Morrowind Mod:Tamriel Rebuilt/Laid Low

And so we set off, Ma'Dar, my good Khajiiti friend and sometimes cellmate, Reeya, the wise and sharp-toothed Argonian, Hjestvild, the bulky Nordic version of a thief, Celewen, our pretty Bosmeri leader, and myself, the Orcish former Legionnaire who was apparently the muscle of the operation. As instructed, my eyes never strayed from the water's edge. My attention was so focused that I almost trampled Ma'Dar a few times, at which she laughed "You stumble as though on burning sands," then, more quietly, "Let the scaled one worry about the fishies, eh?"

Considering that the fishies had the benefit of both fins and a swift swim spell, I began to wonder what was taking them so long to "report" back to us. The Argonian became nervous as well, letting out a long, low hiss of distress. Hjestvild slapped Reeya on the back and laughed, suggesting that perhaps the lizard hadn't trained the Slaughterfish nearly as well as he'd thought. We came within sight of the small port town without ever catching sight of the fish. Celewen shrugged it off, since nothing else seemed amiss. Except for her and Hjestvild, the rest of us became more guarded in our manner anyway.

We walked to one nondescript shack near the shore, and Celewen disappeared inside while we waited. A few minutes later, as I was studying the craftsmanship of a barrel, I was startled when a clawed finger touched my shoulder lightly. I turned to face Reeya, who's [sic] nervousness had become something just shy of terror. With his other hand, he was pointing toward the docks. Looking in the direction indicated, I saw three Slaughterfish tied to a post and gutted, with an Imperial guardsman standing nearby. Uncomprehending, I shrugged.

"Fool!" Reeya hissed quiet explanation, "Those are not just any fish, they are our fish! I would recognize them anywhere. The guard may be on to us! Bad enough that he's here, but that we might be expected . . . " As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the guard seemed to turn his head toward our small group. We all looked at each other fearfully, then Hjestvild said "Oh, what the hell," drew his weapon, and began walking toward the guard. The guard, naturally, responded in kind. Ma'Dar, Reeya, and I ran, splitting up, not wanting any part of this action.

It seems the Imperials had expected us, for I noticed two more guards rushing to the scene of combat as I tried to appear to be a regular townsperson. Behind me, I could hear among the clash of swords Hjestvild shouting curses about his cowardly allies who had abandoned him, and such. In the middle of one curse, he fell silent. Knowing it was just a matter of time before the original guard identified us, I began to search for Ma'Dar and Reeya. Celewen hadn't exited the shack, so I assumed she either was dead or arrested already . . . or she was still negotiating the price for our smuggling. Reeya, I saw some distance away, stealthily diving into the water west of town. Almost frantically, I cast about for Ma'Dar, and my heart sank when I finally spotted her.

My little Khajiiti friend was dashing away, blissfully unaware of an archer posted atop a building on the outskirts of town. I knew I couldn't reach the archer in time with sword, and I'd have a hard time hitting him with a spell, such was his position. Shouting to Ma'Dar would do no good, and would just betray my own position. In desperation, I did the only thing I could think of . . .

Leaning casually against a barrel, I looked from the fleeing Ma'Dar to the archer and back again. My timing had to be spot-on, or she would be skewered. Watching the tautness of the bowstring, I cast the powerful spell that would knock the wind from its target which Kievier Sounien had been kind enough to teach me. Then it was a race between the arrow and my spell. I saw Ma'Dar crumple to the ground, and for a moment I wasn't sure if my plan had worked (and the arrow had sailed harmlessly overhead), or if the arrow had pierced her. Waiting just long enough to see her get to her feet again, I breathed a sigh of relief. Our group scattered, it was now my turn to flee.

Ant.: Like in the Deal

Acima: The Autobiography of an Orc

Próx.: Seeking Home