Chapter 5: Sercen

It wasn't until they were well away from the inn that Clare felt the need to voice her opinion on the matter, if only to create conversation. It wasn't as if she didn't enjoy the chirping birds of the soft whispers of the wind, but for once she had a traveling buddy and she definitely needed the companionship.

"Only twenty gold coins. I guess we should'a asked what the reward was before going on that little side quest."

"S-so, we just murdered a bunch of innocent people for twenty gold. The bed we paid for last night cost ten gold. So, we made a profit of ten gold for the wanton slaughter of people guilty of no other crime besides practicing necromancy. I-I guess that makes us the bad guys?"

The way Jakrelkill put it made it sound really bad. And Clare realized it wasn't untrue, but it wasn't completely fair either.

"You're going to defend them? They tried to kill us."

"We told them to pack up and leave for no good reason. They w-were just hanging out in a cave. They weren't bothering anybody. It's not like they were attacking the inn or something. That innkeeper just hates necromancers."

"Their minions were running around scaring people off and killing her business."

"So the answer is to just up and kill them all?" Jakrelkill asked. "Over t-the level of an inn's 'business?'"

"We tried talking to them," Clare was quick to remind her companion.

"W-we tried to evict them from a cave. Where else are they s-supposed to go? It's the Mage's Guild's fault necromancers have been reduced to hiding in caves in the-the-the first place."

"I can't believe you're defending the assholes that tried to kill us." Clare shook her head.

"O-okay. Th-they're ass-assholes, I'll grant you. B-b-but so am I. I'm a-a necromancer and an asshole t-too. Just-ust like them. If how we-e met had-ad been so different, would you be so willing to kill me?"

"No, a smooth-talker like you is much too charming. Besides, if you remember, which I very much doubt you do considering how much you drink, I was ready to cut you in half when we met. But you didn't want to fight and I didn't want to fight and we worked it out. And look at us now. Raelynn and her group weren't willing to talk. We did act in self-defense."

Valbanill laughed. "Y-e-yeah. I get it. A-and now you make me wonder what it would be like if they did talk. W-w-what if they joined you like I id-did? You'd have a small army of necromancers followin' you around on your quest."

"I'm not looking to become Queen of the Necromancers."

"Why not? S-sounds like a lovely title to me."

"I'm finding that necromancers are rather needy. I don't think I can handle more than one."

"Yeah, you're r-right. I'm the most necromancer you're ever going to need."

"Not that way," Clare mock protested.

"W-with all my stamina and endurance spells, I can last all night."

"Damn right! That's what I like to hear." Clare scooped Valbanill with her claw and pushed him towards her. She actively ran her hand through his short hair and pet his head. The fool Breton had certainly said the right thing.

Clare felt her face getting very warm and caught herself smiling intently. The Scorpion Daedra had the sudden urge to sink her teeth into the Breton. Realizing she was getting overexcited from such a simple comment prompted her to try and steer the direction of the conversation back towards something Jakrelkill had said before.

"So, what's this about the Mage's Guild being at fault?"

"Eh? Oh. That. Y-y-you don't know?"

"No. Not really. I'm not intimately familiar with the politics of magicka-users."

"Oh, I-I could help you get very intimate with magicka-based politics."

Clare noticed Jakrelkill was smiling as hard as she was. And him smiling too hard could definitely lead to some things. An image of the two of them fucking in the middle of the road came to mind. Not the best idea, but when it came to Valbanill, it was completely believable. But they didn't exactly have much expectation of privacy out in the middle of the Red Ring Road.

"So, spill it. What's going on?" Clare released Valbanill from her grip so the two of them could continue to walk at a reasonable pace.

"Aw, you're n-no fun."

"Yes I am. And I'm actually interested. I never would have pegged you for a political animal."

"I-I'm not. But I can't help this."

"Then tell me. What, are you trying to keep this shit a secret? Do I need to join the Order of the Necromancers first? What's got necromancers holed up in caves?"

"It's Arch-Mage Traven. Y-you at least know who he is, right?"

"The leader of the Mage's Guild."

"R-right. That asswipe. Once he became Arch-Mage, he banned the practice of necromancy."

"Uh, I don't know much, but I do know necromancy is legal within the Empire."

