Chapter 19

Veleth's Tale Part 1

XxXxXx

Nevano made his way down into the mine, almost absently firing arrows off into the spiders that attempted to jump out of dusty corners at him. Revolution. The very word sent shivers down his spine. Revolution. It both excited him and filled him with dread. On one hand, it meant breaking away from everyone: Thalmor, the Imperials, the crumbling empire. They would be a free nation of elves, something the Chimer had left the Summerset Isles all those millennia ago to look for. On the other hand, that freedom was a double-edged sword. IF they gained independence, they would be on their own for the first time in hundreds of years. Nevano was no political strategist but even he knew that the independence the empire had allowed the Dunmer merely masked the intricate ties that bound them together. The Empire had been crafty; it had made itself so that the Dunmer NEEDED them. Could the Dunmer survive alone? That was the question it all hinged on and Nevano wasn't sure he was the one who could answer that. He was willing to see if he could find parts of that answer though.

He stopped dead, mid-way through kicking a dead spider out of the way. Did he just admit, albeit to himself, that he was willing to DO something about this? No. He came here to fix Solstheim with Gunjar. He was NOT the champion of this fight. He was going to help Raven Rock get back on its feet, win that drink from Gunjar, get back on the damned boat, get the hell out and go…where? He had no home anymore. He was a drifter, a mer who made his home on the road. Maybe he'd go back to Skyrim, explore the rest of the province. Maybe even find his way to Hammerfell, explore the deserts in a land where the Thalmor were most definitely not allowed. While that sounded nice, he found he simply couldn't warm to the idea. Every time he thought about it, his mind wandered back east, to Morrowind.

"Just…fix the mine. One problem at a time." Nevano grumbled to himself, shrugging off a spider web, "Just focus on this first."

The mine turned into a crypt filled with draugr, which didn't improve Nevano's mood any, though after dealing with the ash spawn the draugr were suddenly much easier to deal with. He was able to pick out which bodies seemed the most likely to animate and would quickly send an arrow to return them to full dead before they ever got a chance to get up. Deep in the barrow he found the skeleton of Gratian Caerellius surrounded by rocks stained black by 200-year-old bloodstains and the journal that proved that his great-grandson, Crescius, had been right all along. Score another point for crazy old men.

Unfortunately, getting out of the barrow and killing the reavers blocking his way out was not enough to fully occupy his mind. Even while blood was splattering against his face and ducking vicious sword swings, his mind would wander back to the situation in Morrowind. He strongly suspected that both Nerevar and Azura were influencing his distraction, something he heavily resented both for distracting him during a fight and for trying to force him to do something.

"Shut up." He growled through clenched teeth, thoroughly confusing the reaver he was trying to kill, "Dammit, I made my choice to walk away just SHUT UP!"

The reaver, now thoroughly convince Nevano was insane, tried to scramble away but Truefire pinned him to the floor through a lung.

"Gods dammit…" Nevano growled, "FINE! I'll go talk with Veleth again but ONLY him."

All at once, all the distracting thoughts left his mind like mist dissipating in the sunshine. Too bad that sunshine couldn't reach his mood. That was still black. Nevano walked out into fresh air…only to discover he was a good half a day's walk away from Raven Rock. He let out a string of curses in his native tongue that made every animal in a mile radius duck for cover as he started his long trek back.

XxXxXx

"So that old man was right after all." Veleth said when Nevano caught up to him later to give him the good news, "I'll have to muster some more men to protect the mines but I don't have a problem with that. After all the strange things that have been going on around here, we're more than eager to take on some reavers."

"Old men usually are right. We got to be old somehow." Nevano said, earning an eye roll. The long walk back had improved his mood marginally but he was still a bit on the irritated side. "And I'm glad to have given you some new reaver punching bags."

"Speaking of old men, Councilor Morvayn wants to know…"

"Hounding me for an answer never works, don't even try it." Nevano snapped, a little sharper than he meant to. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. Veleth had done nothing to deserve his ire. "Tell me something…how bad is it really? You started to tell me earlier but give me more details, from your perspective, not a politician's view. I'm certain that Morvayn is one of the better ones but his mind thinks in terms of politics…I want YOUR view on things, in a view of the actual people."

