Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you for choosing to read my story. First off, I'd like to say that I got Skyrim about last month, and it truly has become my #1 favorite game. But I would also like to explain that Skyrim is the only game in the Elder Scrolls series that I have played. (I know, I'm a sinner! :( ) So I would like to say that, I have done TONS of prerequisite reading to understand all the lore I would need for this story, but even so, it's likely that I may have a few things mixed up. I ask that if you find something that is incorrect, please tell me.
Thank you, and I hope you enjoy. :)
Rating: This will be rated M mainly for language, violence and sexual content/situations.
Times like these are what made the little Khajiit certain she'd picked up some sort of curse.
After all, she'd ventured into plenty of old Nordic tombs, tangled with many witches and encountered enough daedra for a curse to be all too possible. The tales that spread through Whiterun were far too glorified. If her life was anything like the songs the bards made it out to be, she would be living cozily in a palace, sitting upon her throne as she stroked a tamed dragon at her side. Her belly would full of fine cheeses and delicious salmon steaks...of course, with a warm sweetroll and cold milk to top it off.
Instead, here she was huddled at the back of what used to be a troll's den. The troll was dead now obviously, for trolls weren't typically very hospitable creatures. Thanks to some very obnoxious bandits, Taigra had been forced to make camp here for the night. Were it not for the rotting carcass of an elk and the rather mutilated corpse of a man on the opposite side of the cave, it wouldn't be so bad. Oh, and the smelly body of the troll she'd been forced to slay a while ago as well. This was probably the only time in her life where hunger couldn't find her, as the stench of decaying flesh and whatever the hell trolls did in their living spaces made her stomach not want to exist all together.
Perhaps she should have taken the road instead. She always did this to herself. No matter how many times taking one of her little made up "shortcuts" had gotten her into bad situations, she never learned.
Note to self: always follow the damn road! She would learn this time, this time would have to be different. For she never, ever wanted to spend another day of her life as she had spent this one.
Her ears perked up at the sound of wooden wheels grinding against dirt, and the clopping of hooves. She quickly got up, her heart beating rapidly as her mind tried to comprehend whether or not it was really true. It was! Maybe she wasn't as lost as she'd originally thought.
Slinging her pack over her shoulder, Taigra sped off towards the sound of what was definitely a carriage. As her feet crunched over wild grasses and propelled her body over rocks and logs, she used a hand to feel the coin purse strapped to her belt. Good, at least she hadn't lost that in the fight. Be whoever drove the carriage in a hurry or not, a few coins would get her passage to the nearest town. Perhaps then she would be able to find her way from there.
As soon as the city came into view, the previous bandit attack she'd endured earlier that day began to make sense.
"Here we are," Said the man in the driver's seat of the carriage. Taigra stepped out, her aching feet once again making contact with the ground. Ever muscle in her legs and back seemed to hate her, especially those in her backside. She didn't care if anyone noticed her rub her right butt cheek, judgement from others was the least of her concerns at the moment.
"Oh, Riften." She sighed, dragging her belongings out from under the bench seat of the carriage.
The driver, whom she'd come to know as Sigaar, replied. "That it is, ma'am."
"Well then...I guess I now understand why my attackers were so...well, aggressive, to say the least." Taigra mused.
Sigaar huffed, jumping down from the drivers seat to fumble with the hitches that fastened the horses to the carriage. "You probably ran into slave traders, at least that's what it sounds like to me. The Thief's Guild usually doesn't patrol the wilds outside it's home city and harass random travelers. Besides, someone of your...particular kind, would most likely be seen as a fellow member."
"My particular kind?"
"Well, I mean..." the older Nord man stammered for the right words to say. Go ahead, say it. She awaited his response. Remind me about that ridiculous assumption that all Khajiit are pickpockets and thieves. "Look, I'm not saying that I think you're a thief, but a good deal of Khajiit folk are skilled in the art. You know what I mean?"
"Sure."
Luckily he was too busy tending to his horses to notice her roll her eyes.
"Anyway, I'd avoid traveling alone out there if I were you. The Rift is a dangerous place for anyone to brave on their own anyway, and a lone woman such as yourself would be at extra risk to all sorts of fiends."
"Noted." She agreed, stretching her shoulders in an attempt to sooth them. "So, where can I go to get a decent meal and place to rest?"