"He banned it from the Mage's Guild. He'd b-ban it from all of the Empire if he could. From all of Mundus."

"But he can't. So what if necromancers were kicked out of the wizards' club?" Clare asked. "You don't seem like the type to follow Guild rules anyway."

"I-I don't. I'm not that stupid. But the Mage's Guild won't e-even deal with anybody who practices necromancy. Traven's doing all he can to make life miserable for necromancers everywhere. H-he's trying his best to sway public opinion against necromancy."

"I'm guessing it's working?"

"A l-lot of the time known necromancers have a hard time finding places to stay anymore. We've b-been labeled as criminals, thieves and murderers who p-practice obscene magicka solely for the sake of being evil."

"Damn. I can relate."

"It's all Traven's fault. I don't know what Daedra crawled up his ass but he's makin' it everyone's problem."

"Sorry, I can't help with that. I can't change the political fighting of magicka-users," Clare said. "I do know what it feels like to be an outcast though."

Just then Clare's six eyes picked up a small flash of red. Acting on instinct she instantly grabbed Jakrelkill and shoved him aside right as a fireball went scorching by.

"W-what the what?" Valbanill demanded.

A male Altmer dressed in a cyan robe and a scamp were rushing towards them.

"Looks like I'm learning about the intimate politics of magicka-users after all." Clare released Valbanill and the two readied themselves for a fight.

"You dodged my first attack but you won't be so lucky a second time!" the High Elf conjurer warned.

"That's good to know," Clare grumbled back.

The scamp veered off for Clare while the conjurer and the necromancer started casting spells at each other.

"Speaking of people that just fight and won't talk things out," Clare muttered as she skittered to the side to avoid a fireball from the scamp. After his magical attack missed, the scamp threw his entire body into a tackle, but the Scorpion Daedra caught him in her claws and sliced him in two. Clare was a little surprised that the body didn't dissipate after she had killed the scamp; apparently it was not just a summoned minion but had been bound to the realm of Mundus.

Clare skittered up on the conjurer while the Altmer was busy trying to hit the necromancer with fireballs and lightning blasts. But before the Scorpion Daedra could reach the him, the High Elf wordlessly summoned a daedroth to bar her path. Coated in ugly yellow scales, the animalistic Daedra resembled a large, bipedal alligator.

Clare was forced for face off with the daedroth as the two wizards continued to fire off poorly aimed spells at one another.

"What sort of necromancer conjures a Scorpion Daedra?" the Altmer asked.

"M-maybe I killed a necromancer and took his robes," Valbanill shot back. The funny part is that Valbanill was telling the truth. He was wearing the robes of one of the necromancers he and Clare had killed back at Moss Rock Cavern.

"I very much doubt that, necromancer scum!"

"Maybe I'm a necromancer that killed another necromancer and took that necromancer's robes." Again, Valbanill was being truthful.

"What nonsense. Just die already!" The Altmer summoned a hunger.

"I-I-I have a counter argument. You die!" Valbanill summoned a pair of skeletons.

Clare was in trouble, the daedroth had height and reach against her. It kept lashing out with elongated talons, which Clare had to keep batting away with her own claws. She finally managed to snip its hand but the large Daedra was able to pull away from Clare's grip.

The daedroth sprang with open jaws, toothy maw gaping to clamp right down on the human portion of Clare's body. But instead of munching on Clare's skull, the daedroth got a mouthful of scorpion tail. The stinger pierced through the tongue and lodged right into the daedroth's lower jaw.

The reptilian Daedra tried to howl and shake itself free of the scorpion tail and Clare tried to use her tail to pull the daedroth's head down to the ground. After several moments of struggling, the daedroth limped over, Clare's venom taking effect. The Scorpion Daedra was able to pull her stinger out from the daedroth's mouth and started slashing away at its head until the creature died and dissipated from the realm.

"Wait!" the conjurer turned just in time to see the angry Scorpion Daedra barreling down on him. As if Clare was going to wait. The Altmer summoned a clannfear but the Scorpion Daedra scuttled right past it and cut him down with her claws. With its summoner dead, the clannfear disappeared.

"Worthless conjurer filth." Valbanill kicked the shredded corpse of the Altmer.

"So, we have a problem with killing necromancers but don't care when it comes to conjurers?" Clare asked.

"Well, yeah. Conjurers are jerks."

