The Last Holy-Scale: Introduction

• Posted by ChandlerBeach February 8, 2016 - 902 views

                       The Last Holy-Scale: Intro

     *-I advise caution when reading, as I will use some language and very descriptive action-*

           - It's also my story, so I'll use my own made up parts as well as the lore that I know-

         This is but the introduction of a story I will start...the story of a very particular Argonian, the last of the Holy-Scales. The Holy-Scales are an offshoot group of the An-Xileel dedicated to the service of the Hist. After the Oblivion Crisis this group was formed to hunt down any other daedra, then their worshipers, then eventually all things unholy to the Hist. To put it simply they're just "Hist-Templars"...not entirely. You see, Templars use nothing but holy words and flashing a sword or mace, looking down on the less-than-honorable arts. The Holy-Scales are still Argonian, so we we will act as such. The use of alchemy, sneaking, archery (with bows), even lockpicking for that matter, not to mention our service to Sithis, so we might assassinate every once in a while, it really just all depends on how one wishes to serve the Hist. 

                       Every Great story has a beginning...for this one, we must go back to adolescence.

        As a young one, I was never much liked, being from a Naga mother, a mix between Veeskhleel-Tzel and a normal Naga; and a Waseek-Haleel father, and he was a mix between Tum-Taleel and Waseek-Haleel (how these two became one is beyond me) was my primary reason of dislike. We were raised in a little tribe just southwest of Stormhold.

        I was much taller than the other hatchlings naturally, and stronger. I had vibrant silver scales, and one little horn-sprout on my nose. Our Shaman, Mixes-Many-Poisons, said I was destined for something pithy to the Hist. No one really paid any attention to our shaman's words, I guess I shouldn't doubt them, she is, after all, 167 years living.

        During the naming ceremonies for my generation, the Hist wouldn't pour any sap into my mouth, odd as it was, we went back and forth between other hatchlings to see if our Hist was asleep. It was not. The damn thing wouldn't give me, of all hatchlings, any sap. The other tribesmembers began to see me as a cursed child, and shunned me for it, even our chief, Geranzek, said I was a freak of nature, that I was not even an Argonian at all!

        This wrecked my mother and father, they would not have it, they looked to the Shaman for answers. She only did this, pricked me to get blood and tasted it. Now you may be thinkin..."What in Oblivion is that gonna do!", I'll tell you...my blood singed her old tongue, then preceded to shout,"This one has blood hotter than Fleshfly venom!" she said.

        Of course my parents are bewildered by this happening, but our Shaman then cast a divination spell to figure out what was "wrong" with me. The only thing she found was...and I quote... "The blood of beasts long since gone runs through his veins...the blood of dragons!"...yeah that didn't help the situation, it just made her look even more insane than before.

        This charade of "Dragon-Blood" carried on for several years, even to where that was considered my name. I hated the term, because it made me look just as crazy as our shaman. Until one fateful night though...when I was 17 years living, my life was changed. At first, quite horribly, then it turned out to be the greatest blessing I could ever hope to receive...my name...my real name.

        It was when a group of Dunmer bandits assaulted my village (how they managed to get through the swamps makes no sense at all) the black-skinned bastards raided everything in sight, even killing or chief. Every able-bodied man was at arms fighting these age-old enemies, myself included. Thankfully, my mother is Naga, so I for one am strong, and she taught me a few things about combat.

        Apparently it was enough for me to take down three of them no sweat. My father is Waseek-Haleel, so we had high quality weapons and armor. But the numbers of these assholes was too great...half of our village had already been slaughtered and there were still more bandits coming.

        When we were all backed into a corner, just seven of us left: me, mother, father, the chief's son, the town drunk, some crazy old hag (not the shaman), and a hatchling barely a month old. We begged the Hist for a way out of this mess...and no more than a second later, a huge wave of blue flames burn the bandits' flesh to ash...without as much as a smell but of wood after a fire.

