[sub]featuring the lovely [@Stormflyx] and [@Spoopy Scary][/sub]

At the outskirts of Bruma, in a secluded spot of the forest that was shaded by a thick canopy of trees, a young boy stood. He remained stood upright until he stooped down to his haunches - a mop of ginger hair flopped over his forehead and obscured is pale complexion, the redness of his cheeks and the delightful smattering of orange freckles. Sun kisses was how the boy’s Nordic mother described them. 

Young Boril leant over across the moss covered stones, sticking his head over the edge of a very deep hole - so deep that he couldn't even see the bottom. 

It had taken him the best part of the evening trying to get his father to assist him in writing a note for the town board. Even more persuading to get his father to agree to a paltry sum for the job. 

“Ball?” He called down, only answered by the echo of his own voice. “Ball?” He cried again, pouting a fat lip and pressing down upon it with his bucked teeth. 

Young Boril hoped that someone would be along soon. 

Cast in shadow by the much larger shape of Lifts-Many-Boulders beside him, Rhillian of Drakelowe emerged from the forest and approached the boy with a warm smile and soft eyes. The boy’s notice had been endearing in its innocence and Rhillian remembered well how forlorn one could feel as a child when seperated from a beloved toy. There had been more pressing matters to attend to, bandits and rats and all sorts of trouble, but Rhillian didn’t think of himself as a warrior first -- he was a guardian, and none needed guarding more than children. 

“Hello,” he began and sank low on his haunches until his eyes were level with the freckled boy’s mournful gaze. “My name is Rhillian. This large fellow is my friend, Lifts-Many-Boulders. He’s very strong. You must be Boril, right? We saw the notice about your missing ball and we’ve come to help.” 

The argonian grunted and nodded in acknowledgement of the boy’s presence and mimicked Rhillian’s gesture of squatting beside the hole. He grabbed a fistful of dirt and rocks and dropped it into the hole and listened to the sound in order to gauge how deep it was. The dunmer showed him how to do that in the kwama mines. The clattering below definitely sounded like it was too deep for the child to safely climb down — to say nothing of the darkness.

After Rhillian finished speaking, Boulders followed simply, “We’ll find it for you.”

Boril was immediately startled by the sheer size of the Argonian in front of him, but as children seem to do, he quickly giggled in excitement - sensing no ounce of danger from the giant. "Wow sir, you not gonna fit in the hole!" He said, awe in his voice before he glanced to the other man. "Mmm," he mumbled, sticking out a lip. "I was playing here and it fell in… It's my favourite ball. It fell all the way to the bottom! But I can'ts climb down. Mummy said I can'ts go in the hole myselfs…"

Suddenly the boy straightened himself up, placing his hands on his hips; "if I was big as you I could do anything!" 

“I have no doubts about that,” Rhillian said and ruffled Boril’s hair with a chuckle. He rose to his feet and stared down the hole as well before looking up at Lifts-Many-Boulders. “You know, he might be right,” the Imperial mused. “You really might not fit down there. Shall I go first?” 

Boulder’s low grunt as he nodded was enough approval for Rhillian to continue. It was probably best for the smaller one to go in and see if there was enough room than for him to go first and find that it was only as deep as his waist -- good luck maneuvering around like that. It was times like these when in Morrowind, when he wouldn’t have someone helping him, he’d just find a log or sturdy branch and pry some of the boulders loose to make enough room for himself. Hopefully this one turned out to be small.

It took a few seconds for Rhillian to parse that the Argonian’s low growl was his assent. The lizardfolk had their own ways of communicating, and they were not always readily apparent to smoothskins like him. The Imperial nodded once he had understood and he shot one last glance at Boril. “We’ll be back before you know it,” he reassured him and then lowered himself into the hole, disappearing from sight as he descended. 

[hr] 

The cave, at first glance, was just a cave.

A body of water pooled in the centre that anyone climbing down would soon find themselves knee deep in. There was just enough light from the mouth that spilled through and lit it up. It was small in size, and tendrils of moss were growing from all of the books and crannies between the rocks. 

And there it was, burst and deflated, propped up against a boulder and floating on the surface…

A child’s favourite and beloved ball. 

Rhillian sighed. “We’re too late,” he said. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, at Boulders behind him, who had just dropped like an anchor into the pool. Knee deep for Rhillian was more like a puddle to the argonian -- the entranced glare of whom alerted him to something in the water. A shine caught Rhillian’s eye, and he stopped the movement halfway, only to reverse slowly, eyes fixed on… what, exactly? Below the surface of the water, something glittered. A piece of metal, perhaps? That would explain how the ball was punctured and deflated. But how could an inflated ball fall into the knee-deep layer of water with enough force to puncture itself against something [i]under the surface?[/i] 

“What is that?” he asked quietly but remained where he was, his instincts telling him to wait for something to happen -- or not. Lifts-Many-Boulders waded forth towards the curios. He was unfamiliar and ignorant with most creatures outside of Black Marsh and Morrowind, but was confident enough in his ability to handle such creatures just short of a rabid wamasu. Rhillian considered warning the Argonian to be careful, but the way the hulking giant seemed to fill the cavern entirely with his shape made the words die in his throat. What could possibly hurt him? The argonian stepped forward, spines on his head bristling with anticipation, he reached his hand into the water to grab the mysterious object.

What he procured was an old, rusty dagger of simple make. The leather that was once wrapped around the handle had long since rotted off its waterlogged wooden handle. The slightest pressure squeezed it into a pasty, pliable mulch. While the argonian was notably hard to read, when he turned to look at Rhillian after the anti-climatic discovery for his input, there was an unmistakable sense of disappointment as his spines drooped down.

Rhillian, on the other hand, was far more alarmed as a sense of danger began to creep through the dank cavern. He knew that dagger had no reason being down here and deposited where it was -- and while he normally wouldn’t question the argonian’s instincts, this was where experience in the heart of Tamriel mattered.

“Boulders,” Rhillian said, slowly and steadily reaching his hand out, “you should back away from--”

A sudden splash and nasally snarl erupted from a watering hole beside Rhillian as two green, long-fingered hands grabbed him by surprise and a goblin attempted to pull him under.

“Shit!” the priest exclaimed, hands scrambling to pull his claymore free from its sheath, but the surprisingly powerful arms of the goblin had a vice-like grip on his torso. It wouldn’t be long before the vile creature would succeed in dragging him beneath the surface, and then it wouldn’t be long before he would be dead. “Help!” he implored, gritting his teeth as he resisted the goblin’s pull with all his might, trying to brace his feet against the slippery rock beneath the water.

The ordinarily lumbering argonian leaped forward with surprising swiftness, his powerful legs propelling him forward as his clawed hand came crashing down over the goblins head. With his sure grip, he raised the goblin out of the water, it’s skinny legs kicking and flailing in defiance of its capture. It raked its brittle claws over Boulders’ armored scales to no avail, who looked curiously at Rhillian as he caught his breath.

“What is it?” Boulders asked.

“Goblin.” Rhillian panted, then grimaced in disgust at the unsightly creature. “A savage and unintelligent monster.”

“Hm.” Boulders grunted in intrigue. “Should I kill it?”

“Yes. Please.”

On cue, Boulders crushed the goblin’s head against the jagged rocks, silencing it’s barking protests and it’s flailing limbs slowed to minor twitches. Rhillian waded over to grab the deflated ball and sighed. So much fuss over such a small thing. Boril was going to be disappointed.