"It's…." Veleth sighed, "The people are tense and upset but because it's an everyday thing, they've become used to it. They learn to cope. They get together in the evenings, get a drink, slap their hands on the table and declare something needs to change but get up in the morning and go right back to putting up with it. In reality we are slowly being taken over. The Thalmor have long since learned that controlling the things that make up a culture's identity, controls the culture itself. They took over the heart of the empire, the White-Gold Tower, the empire crumbled. They outlawed Talos worship, the Nords waged war against each other. Just about everyone else has already left the empire, Daggerfell is hidden behind Hammerfell and they use that as their shield, for now. They've already assimilated Cyrodiil, Valenwood and Elsweyr. Black Marsh…well, nobody wants to go there. Leaves just Morrowind for them to break. They wanted to try to use Truefire and Hopesflame but you took that opportunity from them. They'll make another move soon. I'm just not sure what yet."

"So you think that even though they're still busy watching Skyrim, they're going to turn their attention to Morrowind?" Nevano crossed his arms, "Ambitious."

"To be honest, it's ripe for the taking. We're still recovering from the loss from the Red Year, the Argonian invasion and our political foundation is…not stable. I'm actually shocked it took them this long."

Nevano fell silent for a moment, mulling this over. As outrageous as it all sounded on the outside, Nevano knew better than to discredit anything a Veleth said. They had a crazy knack for always being right and far too many people learned that after it was too late. Nevano was more than willing to take the mer's theory as true. "Wait…what about Helseth? You never mentioned him."

"King Hlaalu Helseth, son of the Queen Mother Barenziah? Dead. So is the Queen Mother."

"I'm actually shocked that crafty fetcher could even be killed." Nevano said flatly. He had never liked Helseth so he wasn't exactly going to shed a tear over this bit of news. Still he had been a cornerstone in stabilizing Morrowind, mostly through murder and sabotage but that was everyday Dunmer politics. Him being dead was just another hole in Morrowind's already tattered armor. He did mourn Barenziah's death though. She had been the most intriguing mer he had ever met, stunning both in wit and beauty. She had managed to be on everyone's side while simultaneously being on no one's side. Her son was bluntly dangerous but Barenziah was the epitome of Dunmer subtly and intrigue. In Nevano's opinion, her death was Morrowind's greatest loss.

"The Argonian invasion sacked Mournhold. Razed it completely to the ground. There was very little warning. It's still being rebuilt."

"So no political head."

"Not really." Veleth sighed, "There's the Redoran councilors and some councilors from the other Great Houses but there's more arguing than anything actually getting done."

"You just explained politics everywhere in a nutshell." Nevano sighed, "Not a lot of choice is there?"

"Not really." Veleth said again, giving a one shoulder shrug, "Like it or not, you are still a legend…but a very real legend. You re-appear the whole nation will rally behind you. Most of the fighters now grew up on the stories from their parents about the Nerevarine. You're god-like to them"

Shit. Vith. Vermina's rotted tits. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. He did NOT want to be thought of as god-like. As he had explained to Morvayn that was a level of power he had so desperately wanted to avoid. It wasn't that he didn't trust himself. He knew he would shove that power off as soon as he finished using it and try to divide it up to avoid fighting. He just didn't trust the power vacuum it would inevitably leave behind. He needed more time to think on this. He needed a distraction. "How did you end up here? You have training that didn't come from hanging around this island your whole life."

Veleth blinked, "It's…a long story."

"We got time. You just finished a patrol. Next one doesn't start for another few hours."

"You have the patrols memorized?"

"It's a habit." Nevano shrugged, "Running from Ordinators will do that to you. Not everything I did on my way to this legendary status everyone gushes about was completely legal. I have respect for you guards but I prefer to know where all of you are at all times."

"Right then…" Veleth sighed, "As I said, it's a long story."

XxXxXx

4E 140 – Southern Morrowind

It was boiling hot in the small town his squad had reclaimed, made worse by the heavy armor they wore. That's how it was in southern Morrowind; hot, humid and oppressive, especially this close to the swamps of Black Marsh. Fortunately, Veleth and his men weren't unused to the discomfort. They had all spent varying amounts of time in the southern portion of the province, every one of them a veteran to fighting in the heat. Still Veleth had made sure to get settled in this town before the heat of the day truly set in. He didn't want to over-tax them just yet.

