The Adventures of Sharpscale

Episode I: The Bitter Coast

An Argonian prowled in the darkness, his fierce eyes locked on his prey. It was a mud crab, slowly picking at bits of seaweed that were strewn across the beach. Sharpscale drew a small, yet sharp throwing knife from his pocket. He coated it with a thick layer of poison, and began to sneak up on the mud crab. It was a simple creature, with a hardy brown shell and four pointy legs. It had no eyes, and thus was blind. But it had an acute sense of smell, it’s one main advantage over hunters or poachers. But the wind was blowing in the opposite direction, and thus Sharpscale would seemingly succeed here. He was only ten feet away when he tossed the poisoned knife. It lodged itself in the crab’s dome-shaped head, and a waterfall of blood gushed from the wound.

It was a “Jink” poison that would paralyze the mud crab for up to thirty seconds. It was already dead. The Argonian drew his dwarven halberd, and rushed forward with surprising speed. But suddenly the murky water bubbled, and a large, pinkish-red creature appeared from it’s depths. It was still half-submerged in the water, due to it’s tentacle legs, but Sharpscale knew what it was: A Dreugh. Dreugh are humanoid-like creatures with a red upper body like a man, and crab-like claws on it’s hands. Instead of legs, it had long tentacles for swimming, much like a squid or an octopus. The Dreugh latched onto the paralyzed mud crab, and began to drag it back underwater. Sharpscale was furious, he was going to capture that crab’s soul and sell it for money. This was his profession, a Soul Hunter for the great house Redoran.

But the sea creature was quickly dragging off with his kill. The Argonian sprung into action, tossing paralyzing darts into the monster’s arms. But they merely shattered into small fragments, unable to pierce it’s thick shell. Cursing under his breath, Sharpscale ran after the escaping creature, with his dwarven halberd in hand. Before the Dreugh could disappear in the murky depths of the Bitter Coast, Sharpscale sent a sharp, golden blade into it’s face. It broke through the red shell, revealing a pinkish skin beneath. The Dreugh screamed in agony, and let go of the crab. It then lunged forward, scraping the Argonian’s side with the biggest of it’s two claws. Sharpscale grunted as the claw broke through his extravagant robe, and into his Orcish chest plate beneath. The sharp claw slashed open his scaly skin, revealing two bloody scratches.

Sharpscale roared in anger, and sent three quick jabs to the Dreugh’s chest. They all rebounded in a hail of sparks, sending Sharpscale flying back from the force of the impact. Before he could recover, the Dreugh grabbed him instead of the crab, and pulled him beneath the surface of the water. Most people wouldn’t last more than five minutes under water, but Argonians had a natural ability to survive without oxygen for at least twice that. And so the two struggled in the murky depths of the Inner Sea. Sharpscale sent a clawed foot crashing into the Dreugh’s face multiple times, followed by a whip to it’s chest via the Argonian’s tail. The Dreugh retaliated by stabbed him in his weakened Orcish mail with it’s claw, then wrapping it’s tentacles around his waist. They had been fighting in the water for at least five minutes now, Sharpscale could not allow the Dreugh to pull him any further into the water. But it used it’s strong tentacles to drag him deep down into the sea, further and further into the darkness. Before he could suffocate, Sharpscale used the bladed edge of his halberd to chop of the creature’s tentacles. It shrieked in agony, this time much louder because it was in it’s true home: the sea.

The Argonian knew it’s swimming abilities were weakened, and that now was the time to escape. And so he swam as fast as he could, towards the surface. But the Dreugh pursued him, it’s massive claw outstretched. It latched onto his foot, and began to squeeze with all it’s might. Sharpscale felt his ankle break, and could feel the water warm up as his blood flowed freely from the wound. But suddenly, the grip became less tight, and finally disappeared altogether. Sharpscale turned around in the water, to see at least half a dozen Slaughterfish biting viciously at the sea creature. It began to fight them of with it’s big claws, but it was in vain. The Slaughterfish were to agile, and soon the water became dark with the creature’s blood.

Sharpscale knew it was his chance. He sped towards the surface, and moments later he came above the water, gasping for air. He made it out just in time. He crawled to the sandy beach, grasping his injured ankle. He noticed streaks of blood lined the path he took from the water. Sharpscale touched his side. He felt the warm wetness of blood. He would have to patch that up soon. But out of nowhere, the Dreugh splashed above the water, a Slaughterfish in it’s big claw. It ripped it in two, and the fish’s organs spilled onto the sand. It then began to rip off the rest of the Slaughterfish that were connected to it’s back and arms, and toss them helplessly onto the beach. It then looked at the helpless Argonian only several feet away. He was surely doomed now, with a broken ankle after all. But he remembered something. A few weeks ago Sharpscale had captured the soul of a Fire Atronach, a powerful flame elemental. He used it’s soul to create a rather powerful “Ring of Fireballs”. With a smile spreading across the lizard’s face, he pointed his fist at the Dreugh. It just stood there, thinking what a stupid Argonian he was.