"Wow… you have no idea how much of a hypocrite you are, do you?"

"N-no." Valbanill went about trying to loot what was left of the corpse.

"What's the difference?" Clare asked as she tried to shake the blood from her claws.

"Conjuring Daedra is dangerous. They're like the peasant class, they will plot to destroy you if you can't control them."

"And the dead won't?" Clare asked.

"Zombies are too stupid. Skeletons are loyal. Ghosts and wraiths are… a l-little more complicated."

"Right." Clare watched Valbanill. His hands was getting bloody as he worked to strip everything of value from the carcass.

"Y-you have to remember, glary, scary, Clare. T-that this asshole just upped and attacked us o-out, out of nowhere."

"You have a point. Though this dynamic is getting old."

"W-what dynamic? Killing fools that think they can k-kill us? W-w-w-would you like to go back to being chased by a herd of minotaurs again?"

"Nah, I'll pass on the minotaurs. Maybe a horde of chickens for next time. Change it up a bit."

"C-check this out, glass dagger. He's got a ring too." Valbanill passed the small weapon to Clare.

"Let me guess, it's a wedding ring. Plot twist. We killed a married man just trying to provide for his family. And he resorted to highway robbery because he was all out of options."

Valbanill burped. "Nice guess. I-t certainly would make for an interesting story. It's a magical ring."

"Oh well. Tried my best. Maybe this guy was simply a greedy fetcher." Clare admired the smooth green blade.

"Maybe reedy g-greedy. But t-this guy was not simple."

"Oh? He didn't seem so tough."

"He was e-expecting to kill me in one blow. Y-you missed, messed that up. You always, errr—also kind'a cut him sort. Figuratively and literally."

"Right. But I don't see how that makes him not simple." Clare was confused.

"This." Valbanill held it up.

"His bag. So what?" Clare shrugged. "You have one too. I assume he carries his food and stuff in it."

"N-no. T-t-this is difference—different."

"It's a bag, you stinking drunk. A bag."

"It's a Bag of Holding."

"Huh?"

"A magical bag. Look." Valbanill started pulling out many items from the seemingly innocuous sack. "Bigger on the inside than on the outside. You can basically put as much stuff as you want in this thing as-as long as you can carry it."

"How much shit does he have in there?" Clare asked.

"D-dunno. It's not that heavy." Valbanill took the iron and steel maces he had tied on his waist that he had pilfered from the necromancers before and stuffed them in the Bag of Holding. He then put the previous normal bag he had been carrying around into the enchanted one. Clare found the entire sight to be rather odd and surreal.

"Here." Clare handed over the glass dagger to be stowed away.

"S-shall we continue?"

"Yes, let's." Clare and Valbanill started off along the road again. "So, we got a magical bag, magical map and compass, magic ring and some magic wine. We are quite the treasure hunters."

"Yeah. This is—this is going pretty well," Valbanill agreed.

"Now I just need an enchanted corset that makes my boobs grow bigger and I'll be set."

"W-what's wrong with your boobs?" the necromancer asked.

"They are small," Clare said insipidly.

"So, what's wrong with small boobs?"

"You don't exactly attract handsome adventurers with small boobs. But you do apparently attract drunken necromancers."

"I-I don't think you'd enjoy shallow advertisements—adventurers gawking at you."

"Maybe I'd like the attention."

"M-maybe you should try attracting people with your winning personality."

"It doesn't work that way," Clare said. "Besides, it's always my eyes, or claws and tail and legs—my body that catch everyone's attention. In a bad way."

"F-f-forget them," Valbanill drunkenly fizzled out for a moment but picked back up his line of thought. "What do they know? They're stupid. The vast majority of people in this realm are s-stupid. Don't listen to t-them."

"Easier said than done."

"I think you look gorgeous."

Clare felt like she was glowing. Her words stuck in her throat and she merely coughed out a giggle.

"Don't listen to them. Listen to me. Screw them," Valbanill said.

They could see some ruins up ahead near the road.

Valbanill pulled out the map. "T-that's Sercen up ahead."

"Looks like we've found our resting place." Clare eyed the map as Valbanill held it. "We've still got quite a ways to go from here."

"F-fine by m-m-e if you wanna stop."

Upon reaching the edge of the ruins, Clare veered off down toward Lake Rumare.

