Nipping at the Heels....

• Posted by Amornar August 6, 2017 - Filed in TSC: CB Story - #Scales-of-IronBLOG  - 1,068 views

  The Saga of Scales: Table of Contents

  Previous Entry: The Hunt is On....
   

  

  6th of Second Seed:

  It took most of the day but I picked up what is clearly a segment of what looks like the argonian pulling himself from the sea. Luckily in this hellscape what might be a soft spot in the mud during the heat of the midday sun is solid ice the rest of the day....luckily for me...unlucky for Scales. I doubt he believes that I am so close behind him. The last time I saw him it was far far away from this inhospitable shithole the nords call home. I wish it was one of them I was tracking....although not to take alive.... Alas, it is dear Scales I must hunt, the master be damned. At any rate, I tracked the trail to a nearby cave. Immediately the stench of putrid decay and rotten flesh told me this was no good thing lived in this place. I was more right than I knew....the place, this cave, was inhabited just a few short days ago....necromancers by the looks of things...though none now remain. Scales looks to have cleared the place with what I can only guess is decades of frustration and anger. The bodies were torn apart, such is the strength of the brute. Even the blade marks on the body are savage in nature; axes I would guess, two of them. A fitting weapon for the hulking beast I think. The sun is now low but I will track where the trail leads at first light. With luck I can gain some ground as Scales stops to slaughter his way across the ice and snow.

   

  7th of Second Seed:

  In the early morning I came to another location, again with the scent of decay and death permeating my nostrils. This was the lighthouse I had seen from the wreckage of the Horker. While the beacon on top remains technically lit...it is much diminished from the other day and likely will go out completely soon as the oil runs out as no one is alive here to tend it. This however was not the work of Scales. It is against his character anyway to just slaughter some far flung family living in such a place. No, this was the work of the vile, hideous, grotesque abominations that live below the surface. Falmer, the blind freaks, and their pet monsters. In the past...perhaps week they tunneled up into the basement of these poor people's lighthouse. Those that did not die in the initial attack were hauled away. I found their corpses throughout the caverns that are linked below. The butchered remains of the falmer and their chaurus pets litter the ground, more evidence of Scales' brutality. The beast however did get some of his own though...argonian blood litters the ground in places, mixed with the acid scarred remains of the chaurus poisons. I have fought these beasts before....and if I ever fight another for the rest of the life it will be too soon. I take small amount of satisfaction in the fact that while he remains my elusive quarry, Scales butchered the hive queen of these creatures and there will be no more that come from these caves at least. What is concerning however is that almost all of the chaurus eggs have been taken...and there is only one possibly suspect. Once upon a time Scales-of-Iron came from a long line of brilliant and powerful alchemists from Black Marsh. I know of his tribe and their knowledge of flora, fauna, and how to create powerful elixirs of life and vitality but also terrible black poisons that can kill a man before he even knows he is cut. I shudder to think what Scales is attempting to create. My own knowledge of the alchemical arts is pathetic, my talents lie more in the use of poisons than their creations...my only hope is that this asshole land produces poor substitutes for the fetid marshes of Argonia.

  At any rate, I believe I am still at least two days, perhaps more off from Scales' trail. From the top of the lighthouse I was able to make out what looks to be a camp to the west....not sure from this distance but likely some sort of military outpost. With the civil war that grips Skyrim this is not uncommon. Perhaps a little coin will grease the palm of one of the men there as to if they have seen a big green scaled argonian, or at least evidence of his passing.....

   

  8th of Second Seed:

  Success at last! Well perhaps that is too strong a word. Progress at last! Yes that is better. My hunch about the military camp, or more specifically imperial camp, was correct. Two days ago a cold, wounded argonian stumbled into their camp, trading some scavenged trinkets for food and medicine. The legionnaires said that he spoke little and given his size and appearance they did not try to engage him. He left at dawn after resting for the night, his wounds having healed far quicker than they thought possible and he headed west at their suggestion towards a nordic town called Dawnstar. Scales must truly be truly desperate for I know how much he despites imperials for the history his clan has with them. Regardless, it is in this Dawnstar that I now sit writing. I have been careful not to poke too much and unveil myself and my intentions but in truth I really don't have to. Many of the townsfolk talk openly about the strange lizard who has saved them from their nightmares. It took a little while to understand what this meant but given what I have been able to uncover it seems that an awful curse plagued these people when sleep took them and they suffered greatly from terrible nightmares. Another stranger, a dark elf priest claimed he knew the source and enlisted the help of another stranger, a very tall argonian. Together they set out, but only the argonian returned claiming to be successful. The people were naturally suspicious but that night it seems peace had returned and they hailed him a hero. Many came to him with requests for other work, other great deeds they needed. It seems Scales took the opportunity to do a little work and earn a little coin for himself because it is said he ventured south along the road. That is where I will head as well. I have some idea what sorts of tasks these people asked of Scales and hope I can find him busily slaughtering bandits and the like and get the drop on my old friend.

   

  9th of Second Seed:

  It has been...an interesting day. Following the path of Scales is like tracking....I don't know...a bear? No a bear is much more stealthy than this....perhaps a more adequate metaphor would be a tornado or hurricane. First was the large temple on the hill, the one where the Dawnstar folk claimed was the source of their nightmares according to their savior. Perhaps they should have investigated the truth of things themselves because a few things are very apparently to my keen senses. First, this was clearly a daedric temple to Vaermina, which would make sense given the dream manipulation but her symbol hanging from every wall needed no guess work. Second, at the heart of this temple (of which everyone was slaughtered of course) was some sort of dias for what was clearly the object of the cultists' veneration. Except there was no object, no idol, no powerful relic. Only the body of a dunmer priest, his body savaged by blows from twin axes, wielded by a creature of fearsome strength and savagery. The same kind of blows that have massacred the entire fort of bandits in which I now sit. Scales' power and strength is returning quickly. With the new sense of freedom that the long captive brute is experiencing I fear that his strength is greater than my own cunning. With the support of a host of alchemical concoctions I believe he has made, and the addition of some daedric artifact I think that my only hope is to set a trap for Scales and lead him into a situation where his strength matters little.... I will think on this and in the meantime return to the nordic town. Hopefully they have seen more of Scales as he has clearly moved on from these lands where only the dead remain....

   

   

  Next Entry: Like a House of Cards.....