Veleth had no idea what the name of this particular village used to be. Not that it really mattered anymore. It had been completely demolished by the Argonians long ago. The farmlands around the village had been reclaimed by nature, only the skeletal remains of fencing marked out where the fields used to be. Homes had been demolished: frames still stood stubbornly against nature, the edges still blackened from long ago fires, but slowly were collapsing as rot and neglect set in. This was what he had decided they would camp in. A little macabre perhaps but unfriendly eyes were looking for actual camps, not a whole unit hiding in a ghost town.

"Fortunately, most of the skeletons are dust." Dalin R'is came up next to the young commander, "So while your…unconventional idea is a bit creepy, no one has been completely unnerved. Yet."

"Meaning, they all still think I'm crazy but no one has pissed themselves and run away screaming yet." Veleth was very familiar with R'is' roundabout ways of speaking. After all, they've known each other since they were small children running around the streets of Blacklight, pretending they were Redoran soldiers killing the invaders in the south. R'is had stayed a friend as they grew into adolescents, even when others their age had shunned Veleth because he had had the "crazy" father.

"Oh they've thought you were crazy from the start but you can be crazy and still be respected." R'is grinned roguishly, "Besides, these are all roughened veterans, not raw recruits."

Veleth rolled his eyes. The day he was distinguished separately from his father was a day too soon.

"So, oh glorious leader, what are our orders in this lovely little swamp?"

"There's supposed to be a pocket of refugees that are trying to reach the Safepoint. We're to find them and escort them to safety." That was the official orders anyway. Unofficially, there was a camp of Argonians with one lizard in particular that they were to kill. They were supposed to "run across" the camp, to make it seem like an accident. The orders bothered Veleth more than a little. The issue of morality was there, of course. He didn't believe in not telling his men their orders. He wanted them fully prepared for anything. This sneaking around was not something he liked doing. More than that, there was a gnawing in his belly that he couldn't shake that had nothing to do with bad travel rations. He knew exactly what it was, of course; a healthy dose of paranoia his father had passed on to him. It was something he was not the least bit pleased with.

"They sent a whole contingent of these hard asses for that? A rescue mission?" Veleth could hear the note of suspicion in R'is' voice. R'is was no fool. He always saw right through bull shit.

"There's still a lot of hostile Argonians out there." Veleth said, his stomach muscles clenching, feeling traitorous to the core.

"You know, you're a horrible liar." Veleth looked up sharply. "Yeah, there it is. Don't stake your fortune in a game of cards, you have the most obvious tell ever. Look, I get it. Orders are orders, even the stuff I'm not supposed to know. Just…I'd rather not die in a swamp."

"Then don't let your guard down."

Veleth walked off before R'is could question further, feeling the traitorous hole in the pit of his belly open into a gaping maw. He had had no desire to be in this position. He had wanted to be a soldier his whole life, ever since he had been old enough to understand the hardships the Dunmer people had faced in recent times. He wanted to be someone who protected his homeland and his people from enemies who would see them destroyed. He had worked hard at that too, joining the Redoran Militia as soon as he was old enough, despite his parents' misgivings. Well, his mother's misgivings. His father, a veteran himself, simply told him to stay aware of his situation. Veleth hadn't been too certain what he had meant at the time but Jorun hadn't elaborated and he hadn't asked for clarification. Even after many years and several promotions, even after becoming a commander despite his incredibly young age, he still hadn't figured out what it meant. He wished he did though. It might help him out with this current situation.

"Commander Veleth?" He looked up to see a lightly armored scout seemingly materialize from the surrounding wilderness. Even with red eyes blinking up at him, he hardly looked like a Dunmer. He was the color of the scenery around them. Even his dusky skin seemed less like a Dunmer's and more like the local fauna. That didn't overly surprise Veleth. The scouts that ran southern Morrowind were some of the best in their field. They had to be. Their enemies were incredibly in tune with their surroundings, not some city-bred human who wouldn't notice a wild cat until its fangs were sunk in their neck. This wasn't a war in the modern sense; this was guerilla warfare. "Report for you, sir."