"I'm filthy and I stink. I'm going for a swim. Go play in Sercen or something, Jak."

"W-w-why do I gotta go in the r–r-r-ruins?"

"Because I'm not putting on a show for you, that's why. Try to round up some food or something. We've got a long way to go and only so much food. It would do us some good to save a bit by catching more."

"A-all that lettuce we got isn't g-gonna last forever, ya know."

"Maybe there's some long forgotten alcohol lying around in Sercen. You never know unless you look."

"Y-yeah. Yeah. I'll check it out."

Clare knew that suggestion would get him going. Valbanill grumbled to himself as he left. She watched until the Breton was out of her sight, and then she waited a moment before undoing the belts around her chest. Tossing them on the grass, Clare gave one last look to make sure Valbanill wasn't there before wading into the water. He seemed to like her breasts, and she found that odd. Her chest had never garnered attention from men before. But she wasn't in the mood to put on a show right now. Valbanill was turning out to be quite the charmer and that could lead to some things very quickly and Clare figured she should try to take things slow. Besides, she was still a little irritated from Annika Blue the day before.

The water was cool and refreshing and Clare submerged herself completely. She could feel the grime peeling away from her. It had been way too long since the last time she had a proper bath, but this would have to do. Clare was accustomed to making do with whatever life threw at her. Things hadn't exactly been easy, even before she had been framed.

Through the water, Clare noticed that a slaughterfish was swimming in her direction. Of course, life was never easy, nor was it fair. No proper bath for Clare, but she had to deal with slaughterfish coming at her while she tried to bath in a lake. Once the toothy fish was close enough Clare snared it in her claws and killed it. If nothing else, she had just caught herself dinner.

The Scorpion Daedra surfaced and rubbed the water from her eyes. The water was starting to get bloody from the slaughterfish.

"Just great," Clare sighed. Her eight legs started to propel her back towards the shore. She needed to drop off the dead fish before it made any more of a mess and she certainly didn't need the blood in the water attracting any other aquatic predators. Though Clare did ponder the idea of purposefully attracting other marine life with the blood in order to acquire more food to eat.

Her thoughts were interrupted by what Clare thought was movement up higher on the shore. She didn't make it out in time, but she swore she saw something. She could venture a guess as to who it was.

"Valbanill. I thought you were going to explore Sercen for a little while—" Clare's inquiry was cut off as an arrow was suddenly lodged in her right shoulder. The Scorpion Daedra hacked and wheezed and submerged herself in the water again just as a second arrow flew in her direction.

Clare swam closer to the bottom of the lake, just as several arrows plunged into the water. The hostile archer was still trying to hit her. The Scorpion Daedra began swimming for the shore quickly. Her claw had released its grip on the slaughterfish corpse but now Clare was bleeding into the lake. Clare hoped it wasn't enough to cause a notable change in the color of the water and thus tip off the archer to her submerged location.

Her legs pushed her forward, her mind racing. Who was shooting arrows at her? Were they alone or a group? What had happened to Jakrelkill? Was he dead? Captured? Was he in the ruin, completely oblivious to Clare's situation?

With questions in her head, the Scorpion Daedra ferociously thrashed out onto the shore to find some answers and was met with arrows. Another arrow struck her in her left breast as Clare stormed towards the source of the ranged attack.

Clare could make out the outline of her attacker as the figure backed away from a tree as she closed in. The archer was clad in black and Clare couldn't make out the race or sex. About the only thing she could tell was that it was a biped. Not that it mattered. The Scorpion Daedra planned on killing the archer.

But another arrow struck right at her stomach. Clare let out a pained hiss as she finally tackled the archer. She could see the determined face of a male Bosmer staring back up at her. She had him pinned. Her left claw found his neck but she didn't close her appendage yet.

"Who are you? Why are you—" Clare could hear the sounds of battle up near the ruin. A lot of people were fighting. She had somewhat of an answer and decided that the Bosmer that shot her with three arrows had just run out of luck. The Wood Elf struggled and she easily decapitated him with a quick snip of her claw.

Clare paused for a moment, taking in several deep breaths. The arrows hurt a lot, but at least she hadn't been shot in the throat this time. She couldn't deal with it right now, this was a job for Valbanill's healing and if he was still alive he had to be somewhere up near the ruins.

