"...the oceans of Mundus are as dangerous to travel as the pathways of Oblivion." -Pocket Guide to the Empire, Third Edition
Sun's Dusk 16, 4E1
(Fights-up-close): Near Thras, Abacean Sea
At three-forty-five, day four, it seemed this journey was almost finished. The decision about the Empire remained a mystery, even now, though. I was sure three days would stacked the reasons higher on one side but it had not. Fortunately, there'd still be about two more days I'd have to decide whether to deliver the data I was about to gather to the Argonian Royal Court or the Imperial Palace.
Still, the current mission here was clear: record the conversation and hijack the vehicle.
It was amazing I'd made it this far; the plan had seemed absurd, but it had worked.
Nonetheless, my mind raced with nervous wonder of what would be ahead.
There was something unshapely to the left. Its form was still very vague, but looked somewhat like a grounded whale. Yet it was somehow in tatters. It lost its organicness as I noticed it had a frequently supported railing on its top. A shipwreck: mast tumbled, planks and narrow pieces scattered.
Ahead there was also coral, or what appeared to be coral, but put in large formations: domes with large holes like windows and doors at their tops. Was that a glimpse of the mythisized coral kingdom of Thras? I tensed up, feeling extra conscious of my body, but took in the sights to the fullest, as blurry as they still were.
The surface was clearly slanting upwards. This vehicle must have been getting close to that island chain I'd read about. There were odd sensation in my hands. From here, I'd be plunged into danger's lake, the next few minutes being an endless contest of survival.
Now would be a good time to employ the Shadow power.
Yet I realized with horror the Shadow power wouldn't work in this circumstance: the fast-moving water would push if off! I flooded with fear as my mind rushed for what to do instead.
I'd have to press myself to the bottom of the ship and hope. I began climbing up the rope, thinking about all the eyes that could fall on me at any second. The city must have been infested with people who could look up, bringing life to an end. I was assaulted with terrifying thoughts as I ascended with all possible strength.
I was almost to the top so I wouldn't be such an obnoxiously obvious figure against the back drop.
I flipped over and clutched the bottom of the ship with my arms and legs and silently prayed to no one in particular not to be noticed, face pressed against the rough texture of the vehicle. I remained perfectly still, at the mercy of chance and begging it to grant me passage. Death was a serious possibility.
If only I'd brought a Chameleon potion! Those didn't get pushed off! That mistake might cost me life itself!
But there would have been no time to drink it.
I couldn't blame my lack of ideas: The current circumstance was no fault of my own. This danger was just a natural result of the mission. Maybe I'd been right to think the assignment ridiculous. This was worst environment for a job I'd ever faced. It was now clear how precious land was for stealth. The middle of the ocean had nothing but a bit of blur between distant objects.
Who would save the world if I was killed? My thoughts rushed. Only an Argonian could pull this off. Maybe another one of the Shadowscales who'd arrived at the palace. But if a fully trained and experienced agent couldn't accomplish this mission, how could an inexperienced Shadowscale? Would they even bother sending him or her to this booby-trap of a region?
I felt vulnerability all over my scales. If just one pair of eyes shifted to this vessel it would be all over, and there was an entire city which I couldn't see filled with eyes.
I could only deeply hope that no one noticed me on the bottom. My heart pounded hard against the vessel. I'd been forced to be still many times before, but always in the cover of foliage or housing. Here I was naked.
The Sload were hopefully more focused on their daily affairs in the city than the arrival of the vessel. Maybe they were too used to it to look up, oblivious that the most dramatic event in their homeland in centuries was taking place right above them. But it only took one glance to ruin this.
I noticed the vehicle was gradually loosing speed, probably because we were, unfortunately, significantly closer to the "streets" now: that made this Argonian more noticeable. Her texture would be clearer. Her form would be more discernable. There would be more time with which to see me.
Yet that also meant the vehicle was closer to its stopping point, which would mean the end of this straggling oppression.