"That's the Bee and Bard you'll be wanting to go. Head into the city gates, then across the first bridge you see." He answered, offering a handful of hay to one of the horses, who greedily ate it from the palm of his hand. The other horse whinnied impatiently and stamped it's hoof.
"Ah, I see." She dipped her head in respect towards the man. "Thank you."
"Glad to be of service, my lady." Sigaar dipped his head in the same fashion. "Good luck in your adventures. Oh, and do be careful to watch your belongings upon entering the city."
"I will. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
It really was a shame that Riften had such a dark reputation. If it were not for the vast supply of criminals and shady business owners, Taigra probably wouldn't mind living in a place like this. From the way some had described this city to her, she'd expected it to be a total dump. The air had a cool breeze about it, but not too chilling. There was the gentle, almost soothing sounds of the water channels flowing and lapping at the walkways underneath. Then there was what she assumed was the temple of Mara across the way. Interesting that priests of such a beautiful worship, those devoting themselves to the goddess of love, would choose to have Her temple here. Then again, there were many things in Skyrim that didn't make sense.
"Keerava, my dear, can I just say, you're looking quite lovely today. Is that a new dress?"
"Can it, toad. You're not weaseling your way out of rent this time."
The mage tried to put on his most innocent expression. "Now why would I do such an uncharacteristic and lowly thing such as that? Surely you must know a compliment when you hear one!"
"Move your ass off my bar stool before I move it for you." Keerava growled.
Defeated, Marcurio obliged, and moved over to his usual bench. He tried his best to look indifferent about the scolding he just received, but his cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. Talen-Jei, Keerava's lover, swept casually in the corner. He felt a tinge of irritation as the two exchanged glances, Talen-Jei looking like a love-sick puppy. It was a look he had every time he gazed upon that Argonian witch.
"Honestly, Talen-Jei, what do you see in her?" He wondered aloud to himself.
"I see beauty far greater than any sunset I've ever laid eyes upon." Answered the Argonian man dreamily. Marcurio jumped slightly at his response. He hadn't actually intended Talon-Jei to hear.
Marcurio let out an exasperated sigh. "I guess love really does blind people." He failed to understand what Talon-Jei was so strongly attracted to in Keerava. Her face was constantly pulled up into a stern frown, and if that wasn't enough to warn other of her generally unfriendly nature, then that abnormally rough-even for an Argonian-and impatient voice would send the message. It was a wonder how she kept her business together when she appeared so terrifying.
Speaking of business, he really needed to find a new employer before he was kicked out and left to sleep on the street. That was a fate that he simply couldn't allow to happen. It wouldn't be right for such a talented wizard like himself! No...he needed to find someone soon. Preferably someone who wasn't completely horrifying to look at, had at least a few manners and actually appreciated his skills; unlike his previous employer. Marcurio immediately shuddered at the remembrance of the perverted, old, overly-fed Nord who'd not only criticized everything about mages, gotten himself drunk at almost anywhere one could buy a drink, but then attempted to make love to a chicken. Luckily for the chicken, the slob vomited all over himself and passed out before things could get too passionate. Anyone above that level would suffice.
The sound of the inn's doors across the room grabbed his attention. A figure clad in dark, strange robes and steel plated boots with gloves to match stepped in through the door way. It wasn't until they pulled off their creepy, metal mask and pulled down their hood, that it was a Khajiit. Specifically, the Khajiit woman he'd seen come in the night before. She hardly payed him any attention, as her ice blue eyes immediately focused on the bar. Her light-grey spotted tail swished in agitation, and her ears drooped tiredly. Placing an assorted amount of coins on the counter, her rear plopped itself onto the closest bar stool.
And with the utmost seriousness in her voice she said, "A sweetroll and some milk, please."
It took all of Marcurio's physical strength to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter. What the hell?! Who the hell walks up to a bar and orders milk and deserts? He wasn't sure if it was the absolute irony of how tough she'd appeared when she first walked in as compared to how innocently she ordered what a child would, or just the randomness of the order itself. It was kind of adorable, actually.
Keerava appeared to be holding back an amused grin of her own, but accepted the payment and served a fresh, steaming sweetroll on a plate to the Khajiit. She then pulled out a jug from beneath the counter, pouring milk into a tankard for the customer.
"Thank you," She said, picking a small chunk out of the sweetroll and delicately placing it into her mouth. She slowly closed her eyes, appearing to be thoroughly enjoying the treat. "Mmm," it was almost like she was purring. "That hits the spot..."