Topless and full of arrows, Clare headed up to the relics of Sercen.

"I'm a shoehorn! I'll malice you with my zombies!"

Clare recognized that voice. It was the drunken war cry of Valbanill.

Reaching the edge of Sercen Clare found quite a sight. Valbanill had summoned a quartet of skeleton archers to deal with the attackers, and not zombies as he had claimed in his battle cry. But the Scorpion Daedra realized within an instant that there were two separate groups the skeletons were fighting. One group dressed in black that seemed to be completely comprised of archers, and another group clad in armor. And not only were the attackers fighting Valbanill and the skeletons, but each other as well! Clare had stumbled into a three-way brawl.

She chose the nearest opponent, a Nord in rusty iron armor wielding a battle-axe. She killed him effortlessly. Then she went after an Argonian in fur armor and took him down.

A large Orc lumbered for Clare.

"Look into my eyes, with your six, daughter of Mephala and you will see the true terror of Cyrodiil. After that, you won't see much. For I am Lo bru-Mack, leader of the Maverick Marauders."

"Maverick? You look pretty standard to me," Clare retorted as her claws clashed with bru-Mack's great-axe. "Though you seem to have a better vocabulary than the typical Orsimer marauder."

Another arrow lodged into Clare. She saw that it was from one of the marauder archers this time, helping out his leader no doubt. But a second later and the marauder archer had an arrow threw her head from one of Valbanill's skeletons.

That just left Clare to deal with the Orc again, or so she thought. An arrow struck the Orc in the shoulder. The shot had come from above…

And Clare found yet another arrow striking her in the stomach.

She looked skyward and actually found someone up there. Reptilian wings beat as the airborne archer rained down arrows upon the marauders. It was a winged Argonian.

"Am I missing something?" Clare asked in a ragged breath. "When did Argonians sprout wings?"

"A Sarpa!" Valbanill yelled. "You d-don't find them outside of Black Marsh very often because they're all a bunch of cowards!" The necromancer tried to taunt the aerial archer.

"I am Hecia of the Black Bow Bandits," the Sarpa spoke. "And you are all—"

"E-enough with the intros!" Valbanill fired off an ice spike at the winged Argonian that nearly clipped her wing and forced her to move. "Y-y-you're all gonna die right here and now. It doesn't m-matter if we know your names or not!"

Clare locked her claws on bru-Mack's battle-axe. The Orc tried to shake the Scorpion Daedra off but failed. Clare was barely able to hold on though. She wasn't sure if he was overtly strong or if she was failing due to the abundance of arrows currently lodged in her. But needed this fight to end. There was no time for games. Her stinger shot forward, broke past the Orcish chest armor and lodged into the leader of the Maverick Marauders.

Lo bru-Mack let out a sharp yelp as the air left his lungs. Clare ripped her venomous stinger out and backed away a few steps as the Orc clumsily tried to swing his axe at her. A quick couple of slashes and the Orc fell.

Clare felt an arrow hit her armored shell, but instead of sticking in her it merely bounced off. She went after the Black Bow Bandit that tried to take her out. The Argonian had failed miserably compared to all the other archers today. All the others had managed to make their arrows stick in her. She grabbed the fool and torn him to pieces.

The Scorpion Daedra could still hear arrows flying, though nothing connected with her for a change. She grabbed the dead bandit's black bow and looked around at her potential targets. The marauders were almost all dead. Only a few Black Bow Bandits left. Valbanill was down to one skeleton but summoned up three more to replace those he had lost in the fighting.

Another arrow hit Clare. It had come from above, the Sarpa being the attacker. Clare ripped out one of the arrows sticking from her and notched it on the bow.

"Okay, bitch. Let's see how you like it." With all six eyes in intense concentration, Clare let loose the arrow. It found its mark and struck the Sarpa.

From the distance they were, it looked as if the winged Argonian was grasping at her throat.

"Hurts, doesn't it? How do you like taste of your own arrows, you winged whore?"

The Sarpa flapped erratically before seemingly stopping and getting carried off by a strong gust of wing as she slowly fell into the forest beyond Sercen.

A moment later and a single wingless Argonian bandit found himself outnumbered by a necromancer, four skeletons and a very angry Scorpion Daedra. The Black Bow Bandit fired off one more arrow before turning to run. The skeleton archers pumped his backside full of iron shafts.

