplored part moved into the part already explored by me, completely ignoring all dead bodies on the floor, I should be safe.
She sighed in relief and picked up her spear. She leaned on it.
I guess now I just need to search the rest of the ruins and I can return to Balmora. It's about time.
She decided to first check the area behind the lava lake and retrieve her full equipment. Azirra was in no shape to get there by jumping like she did it the first time (even walking was unpleasant, she had no desire to try running to take a leap over a pit of liquid death), but the dead Nord smuggler delivered a perfect footbridge. As it turns out, the corridor ended with a small observatory, in which a massive telescope took up most of the space. There was another Dwemer tube in the room, but that was it. She packed scattered items into the backpack and placed the coins back in her pocket - finally, she no longer felt like a traitor to her own race. With this corner of the ruins explored, she left the lava lake behind and went down the only unchecked corridor left in Arkngthand.
It was warm in there. Part of the floor gave way to a catwalk beneath which she noticed, surprise, more lava. After a few meters, it was once more replaced by normal ground, just as she entered a symmetrical room. Opposite of the entrance was a rusty door, next to which were two walls, dividing the place into three sections, with the middle one containing nothing besides said gate. The other two had something resembling a well in the middle of them. The left part had a few chests and the other one two cupboards. Searching all of the containers gave her even more loot - at this point carrying all of this was killing her back - but again, no puzzle box.
"I swear, if by the end of it all I won't find it..." she growled when facing the door. Taught by experience, she first checked with a probe if it was trapped. Since the result was negative, she just pushed them and, when that failed, pulled. She frowned and removed a lock pick from her pocket. She looked into the keyhole to see how complicated was the mechanism.
"Mother of Talos..."
Needless to say, it was very complicated. Frankly, she didn't even know where to begin, except that she had to put a repurposed hairclip inside.
Well, I should at least try, even if it's not exactly my forte.
She inserted the first lockpick into the keyhole... and let go of it with a yelp when the lock sucked the tool inside. Were she even half a second too late, she would be without a finger. With wide eyes, she gaped at the lock, which at the moment was making strange, mechanical noises. After few seconds, something clicked and a little bit of silvery powder poured out of the keyhole. She blinked a few times.
What in Oblivion?
Azirra with disbelief placed another lockpick inside the keyhole. The pinch of powder at her feet slightly increased in size. The Khajiit looked between the keyhole and the disappointing result of her attempt at opening the lock. At last a terrible realization struck her.
She failed.
It wasn't bandits or Dwemer automatons that stopped her, no. It was a damned door. Both of her lock picks were broken even though despite what the common folks think the thieves often go through life with only a handful of those, since they simply never brake - why would they? Well, they certainly would need a lot more of them if said thieves happened to encounter this particular, ancient lock. Even a greatest locksmith of modern age would cry of joy if he managed to make anything half as good as this. The door wasn't just resistant to the usage of lockpicks, it was outright shredding them.
She banged her head on the metal surface, not even caring about the slight pain it caused.
"WHY?! Gods, why are you doing this to me?!"
With a heavy heart, Azirra returned to the main chamber (where, by the way, she found a pile of... things she assumed used to be a certain archer). She had an amazing loot, but with her main objective unfulfilled, this entire adventure couldn't be classified as a success. How was she going to explain it to Antabolis? 'Door ate my lockpicks.'?
Perhaps he would understand... If not, then she would have to ask people at the Southern Wall Cornerclub for help and as a result owe them a favour - a den of thieves surely had someone capable of opening a lock like that, right? Right?!
So much killing and so much resources wasted and I'm still most likely going to fail. This is just so... so unfair! The door to the outside opened on its own as soon as she stepped in front of them. She squinted her eyes - the light of the sun blinded her for a few seconds. Once she got used to it, she slowly walked towards the Dwemer bridge. The weight of her spoils was heavier than anything. Also, just how long was she stuck underground? The sun appeared to be approaching the horizon, which meant she either spent only a few hours down there (very unlikely) or it was an entire day, with her lying on the very bottom of the ruins with poison in her veins for most of that time. I'll ask in the city.
A sudden sound broke the silence. It was hard to place it. It was as if... someone was dragging something really heavy on the ground? She couldn't find a better way to name it. She looked around in caution, fully aware that this might have been her only warning before something jumped her.
Despite her efforts, she saw nothing out of place. She shrugged and made another several steps towards the bridge.
The sound repeated and Azirra immediately twirled around, searching for the source. It was futile this time as well.
"I know you are here! Come out! Are you scared?!"
For a moment, there was no reaction. After few seconds however an answer came via deep, resonating voice.
"Scared? Little Kaaz, there are very few things in this world that can scare me. You are certainly not one of them."
She looked in the direction of an old, crumbling Dwemer tower. There was no one in sight... But after a few seconds she noticed two small lights in the shadow of the partly collapsed chamber on the top. They were shining in the dark for a moment, disappeared for an instance, and then appeared again.
It was a blink. Those were eyes. Azirra suddenly felt a lot less confident - the perspective might be tricking her, but the distance between them seemed much bigger than that of an ordinary person.
