Sorry it took longer than I said.
Note to self: Don't promise deadlines.
But here it is. Hope you enjoy.
This chapter introduces Sleek the Drunk, a puke-green ugly Argonian character with the worst underbite the character creation would possibly permit. Who I sometimes play with for fun with no other goal than to steal and drink and do skooma. later on, he will play some minor part in the main story.
Sleek the Drunk
The sound of empty bottles of ale and wine, falling over and rolling along the floor reached me as I turned over in the damp hay pile that was my bed. Dirty water was dripping from the sewer lines and openings that decorated the ceiling above my pounding head and continued to drip down the moss-covered stone walls, and the air was misty and heavy with the damp scent of mold and dirt.
I slowly sat up and rubbed my face; picking dirt out of from between my scales with my claw-like nails.
"Uuugh,… My head…" I moaned as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.
"You're awake early."
Ough... By the Hist... not her. She sounds as annoying as ever.
"Give me something for my head." I hissed just as annoyed as I reached for the nearby bottles and shook them in search of one with a hint of content.
"We're all out." Her voice was as sour as the taste in my mouth. "We drank it all yesterday, remember?" She said as she started picking empty bottles of the floor in a half-assed attempt to clean. She whipped her scaly tail at me in annoyance. Or in order o annoy.
I didn't remember…
The cold sewer wall was wet as I clawed myself up and started stumbling towards the wooden door. The floor beneath my bae feet was as moist and moldy as the hay I had slept in.
"Where are you going?" she asked with her usual critical look. As if nothing I did was ever right. Bitch.
"Take a guess! For a drink, of course." I hissed annoyed as I fumbled with the doorknob.
The Ragged Flagon was an Inn hidden in the sewers beneath the well of Riften. The Thief guild had, eons ago, made the chamber beneath the city their own little hideout. ¨Hidden-in-plane-sight¨ and all that. And as rumors spread, criminals started pouring in as quickly as the excrements from the city left the pipes on the walls, filling the chamber floor. And the makeshift planning tables, beds, and barstools that stood ankle-deep in the sewage had quickly been placed atop platforms of wood, bridges, and catwalks that stretched like a spider web across the stench-filled chamber. And so the thief guild had made it their home beneath Riften.
How ironic…
Cutthroats, beggars, and thieves had pulled their purses together in order to not work in the dirt. When ¨working in the dirt¨ was the very definition of what they did. And so an empire had slowly been created and built in this large, flooded, well-chamber. And so it's been used for ages to plan their heists, hold meetings, share rumors and, more importantly, drink. Far away from the prying eyes of the law.
"You're not welcome here, lizard," Dirge said with his ridiculously macho voice as I approached the Inn. Arms crossed in his usual grumpy way.
"Shut it!" I hissed sharply as I walked past him, dragging my tail along the wet floor toward the bar as ignored his stern glare.
Brynjolf stood leaned over some papers, as usual. His auburn red hair hung down his face as he studied the papers at the bar counter, and I couldn't tell his expression as I sat down on the barstool next to him.
"I won't serve you until you pay off your tab, Sleek," Vekel, the bartender, said. He sounded as annoyed as the very voice I had awoken to. "You already drank all my good stuff! In fact! You drank all my stuff!" He said angrily as I threw a single Septim on the counter.
I snarled at him as his voice had reawakened my headache, took back my coin and turned on my chair to facing Brynjolf. I placed my left elbow on the counter and rested my pained pounding head on my hand.
Brynjolf gave me a judgmental look before he opened his mouth. Here we go...
"Didn't you have some wedding to attend?" Brynjolf asked, giving me a sideways look as he returned to lean over his papers.
"What wedding?..." I said as I shut my eyes and massaging them with my hand. It was impossible to ignore the pounding in my head.
"Yesterday you said something about a wedding... and the Khajiits," Brynjolf said still, aiming his attention towards the papers.
"THE WEDDING!" I shouted, opening my eyes wide as I flew off the barstool, tipping it over as I turned, and staggered out of the Ragged Flagon.
Since the Temple of Mara was placed in Riften, wedding ceremonies were a common event in the city. And the Khajiits were usually not allowed, by law, to enter the cities of Skyrim. But this wedding was different. For some, to me, unknown reason, the Khajiits had been allowed to attend.
"Already back?" my sister said as I hastily entered the mold smelling room.
"Hush woman!" I hissed as I started rumbling through my things.