In the place where so many people never returned from, it was torturous to have nothing to do but hold on like this. It still seemed a very real possibility I would join all the adventurous sailors in a wet grave. Everyone coming here thought they were the exception to the rule, that they could survive Thras. They had all been wrong.
So many would have devoted their life to seeing the city that was below, but all the wonders of this little-known place meant nothing when every citizen was an earnest risk. Was this how everyone who'd come to Thras had felt, their curiosity sapped out of them as survival-instincts took over their mind?
Hopefully a ship moving through the water was mundane enough of a sound to not turn any heads (if the Sload could truly be said to have heads), but it was easy to imagine some little Sload-children feeling otherwise, looking up at it excitedly only to see me and ask what I was doing there. I was growing nauseous.
Any moment someone could yell out about the Argonian leeching onto the vessel and I would find myself nightmarishly overwhelmed, swimming helplessly to who-knew-where. I'd seen how fast the Sload could move underwater, so I'd be killed before I could get far. No doubt this kingdom would be able to gobble me right up. I imagined bleeding red, wispy clouds into the water as life faded into nothing. This was what I'd endured all kinds of discomforts and constraints to get to! It looked like I might lose it all at the cruelest time! This was worse than all that time on the ship put together!
I'd lead a bizarre life: Fights-up-close, once expecting the normal life of Shadowscale, only to find out her best friend betrayed her employers. Killing him, she eventually got the same suspicions. Then she pledged to side with a "traitor" to destroy the Black Hand. After that she lived a life as a thief, due to her childhood not built for anything but criminality. Then she got picked up by the government of Cyrodiil to be sent to destroy the organization that raised her. They suspected a Sloadic plot and sent her to save Tamriel, killing her in the process. I'd gone from a Shadowscale to a Sload investigator. It was a surreal life story.
In the far reaches of my vision a roof flew by. This was brutally close to the rest of the populace. It would only take a small glance to notice the oddity on the bottom of this ship. I'd made it most of the way, but was still at the grueling mercy of fortune, waiting to hear the shout of being spotted. The fires of chance-death burned brighter.
There were many unpredictable, drastic, erratic opportunities and factors in this situation. My arms quaked with fear. Fate might throw cruelty my way and franticness would envelope this underwater city. Sload would stream out of their houses to kill the intruder. How damning it would feel to die now!
We passed another building, a whole story of it visible. No inhabitants were at the windows, fortunately. Maybe when I stopped seeing buildings, the danger would be done. For now I could only hope with every bit of mite no one was looking this way. It was a Shadowscale's hell: no Shadow power and not a spec of cover or mobility. How much longer until I'd be free of this brutal gauntlet of chance?
We passed another coral dome, but judging by its height it looked like the last. What a blessing it would be to survive this! Slowly a sense of gratitude towards...luck was seeping into me. I might indeed see the swamps again, be in a place without worry once more before I died.
Now there was only the sandy ocean floor to be seen: it looked like the vehicle was past the coral city. Had I cheated death!? I felt like laughing, euphoric!
In all unlikelihood it seemed I had indeed been granted more time on Nirn! The world seemed newly doused in bliss!
But the vessel would soon stop and the Sload would come out to attach a different rope to the loop I was using. It was necessary to detach now.
Yet I caught the flaw in that plan: I risked being chopped up by the back blade if I did so while the vessel was still moving!
Damn it! My spirit dropped like a rock! I would have to wait until they stopped and hope I could make it out in time. Fear began seeping into me again. This arrival was horrible! I became extra conscious of my body, the way it could be propelled away from the vehicle once I was off. My veins boiled with adrenaline.
The ship was slowing to a crawl.
They would soon be coming out to tie the ship down.
The vessel stopped.
I pushed myself from the tight clutch, back-pack hitting the bottom, and unhooked the grapple but didn't let go so I could drop the evidence of my presence somewhere further. I barrel-rolled back to a stomach-down position and began frantically swimming to the left.
