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Shadowscale

The Way of Shadow

Author: 
Solis Aduro (translator)

Translated by Solis Aduro

As an acolyte, you must always remember the source of your power, for it can be denied at the whim of our master. You will be tempted by other forces, many of which try to wear a mask similar to our father. They have as many names as the father has faces. You shall remember all of his, and none of theirs, when you draw the runes of shadow.

And remember, there are no shadows without light. Without light there is only the void. We revere this face of our father, but it is not our destiny to strive toward the inevitable. The sun is a bleeding yolk and we will drink of it.

Until then, our scales remain black, and so we serve at the seat of shadow.

Lies of the Dread-Father

Author: 
Nisswo Xeewulm

Round-tongues give it form and shape
The it that is turned into he
They whisper to his decayed bride
To honor him, to worship him

They name it father, dreaded so
They pray with blades of dreaded blood
They speak one facet of the truth
Something clinging to their tongues

Shapelessness given form
Change turned to stagnation
One truth that becomes untruth
A brotherhood of something eyes

Scales of Shadow

Author: 
Nisswo Xeewulm

Stars in darkness, constellation
Tell us those we must collect
Given to the needed clutch
To be taught the needed ways

Scales of shadow, hands of death
Sithis honored by your blade
To create the needed change
By the blood which must be spilt

You who join the brotherhood
Guided by just one untruth
Remember our nothing words
Look upon with nothing eyes

One day, when your snout is pale
To the swamps you will return
Darkness remains in your heart
For your scales are shadow still

Beware the Shadowscales

Author: 
Anonymous

Be on ever vigilant guard, Soldier! See the lizard who stands on his hindquarters, laboring in the tavern, the field, or the fen of his homeland? Spot the meek and lowly Argonian with a simpering guise and a lilting tone of appeasement? He may not be as he seems, friend! After recent incursions close to Black Marsh, and the death of Captain Turpilinus Baibius under circumstances most vexing, we have reason to believe Shadowscales are active in this region. But what of this clandestine group and its dark purpose?

Shadowscales are reptilian kith born under the sign of the Shadow. Plucked at birth and offered to the detestable Dark Brotherhood, these hatchlings are a boon to their cause and are expertly trained in the arts of furtiveness and subtle bloodshed. When fully formed, they are embraced by these Sithis cultists and accept warrants for assassinations, just as their higher race kin have infamously done. Now that Shadowscales are incorporated into Argonian society, their targets benefit only the lizard-folk. How such targets are determined is still unclear.

It is believed the Shadowscales follow the identical five tenets of the hated Brotherhood (your Lore Master has the necessary texts to further your education on these matters). Through capture and torture of suspected members, we know that an order is never disobeyed or refused if given by a superior. A fellow Shadowscale is never a target of these cutthroats, and Shadowscales deserting the Brotherhood are hunted and slain. As our dealings with the Morag Tong have taught us, an assassin's guild functioning as an adjunct to an official government is a powerful threat: now the Argonians have organized such a force, which must be watched, infiltrated, and utterly confounded until broken.

The Assassin of Alik'r

Author: 
Anonymous

A Shadowscale goes where ordered to do what's needed. We mete out justice for those who are unable to do so themselves. Our goal is swift death, for torture is generally frowned upon.

I asked for a new assignment, one different from my last in Alik'r. Even now, I taste the bitter salt of its desolate shore; feel the sting of sand blowing into my eyes.

And I can still hear the screams.

Does one know how to be an assassin from birth? For me, it was foretold, and I felt strength flow from this knowledge. All I learned, all I experienced would fulfill my destiny.

Transgessors must be punished. There are laws which must be upheld. Betrayal cannot be forgiven. There is gold to be made.

But Alik'r was different. I watched the convicted ones for several days, tracking them across the supposedly untrackable wastelands they call deserts. My chance came near the crest of a ridge overlooking the sea.
"We're safe now," she said, her voice filled with hope.

"We will never be safe," he replied bitterly.

I slipped my blade from its sheath and started forward, when I heard the wind change in the skies above us, and slid back into shadow.

Harpies! Their foul-smelling wings spread wide, they circled the oblivious pair, slave-traders and lovers not meant to slake their desires, silhouettes against the bright starlit sky.

They screamed as the beast-women struck them with their claws, raking razor-sharp fingernails through soft Dunmeri flesh. The harpies toyed with their victims, mocking their cries in whatever garbled tongue passes for their language.

I waited to ensure their deaths before I left. It wasn't the end they were meant to have, but what does it matter? Death comes to us all, unbidden, unlooked-for, and occasionally, from above.