Gideon, Black Marsh
10th of Sun’s Height, 4E 205
Sha’zeek
The Warclaw of the An-Xileel stood at the docks of Gideon, examining the hundreds of refugees that had come at the behest of the Hist. She had been reading up on a number of hidden documents that discussed the Oblivion crises more than two centuries ago, and she was not sure what was going to come next. The Hist had called its children home, to be sure: but to what end? Was another generation of Argonians going to be thrown into chaos and disarray because yet another force would not simply let the Lizard folk be?
Sha’zeek’s warrior blood boiled at the thought of the invaders. Every Argonian of note was aware that Thorn had fallen, and those that made up Rules-With-Claw’s inner council knew that the threat came from the east. What they didn’t know was how the crew had managed to sneak past the other east-coast nations: Morrowind in particular. She was sure that the Shadowscales would uncover those particular details after a bit of exploration, but Sha’zeek knew who she suspected. The Dunmer had gotten bolder since the return of their false-demigod. The re-establishment of slavery had been him spitting in the Argonian’s faces, and the only reason that Rules-With-Claw had avoided going to war over the issue, which was Sha’zeek’s suggestion no less, was that no other nation even murmured disapproval at the situation.
”Fine. Let the men and the other mer learn what it is to suffer the indignation of slavery.”She spat on the floor as she came to a particular ship’s passengers: who were all weapon-less. They told a tale of the pirate, Dupont, and Sha’zeek could do little more than swear at the situation. They hadn’t the time, nor the resources, to deal with the Pirate fool through major force.
Thankfully, there were other ways that Argonian’s employed to deal with threats like Dupont.
“You…” She indicated at a young looking Argonian that wore the rags and the smell of a dock-worker. “…Take a message to the Hist-speaker. Inform him that I want 5 Shadowscales dispatched to bring Dupont a message. Tell him that if he attacks an Argonian ship again, it will cost him more than a finger…And ask them to take his left index finger: nothing too important.” Sha’zeek’s chosen messenger nodded, understanding the brutality behind the message. There were few Argonians worse than Sha’zeek to piss off, for her retribution and taste for revenge is as merciless as her time in the arena.
“Get ready to move out. Most of you are moving out to Archon within the hour!”
Stormhold, Black Marsh
4th of Sun’s Height
Stalks-The-Stars
When the blood moon took hold, Stalks-The-Stars knew what would come soon. He chose not to sleep for the night, as he feared what might happen in his dreams. Instead, he began to pack a few belongings into a rucksack, and ordered the dispatching of a messenger to Ornisium. He had hoped to make some use of the respect that he and his father had won from the orcs for one particular favour: one that might prove invaluable.
On the noon-sun’s zenith, Stalks-The-Stars handed control of Stormhold to the resident Hist-speaker, and ordered him to order both a strict curfew and the closing of all gates. War had overcome Black Marsh, and Stalks-The-Stars knew what that Stormhold was the second capital of Black Marsh. No one accessed Helstrom without risk of disease and the threat of the indigenous species that were truly frightening for even the Argonians.
After that though, He left the marsh with the Spear of the Hunter in one hand and a rucksack in the other. He had enough resources to spend a considerable amount of time away from the city, and he intended to use them. The Ring of Hircine felt heavy on his finger: and the call of his master felt heady and intoxicating. The blood moon was Hircine’s time, and even if it wasn’t his summoning date, it was a day to respect: none the less.
A few miles inside the Marsh of Argonia, Stalks-The-Stars abandoned his normal visage and embraces Hircine’s gift. Six foot of Argonian was soon replaced by Twelve feet of Werecrocodile and, perhaps most terrifying of all, the beast still held the Spear of the Hunter, having proportionately grown with the blessed champion of Hircine. It looked like the missile from a ballista more than a speak, but in the hands of Stalks-The-Stars, it was a deadly and agile weapon.
The transformed Stalks-The-Stars made his way towards Thorn, intent on beginning his own campaign of terror upon any invaders inside the marsh. He doubted he would have the logic or sense to spare any non-Argonian in the days to come, for Hircine would surely demand the hunt be bloody, for one so long.
Helstrom Magus Academy, Argonia.