Paddling viciously, the grapple in my hand was slowing me down, causing conflicting feelings to smack me hard from both sides. I hated the tool as I moved as fast as possible forward, the fear of death itself threatening to catch up and swallow me. I could only imagine what was going on behind me. This was Thras, the place where so many others had died; there might be one more in that count soon, that damn grapple possibly anchoring me to the grim reaper.
Maybe it was time to drop it, perhaps it would be worth the boost in speed, and maybe they couldn't realize what it was or associate with the ship at this distance. Yes.
I let go and it sunk somewhere out of view.
Sweet freedom! I cupped the hand that was previously holding it and pushed through the water with new grace and vigor, an animalistic focus on swimming forward.
It was imperative I got too far to identify. It was good that the shallow water was so sandy, but the scenario was still terrible. Fear, with every thrust, drained, but my mind was still on what could be behind. I continued to thoughtlessly swim with all possible strength, mind simple. Speed was all that mattered. My life took so much to maintain here.
They had probably already gotten out of the ship by now.
I kept swimming, but judging by the fact I had yet to detect a disturbance, I might be fine.
The idea they would never catch me was slowly seeping into me.
Yet it was too close for comfort. So far, it was clear this assignment barely within reach of my capabilities, and I wished to be anywhere else. Death'd been cheated twice, but there was no reason to count on a third time.
My body and mind were still shaken and disturbed. I slowed. My heart had been pounding quite hard, but my mind was seeping back into a normal state.
I turned around.
The ship wasn't visible anymore, so neither was I to them.
I let myself deflate of tension. Maybe fear had already done its worst.
My mind had already taken quite a battering from the previous two scares, but with all the Sload far away and nothing but the company of water, it looked like there could be calm for once. I granted myself a few seconds of rest; all my energy had been expended swimming away. I reflected with some bitter-sweet satisfaction on the recent luck I'd had and how fast I'd swam. I still felt a little guttural, raw, and shaken, but was starting to feel a bit of relief.
There was a sense of pride in managing to swim away. Even dropping the grapple seemed to be a wise decision.
I'd been right under and right above these creatures, and yet not spotted at all.
Hopefully there wouldn't be a third gauntlet.
Given I felt I'd recovered a bit of strength, I put my mind back on the plan.
The next step was to find a rock to emerge from the water behind.
Since there might still be someone in the ship, like the captain, it seemed a bad idea to head back in the ship's direction. I'd continue away from the vessel, but first get a bit closer to the surface to better make out the opportunities for emergence. I turned a quarter-circle towards the surface, planning to swim near the shore for a place to surface.
Swimming forward, I was moving towards the sun, which was crystalline and rippling with the water's distortion.
The Sload and I were in two different worlds: theirs was casual, mine was full of gravity and apprehension. Hopefully their conversation would be long so there'd be plenty of time to record it. Figuring out how to get close enough to do so would be another matter.
Through the waving water I seemed to be able to see some hearty greenery a distance from the shore. Thras was more colorful and vibrant than was intuitive.
Now my hands were close to scraping the bottom. It was getting closer to the point where I could go no shallower without making the backpack visible.
I turned to the left again, ready to look for rocks to cover my entrance.
No rocks in sight. Hopefully I wouldn't need to emerge epically far from the conversation.
I continued swimming. Every foot, though, was a detriment to the mission.
I would have to hope there'd be many obstructions on the surface: boulders and maybe even buildings dotting the beach.
A large form was subtle in the distance, subtle enough to be imaginary. Yet it became clear it wasn't. Yes, there, already, was the type of rock I was looking for! Finally luck had granted good graces!
As I swam towards it I couldn't relax fully, but something had finally gone right.
Hopefully the entire island surface was rocky.
Schools of tiny fish swam in the shallow waters.
How much cover would the surface hold for me? Would that greenery be useful for sneaking?
I kept swimming, but noticed dishearteningly there didn't seem to be any tall buildings, if any buildings at all, on the surface.
The shore was close. Soon I'd see what the surface held, what it gave me to work with and plan around.
