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Tales of the Elder Scrolls: Chapter Three

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YH
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A hollow sort of snorting sound drifted from the wagon, though no pack animal was visible either in front or behind the ramshackle cart. If the bundled creature perched on the driver's bench had spotted them, it made no motion, hostile or otherwise. All sat still in the ponderous silence.

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"Or smelt us." Aurelius added, "Can't tell if he's of the beast races. . . no offence intended Dura." He took a long look at the stranger on the road, by the way he was dressed it seemed he either only made enough to clothe himself or he got in the muck and soiled his attire in the process of getting the wagon free. The helm on the top of his head was interesting, though it appeared to be the only outstanding feature about him. Turning his gaze from the driver towards the wagon he could plainly see that one of the wheels was in dire need of greasing. The Imperial could also see something moderately large in the back of the wagon, what it was exactly he couldn't tell due to the canvas cover on it.

"Well," he said turning towards his guide once again, "since he already knows we're here we might as well introduce ourselves. No sense in staying out of sight if he's seen us." Aurelius then shouted towards the cart driver, "Hail stranger! We mean no harm for we're niether bandit nor highwayman! We're coming out, if you'll share the road with us!"

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Dura'Jah hissed in displeasure before melting into the undergrowth. "Unwise, friend, patience and discretion, best not to draw attention to yourself in the Marsh, not all Argonians will be as friendly as me." The voice sank into the water and the lizard disappeared.

Beneath the mud, Dura slithered away from Aurelius' compromised position, stopping beneath a twisted mangrove's cage of roots, several meters on the other side of the wagon. Two small bumps rose among the heavy, tangled limbs as his eyes broke the surface of the marsh.

YH
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The snort sound came again, followed by a low whimpering noise. It repeated, slow and rhythmic. The cart and the driver remained rooted in their spot.

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Aurelius weighed the words his guide gave him well before stepping out onto the road in front of the driver and his cart, keeping his up in front of him to show that he indeed meant no harm towards the driver and standing a short distance away to give himself time to react in case the driver did turn out to be hostile.

"I am a professional tracker known as Aurelius Vindictus." He spke, keeping his voice calm and clear. "I have come here looking for someone dressed in faded robes with unusual iconography on them. My target was also carrying a small box with him. I have been told that he went in this direction. That is all that I am willing to tell you at the moment, now please answer me this: Who are you?"

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The driver snorted louder, shuddered and peered around quizzically for a moment before bolting up onto stubby little legs while shrieking and pointing. "AAAGH! BAAAN-DEEETS!" The creature flopped over into the bed of the cart and sprawled over the covered box, wailing, "You can'ts has it! S'mine! BAN-DEETS!"

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Aurelius was confused as to what the strange creature, that is now lying belly-down on the cart, is. Never before has he seen something the size of a child, with the linguistic capacity of an uneducated one to boot, alone on a road driving a cart that had no forseeable pack animal moving it ever in his life.

"Take it easy now," speaking even calmer and slower than before, in an attempt to get the strange thing before him to settle down, "It's okay, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm not a bandit. I'm a tracker looking for someone else. I'm not after whatever it is you have there. All I want to know now is who you are."

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"No?" The little trollkin rolled up to sit on the box. It made a snorting, oink-like sound that might've been something related to laughter. "Raktuk." The name was uttered in such a guttural way it almost wasn't a word, but the politely tipped helm said it was indeed an introduction. The driver tightened the helmet on its head with a screwing motion before hopping back into the driver's seat.

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"Raktuk?" Aurelius repeated. "Well, it is a pleasure to meet you Raktuk. You may call me Aurelius." He spoke while giving a slight bow. He was relieved to find out that the strange thing known now as Raktuk has some manners. "I'm going to call my Argonian guide out now. He's also not a bandit, and therefore does not wish to harm you or your cargo, though he is a bit more wary than I am."

Increasing the volume of his voice he shouted out into the swamp so Dura'Jah could hear him. "Dura! It's alright! He's harmless, you can come out now!"

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"You say he's harmless, I say he hasn't harmed you yet." Dura'Jah surfaced a few feet away, mud dripping in sheets off his scaly hide. He blinked a couple times to wipe the grime from his eyes and looked over to the wagon driver. "Raktuk, is it? Well, now, it takes a pretty bold fellow to be driving a cart like that through the Marsh. What brings you here, if you don't mind me asking?"