But seconds later, a massive ball of fire struck it’s stomach, and it disappeared in a blazing inferno. Smoking and covered in ash, the Dreugh fell back into the water. Sharpscale sighed and lay down onto the soft sand. It was over. Too bad he didn’t get the thing’s soul. But before he could limp back to Seyda Neen, the port village he had been staying in, the Dreugh once again appeared from the water, a gaping, bloody hole in it’s chest, still smoldering from the blast.
Why won’t this day just end? Thought Sharpscale, watching the Dreugh as it approached him. But suddenly a great wave came towards the Dreugh, and an enormous Slaughterfish jumped out of the sea. It caught the miniscule creature in comparison between it’s sharp jaws, and landed back in the water. The sun, a small orange disc rose on the horizon, brightening Sharpscale's mood. As the waves began to fade, a smile spread across the Argonian’s face.
What a day.

Hah, still after weak souls? You will have to look for better ones. (Re a question in MW CH&S )

Oh, there seemed to be too many "Buts" starting off your sentences. Apart from that, I enjoyed it.

Thanks for the "review". Yeah he's only level 4 but I actually go after slightly bigger souls in my real game, like Scamps and Quama Queens

i like it. it doesn't focus on dark or epic themes such as red mountain or oblivion gates. i did, however feel, that it ended rather abruptly with the wave. it would have been better if you had left it with him limping back to seyda neen. overall though, good effort!

Episode II: The Bridge

Sharpscale trudged up the snowy hill, his ankle paining him with every step. It had been two weeks since the conflict near Seyda Neen, but he still hadn't fully recovered. Sharpscale had taken a Silt Strider from Seyda Neen to Balmora since then. He had recently lost contact with House Redoran, so he couldn't turn in the soul gems he'd recently acquired. So for a few weeks he needed some work to survive. He found a man at the local Fighter's Guild who wanted a Dwemer Relic from a ruined old fort nearby, and said he'd be willing to pay handsomely. So Sharpscale had set out at dawn.

It was well into Frost Fall, so he was wearing a long cape and a scarf, as well as a thick pair of robes over his Orcish armor. His Dwarven Halberd was concealed beneath the robe, as well as a pack of glass throwing knives. He also wore a long bandana, and a pair of goggles so snow didn't get in his eyes. Sharpscale trudged onward, stopping when he reached a long, golden bridge. The man had told him the fort was just northwest of the bridge. A thick fog clung to the air, and the path beyond the bridge was clouded. Sharpscale walked across the bridge, his clawed feet clattering against the metal bridge.

He had only walked ten yards or so before a demanding voice shouted out from the foggy distance.
"Don't move! Drop all your belongings and head back to where you came!"
Sharpscale frowned in pity. Stealing from travelers to survive. It completely went against the honorable code of the Great House Redoran. He silently drew a throwing knife from his waist, and looked out into the fog. If he couldn't see them, then they couldn't see him. Sharpscale tossed the knife ahead, and heard it grotesquely dig in the poor man's ribs. As always, Sharpscale's aim was true.

The man hit the bridge when a sickening clank, and blood seeped it's way down to Sharpscale's feet.
"Maurice! They killed Maurice! Die intruder!"
Suddenly the bridge was lit up, as a large ball of flame shot out from the mist. Agile as ever, Sharpscale dove to the side, the fireball disappearing into the mist behind him.
"Craig! Craig, go get him!"
"But what if he wants to hurt me?"
"Of course he wants to hurt you! He killed Maurice! Now make that bastard pay!"
"Aw but I don't wanna!"
"Do it Craig or I'll use this thing on you!"

Sharpscale didn't know what 'this thing' was, but it didn't sound friendly. Immediately, Craig responded in fear.
"Okay, okay, sorry boss?"

A shimmering figure emerged from the mist, wielding a massive, golden claymore. He wore similarly golden armor. From the small bits of face exposed, Sharpscale could tell it was an Orc.
"Don't make me hurt you!"
"Look, just step aside, and I won't have to harm you," said Sharpscale calmly.
"You hit Maurice, me was friends with Maurice!"
"I'm sorry about Maurice. I promise he isn't dead. It's just a sedative I applied to the knife. Let me pass and you can go on your way. Balmora is close by, you could take him to a medic there."
"But boss man said I hadta hurt yous!"