The fighting was done. Corpses of bandits and marauders lay everywhere.

Clare wheezed heavily. "Hey, Jak, buddy. I-I'm not doing so good." Her hands wandered in front of her, probing over the arrows sticking out of her. She didn't feel like ripping out any more herself.

"C-Clare!" Valbanill rushed to her. Has soon as he got his hands on her arm Clare was enveloped in a spell, though she had no idea which incantation it was.

"I still feel like shit, buddy."

"W-well no duh, Clare. You're f-full o-arrows. T-they gotta come out first. You don't want me using healing spells with those still in you. Things get more complicated trying to mend flesh with weapons embedded in you. I-I gave you a Fortification spell. Now I gotta get those n-nasty arrows out."

"Okay, do it. Hurry. Make the hurting stop please," Clare said as sweetly as she could manage. Her voice was raspier than usual.

"Quick fix, here we go." Valbanill wasted no time in pulling out the arrows in fast succession, eliciting painful yelps from Clare each time.

"W-w-what is it with you and arrows?"

"Shut up and heal me you bastard!" Clare snapped. She felt one hand on her left breast and another on her stomach as Valbanill cast a healing spell on her. "Having fun, you pervert?"

"I'm being serious, Clare. You're full of holes and bleeding a lot. A lot. I'm trying to fix this!"

Clare could feel the healing spell take effect. And at least Valbanill seemed honest with his answer. At least his hand was on the breast that had been shot and it was feeling bad. She believed him that he was being completely serious right now. Clare closed her six eyes but instantly reopened them as it had focused too much of her senses on the healing spell. Instead she chose to look off the to side as it was awkward looking at Valbanill as he cast the healing spell on her.

After a minute the spell finally subsided and Valbanill quickly took his hands off the Scorpion Daedra and backed up.

"T-there, all better."

"Thank you." Clare's hands tracked over her skin, checking for wounds. She felt nothing wrong other than being covered in her own blood. Just as usual when Valbanill healed her.

"You're welcome."

"You're such a good healer."

"Y-you say that a lot."

"I've been getting hurt a lot. I don't know which is worse. Getting an axe in my claw or stuffed full of arrows. I'm sure next time it will be both at the same time." Clare didn't bother trying to cover herself up, despite Jak's eyes on her. She had been running around topless the entire battle anyway and after all the physical pain she had gone through she just couldn't find the energy to care at the moment.

"T-this quest has it out for you. S-should have just ditched the amulet with Annika. Or in the lake."

"Marauders. Miserable assholes." Clare spat on one of the armored corpses. Bandits were bad but marauders were worse. Bandits stole for survival and profit. Marauders killed and looted for the fun of it.

"I'm g-getting too old for this shit."

"How old are you anyway?" Clare asked.

"Uhh… somewhere in my thirties… I think… I hope… I don't rightly remember…"

"You don't know how old you are?"

"N-n-no, I guess not." Valbanill admitted. "At a certain point in life one no longer wishes to remember their age." He summoned more skeletons and ordered them to loot the corpses.

"Okay, Jak. I guess I'll go explore Sercen and you can take a dip in the lake."

"Eh, you sure you don't want to go in again?"

"Last time I attracted a slaughterfish and an archer. Your turn. Oh, and try to find that slaughterfish for me. That was supposed to be our dinner."

"Y-you're all bloody. You sure? I'm n-not sayin' it's a bad look or anything."

"Oh, right." Clare had forgotten. "I guess I do have to clean up."

The Scorpion Daedra took a quick dip in the lake. Only long enough to wash the blood off her. Then she strapped her belts to her chest again. She was about to ask Valbanill for the outfit Annika had given her, but suddenly thought against it. She had gotten an image in her head of some monster hiding in Sercen, tearing away at her nice new clothes. She did not need that. The belts would do for now.

Clare left Valbanill and his skeletons outside for the innards of Sercen. The first hall was empty and barren, as would be expected to the entrance of any Ayleid ruin. Most ruins all around Cyrodiil had long been looted and one had to dig deep to find anything, or that had been Clare's experience. The path forced her to take a left and the Scorpion Daedra kept going until the path emptied into a large chamber.