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"Boldly bold, aye! Mine's found in mucky-muck," Raktuk patted the canvas covered trunk, "Takes it, 'fore ban-deets see," this last bit imparted with a sly wink. With a tip of the horny helmet then, "Got gold? Raktuk Carry-Van for here! Carry you through mucky-muck, where go boldy freend?"

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"What do you think Dura?" Aurelius spoke as he turned his head to Dura'Jah, who was at this time standing next to him in front of Raktuk's wagon. "I don't think it would hurt any. Be a little safer, and easier, than walking, plus we'd have something to sleep on off the ground when it's time to rest."

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Dura'Jah was reluctant to allow this stranger any degree of power of him or his ward, but the was half-right. It would be safer than walking. "I don't know, Aurelius. Wagons don't do so well in the Marsh. It might slow us down." He turned to the thing on the cart. "Where are you headed, friend? We're looking for the Hingali - do you know them?" He allowed one eye to rove over the canvas-covered package in the back, trying to discern what it was.

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"Ah! Knows Hen-golly-golly, yus-yus!" Raktuk chirped and hopped on the seat, then upturned and held out the helmet like a beggar's bowl. "Goldies first!"

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"Alright," Aurelius spoke to Dura'Jah, "Now that we know that he 'allegedly' knows the Hingali tribe we can settle on a price." He paused for a second. "Or you can test him on who's who in the Hingali if you want. It's your choice."

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"No, it's fine. I still don't like it, much, but you're the paying customer. Go ahead and fix us a price. Just remember where you are. Nobody's what they seem in the Marsh."

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"I'll keep that in mind." Aurelius said before turning back to the trollkin in the driver's seat, who's still holding his helmet out in front of him like he's expecting it to be filled to the brim by now. Walking towards Raktuk he reached into his coin purse and pulled out a small handful of coins and stopped just within reach of the helm. "How does four hundred gold sound? To transport myself and my guide to the Hingali village."

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The kobold's eyes grew several sizes, and it did a little dance on the seat. "For you, Raktuk good guide!" Dragging the sack of loot into the wagon bed, it cracked open the lid of the trunk just enough to cajole the money in with effort. Raktuk then squatted on top of the box and gestured the new charges aboard. "No worries for wagon in mucky-muck, good freends, Raktuk's wagon knows way to Hen-golly-golly!"

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"Good deal then." spoke the Imperial as he strode towards the side of the wagon. Climbing over the side via one of the wheels he sat with his legs sprawled across the wagon bed just behind the chest Raktuk was squatting on. "I hope you don't mind if I sit here Raktuk."  After getting himself settled into his spot on the wagon he turned his head toward Dura'Jah, "Alright Dura, lets hit the road once again."

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"Very well." Dura'Jah stepped through the mud to the cart. It was not a sturdy machine, and it creaked unhappily beneath his feet, but it held together as the lizard settled himself on a corner of the lopsided carriage. "You know where you're going, then? Let's go."

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"Raktuk not, but wagon do," the ferry-creature corrected the Argonian. No sooner had Raktuk taken the drivers seat again, than the cart shuddered to life and slid from its muddy rut. Raktuk was busy counting the gold, unfocused on the route ahead as they squeaked and rocked through brush and mire. Their pace was hardly above a brisk walk, but for the terrain, that feat was itself a blazing speed especially without any visible means of power.

Surprisingly, the passengers were as well undisturbed by the native wildlife, no angry buzzing and biting that was the bane of many softskins that dared the depths of the Marsh.

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After a long while of watching the marsh go by as he sat in the bed of the wagon the question about that had been nipping at Aurelius ever since he saw the wagon had to be asked. "Raktuk, my curiosity overwhelms me right now." He began, "How in the name of Kynareth does this wagon move without any visible beast of burden to pull it? The only explanation that I can think of is that it is either enchanted, which would take a fair amount of soul gems for something of this size, or it is mechanized, but the only civilization that I know of that has mastered such technology is that of the Dwemer. But I don't believe they ever expanded themselves this far south, let alone worked with wood."