"Rough day?" Keerava asked, pouring herself a tankard of what Marcurio assumed was Hunningbrew mead. The barkeep normally kept a private stash of bottles of her favorite Hunningbrew mead. He'd seen her occasionally pull one out and sip on it when business was slow.
"Very rough." She said, popping in another piece of the sweetroll. "And it's been too long since I had one of these this good."
A look of satisfaction passed over the Argonian's face. "I'm glad you like it."
"Do you make them yourself?" The Khajiit asked.
"Mhmm."
"You, ma'am, are very talented." With that, she continued to enjoy her treat, occasionally drinking from her tankard.
"That, she is," Marcurio spoke up, taking a seat next to the Khajiit, grinning impishly at Keereva. Keereva stared back, unimpressed. She knew his aim. She always knew. "Say, those robes you wear...they make you look like an adventurer. Tell me, are you?"
The Khajiit looked back at him, shrugging. "An adventurer of...sorts, you could say."
"I'm sure there has to be more story behind that. Your appearance makes you look like an alchemist or an enchanter...you must live a dangerous life."
"Hah," She chuckled. "That I do...but it's the danger that finds me. Damned bandit attack is why I'm here. Then today, I have Dark Brotherhood rats attacking me for no reason at all." She then turned back to her meal, sighing. "Embarrassingly enough, I'm actually a mage. But most of my skills center around restoration and illusion...so I'm not very good at handling large groups of enemies."
Marcurio could almost hear the septims clinking against each other as he imagined himself striking a successful business deal. He needed rent money, and here was a poor, innocent lass who was finding herself facing dangers all alone. She also was a mage that looked like she could use the company of someone who was familiar with destruction magic. What a perfect opportunity! The Divines were certainly blessing him upon this day.
"How interesting, a fellow mage!" He turned his head to Keerava, exaggerating his surprise. "It's great to meet someone who also has an appreciation for the arcane arts."
"You're a mage too?"
He continued to smile gleefully, holding out his hand out in greeting. He was most happy to see her accept his gesture, and proudly introduced himself. "The name's Marcurio, graduate of the Mage's College of Cyrodiil and master of the arcane arts."
Keerava could be seen rolling her eyes out of the corner of his vision. "Cyrodiil, eh? You're a long ways from home," Said the Khajiit. "Anyway, I'm Taigra."
"It's a pleasure. So, Taigra, you mentioned you were having a problem with harassers?"
"Oh good gods..."
Marcurio pretended not to hear Keerava, keeping his attention completely on his potential employer. "I've had my fair share of run-ins. I thought that maybe I could take the next day or so studying up on destruction magics. Though unfortunately I have...urgent matters to attend to." She hesitated on that last sentence, he could tell. This intrigued him even more.
"I see. Though you don't need to worry anymore, for you are in luck!"
"What?"
Marcurio leaned in towards her, his elbow resting on the counter. "See, my specialty is in destruction magics."
"Okay...?"
"My skill in battle is unmatched. Fortunately for you, that skill can be bought."
Taigra stopped chewing momentarily, looking curiously back at him. "So...you're a mercenary."
"Not exactly...I consider myself more as a...protector. For hire."
He watched as she glanced back down at her plate, eating up the last piece of her sweetroll and taking a final swig of milk. She set the tankard back down on the wooden counter, pausing for a second. Marcurio could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. She was obviously considering the offer.
"Alright. How much?"
Yes! He wanted to belt out his joy to all of Tamriel, but managed to leave his expression unchanged. He hadn't quite sealed the deal yet. "My fee is five-hundred gold."
Before he knew it, the Khajiit woman counted out the exact amount, and slid the coins across the counter and to him. "It's a deal. Meet me outside at dawn."
"Will do." Marcurio replied, watching her form as it left the bar stool and carried on up the stairs. He almost couldn't believe the stroke of luck he had just experienced. If his faith in the Divines hadn't been strong before, it sure was now. The mage then remembered something. Ah yes, he had something to rub into a certain Argonian's face.
"Looks like you have the pleasure of my company for another day. Or perhaps a few more." He said, a smug grin spreading across his face.
Keerava remained silent, looking as if she were still trying to process what just happened.
Author's Note: I hope you are enjoying it so far. I understand this is the first chapter, but hey, the first chapter is like the first date;you gotta make a good impression! ;) Haha, anyway, if y'all would go and hit that lovely review button that's making flirty eyes at you, that would be great. I would love the feedback!
- Seargent Cupcake