6th of Sun’s Height, 4E 205
Maraan’a
The Archmagus had been somewhat aware of the potency of the Hist-Sap, but even he had not expected such miracles to come at the purified sap’s behest. He had wondered just how best to test the sap’s capability when things first fell into place: the invaders at Thorn provided the archmagus a perfect field to test his newly-given powers. How would he crush the foes: Maybe mass Illusion magic or perhaps a devastating Fire-Storm that would shame the Red Mountain? So many choices were at the Archmagus’ claw tips.
And then the Blood Moon came.
It gave him a wicked idea indeed, the kind that any self-respected innovator could not ignore. He didn’t know what fool had artificially created a Blood Moon, but Maraan’a could kiss them for it. Such perfect chances do not come often, you see.
So Maraan’a gathered a number of skilled mages to the top of the Helstrom Castle, and he locked the doors with only a simple message given to the Hist speaker to pass on to both the Hist-ee and to Rules-With-Claw
“The ritual will take two weeks. When it has come, we will deliver sweet irony upon those that have wronged us.”
The Deep Marshes, Argonia
8th of Sun’s Height, 4E 205
Rules-With-Claw
To see the ruler of Argonia desperate was not something that any living being could admit to. Yet to be where he was, the only explanation was that he must be desperate. The deep marshes had been known as the home of the Naga for a great many years, and none dared venture into the hulking examples of Argonian evolution lightly. The Naga were considered violent brigands more often than not: creatures that raided the farmers of Argonia and who pillaged from the hard work of others.
Yet, physiologically, they were impressive. They each possessed an evolutionary strength that dwarfed the Argonians, at the cost of the wit and speed others had. Some claimed Rules-With-Claw must have Naga heritage in his blood, although it hardly mattered. He was a huge Argonian, but he was no Naga.
Yet, inside the Naga halls, he was greeted with a reasonable respect. Even the Naga seemed to respect the acheivements of Rules-With-Claw, and the leader of the Naga met with him for the discussion he sought: the integration of the Naga into his military. They would be his shock troopers; the hulking vanguard that left his enemies destroyed.
Now he just had to convince them…Not an easy task, to be sure.
Marshes near Thorn, Argonia
7th of Sun’s Height, 4E 205
Sha’eek
The Shadowscale Mistress had been careful in the guerrilla warfare she’d unleashed on any invaders who left Thorn. The Argonian resistance attacked near the water or in the trees, making use of wooden javelins at range and conserving arrows where possible. What was most useful about the javelins was the trees contained no shortage of diseases and pathogens that would wreak havoc upon the invaders. One of the most potent defence mechanisms in the Marsh was the ecosystem itself. Diseases that would cripple other species could be ignored by the Argonians and lived with, Sha’eek was both aware of these poisons and thankful of them. They had stopped Tiber Septim once, now they would stop the eastern invaders.
Deep inside the Marsh, near a particularly large swamp, the survivors of Thorn had made a readily disposable camp. The trees were watch towers and the hundred or so Argonians kept a vigilant patrol around the camp. Of that one hundred Argonian force, only half of those were competent fighters. She knew that the invaders wouldn’t be stopped by such a meagre force, only slowed. No doubt her fellow leaders had plans of their own to stop this threat, for even she could feel the call of the Hist. The Argonian people knew what was happening: all of them were ready to fight off the invaders.
Sha’eek had to admit she missed the comfort of warmth somewhat. Thorn had been such a vibrant city: so warm, despite its status as a place that guarded the borders. Out in the Marsh, they couldn’t even light a fire. It was so damp and humid that any attempt was almost snuffed out, and they dared not waste good wood on a fire: most of which would be damp anyway. Fire was nearly impossible in Argonia, unless until you got to the Cities, at least.
- Rules-With-Claw is negotiating with the Naga, attempting to integrate them into the Argonian army.
- Stalks-The-Stars has abandoned civilisation and is moving towards Thorn, embracing the Blood Moon and the gifts of Hircine fully.
- Sha’eek is continuing the guerrilla campaign, although she knows it will fail without support.
- Maraan’a has begun a two week long ritual. Its purpose is unknown, although it seems to revolve around the Blood Moon and, assumable, Hircine.
- Sha’zeek has begun mobilising the Argonian refugees: The bulk of which are moving to Archon. The rest are spreading around the cities closest to the coast: Lilmoth and Gideon.
- 5 Shadowscales have been dispatched to send a message to Dupont.
- A messenger has been sent to the orcs. It will take a while to reach them, but seems to hold a private and important message from Stalks-The-Stars.