Suddenly the Orc swung his claymore in the Argonian's direction. He sidestepped the midsection of the blade, but it's tip nipped his exposed shoulder. Blood poured from the cut, and Sharpscale gripped it. The cold seeped into the wound, freezing it.
"Don't do this! Bad Craig!"
The Orc remembered his mother using the exact same words, and he dropped the claymore, which toppled over the side of the bridge.
"Sorry mommy! Sorry!"
"Stand aside so I can take care of your boss!"
"Yes, yes mommy!"

The Orc cowered in fear, and the Argonian simply continued onward. As he walked ahead, Sharpscale wrapped his scarf around his wound.
"Stay away, or I'll send Jarble after you!" shouted the 'boss man'.
"Drop your weapons or I'll be forced to hurt you!"
"Agh, die!"
Another fireball burst from the fog, and it was too close to dodge. Luckily, it was so weak it practically became a ball of warm smoke by the time it reached Sharpscale.
"Die, Intruder!"
The man hidden in the fog continued to fire balls of heat, which all became harmless balls of haze on the Argonian's chest. It was actually comforting in such cold weather.
"Your spells are useless. Come out!"
"No!"

"Don't worry mommy, I gots him!" said Craig the Orc, passing by Sharpscale. Seconds later, Craig emerged from the fog, carrying a small, pudgy man by the collar of his shirt.
"Don't hurt me!"
Sharpscale struggled not to chuckle. Five minutes ago he would have preferred another Dreugh. Now he didn't know whether to fight or to fall over laughing.
"I'm going to continue on my way. You two should take Maurice to a doctor in Balmora, which is about three miles south of here, down the hill."
"No, wait!" said the pudgy man, whom Craig immediately dropped, for he saw a fly floating nearby.
"Pretty buggy," said Craig absent-mindedly as the short little man hobbled over to Sharpscale.
"I have something to show you," he said, pulling a pouch from his waste.
"Sand from the worst part of the Ashlands, Argonian scum!" he shouted, tossing the bag of sand into Sharpscale's eyes.
"Jarble, help!"

By the time Sharpscale had cleared the ash from his eyes, the spell was complete. The man held a glowing amulet In his hand, which a small vortex was shooting out of. It became a shining purple gate, one likely to the Void or Nether Realm. Both were planes of existence slightly lower than Oblivion or the Afterlife.
Out of the gate walked a tall creature, made entirely of ice. The snow seemed to whirl around it as it entered the Mortal Plane. It smashed it's frozen fists together, and sniffed it's surroundings.
"Meet Jarble you stupid Argonian!"
Sharpscale walked backwards. The Ice Atronach, deemed "Jarble" was quickly approaching. It slammed it's fist into Sharpscale's side, knocking him into the edge of the bronze bridge. Before it could attack again, Sharpscale whipped his Halberd into it's face, breaking off it's frozen nose. It shouted in an ethereal voice, falling backwards. While it was screaming on the ground, Sharpscale aimed his Ring of Fireballs and fired three bursts in quick succession. Unlike the pudgy man's spells, they melted off the Atronach's face, which became a puddle of water that seeped through the bronze grates in the bridge.

The man cried in sorrow as his pet, Jarble, began to melt.
"I think you and I need to have a little talk," said Sharpscale, lifting him up off the ground.
But suddenly Sharpscale noticed the Atronach, headless but still alive, rise up next to Craig. It began to swing it's fist, but Craig slammed a mace into it's legs.

They exploded in a hail of ice shards. The creature helplessly wailed on the bridge's floor, for it was now headless and legless. With one last shot from his ring, the Atronach was nothing but a puddle of water.
"No hurt mommy!" shouted Craig, confusedly.
"Please, please don't kill me!" squealed the little man.
Sharpscale narrowed his eyes. He pointed his ring at the man's chest, and using the little bit of power it had left, he burned off all of his clothes. He shrieked like a little girl, and ran off into the fog.
"Thank joo!" said Craig, patting Sharpscale on the back roughly.
"No problem. You gonna help Maurice?"
"Nah. They've always been mean to me. Not anymore," laughed the Orc.
"Ugh, my head," grunted Maurice, returning to consciousness.
"Spider!"
The idiotic Orc clubbed Maurice in the head with his blunt mace, knocking him out again.
"How can I thank joo?" asked the Orc with a smile, displaying his tusk-like teeth.
"No need," said Sharpscale.
"Just promise me your life of crime ends here."
"Eets a proh-meece!"
Sharpscale smiled, and continued on his way.
I think I might have just settled with another Dreugh.

Very nice, almost comedic with the orc crying for his mommy, do you read "So you want to be an Adventurer" as a scene like that featured heavily. Also, just nitpicking here, but is craig an orc name?

Craig was just a funny name for an orc, so I named him that I real name would be Burz-Gro-Gornak