Rastislav
patreon
Arc 7 Chapter LXXXIX: Lizardly Investigation
🕑 Added 2024-09-02 01:33:14 +0000 UTC(General POV)
A duo of unusual figures strolled slowly through the thick forests of Skyrim's southernmost hold, as the two conversed, one voice a squeaky and the other almost unnaturally cheerful, the canopy gave way to a vast opening, revealing the in some places still smoking ruins of Falkreath.
The taller of the two, a silver haired old man blinks at the scene, shrugs, and looks back to his companion "So anyways, as I was saying one of them nasty flying bulls tried to interrupt my sweet Minnie's happy fun times so I turned him into a brand spanking new tanning rack!"
Shalazar looks up to his friend and blinks "Did the lucky fool thank you for his new job?" He squeaks, barely managing to insert some pretend enthusiasm into his voice as his mind was preoccupied by the scene before him.
"Oh he was not very happy" His companion sighs dramatically "I offer him a full time job, WITH BENEFITS! And he demands, DEMANDS! That I set him loose back in the wilderness..." He waves his hand "Pish posh I say! Ole' Sheo offers the best jobs. Everyone knows this!"
"Did you try offering extra benefits?" Shalazar quirks an eye, most of his mind still scanning the ruined city all the while "I hear those are all the rage these days."
"I did actually." Sheo nods proudly "Offered him an extra roll of cheese from my ultimate infinite cheese dimension but the poor lad seemed to not like it for some reason."
Shalazar shrugs "Well you did call him a bull."
"Ah!" The old man, and definitely not god of madness, claps his hands "That must be it!" Momentarily distracted he begins muttering "Cannibalism is only fun when I do it..."
"And what happened then, old buddy of mine?" The Lizard Wizard asks, his mind promptly deleting the thing he did not hear.
"He kept rambling about freedom and other foolish things for hours so I whacked him in the head and made him shut up." She sighs overdramatically, his shoulders slumping low before his entire body straightens and he raises his hand in proclamation "A good employer can take only so much cheek before discipline is needed!"
'Probably took his mind then.' Shalazar acknowledges and nods silently.
"You holding back on me Shelly?" Sheo asks after a moment "No need to keep things from your old buddy, old pal!" He leans down and pats the Argonian's shoulder "Come on then, tell me what troubles you. Ole' Sheo has all manner of solutions!"
Already, they were walking through the ruined streets, only a few brave Nords could be seen moving through the debris and looking for survivors. Shalazar knew they would find none however.
Whichever dragon attacked the city ensured that as many people died as possible, and detecting life was incredibly easy for the beasts. Just one word and poof! You see everything.
"Ah, you know me." Shalazar squeaks silently as he absently lifts a fallen bit of house from a man's way, letting him in so that he can see the corpses and stop his useless search "Seeing this much death just takes it out of me." He admits almost hesitantly.
"Pah!" Sheo claps his shoulder, completely unable to even comprehend his buddy's dismay "To think that the Pale Scourge would care about a small bit of barbeque."
Shalazar ever persistent smile, one he had kept even when seeing the city, cracks a bit. His expression darkens and the air around him grows heavy as he mutters "Yes, I suppose you are right."
Finally noticing his little fuckup, Sheo winces thinking to apologize before his twisted mind reminds him of something else and he once more cheerfully claps his hands "Well, I see you are all dour and stuffy now! Off I go then!" And disappears.
Carefully looking around so he isn't observed, Shalazar quickly bolts into the remnants of a nearby alley and leans against a wall. His eyes, usually carrying a cheerful aura now glowed with an eerie bloody red, his teeth gnashed against each other as memories he did his best to keep away kept surfacing.
'Dammit Sheo.' He curses inwardly as he starts taking deep breaths 'Can't remember one bloody thing for the life of you.'
It had been a rushed decision, well over a full century ago, when he had just finished slaughtering the vast majority of Great House Dres at the head of the army of Black Marsh. He had slaughtered everyone in sight that was not covered in scales and even some who were, such was his rage at his earlier enslavement at the hands of the Dunmer.
'To be treated like a damnable pet for the children.' He almost growls out 'At least I got to steal their grimoires when I escaped' And what a memory that was! If only he was wise and chose to leave vengeance aside before it was too late.
His mind was thoroughly shattered by the time he finished opening the way to Morrowind, his own people tossing him into a locked hut so that he may not harm any more perceived traitors, lucidity coming to him quite rarely as he spent most of his time glaring at the walls.
In one of those moments of lucidity he made a plan, a cunning one! He knew his mind was slowly losing itself to madness, and he understood that there would be no coming back should he fall too hard.
So he used his impressive powers to conjure Sheogorath himself, and offer to sell him his madness. The price? The Daedra's friendship.
And the rest, as they say is history.
"Who is they?" Shalazar mutters absently before rapidly shaking his head in confusion.
'That was enough of that' He slaps his tiny cheeks and gets up in a mighty leap, his cheerful persona already coming back to the surface 'My most glorious student is relying on me!'
He exited the collapsed alley, straight into the way of a furious Nord glaring at him with an axe held within his hand, the same Nord he 'helped' on his way earlier.