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It was clear from Raktuk's bemused expression that none of Aurelius' words made any sense. "Wagon knows way, freend." The imp looked at Dura, wordlessly inquiring if this smoothskin fellow understood the Marsh and its inhabitants at all, as though such a means of conveyance were a common thing.

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Dura'Jah chuckled. "You'll see stranger things than that before your quest's complete, I'd guess." He watched the marsh slide past the rattling wagon's wheels. "In my time at Thurnlim I've met some right clever people coming through to study this place, and none of them have left with a lick more knowledge than they arrived. Some of them say that it's not a part of Tamriel at all, that it's just some part of another world that somehow got stuck on to your own. Now, I don't know about that, but it's true that here in Argonia we follow our own rules, and sometimes that means things don't quite work the way a drylander like you'd expect."

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Aurelius sat there and pondered what Dura'Jah had told him. It's true, nothing he's seen so far was not what he'd been expecting to see in a swamp. And the stories he'd heard aren't too far from bazaare either, stories of how there are pools of green slime that could strip a man down to the bone before he could completely say it's name, and how some of the natives travel by rootworm, a giant worm that will swallow travellers whole and let them ride in it's belly through the underground currents. "Alright, I'll take your word for it." He spoke after the moment's reflection. Then he streched and pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes. "Wake me when we're almost there, or when something attacks, whichever comes first." The Imperial said at last before nodding off to sleep.

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The cart jostled to an abrupt halt, causing the heavy box to slap loudly against the plain planks of the wagon bed. Raktuk had huddled down again and was making that same steady wheeze-whimper sound--Aurelius had not been the only one dozing off, and despite the jarring stop, the little driver remained asleep.

Aside from the usual creatures singing their cacophonous chorus, there was neither sound nor sign of any tribes, Hingali or other, save for a branch that had been whittled into a sort of fork. This had been buried just beneath the surface on the trail, so as the wagon rolled over it, the tines sprung upward and bit deep into the underside of the cart, at the junction between wheel and axle. They weren't moving until it was dislodged, but by then the shadows would be moving on their own.

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The force of the strike from under the wagon was enough to wake him. He sat there. And using his exceptional hearing he listened. Listened for anything out of the ordinary as far as their situation in the swamp was concerned. Hearing nothing but the sounds of birds and bugs he calmly opened his eyes. He saw nothing immediately in front of him. Moving his eyeballs left and right he still saw nothing. Making it seem as natural as he could fell over on his right side, and landed on the cart with a thud. Aruelius then rolled over onto his belly, making sure to keep his silhouette below the walls of the wagon, and crawled slowly towards the edge on the bed. Stopping six inches from the edge he whispered, "Did you feel that Dura? I have a feeling someone, or something, does not want us to continue. Should I prepare myself for a fight?"

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Dura'Jah ignored the human. Standing up, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out something indecipherable in Jel. A single Argonian tribesman emerged from the darkness and replied in the same tongue. Dura shook his head and enunciated a single phoneme. The tribesman responded angrily and shook his spear at the wagon, but Dura made a looping gesture with his hands and uttered a long string of clacks and hisses. The two went back and forth for a minute or two and then the tribesman turned and vanished into the Marsh. Dura clapped his hands and smiled at Aurelius. "Nothing to worry about. Just a friendly discussion about the terms of our visit." Two different Argonians stepped into the trail and stood waiting. Dura'Jah glanced at Raktuk and asked "What do you think? He's got us where we wanted to go. Shall we let him sleep or do you want to say goodbye?"

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Aurelius relaxed his muscles. "What we should do is at least get his wagon free of this trap." He spoke as he turned himself to sit facing the two native Argonians waiting in the middle of the trail. "As for saying goodbye, we can do that, and thank him for getting us this far. It's the polite thing to do, and I am a polite man." He then stood up, walked toward the driver's seat and knocked loudly on the wood in an attempt to wake the slumbering kobold. "Hey Raktuk, wake up. We made it. We're going to try to get your wagon free of this trap that its in then we're going to leave with the two Hingali tribesmen that are here. Thanks for the ride."

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The driver awoke with a start, "Aagh! Ban-deets!" and spurred his cart like an old nag, causing it to lurch and topple, spilling Raktuk, the gold and the contents of the mystery box all into the mud. Laying next to the diminutive ogreling, amid the shards and splinters of ruined planks, was a sizable haul of weapons, gold, gems and jewelry.