Welkynd stones provided sufficient illumination for the room. Clare kept her eyes and ears sharp. She wasn't expecting any bandits or marauders, she and Valbanill had taken care of all those already. But there could always be other things lurking in the shadows.

It appeared that all of the passages further in the structure were caved in. Sercen was a small place. Clare thought about nabbing all the welkynd stones and giving them to Valbanill. But before she even got started, the Scorpion Daedra heard a noise.

The sound wasn't particularly aggressive or threatening and Clare was having a hard time place what kind of creature it belonged to. She followed the sound to a path blocked with rubble.

"What is that?" she asked aloud.

A stream of green fire enveloped her. Clare threw her hands up over her eyes and her claws up over the human portion of her body. But the fire subsided as soon as it appeared. Clare was so glad to have chosen the belts, or Annika's nice gift would have been charred.

Clare looked to see that it was a shalk—a massive black beetle with large jaws. She had seen them before, from a traveling Dunmer merchant. This one kept making a weird noise and Clare realized it was injured. Half of its shell looked like it had been crushed.

The shalk tried to growl another warning at Clare, but it ended up sounding so pitiful. Clare decided not to move to attack, this animal was only trying to defend itself. Between conjurers, bandits and marauders, she had seen enough death for one day.

"Ah, you're hurt. Poor baby," she cooed. "Did those mean marauders up top hurt you?"

The shalk's jaws opened and closed slowly as it listened to Clare.

"What are you doing in here, buddy? Hiding? You're kind'a cute, you know. I think you might make a certain other guy jealous."

She motioned for the shalk to come to her but it didn't budge from its partial hiding place in the rubble. She lowered herself closer to the ground and tried not to look so imposing.

"C'mon, baby. I won't hurt you."

The shalk chittered at her but still didn't move.

"Hm, maybe you're hungry. I'll go find you some food."

As she turned and started skittering away, she could hear the shalk cry out.

"What, baby?" she said in a loving tone. "You wanna come with me? You gotta be brave."

Despite the insectile chittering that felt like protests to her leaving, Clare kept going. If that got the shalk to follow her, all the better.

But when Clare reached the exit to Sercen she looked back to realize that the shalk was not following her.

With a sigh Clare went back out to find Valbanill. He had already taken a dip in the lake and seemed to be fussing with his appearance via a reflection in the water. He had ditched the necromancer's robes and stuck to just the dark shirt and black wide pants he had gotten off one of the necromancers from Moss Rock Cavern. It wasn't the best outfit but it suited him far better than the robes, even if he was a necromancer there was no need for him to walk around looking like a stereotype. Clare noticed that Valbanill kept messing with his short hair, and realized he was fussing with his hairline.

Clare looked over at the pile of gear the skeletons had amassed from the dead bandits and marauders and grabbed an item.

"You're doting on your appearance like a young lass on her wedding day. Nothing's less attractive than a guy so concerned with how he looks."

"T-this coming from Miss Where's-My-Magical-Corset-To-Make-My-Boobs-Bigger."

"And I can't believe you're so worried about your hairline when you have those crooked-ass teeth," Clare added.

"What are you, a professional asshole all of a sudden?"

"Nope. Just an amateur. Take this." Clare handed Valbanill the dark cloth she took from the pile of loot.

"Eh." The necromancer fiddled with the bandana until Clare took it from him and wrapped it around his head for him.

"There. The 'military' look." Clare was pleased.

"I'm the last man that would ever join the Legion," Valbanill protested.

"Oh huff. It looks good on you. And it helps hide that hairline you keep fussing with," Clare chided. "Besides, I'm the one that has to look at you all the time, so help me out here."

The necromancer burped. "Find any booze?"

"Nope. I did find something though."

"R-really? What?"

"It's a surprise. I'd rather show than tell."

"T-this is either gonna be really good or really bad."

Clare guided Valbanill through Sercen all the way to the shalk, which was still in the same spot Clare had left it.

"W-w-what?" Valbanill groaned as the large bug hissed and chittered at him. "I-I knew it was gonna be bad."

"It's a shalk," Clare said. "Hardly bad. Look at its shell. It's hurt."

"It's a male," the necromancer said.

"How can you tell?"

"The shape of the mandibles."

"I figured we can lure him out with some of that lettuce from our stockpile and then you could heal him."