He nodded for the scout to go ahead.

"We've reports about the holding south of Narsis; several dozen Dunmer who had tried to reestablish their families homes despite the danger. The Argonians recently have begun to make advancements on the settlement. It started as just mild things, stealing crops and the like but its been escalating. Finally a woman was killed about a week ago. General Relas has personally asked for you to escort them to Safepoint Stros."

"Understood." Veleth said shortly.

"Also, the Argonian encampment is northeast of the settlement. I was asked to note that to you."

Of course it was. The orders were supposed to be very simple. Escort the civilians to the Safepoint. It should be an in and out mission, a week at the most, especially as close to the Safepoint Stros as they were. The Safepoints had been established shortly after the Argonians had invaded in 4E 5. The Argonians had advanced quickly, overwhelming Narsis and Tear in a matter of days and reached Mournhold before anyone had any clear warning. The city had been utterly devastated, panicked people fleeing as fast as they could in all directions. House Redoran had been the only one to jump to action, quickly mobilizing the militia it had formed during the Oblivion Crisis to establish barricades along the main road from the mountain pass leading to Blacklight across the province to Necrom. Kogo, Isra, Stros, Adrusa, Vvarden and Zyr, respectfully, had stood as the final barrier against the invaders. From there generals, one assigned to each Safepoint, had dispatched soldiers and escorted refugees to safety in either Necrom or Blacklight, using the Velothi Mountain range and the Padomaic Ocean as barriers to keep the invaders corralled in the south. Through sheer stubbornness and willful determination, they managed to prevent the Argonians from marching northward. Now, 135 years after the initial invasion, the fighting was at a stalemate. The Dunmer simply didn't have the numbers to drive the Argonians fully from Morrowind back to Black Marsh and the Argonians couldn't break through the stubborn line of Safepoints.

The young commander watched as the scout melted back into the wild like a deer. He knew why the scout had mentioned the Argonian encampment. His unofficial orders. He ground his jaw as he remembered the tightly folded note passed to him surreptitiously. He was to wipe out the Argonian encampment, namely an assassin who was under the employ of the An-Xileel. This particular Shadowscale, Scar-Throat, had managed to sneak into Safepoint Vvarden and almost succeeded in assassinating the general there. General Nasvani had survived the attempt and everything had resumed as normal. However, Councilor Nartise Arobar had taken grave offence to the attempt and wanted retaliation. Why she had chosen him, Veleth couldn't fathom. Then there was the issue of making it seem like they had run across the camp by accident. Of course, no one would believe that. It was as transparent as glass but as long as the politicians could act like they had no involvement, everyone could sleep at night.

Everyone except Veleth that is. His hands tightened into fists. He was not the Morag Tong. He was not a hired sword. He was a soldier under House Redoran, the greatest of the Great Houses. He heavily resented being sent out to kill a target like a hired assassin. The councilors should keep their noses out of the military business. They should be more worried about making Morrowind a strong province like it had over a century ago. Instead, they were more worried about instructing the militia to do coups on anyone that irritated them. He remembered how he had complained about politics to his father. Jorun had been quiet for a moment before saying "Soldiers do not start wars. Soldiers do not end wars. War is started by those who desire power. Remember that. You have romantic views of killing other warriors who are out to destroy the world, but that's not always the case. They believe in their cause as ardently as you do. On the battlefield, everyone is the same. War is a game of politics. You cannot have one without the other."

"Damn…" He murmured to himself. He turned back towards camp. He would let his men rest for the night. Tomorrow morning, they would head out. Tomorrow, he would be less of a soldier and more of a counter in a political game. Tomorrow, he would hate himself with every fiber of his being. His only solace was that he was determined to find the settlers and get them to Stros. He could still be a soldier even as he played politics.