I turned around the rock and began my way to emergence.
My fins were above water.
Then my whole head ascended into clear day. The roar of water ceased as I was on the stark beach surface. The sand was pleasantly fine and light.
The upper half of my body was out of the water. Very soon I'd be free to stand and use the Shadow power. The oppressive cruelty of the ocean would soon be gone completely, and this Shadowscale could finally unleash her specialty. The water at my feet was shallow. Just a few more pulls.
Yes, freedom!
I could let loose the Shadow energy any time, but first wanted to see what stood between this area and the Sload. I got on my hands and knees and then I began elevating myself just enough to peek through the rocks, mind rushing with all the possibilities.
Three Sload were talking in front of a sort of shed, two others laboriously approaching. There'd be plenty of time to get to the conversation and record it.
Yet nothing but sand laid between them and the stones I was behind.
My spirit sank like a rock. The endless sand stared back callously, a powerful message of indifference embedded in the landscape ahead. There was not a speck of cover until the shed.
My Shadow power was where all the chips were laid. The shed was far. It looked like it was approximately at the maximum range at which a Shadow could sneak safely to. It was a risk, but there was no other way.
Yes, I had to do this.
I mentally took a deep breath and pushed the Shadow energy onto the surface.
I stood up and stretchingly arched my leg over a rock, granted sixty seconds of hiding in the opened.
Once over the stone I began creeping forward, knowing the exact maximum pace at which one could move without shaking off the Shadow energy. Muscles tight, my instinct made me want to run as fast I could, but that would be fatal. My heart was pounding. It was all in luck's hands again. Committed to this risk, I was a soldier, but fear held me tightly.
My breaths were shallow, my stomach ached. Even if I survived this, it wouldn't be the last challenge: figuring out of how to drive back would be. But that task would allow some breathing room in the vessel, at least before it started, while this fearful experience didn't.
My foot pressed a shell into the sand.
To keep a boundary on my speed while life itself was at stake was an odd sensation. It was barrier I could feel hard and frustrating against my spirit in this gruelingly suspenseful and grimly serious test of chance. But my focus remained on that shack. That was the symbol of survival. Its position would make or break this mission.
Waves crashed onto the surface, glided in on smooth, wet sand, and then receeded back into the ocean.
Was this beach's layout merciful, or damning? It still looked like it would be close.
If spotted, maybe there would be some hope for survival in hiding in the small forest at the center of this island. It was hard to imagine Sload squeezing in there, and the foliage was certainly rich.
Yet they were masters of magicka; they'd burn me out.
However, then I would still have a chance to run from the foliage and retreat into water.
But they were clearly faster swimmers than even me, and the kingdom probably existed on both sides of the islands.
The situation was as bleak as it looked; If the Shadow power didn't last long this would be the end of my life. It was that simple, no matter how much I wanted to believe otherwise.
That was unless I could match them in combat. Still, five against one, and Tamrielics had little idea what kind of nightmarish powers might be at the Sload's disposal.
This was all about the Shadow power. Hope was chained to it completely. It was a fitting fate for a Shadowscale, and it could be a poetic end.
It seemed too late to even turn and go back behind the rock to hide again.
Imagining this as a nightmare brought a brief bliss. Yet I knew I wouldn't wake up. With all its coarseness and gravity warranted, this was real.
What would happen to the world if I didn't make it? Was this Shadowscale indeed the one thing that stood between the Sload and destroying Tamriel? If chance didn't grant mercy, would tens of millions die of sickness? Or was the Argonian Royal Court simply paranoid and this was all for nothing?
Either way, my duty and my life were one in the same until at that shed.
Though I was moving, I still had no freedom. I already was set on the optimal pace and direction.
There was a sharp gust of wind that felt strong enough to blow off the energy; it made my stomach tingle. The energy remained, fortunately, but the incident was unpleasantly jarring. I felt hotter and more self-conscious.
If I didn't make it, that would mean the end of two decades of life. I couldn't turn back now, I was trapped with death or success in the next twenty seconds. My armpits were damp, my breaths were shallow and uneven. This was the most important moment of my life.