"Y-you w-w-were supposed to find us food and drink," Valbanill complained. "Not f-find something else to consume our food and drink. You have it backwards, scorpion girl."

"Don't be such a heartless jerk."

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it, scorpion girl." He pulled out a head of lettuce and handed it to Clare.

Clare crept towards the shalk's hiding spot and gently put down the lettuce. She backed up a few paces and waited to see if the bug would finally come out.

"Come on, baby. Get the food. Get the num nums."

Valbanill groaned.

"Shush, you," the Scorpion Daedra told the Breton.

The shalk finally came out and started munching on the lettuce. When it was halfway through the food Clare offered it another one. The bug took noticed as she approached, pausing with open jaws. But Clare gently placed the second head of lettuce and gave the shalk his space.

The shalk went back to eating. Soon once the second ball of lettuce was almost gone, Clare risked moving closer and held out an empty hand.

"D-don't do it," Valbanill said.

"Why not?"

"Animals, people, monsters, whoever, often bite the hand that feeds them."

"Why?"

"Because it smells like food." As soon as the Breton muttered the sentence, the Scorpion Daedra let out a yelp. The shalk had indeed bitten her hand.

The shalk pulled back, wary of the noise Clare had made. The Scorpion Daedra let out a hissing sigh of frustration but moved her hand back out again. This time the shalk inspected her hand with his antenna. Clare giggled at the touch.

Understanding that it was a hand and not food, the shalk didn't bite again and stead crawled over to Clare. The shalk sounded like it was purring, or whatever the bug equivalent of purring was.

"See? I made a friend," Clare said. "And you'll make one too if you come over here and heal him."

Valbanill moved in.

"Not so fast, Jak. You'll scare him."

"W-wow. Does this have to be so d-difficult? I'm the healer here. The bug should accommodate me if anything."

"He doesn't understand and you know it."

The necromancer moved slower until he got his hand on the shalk. Then he slowly cast his spell. Clare watched as the shalk's armored bent back into place. The bug chittered happily and his feelers were exploring all over Valbanill's hand.

"T-there. All done."

"Baby says thank you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"See, you're such a good guy."

"If you say so."

Valbanill went about looting the welkynd stones from Sercen as Clare pet the shalk and eventually got it to play tug-of-war with her over an old bone they found lying around.

Once Valbanill was done collecting what little loot Sercen had to offer, the room had gotten notably darker, though the necromancer held one welkynd stone out with his hand to help light the place.

"We goin' back out?" Valbanill asked.

"Yeah, let's see if we can get him to follow us."

And to Clare's delight, the shalk followed her out of Sercen this time. Day was turning to dusk.

"I w-wonder what a shalk is doing this far west? You usually see these things crawling around Morrowind. Maybe Black Marsh."

Clare simply shrugged.

"What do you think about the name Gunter?" Clare asked as she pulled out some cheese and lettuce from the Bag of Holding for herself and the shalk.

"Ah, don't name him. You name 'em and then you can't let 'em go. That's how it works."

"I've always wanted a pet," Clare said.

"No-not the best idea. Wait till they die on you," Valbanill grumbled.

"It would have died if we didn't help."

"Well, he's your responsibility. Your shalk." Valbanill went around and started to pose the marauder and bandit corpses in a sexually suggestive manner as if it were the most obvious thing in the world to do at that point in time.

"Aw, don't listen to daddy," Clare said to the shalk. "He loves you. Now finish those num nums and then we'll make camp."

"D-don't tell me you're gonna talk to him like that the whole trip," Valbanill said.

"Jealous you don't get the lovin'?"

"Y-y-you wish."

"You annoy me all the time with your stupid undead romance jokes. Looks like I found something you enjoy as well."

"Oh, c'mon. I barely had any! It's not every day you need some good jokes on necrophilia. A-at least not till I met you."


Author's Note: Copyright belongs to Bethesda Softworks.

The cover art for this story was provided by ariakitty. She can be found over on DeviantART.

Playing Elder Scrolls games, I always wished there were more clashes between differing factions during random encounters in the game. Like bandits versus marauders. But that's what fanfiction is for, I guess.

Sarpa don't actually appear in the game and are only mentioned in the Argonian Account, Book IV.

Shalks do not appear in Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion but in Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind.