RugiApr 27, 2014Apr 27, 2014 at 11:57 PM
#1
Blows-Smoke was hatched in Argonia, as are the majority of his race. He grew up normally enough, until his naming day. Soon after licking the Hist sap he began to cough violently and soon smoke curled from his nostrils and puffed out with each breath. The Hist had kindled a fire in his belly that would in the future fuel his abilities as a Dragon Knight. The young Argonian was named Blows-Smoke and the naming day went on. The next day, disaster struck. Smoke's small village was hit by a Dunmer raiding party. Being mainly farmers and fisherman they were ill prepared to defend themselves. Those that took up arms against the dark ones were killed. Those who were deemed too old or sick fared no better. The healthy and young were clapped in irons and marched to Morrowind to be sold into slavery.
Blows-Smoke ended up sold to House Dres, who put him to work on one of their Saltrice plantations. He received beatings more frequently than the majority of the other slaves, as he could only understand Jel and his Dunmer masters were angered when he could not follow orders spoken in Dunmeris. He learned both Dunmeris and the common tongue from the other slaves during his first year and his beatings decreased from frequent to whenever the masters decided they wanted to.
Blows-Smoke grew up on the plantation, working the land and harvesting Saltrice for House Dres. One night he was awakened by the cries of an Argonian being beaten. This was a common occurrence but somehow this felt different. Wrong. Smoke leapt from his cot and rushed to investigate. One of the guards, clearly drunk and in his mind blowing off steam, was beating one of Smoke's elders. The Argonian was old, his scales translucent. The elder was curled on the ground, arms up in a futile attempt to guard against the Elf's heavy boot. Smoke felt seething rage bubble within him, stoking his fire until it was a raging inferno. Without thinking he rushed the guard, who upon seeing him went to draw his sword. The guard was too slow in his drunken state and Smoke was upon him, his scaled hand clasping over the Dunmer's face. There was a loud sizzle mixed with the guard's piercing screams as his flesh bubbled and melted under Smoke's now white hot scales. He held on as the other thrashed, smoke billowing from his nostrils. The guard went limp and Smoke dropped him, his face now burned beyond all recognition.
Elder: *Cough* (Jel) "W-Why would you do that?"
Smoke: (Jel) "Why? He was going to kill you!"
Elder: (Jel) "Possibly, but now you have sealed a fate for yourself far worse." *Coughing fit*
Smoke: (Jel) "Let me help you stand up."
Elder: *Waves him off as he slowly sits up* (Jel) "Nevermind me. You must run! Take the guard's key and undo your shackles. It's your only chance!"
Smoke: (Jel) "Come with me then. We can escape together!"
Elder: *Smiles* (Jel) "I'm afraid that is impossible, young one. I am old and will only slow you down. If you are to survive you need to leave now and leave alone."
Blows-Smoke tries to convince the elder to come with him but receives the same response. He knows the elder is right, but doesn't feel right just leaving him. Nevertheless he obeys and searches the Elf's corpse. Smoke finds the key and undoes the magical shackles that prevent all slaves from leaving the borders of the plantation.
Smoke: (Jel) "May your journey down the river be peaceful."
The Argonian takes off into the night, steeling one last look at the elder over his shoulder before disappearing into the night. Smoke was able to make his way across Morrowind, avoiding patrols and Dunmer outposts until he was able to cross the border into Cyrodiil. He had contemplated going back to Argonia, but decided against it. His parents were gone and he had grown up in Morrowind, so he was sure to be labeled an outsider. In Cyrodiil he found work as a mercenary, an occupation that allowed him to develop and hone his martial prowess. Eventually he wound up as a caravan guard for a Khajiit known as Ri'Sari. Blows-Smoke's skill in melee combat combined with his innate fire abilities impressed his employer, who offered him a job as a permanent protector and enforcer. Smoke liked the Khajiit and was starting to grow tired of his mercenary company and readily agreed. Now he performs his duties for the Blue Skooma Co, who he has slowly come to accept as his own family.
Blows-Smoke ended up sold to House Dres, who put him to work on one of their Saltrice plantations. He received beatings more frequently than the majority of the other slaves, as he could only understand Jel and his Dunmer masters were angered when he could not follow orders spoken in Dunmeris. He learned both Dunmeris and the common tongue from the other slaves during his first year and his beatings decreased from frequent to whenever the masters decided they wanted to.
Blows-Smoke grew up on the plantation, working the land and harvesting Saltrice for House Dres. One night he was awakened by the cries of an Argonian being beaten. This was a common occurrence but somehow this felt different. Wrong. Smoke leapt from his cot and rushed to investigate. One of the guards, clearly drunk and in his mind blowing off steam, was beating one of Smoke's elders. The Argonian was old, his scales translucent. The elder was curled on the ground, arms up in a futile attempt to guard against the Elf's heavy boot. Smoke felt seething rage bubble within him, stoking his fire until it was a raging inferno. Without thinking he rushed the guard, who upon seeing him went to draw his sword. The guard was too slow in his drunken state and Smoke was upon him, his scaled hand clasping over the Dunmer's face. There was a loud sizzle mixed with the guard's piercing screams as his flesh bubbled and melted under Smoke's now white hot scales. He held on as the other thrashed, smoke billowing from his nostrils. The guard went limp and Smoke dropped him, his face now burned beyond all recognition.
Elder: *Cough* (Jel) "W-Why would you do that?"
Smoke: (Jel) "Why? He was going to kill you!"
Elder: (Jel) "Possibly, but now you have sealed a fate for yourself far worse." *Coughing fit*
Smoke: (Jel) "Let me help you stand up."
Elder: *Waves him off as he slowly sits up* (Jel) "Nevermind me. You must run! Take the guard's key and undo your shackles. It's your only chance!"
Smoke: (Jel) "Come with me then. We can escape together!"
Elder: *Smiles* (Jel) "I'm afraid that is impossible, young one. I am old and will only slow you down. If you are to survive you need to leave now and leave alone."
Blows-Smoke tries to convince the elder to come with him but receives the same response. He knows the elder is right, but doesn't feel right just leaving him. Nevertheless he obeys and searches the Elf's corpse. Smoke finds the key and undoes the magical shackles that prevent all slaves from leaving the borders of the plantation.
Smoke: (Jel) "May your journey down the river be peaceful."
The Argonian takes off into the night, steeling one last look at the elder over his shoulder before disappearing into the night. Smoke was able to make his way across Morrowind, avoiding patrols and Dunmer outposts until he was able to cross the border into Cyrodiil. He had contemplated going back to Argonia, but decided against it. His parents were gone and he had grown up in Morrowind, so he was sure to be labeled an outsider. In Cyrodiil he found work as a mercenary, an occupation that allowed him to develop and hone his martial prowess. Eventually he wound up as a caravan guard for a Khajiit known as Ri'Sari. Blows-Smoke's skill in melee combat combined with his innate fire abilities impressed his employer, who offered him a job as a permanent protector and enforcer. Smoke liked the Khajiit and was starting to grow tired of his mercenary company and readily agreed. Now he performs his duties for the Blue Skooma Co, who he has slowly come to accept as his own family.
@DaedratApr 29, 2014