The sound from before made a reappearance and the head of the speaker was revealed to the world.
I-I just can't take it anymore, was Azirra's only thought at the sight of a serpentine body.
"Sup."
Her mind was running faster than ever before. Fleeing would be useless; he would easily catch up. Hiding was out of question, no place to hide except the ruins... and then she would die of starvation. And the thought of fighting that thing was so absurd it almost made her brake into a hysterical laugh. In the end she sighed, defeated. There really was no way out, was it?
"Just make it quick and kill me already," she said with her head hung low. In silence, she awaited her death.
"...What? Why would I do that? Your death doesn't benefit me in any way."
The answer stumped her. What's going on? A beast that doesn't eat people?
"Now that I think about it, you look familiar. Have we met before?"
He remembered. Of course, he remembered, it wasn't so long ago, but... why would he bother to remember? Why is he here? Was he... tracking me? The frightened Khajiit looked up at the dragon. He seemed oddly interested. This must be how that mage felt when I was interrogating him. Divines truly have a sick sense of humor.
"Y-yes. In t-the swamp."
The dragon bared its teeth in a terrific, twisted parody of a smile.
"Oh yes, now I remember! The falling Fahliil Kro incident. A truly rare atmospheric phenomenon, won't you agree? He almost hit me on the way down."
She had no answer to that. Was he... toying with her?
"Say... What were you doing in the ruins? I'm aware there was a group of smugglers in there, but from what I know they were all human. How do you fit in the picture?"
"I-I..."
"No, wait! I will guess. I like training my prophetic abilities."
...Prophetic abilities?
"You are... an adventurer, yes?"
She nodded. It wasn't surprising the giant monster figured that out, her gear and a big sack full of loot right next to her were kind of a dead giveaway. If the speaker belonged to any other race, she would answer with 'One does not need to be a prophet to guess that'.
"I see your adventure was quite successful... Ah, but I also can sense a certain... deficiency. There was something else you were searching for and you clearly didn't get it."
I take it back, that thing really WAS a seer.
"Well then, I have a pretty good idea what it was, although it's possible I'm wrong, your typical Qostiid isn't a very reliable source of information. They tell only what might be, not what must be. Since you are standing here alive, I assume all smugglers are gone?"
She nodded again. Although the dragon seemed peaceful at the moment and unlikely to attack her, she was not going to test that by speaking more than it was absolutely necessary.
"Pruzah!" She was more than a little startled by the sudden exclamation, but he seemed to be smiling, so it was probably a good thing. "With those Lirre gone, I no longer have to worry about a group of Kendovve, soldiers, coming here to cleanse the place due to the pests attacking the travelers. I planned to keep them trapped inside, but this is so much better. I don't have to outlast them in who-would-survive-longer-without-food-and-water contest. You have my thanks, Kaaz."
"Y-you're w-welcome."
"I guess that makes me somewhat indebted to you, even if not much. I think I know exactly how to repay you. Let's come back to the previous topic. You were searching for a specific object in those ruins and as far as I know there's only one unique thing about Arkngthand."
Azirra's eyes slowly widened. Could it be...? She tried her best to not rise her hopes too much. But if it even knows the name of the ruins...
"Were you questing for a Dwemer puzzle box?"
He does know!
"Yes! Yes, I did!" she cried out, for a second forgetting about the very real danger of being eaten alive. There's still a chance I can get it!
The dragon chuckled.
"As I thought. In that case, come closer."
That short request immediately reminded her exactly how much was at stake here and now. For a second she hesitated, but in the end, she slowly approached the tower, ready to ran back into the ruins as soon as the being turned hostile.
"Are you ready? Catch."
Something fell from the tower and Azirra barely caught it before it could shatter on the rocks. It was made from metal, Dwarven metal. It was covered in circles and lines. It was a cube. Some of it was also slightly melted, for some reason. She stared, barely holding back the smile, because she knew openly celebrating right now would result in the Divines once more pissing on her parade, most likely in the form of a fire breath.
"There you have it. Sorry if it's a bit damaged, I accidently swallowed it along with the bandit holding it and my stomach acid is really potent." ...What? How can you accidentally swallow an entire bandit? Thanks to the important gift, Azirra was now much less afraid of the legendary beast, even though it just admitted to eating people.
"Thank you! Thank you so much!"
"Oh, that's nothing. You most likely wouldn't even need my help in the first place if I hadn't attacked those people. Still, let's assume we're even now. My new nest is secured and you have what you came for." The dragon laid his head on what would be recognized for most animals as lap. "Well then, go. I'm sure you have many things to do; the lives of Jorre are so short. Please, keep my presence to yourself. I would rather avoid an angry mob."
"I will... Besides, who would believe me?" she asked with a small smile. The dragon answered in kind. Surprisingly it wasn't as menacing as it used to be.
"Exactly. Being a member of a supposedly extinct race has some merits, even if there's not much of them. Now, I believe our business here is concluded."
She bowed. A little bit of courtesy wouldn't hurt.
"Thank you again and goodbye."