XxXxXx

Narsis had once been a major thriving city in the fertile Deshaan plains. Once the seat of House Hlaalu, it had started to decline in 3E 433 when the events of the Oblivion Crisis caused a drastic decline in trade all across Tamriel. Five years later, when the Argonians invaded and Hlaalu was stripped of its Great House status, Narsis became a crumbling ruin, the small settlements and villages that veined out around it withering and dying out. As the initial onslaught died down, a few families had dared to make their way south again to try to regain their homes. Many hadn't been heard from again. Those that did survive came back with horror stories of a land full reclaimed by the wild and of strange looking Argonians with a bloodlust to rival that of rabid dogs. That was in the forefront of the unit of Dunmer warriors' minds as they made their way southwest, keeping them hyper aware and focused.

The going became more difficult the further south they got, the ground becoming increasingly soggier. This was the very southern end of Morrowind, where the plains started to give way to swamps. While it made for incredible farmland for crops that loved wetlands like saltrice, it made it difficult for soldiers who would have to fight in water then march home soaking wet and covered in mud.

"Something doesn't feel right." R'is murmured quietly as he walked next to Veleth, eyes narrowed. Veleth had to agree. Something was agitating that paranoid creature that lived in the pit of his stomach. It clawed at him, raising the hair on the back of his neck sharpening his senses into a hyper-awareness. "We aren't that far from the settlement are we?"

"Not very. Several miles. We're just northeast of it." Veleth answered. Suddenly he halted, raising his hand to halt everyone as well. His gut had reached a fever pitch of agitation, telling him that he needed to look around, to be aware. He didn't have to wait long to find out what was bothering it, "Do you smell that?"

"No I-oh wait there it is." R'is inhaled, "That's not swamp stink."

R'is was right; it wasn't swamp stink. Swamps had a deep rotting scent that permeated into everything that walked through. This smell that was wafting in on the weak wind was a sickly, almost sweet scent made every basic instinct in him recoil and want to run. Unfortunately he knew exactly what that scent was. There was only one smell like that in the world: death. Veleth exchanged a look with R'is. That was a very bad sign. In wordless agreement they turned towards the wind and followed the smell. They didn't have to go far. Less than half a mile away they came to a clearing, surrounded by stagnant water pools and made a horrifying discovery.

"By Azura…" R'is breathed in shock.

The entire clearing was decorated with the dead hanging bodies of the Dunmer farmers from the settlement. Men, women…even children. They had been there for a while, judging by the state of decomposition the bodies were in. Then the wind shifted and the smell hit them all full in the face. It was so powerful, both physically and emotionally, that several mer doubled over and vomited, the rest of them recoiling. Veleth felt like joining them but he clenched his jaw as hard as he could, forcing his stomach back down his throat through sheer will alone. He wished he could have done more for them. There was nothing they could have done to change the outcome though. Even if they had run the moment they had gotten their orders and didn't stop, they still wouldn't have gotten here in time to save these people, but seeing them hanging from the trees, that didn't seem a good enough excuse.

"Cut them down." He said once he trusted his stomach to stay where it was once he opened his mouth, "We can't just leave them here. Half of you cut them down. The rest of you find some dry wood and a dry spot. We'll give them as proper a funeral as we can. Stay on alert though. While this scene is old, their attackers may not have gone far. Once we start the fires, we go."

As his men got to work, R'is sidled over, "There's a camp of Argonians nearby, isn't there?"

"Dalin…"

"Don't give me that. I know you have secondary orders…or rather, someone wanted to make it primary orders and used these poor fetchers as a good excuse."

"Dalin, you know all I ever wanted to do was protect my homeland. I don't care for politics, I don't care for intrigue or any of that stupid shit that goes on behind city walls were it's safe and comfortable." Veleth said, anger seeping into his voice, "No matter what I was told, my intention, first and foremost, was to get these people to safety. I am not an assassin or a mercenary."

"You're an idiot, is what you are." R'is crossed his arms, "If you had told me in the first place, I would have told you that I got your back. I know where you stand, oh noble-hearted s'wit. Stop being so heroic. That's going to get you killed. So some councilor is trying to use you as a tool. Who do we need to kill?"

Veleth stared at his friend, for a moment a bit overwhelmed at the frank acceptance.

"What? Do you think for a moment that I'm just going to drop you for shit out of your control? You have to follow orders, same as I do. I'm not some petty girl who's going to get my nose out of joint because things are going perfectly according to plan." R'is nudged Veleth in the ribs, "That, and I think after seeing this, every mer here will be willing to kill a few lizards."