I was close enough to here the "S" sounds in the Sloadic speech. Their voices were surprisingly high; I'd expected them to be low and booming.
If I made it, being back in Tamriel would be like sinking into bed after a long day, even if only for its ample cover.
My heart was pounding in my chest. Would time grant mercy or curses? The answer would come soon. When it did, my mood would either shoot up or plummet.
The shed didn't look like wood or coral. It didn't shine like metal, but perhaps it was painted. There also seemed to be some bizarre lock on its door. It was probably where they stored the cure. It was ironic that, even with my own sample, I'd see that shack anyway. In fact, it would be the most important part of this mission even though I didn't need the cure from it.
The two others from the ship were almost at the meeting point while the three continued chatting. Their slowness was casual, while mine was a nerve-wracking necessity.
My leg muscles felt like they were pushing against themselves. I begged time to make this work out.
Would they notice the disembodied foot-prints heading towards the building? The thought brought tension. I looked down to see how prominent they were. They were certainly discernable if one was looking for them: dark edged cracks, foot-shaped stamps in the sand. I didn't have experience with sandy beaches to properly gauge my odds.
The Sload had raspy voices, contrasting their girth.
My arms shook subtly. Everything I ever had was at stake here.
I focused on their eyes, as if they cast beams of magical destruction. I silently prayed they wouldn't see the footprints. Cold sweat ran down my face; I hoped the Sload didn't have a good enough sense of smell either. My own senses were certainly heightened, every step sounding like breaking glass. My mind was utterly pressed to reality, primed to see what would happen.
The two slug-men who'd been moving towards the meeting were very close to their fellow three now. Those were all the more eyes to spot an intruder with.
In several seconds the Shadow power would either wear off leaving me glaringly apparent or I'd barely make it to the shed. The answer to my fate would come soon. I could feel this prospect in every fiber of my body. Epic answers would arrive in only a spec of time: whether I would survive and, if not, what death felt like.
Now all the Sload were at the meeting point, and the slug-man in front of the shed turned to interview one of the new-comers. As if trying to telepathically beg them, I said in my head focus on your conversation, please focus on your conversation.
It was a grueling tension with the building so close. Would all this fear float away or would I sink into nightmarish terror? I clenched my teeth. Would the foot-prints alert them, similarly sealing my fate for the worse?
Would I meet the Nine upon death? Would they be disappointed in me for never worshipping them? The idea of death seemed like a mind-swallowing vortex.
There was a very short distance until I'd get to that cover. The moment of truth, of sinking or rising, was so close. My body seemed to squeeze itself, and so did my mind. I could hear every subtlety.
Just a few more steps.
I was brutally primed for an emotional swerve.
It wasn't too late for misfortune to swoop in.
One more step. But as my foot arched, I knew the Shadow power could still stab its user in the back.
Then I finished the step, getting behind cover. The Shadow energy dissipated, not a second too late.
A sense of relief exploded throughout me! There was a feeling of incredible spiritual lightness as the fear lifted, knowing I would yet live, and Tamriel too!
I mentally relished in what luck had granted me as I removed the back-pack, gracefully twisting it around and getting it quietly on the sand. It was time to take out the recorder, give the fortune I was granted its worth. I opened the back-pack, feeling a fluency with this world.
I was bubbling with excitement about where I'd go from here, how my life would continue in this exhilarating universe! I opened the sound recorder's water-proof container.
Further challenges would be ahead, but right now I felt a hearty and slick readiness to take them on, and with a smile. I picked up the Dwemer device.
A/N: I'm fully aware there are still some loose ends left in Thras. Fights isn't done there yet: there will be at least one more chapter covering her exit.
And just a routine reminder, reviewers: the more constructive criticism the better! I want to do all that's in my power (well, maybe not quite ALL, but you get my drift) to make this the best story in the Oblivion section. I wouldn't post this online if I didn't care what other people thought.