She turned around and headed for the bridge.
"You are limping. They got you good, didn't they?" asked the dragon despite the fact they already said their farewells.
"Nothing I can't deal with," she answered without stopping.
"On your own, perhaps. But the way to Golzfeykro, I'm sorry, Balmora, takes some time and you have quite a baggage. You mortals must be careful about such things, don't tire yourself like that. You clearly don't know how to properly loot."
She stopped at that and turned around, a bit surprised by the fact he cared and offended at his choice of words.
"Excuse me? I know perfectly well how to loot; the proof is on my back."
The dragon chuckled.
"No, what you did is called 'plundering'. There's a difference. Looting is plundering without collecting trash that weights more than it is worth. My advice it to hide it somewhere, go to the healers in that nearby fort, and return when your foot isn't almost twice the size of the other one. Not to mention I heard that what you are doing isn't exactly legal, and if I'm right, the Dwemer cities are considered an imperial property by the Empire."
Azirra blinked and realized the idea wasn't so bad. What he mentioned was also very likely, otherwise the Dwemer ruins would be all plundered a long time ago.
"I guess..." she approached a big pipe next to the entrance to the ruins and placed the sack behind it. She stared suspiciously at the dragon. "You aren't going to steal it, are you?"
"Believe me, if you had anything I desired, I would have already taken it by force. My species is like that." He laughed and Azirra realized she should be a little more careful around the drake even if he was quite friendly. "Treasures of mortal races are of no value to me since I can't use them and exchanging them for something else is not possible for me. That's the downside of being a dragon. So, I have no interests in your findings..." his eyes suddenly widened and he smirked. "Unless, of course, they happen to include alcohol. Because then you are right to be worried."
That sentence was so unexpected, the Khajiit was once again forced to do a quick reality check.
"You mean... You are a dragon that likes drinking?"
"Who doesn't? Even minions of Dagoth Ur like to knock themselves out silly from time to time. You know, they have their own drink, Dagoth Brandy. Remember, young adventurer, this important truth..." Suddenly the dragon was deadly serious. The change was startling. "Everything ends. Money, fame, beauty... But even in the darkest hour of your life, when you are alone and down on your luck..." She waited breathlessly for a word of wisdom from the ancient creature. "...you can still find consolation in overeating and strong alcohol."
She just frowned, turned around and marched towards the bridge.
"You know what, get me a big, nice bottle of wine and I'll owe you a favour, Wunduniik. I know many things and I'm pretty good in battle as well, you surely will find me useful to have around. If I'm in the area, I almost always stay here during the day, it's safer to fly and hunt during the night." She ignored him. At this point Azirra pretty much figured out what kind of being the dragon was and there clearly was nothing mystical about him. He was just a strong, big lizard with terrible jokes. "Er... alright then, I see you are in a hurry, get well soon. I have a feeling we will meet again, Mal Kaaz."
I've had enough weirdness for a single day. I know where to go for my next dose, though.
Nailed it! Ted cheered silently when the Khajiit disappeared from sight. My wisdom and power impressed the Nerevarine!
Still, it's a little troubling that this awkward, shy fuzzball has to become the ultimate badass and saviour of this land. There's a lot of work ahead of me. Let's think... I can't just walk up and say I'm going to follow her everywhere, I'm not Lydia. Then how...
...
Well, I guess it can't be helped. I will have to slowly gain her trust and show I am the real deal. A few more 'prophecies' and unexpected encounters should do the trick. The next course of action is obvious, I just have to wait until she goes for her next errand. I can't assist her in Vivec though... and in many other places, now that I think about this. No dungeon crawling for me. However...
It will be difficult, but it might be possible. After all, the ancient Nords were able to create shouts that dragons couldn't came up with, right? There's room for one more, I'm certain. I can only hope it will work if I focus for long enough.
Suddenly, he realized something extremely important.
"Dammit! I forgot to ask her if she knows Katia Managan!".
A/N:
That's not the only thing you forgot, you trolling fartface. You didn't ask about her name and said yours. Looks like the body is not the only human thing you lost, since manners are gone as well.
What's this, Azirra knows necromancy? This cat sure is full of surprises, just when you think you have her figured out, she suddenly does something like that.
By the way, this meeting of Rotheimaak and Azirra was the idea that made me create this story (that and a lack of a true companion in original Morrowind was making the main quest quite lonely, truly made us feel we were on our own). I've been thinking for a while how to write it and I think I did a good job, showing that Ted can be both stupid and clever in a single conversation, while Azirra can quickly shift from shy and meek to 'I no longer even care, so don't cross me'. Now that it's published, I actually have to think hard on what to do next - we are getting close to the point in which all quests in Balmora are done and after that the others are all over the map.
So yeah, the deeper levels of Arkngthand shall remain unexplored at least for now. I might be wrong, since I didn't start a new game in Morrowind just to check things and uesp is vague, but I'm pretty sure the door that stopped Azirra had a difficulty of 100. In other words, that's the hardest type of lock you can encounter in the game.
I think that would be all for now. Until next time.