I could feel her leaning over my shoulder to get a better look. Why did she always have to pry in my business? Her eyes opened with excitement as I pulled out the surprisingly clean bag, the size of a small fist, from one of the wooden boxes in the corner.
"You didn't tell me you had Moon Sugar!" She said as she reached for the bag in my hand.
"It's not for you, idiot! It's for the Khajiits." I hissed at her as I drew back my hand, tightening my grip on the rough bag which felt as if it held sand.
She looked confused and gave me a look as she flicked her eyelash-less eyelids in confusion.
"Since when do you share your Moon Sugar with the Khajiits?" she asked, this time more out of genuine curiosity than her usual annoyance.
"Just,… come with me. You'll understand when you see it." I said as I hurried towards the door, tail whipping.
The Rift was always the most beautiful in autumn. All the lush grass and the thick birch forest just outside of Riften shone with all the colors of yellow and red. And when the morning sun rose, the dew would glisten in the sunlight as if a million tiny ambers and diamonds covered the entire forest. And when, in turn, the sunset arrived, the red sunlight would make the entire forest glow as if on fire. And the warm winds flowing in from the Red Mountain in the East would warm the air, and the geysers in Eastmarch to the north would shield the Rift from the cold winds of the Sea of Ghosts, and so unlike any other place in Skyrim, the temperature was above freezing point all around the year. The perfect place for us Argonians who are used to warmer climates than Skyrim provides.
The Khajiits, the Cat-people of Elswer, were mostly traders. Traveling between the cities and towns of Skyrim to buy wares in one place only to sell them in the next. So they were merchants and traders. And now they had made camp outside of Riften to attend the wedding. Hiding their caravans with merchandise in the birch forest outside the city walls.
"There it is!" I said as the camp came in view. I liked to act as if I had shown her where to find it, rather than admit I had just blindly stumbled upon it myself.
"And where's the Khajiits?" She asked suspiciously. She was always suspicious when it came to me and my plans. It annoyed me.
"At the wedding, of course." I snarled.
"The wedding?" she asked confused, almost twisting her tongue on the second word.
"Never mind that!" I snarled as I ignored her questioning look and pointed towards the camp. "Look. There's only one of them guarding the camp." I said, pointing to the lone Khajiit sitting by the fire in the middle of the camp.
"Don't you think he'll hear us searching the camp? They have very sharp ears, you know." She said with a look that said my plan had failed even before it began.
"That's why you're here," I said with a wide teeth-showing grin. "You'll ¨distract¨ him, while I search the camp," I told her as I started digging through my weathered satchel for the bag of Moon Sugar I had brought for this very purpose.
"You're not making me sleep with a Khajiit again!" She hissed, now clearly annoyed. "They have ¨thorns¨ you know!"
"Just!… Just go get high with the cat!" I hissed through my teeth as I pushed the tan-colored bag of Moon Sugar into her hands.
The inside of the main tent was riddled with boxes and piles of wares. Patterned carpets hung down the walls, vases of all forms and sizes stood all over the floor and atop the boxes, most of them filled with pencils, brushes and other stick-shaped items.
It must be in here… I thought to myself as I started searching under and over the wares, flipping boxes and vases, making no attempt at hiding my search.
"Aaah!..." I exhaled in relief as I found a tiny shiny box, hidden under a pile of rags and cloth.
Eight tiny flasks, no bigger than a fat thumb, with an all too familiar purple-pink content, was revealed as I opened the decorated silver box. Hastily I grabbed one of the flasks and threw it into my mouth. As it fell on my sharp tongue I moved it around and started to slightly chew on the tiny flask as I gathered the other flasks and placed them in my satchel.
I moved the flask left and right in my mouth as I kept searching for jewelry. Making it dance on my tongue in excitement. I slightly chewed on the spongy cork and felt it slowly loosen. I peeked out the tent to see if the coast was clear, and as I could no longer contain myself I bitt the flask in two. My body slightly shook with excitement as the sweet nectars filled my mouth, surrounded my tongue and made exquisite love to my throat. I felt warm. And smacking my lips I let it flow down, to give birth, into my stomach.
As the coast was clear I hurried off into the woods and sat down against a tree. Relaxing, I let my eyes roll back into my head as I felt my mind dull and my body starting to shake. I felt my veins tighten in ecstasy and my very scales turned upright in divine prayer.
The pounding in my head had finally stopped…