"Remember a few months back General Nasvani in Safepoint Vvarden nearly got killed?"

"Yeah. Crazy bastard. Even after he got his neck sliced he still bellowed louder than an angry guar."

"I was told to kill that assassin." Veleth finally admitted, the words bitter on his tongue, "It's supposed to be a large camp but seeing this is…not good."

"So they sent YOU to go kill a Shadowscale?" R'is asked incredulously, "Like sending the bull after a snake. I see why they bolstered the numbers so much. Alright. After we finish here, let's go kill some Argonians, then go home and deliver some bittersweet news."

Veleth opened his mouth to respond but before any words could come out his sixth sense roared to life again, making him snap his mouth shut and spin around, staring off into one particular spot in the woods. Why that spot he could not rightly say but he couldn't look away.

"What is it?" R'is was instantly on alert, more than a little familiar with that fine-tuned sixth sense of paranoia that ran in the Veleth bloodline. Veleth might resent having the paranoia and reactions of a horse in a wolf-infested forest; there was no denying that it was incredibly useful, especially since they were the horses in Argonian infested swamplands.

"We're being watched." Veleth said. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel it. His sudden alertness had startled their observers; he could feel the shift in the air. They had planned on taking them unawares but he had taken that element of surprise. He gave a sharp whistle and instantly every soldier, who had been listening in as soon as they saw their commander go on the alert, drew their weapons. Like R'is, they knew and appreciated the paranoid gut. It was never wrong.

That was when the world exploded into action. Argonians materialized from the brush, dropped from trees and emerged from the swampy water all around. The Dunmer soldiers were not unprepared, thanks to their commander's intuition, but they were still thrown back on their heels as the sheer numbers of opponents descended upon them. However, these were all seasoned fighters. They pushed back and quickly gained even footing over their adversaries. The bloody clearing quickly became coated in a fresh layer of blood of both mer and reptile, the stillness of the swamp shattered by the clashing of weapons and the screams of war and death.

Veleth whipped his sword out and through the throat of an Argonian charging at him, anger boiling in him. The number of Argonians pouring into the clearing at his men was way more than any of the briefings alluded to, not to mention that they were still several miles from the Argonian camp and twice that from the settlement. Only one thing came to mind with this information; they had been set up. The settlers had been dead long before they had gotten there and left right where Veleth would find them. It had been a damn trap…and he had led his men right into it.

"Is all of Black Marsh coming at us or something?" R'is shouted next to him, strings of blood crisscrossing his face like war paint. Veleth grunted in reply, too busy furiously fighting off Argonians to formulate a reply.

The battle raged on, with no end of the waves of Argonians in sight. Still the Dunmer fought grimly on, not giving an inch even as their numbers began to dwindle. Veleth was beginning to get a feeling that he needed to find a way to get his men out. Despite his brave soldiers killing five, ten, even fifteen of the reptilian men, they were still being assaulted from all sides and their energy was beginning to flag. Veleth himself was beginning to fully feel the weight of his weapon and the burn in his arm with every swing. He was just about to call a retreat when his sensitive ears picked up the sound of the Argonian rising from the swamp behind him, spear in hand, but, caught up as he was with the two already in front of him, he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He tried to side step, to move so that the third was at least around to his side where he had a better chance of defending himself but his wily opponents saw right through his plan and pressed him harder, refusing to allow him to take those few crucial steps. He cursed to himself, remembering his father's words, "Stay aware of your situation, son". Veleth suddenly realized exactly what he had meant but he feared that that lesson had sunk in just a tad too late. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. The Argonian, still below him in the swamp, had lined up the spear with his spine, obviously planning on throwing his whole weight behind the thrust to destroy Veleth's heavy armor and the vulnerable flesh beneath. He had mere seconds to act.

He twisted his body, hoping beyond all hope that it would miss, that it would be a glancing blow, that his armor could absorb the hit and he would have a few more seconds to get a better position, but that was not to be. Almost as if he was in a dream and he was watching it happen to someone else, he felt a terrible jolt as the spear collided with his armor. For a moment it seemed as if it would hold, but then with a loud crack that he swore the world over could hear, it gave way. There was a sickening pop that he couldn't quite identify and then warmth rushing down his entire left side, followed by a bloom of nauseating cold that permeated his entire body. He looked down and saw the bloodstained barb of the spear protruding from his body like a bloody flag. Strangely there was no pain, like it wasn't even his body it was coming from. The three Argonians backed off, believing him to be a dead mer. That infuriated him even more. He wasn't dead yet dammit!

Mustering the last of his strength, he whipped his sword in a wild strike, not really aiming for any body part in particular. The two lizard-men in front of him fell back, each clutching at ruined skin. Not a serious strike but it might have bought him a little time. The third behind him twisted the spear, ripping his flesh further, trying to get him to go down once and for all.

That was when the pain hit, instantly draining him of the anger-driven rush he had been riding earlier. White-hot lightning shrieked through his body with the fury of a hurricane. Every nerve in his body screamed in agony. It took a moment for him to realize that it had manifested itself in a physical scream that ripped itself from his throat in a guttural roar. Soon he knew it would turn into a death cry. He was done for. He remembered R'is saying how he didn't want to die in a swamp. He agreed whole-heartedly with that sentiment. This was truly a miserable place to die.

"Veleth!"

Several arrows whistled by his ear and thudded into the Argonian behind him. The lizard fell back, unfortunately not letting go of the spear. Veleth felt himself being dragged backwards into the swamp, but he no longer had enough control over his limbs to stop himself. Hands grabbed him before he hit the foul water but the spear kept going, the barbed head catching on to the edge of his ruined armor and coming to a jarring halt. The Argonian's death grip kept pulling on the spear, starting to pull it back through his body, shredding his flesh further as it gave way. Soon, it would tear a massive hole through him. He knew he wouldn't survive a wound like that, even if a healer was casting healing spells on him at that moment.

"Adro! Cut that haft! I can't keep playing tug-of-war with him here!" R'is bellowed.

Had Veleth had the awareness or the control over his body he would have immediately and emphatically downed the idea. Unfortunately, he no longer had such abilities. As such, when the sudden jolt of the sword hacking through the haft violently shook in his damaged body, he screamed louder than he ever had in his life, blood flecking his lips as his body convulsed against the blinding pain.

"Sir, what do we do?"

"They backed off for now. Round up the injured." R'is said grimly, hauling Veleth away from the fetid water, "We're getting the hell outta here before they decide to come finish us off."

As he was hauled up and dragged out of the blood-soaked clearing, Veleth looked up and locked eyes with an Argonian hiding in the trees. As the reptilian being melted back into the trees, Veleth could have sworn he saw a massive scar going across the thing's throat. His final realization before his mind blanked out completely was that he had failed miserably.

XxXxXx

A/N: Surprise! I got this one spit out far faster than I thought, thank you to Scrandle whose review prompted my brain to go into sudden overdrive! I tried to get this in before Thanksgiving but I at least got it in before December 1st! This gem came to me on my trip to North Carolina, namely while incredibly bored on a plane. I had forgotten my iPod to distract me from the nerve-wracking experience of putting a packed sardine can full of people 35,000 feet in the air but I did have my notebook, as I always do, and I scribbled out an insane amount of fanfic gold. The lady next to me on one of the flights was amazed at how fast I shot off full college ruled pages. Heh, I should have showed her how many pages I completed while pretending to take notes in classes…I digress. Anyway, this is the granddaddy of all flashbacks and it's broken up into several parts. That's right, several parts. It gave me the opportunity to really delve into Veleth's character and I had a LOT of fun with that. He's a fun guy to play with, not as much fun as Nevano but I think Nev's glad I'm beating up someone else for a change.

I actually was going to split this into two separate chapters but I figured that, everyone has played through that quest into that freaking mine and doesn't want to hear about it all over again (I HATED that quest! Don't ask me why but I just hate that quest with a burning passion. That and getting the dragon map stone thingy though that one because I've done it like 40 times). That and I really didn't feel like writing it out. I'll go ahead and admit that. On with my plots dammit!

On a final note, I broke 100,000 words! A milestone for me!

The Safepoints may or may not be inspired by Attack on Titan.

And yes, Veleth is horrible about being flanked.