Uncaring for what the man had to say, Shalazar merely snapped his fingers and appeared atop one of the still standing yet thoroughly scorched towers of the fallen city. He sat down and closed his eyes, his magic and senses soon wrapping around the entirety of the hold.
A scene appeared in his mind, of a great bronze beast descending and setting fire to the walls and the houses, of it cheerfully chasing down the residents, uncaring for their age or firmity, and how it spewed poison to cover the city it destroyed, ensuring that none escaped without great fortitude or greater fortune.
As gruesome as the memory of the world was it was not what he sought, his brow furrowed further and his immense reserves of Magicka surged, soon leading the scene away from the city and up to the skies, allowing him to observe as a very light and barely perceptible ward bubble enveloped the whole territory, covering it from any sight or warning that may have come in the dragon's wake.
The creator of the ward was a master, of that there was no doubt, but sadly for the pitiable fool, mastery does not a perfect being make. The poor thing must have overplayed its hand for it forgot to take into account one looking into the past, and into the past did the Lizardly Wizard look.
His sight left the city and surged toward the east, leading him to the still standing legionary outpost of Helgen, from whence multiple cohorts marched to the ruined city so that they would try and save what could never be saved.
The scene flew lower than he had expected and soon guided him into a well hidden cave entrance, a tunnel system opened up and he could sense a way to the fortress' dungeons to his current south, but he was not lead there.
Instead his vision followed a path deeper into the natural cave, past a veritable horde of burned spiders and their disgustingly hairy offspring, through a tunnel which should not be and the concealment wards placed deeper within.
His soulgaze surged through the barrier, bursting through the unprotected thing and halting just before the tall individual kneeling before a drained pile of black soul gems, the power sources having grown ever more scarce since the humbling of the Ideal Masters.
The elf, an Altmer quite plainly, turned around in surprise, revealing his visage for Shalazar to observe. Midnight black hair, a very neat mustache and goatee, hawk-like noble features, and deep black ebony armor accented with golden Aldmeri runes.
What drew Shalazar's eyes the most however, was not the Mer's appearance, but his weapon, for on the figure's hip hung a familiar mace, the symbol of office for the Thalmor's High Justiciar.
A mere split second was all it took for Shalazar to make the connections he needed, but his intrusion was not without consequence, for the Thalmor leader seemed to notice his observation, stuck in the past as he was, and cast a spell to counter it, sending Shalazar hurtling back into his body and causing grievous injury at the same time.
Uncaring for the wave of pain, Shalazar simply left his body and began casting healing magic on it, thoroughly unbothered by the multiple lacerations on all of his internal organs and the half dozen or so deadly curses he dispelled them within seconds and entered his body as one does a set of clothing.
"Clever little shit." The Lizard Wizard let out a rare curse "Pretentious, but clever."
The stacking curses were ingenious, probably enough to put down Savos if he wasn't ready, and more than enough to force Phineas to spend a decade stuck in his philactery on any occasion.
"Still, this is most concerning." The tiny Argonian mutters to himself squeakily "If they are so suicidal as to sabotage a fight against a world ending threat, how far would they be willing to go in the future?"
A copy of Shalazar appears in front of him and immediately counters "Or, they could be confident enough in our victory that they feel a bit of sabotage would be of no consequence, my most glorious self!"
Another copy forms, looking at the first one and tutting at it as if it were a foolish child "Foolish of you, oh most resplendent copy of mine!" He shakes his head smugly "There must be some other overarching goal if they were ready to risk the world ending outside of their terms!"
A third materializes "Could it be, my imperious simulacrums, that this is but a distraction aimed at our grand design?"
"What was our design again?" The first mutters quietly.
The second an third shrug.
Shalazar deadpans "Slow down foolish selves of my most potent mind!" He claps his hands "We must keep on track lest we lose ourselves in ourselves."
"Most wise" The first nods, soon followed by the second and third.
Shalzar Prime nods happily "So. Trap, distraction, or attack of opportunity? No other ideas?"
"Nope" "No sir" "Nuh uh"
"Hmmmm..." He exhales slowly, scratching his chin as he did, still pretending not to know he was being watched.
---
Within the nearby buildings, clutching their rings of concealment, stood an entire troop of Thalmor Executors, a strike squad and assassin team in one, they were tasked with ending powerful threats to the Dominion. All of them were looking at the tiny Argonian with slowly dawning terror.
At their head hid a woman who had most certainly seen better days. Her mind was barely holding itself together after the torment she had been subjected to by the High Justiciar, much luckier than her subordinates she found as they were turned into little better than puppets for their failures, the only thoughts she could gather at the moment were those of hatred and fear for both her opponents and the High Justiciar himself.
That the Altmer archmage encouraged her to seek power to avenge herself only served to embitter her further.
Unable to keep herself from fidgeting further she did her best to make herself as quiet as possible as she turned to the leader of the Executors "When do we strike?"
By the time her eyes reached their intended target it was already too late.
Instead of the vibrant gold of the Altmer swordmaster, there stood the miniature form of Shalazar, the Pale Scourge, surrounded by the corpse of every single brave elf who had come to her aid.
Before she could speak, the Argonian put a finger in front of his disgusting beastly mouth "Shhhhh" And then she felt something slam into her mind.
She managed to resist for only a second before she was turned into little more than a vegetable.
