The boat creaked as it rocked on the rough water as the fisherman pulled on his rod with all his might. Never before had he felt such pull in a fish! He could see the shadow of the fish rising, and it was huge! The line groaned under the weight, and the fisherman feared the worse… And the worse happened. With a snap like living wood, the line broke and flew back into the fisherman's face. With anger he threw his rod down into the boat, and stomped his feet. He was completely unaware of the shadow that was coming over his fishing boat. By the time he did, it was far to late to do anything about it.
A ship came to a slow halt beside the boat, and the fisherman had no idea what was about to happen. He looked on in wonderment at the ship. The ship was large and had a dragon carved into the mainmast. The fisherman's wonderment turned to fear when he realized who manned the vessel.
Argonians!
Even worse, the Argonians sported clothing and weapons that implied pirates. The fisherman shook his head in disbelief. Pirates had been destroyed by the men of the Emperor. It made no sense to the fisherman.
"You there! Give us your gold and anything else you got that's worth anything!" The speaker was a large Argonian sporting a very large hat.
"Ye better listen to Clawblade if you know what's good for you!" Another Argonian shouted down to the fisherman.
The man was terrified and quickly gave the pirates what they wanted.
"That's all you got? This one doesn't have more than seven gold!"
"Ye worthless…" The speaker drew an arrow on his crude bow and fired.
…
Doriath Turnmel woke up sweating. The dream had been so vivid and real… so terrifying. The Dunmer got out of his bed and open the shutters for his windows. Bright noon sunlight filled his home, and he shook his head. He rarely slept for so long, and he did not like it when he did. He went to his armoire and got dressed. Putting on his regular clothing, and then getting his armor out. It was his shift soon, and he had to get out on the streets. Putting on the full bonemold armor, and strapping his steel longsword to his side, and grabbing his shield, Doriath went out of his house and began patrolling the streets of Balmora. He puzzled over the dream as he walked, trying to understand its meaning. He was the type who saw more than just a dream, but meanings in every dream, especially ones so vivid.
He was in mid-thought when he heard the breaking of glass behind him. He spun around and saw a cloaked man running away from a house, a bag in his hands.
"Stop!" Doriath yelled, drawing his longsword and hitching his shield up on his arm. The Dunmer was in great shape, and was soon gaining on the thief. He was about to tackle the thief when the man spun around with two tantos in his hands, the bag now tied to his waist.
"You must pay the fine for robbery and return the goods, or you can go to jail. But do not be foolish enough to resist arrest!" Doriath said completely unaffected by the show of arms.
The man attacked viciously, stabbing at Doriath with both weapon. The Dunmer sighed, and blocked both blades with his shield, and chopping down at the man's neck with his longsword. The man was dead before he could even try and defend himself. Doriath grabbed the stolen bag of goods and opened it. What he saw stole his breath. A wooden dragon with the exact same appearance as the one that had been carved in the mainmast in his dream.