"By the Hist, You're a sight for sore eyes! It sounded like the place was coming down. Was that you?"
The blue light cast from Craak-Boom's orb revealed the figure residing below in the cylindrical pit standing in ankle deep water. Looking down he could make out through the grid-like shadow a pair of pale green eyes squinting back at him. Unlike himself the fellow Argonian's horns were somewhat more developed and ram-like curving in on themselves, he also lacked the colorful patch under his chin, and the feathery plumage Craak-possessed. He guessed that the captive was a few years older than himself. The figure was simply dressed in what probably once was a white linen tunic now soaked and clinging to his well-defined body all the while giving the faint impression of the dark green scales underneath. Thankfully, the captive's dark trousers did a more admirable job of hiding his anatomy he thought briefly before realizing that he'd been staring.
"Er, yes. Don't worry though, it was completely intentional." Craak looked away rubbing the back of his neck.
"And the trap..?"
"Enough about me," he replied his feathery crest bristling. "How long have you been down there?"
The shadowy captive paused momentarily thinking:
"I'm not sure," he admitted with a weary shrug. "It's hard to keep track of time down here... One or two day's maybe? Say, are you going to get me out of here or not?"
Why would they take a live prisoner? Craak-Boom wondered absently to himself.
"Who are you anyways? How did you get here?"
"Listen," the captives raspy voice exclaimed, anxious. "I'll gladly answer all your questions once you get me out of here!"
"Oh, right!" Craak said nodding as he looked around.
"How do I do that?"
The captive's tail flicked impatiently:
"Their leader, a shaman of sorts," He remarked with a vague wave of his hand, "she had the key when they locked me in here. You'll find her deeper inside, she has a makeshift..." he struggled to come up with the word "...a laboratory?" He suddenly adopted a dour tone. "I've seen them take other captives down there. They've never come back..."
"There are others here too?" Craak winced picturing helpless prisoners being crushed to death by his little 'fireball accident'.
"There used to be, I haven't seen any in quite some time. I think I might be the last one left."
"I see..." Craak silently breathed a sigh of relief and instantly felt guilty for it.
"Well, I'll be back." He said turning.
"Hold a moment!"
Craak stopped.
The captive hesitated a moment before speaking.
"You wouldn't happen to have any food, would you? They don't feed us…" His eyes focused on the stone wall ahead of him. He seemed uncomfortable asking, as if not used to accepting charity.
"Yeah, of course!" He felt bad for not thinking of offering sooner as he unclipped his pockets and rummaged through them. "I'm afraid I've just got travel food, nothing too tasty…" He remarked as his hand brushed past his newly acquired mushroom sample and grabbed a bundle of dried fruit wrapped in linen before drawing it out and tossing it to him.
The captive deftly caught the dried fruit in his right hand. "Thanks you, marsh-friend." He said throatily before continuing. "I'm in your debt."
"Think nothing of it." To his amazement the captive didn't immediately tear open the food, though he was certainly eyeing it, his hand trembling.
"Another thing you should know before you go," The captive said eyes returning to his. "their shaman possesses powerful magic, and she's bound to be there. Be careful."
He nodded appreciatively. "Nothing I can't handle." He said unsure whether he was trying to convince the prisoner or himself as he made his way out.
"I hope you're right, for my sake…" As crack boom continued down the dark chasm he could make out the sound of enthusiastic eating.
Craak-Boom had thought about his past encounters with the Falmer and decided that perhaps a stealthier approach was warranted. Craak recalled his teachings in the school of illusion (a field he's not particularly gifted in) and prepared the spell "Muffle". He concentrated, channeling his energy towards the soles of his feet (something that took him considerable time to achieve back in Winterhold), and when he felt that he had it he created a parchment-thin layer barrier between his feet and the ground that would trap all sound effectively muting his footsteps as he stumbled his way deeper into the mountain. An interesting, albeit annoying at times side effect of the spell is that as he took steps small amounts of magical residue would remain at the site of contact briefly leaving a blue wispy foot-print. Usually this is a problem if you're trying to remain undetected, but in this instance it shouldn't matter against Craak's optically impaired adversaries.
Magical preparation complete, he wondered if he'd be able to find this shaman. So far the path before him, while winding, luckily also had also been fairly linear.
At least I won't get lost in this Divine forsaken place.
Ahead of him in the distant inky blackness he could hear a cacophony of slapping footsteps, and guttural squawks, distantly at first, but rapidly gaining intensity as it approached. Panicking, Craak-Boom extinguished his light and pressed himself flat against the damp wall just in time to avoid a throng of Falmer brandishing their chitinous weapons as they scrabbled past him.
They must've heard the cave-in. he silently reprimanded himself again as the horde squeezed past him in the dark narrow passageway. I hope that prisoner will be alright, I never did get his name.
There seemed to be no end of them, but thankfully none of the Falmer rushing past seemed to take any notice of him. A few even brushed up against him in their haste, but they must've assumed he was another Falmer because no one stopped to skewer him.
Craak was beginning to believe that he was actually going to make it when one of the stragglers slowed to a stop near him curiously sniffing at the air.
If Craak-Boom could he would've started sweating profusely as the pale creature slowly closed the gap between them. It took considerable effort to suppress the urge to run when the creature started sniffing mere inches away from his face, its yellow dagger like teeth clicking together menacingly. Worriedly Craak-Boom noticed, judging from its expression, that he must smell quite good as he quietly readied a spell in his hands.
A series of guttural barks coming from Falmer horde made the creature's head snap in its direction. It stared into the dark abyss… then back at Craak-Boom. It stood there for what seemed like an eternity rather indecisively only to give a frustrated grunt as it finally loped after its companions.
Craak-Boom waited for the creature to leave earshot before exhaling, realizing that he'd been holding his breath as he greedily refilled his lungs.
By the Hist that was close!
He detached himself from the wall and re-conjured his ball of light before continuing eager to put some distance him and the throngs of Falmer.