        It was our shaman who saved us, she wasn't to be seen when we were attacked, but at least she came in the nick of time. "The lot of you had best get moving, these bandits aren't of the living plane," she said, "What's that supposed to mean," my mother is shivering in her scales, "are we dealing with-" "Necromancers...yes," Mixes cuts her off. "GODS! I can't do this!" mother is terrified as she says this...you see she's scared of the undead enough as it is, but people who can command them...whole 'nother story.

        All I thought was to eradicate these fiends for scaring my mother. And so I did...me, Mixes, and father were tearing away at these dustbags trying to look for their caster. Mixes always said I was a quick learner, and taught me a spell to combat these undead bandits. She and I were casting away to make sure these things wouldn't be resurrected.

        But this necromancer had the gall to resurrect our fallen Egg-Brothers and Egg-Sisters. The strongest of these thralls was Geranzek. He was advancing to my mother's position. I have never rushed to any enemy as quickly as I did for that dead bastard, I shot my brilliant blue flame and it crashed against his head, stumbling him. Then I crushed his skull with my mace, breaking his head into many pieces and brains flew everywhere before turning to ash...it was the last of the thralls this assailant threw at us.

        We are rejoicing at our victory when suddenly a shadow phases through my mother...and her slit throat was left in the wake. The warm, dark-red blood spews from her neck onto my face...I felt nothing...nothing but sorrow, despair, loneliness...and RAGE!!! 

        I release the most intense shout of despair and agony and that black mist forms into a smoothskin body covering her ears. I see the bitch wide-eyed and in shock...it came to me that she was the necromancer responsible for the deaths of many of my kin, and my mother. Mixes screams, "YOUNG ONE LOOK OUT! THIS IS A VAMPIRE!!!" I could care less if it were living or dead, but she did say vampire, so I thought undead.

        I readied my spell an cast it at the damned demon. She evades and I rush her left flank. My mace meets her kneecap and I send her flying, then return with a down swing that pummels her into the mud...leaving a crater that shook the earth before everyone. At this point, I knew that she knew that I outclassed her for many fathoms, she tried crawling away, but i took hold of her ankle and broke it with my bare grip.

        She screams in agonizing pain and I drag her into my fist, now engulfed in a holy fire, and bash her brains in...quite literally. The rest of her body is beginning to disintegrate, but I'm beating a dead horse now, because I am bashing the pile of ash with my mace.

        Everyone is trying to restrain me, but to no avail...later on, Mixes had to paralyze me to calm me. 5 hours of keeping me under wraps, and I finally calm down, then I break down in tears that rush faster than the fiercest of rivers. As I lay there bawling, what was left of our little village gather 'round me and embrace their fallen warrior. Never have I been more sad, and never have I been more angry...

        But it is when in my time of most sadness, I hear a voice I'd never thought I would hear for a long time...a Hist was calling to me, not our Hist, but some other Hist, miles from the village. At first I was confused, wondering why a Hist so far away from the one I grew up worshiping, would be beckoning me.

        Mixes heard its call as well, "Young one...do you know what calls you," she says, "No...I don't," I say, "This is the voice of the Sun-Hist, a very old, but powerful Hist tree that calls only to those that are fit to follow its Code," she says, "What would it want of me...I'm not special," I say, "Clearly you are, come child, I would walk you to the path," she says.

        After this, we went into the swamps, leaving the rest to tend to the village. It was still nighttime as we went...about a few hours of walking, and another few of carrying Mixes the rest of the way, now early morning where the stars can still be seen, we reach a little hollow, barely even big enough to fit a hatchling in. "Do you expect me to fit in that?" I say, "Yes...yes I do." Mixes says, "You realize I can't fit right." I say, "Of course you can, look at the runic patterns all around it." she says.

        It dumbstruck me that I didn't notice the multitude of ancient Argonian runes that surrounded that little hollow. "Use Turning Flame young one." she says, "Is that the name of-" I'm interrupted,  "YES...it is." she goes, " Well...alright then." I say. I made my glorious blue flame and cast it in the hollow like Mixes said I should. The runes lit up the same color as the flame and then ancient, moss-covered stones began shift in many different places, and a door came before us.

        "This is where you begin your new journey my friend...are you ready?" she said. I had to think a moment about what was happening...then I say, "You're damn right I am!" "Then let us go, I must accompany you in order for the naming to go correctly." she said. A dark, murky, eerie corridor lied ahead of us, but a very peace-inspiring light was at the end of the tunnel.

        We came into the light and before us was a very big tree...a VERY...BIG...TREE!... "By all that I hold holy, what is that?!" I question, "This is the Sun-Hist young one." she says,  'It...is...you never mentioned it would be this massive." I am baffled at this marvel of nature, "It wouldn't make a difference if I did...Maybe." The Sun-Hist called to me as clear as a face-to-face conversation, "Come, one of the dragon blood," it said.

        Already this Hist is unappealing to me, "Even the Hist would call me that...*sigh*...but never mind old nicknames," I ready myself, "Oh Hist-OW!" Mixes struck the back of my head with her shaman stick. "Don't be foolish child," she starts, "...on your knees, just as your naming ceremony." I got on my knees and bowed my head in respect, Mixes wasn't there behind me, she went into a chamber and retrieved, quite possibly, the largest Argonian I have ever seen.

        "Young one...this is Stands-in-Light...the Head Priest of the Holy-Scales." Mixes says, "Holy-Scales?" I say. Stands began to speak, "Yes child, they are an offshoot to the An-Xileel, dedicated to serving the Hist in all of its holy ways," I ask, "Are you a half-bred Naga too?" I had too ask, because it isn't very often that you see an Egg-Brother that makes me look diminutive. "No child, I am full blood Gee-Rusleel." he says, "Then how are you so massive!?" I say.

        "Just wait and all questions will be answered child." Stands said. The ceremony was about to begin, and more Argonians, even larger than Stands began to surround the main chamber. Stands put his hands on the Sun-Hist and whispered an incantation in Jel, then a damask pattern of light spread across a small area of the Hist where his hand was placed.

        Then the luminescent sap came trickling down the tree, I open up my tongue to it and it lands in my mouth, tasting sweeter than I would have thought, then a violent burst of energy expels from my body and I start to levitate.  Everyone is awestruck at the phenomenon and hide. "What is happening!?" Stands is embracing the Sun-Hist in shock, and Mixes, who looks as calm as ever, only raising her voice because it's loud in there now, says, "Oh I forgot to mention that he has Dragon's Blood didn't I?" Stands is amazed at Mixes ignorance, "That would've been a nice heads up don't you think!" Winds are pounding the inner sanctum, and light is flashing from my hovering body. "Oh hush..." Mixes goes, "you'll be fine."

        The whole time this is happening, I am in a different plane of reality my physical body inside my thoughts, my mind, my soul. It seems so empty but feels so full of life, the great and warm hue of dim-yellow light radiate around the space, and fog rolls on the ground.

        I wondered where I was, until a dragon, that's right, a real...DRAGON...comes before me. I asked what it was and all that he said to me was, "I am your spirit." This is even more annoying than the reality plane, "My spirit?...is this just some kind of cruel joke?" I say, "No...it isn't, now listen you mud-brain..." says the dragon, "you have dragons' blood, but that is no reason to hate what has been done to you. I will hand you your name...the Sun-Hist has given it to me, and I shall Shout it upon you."

        "You say "Shout" as if it's something more..." I say, then, with no second thought, my "spirit" rears back his giant head, "HI...SIL VOTH!!!" A great wave of power rushes from the dragon's maw, and blasts me backwards, and into reality. I fall from where I was flying, and Stands rushes in to see. "Child," he starts out, "are you alright?" I grunt, "...Couldn't be better." a slight laugh comes out of everyone's mouth.  "Then..." Stands says, "you have it...you have your name?" I say, "Yes...I do." Then Mixes butts in, "Then let me have the honor of asking you the question first...what is your name child?......"

                                             "I...am a maker of light...I am...Rezmorziriik."