Volenfell part 1.
The tips of Khalash's ears twitch as the harsh desert sun of the Alik'r desert recedes below the Dragontail Mountains, the last bit of natural light glints off the beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. For an orc he has relatively pale skin and shares more physical traits with man than he does mer. His fire is already crackling as he begins to prepare his meal for the night, grilled assassin beetle. Just as Khalash bites into the stringy flesh of his food, the bushes in front of him move. Instinctively the orc grabs his sword stands up to approach.
"Who goes there? Make yourself known, I do not take kindly to uninvited guests!" Khalash says as he adjusts the grip on the hilt of his blade, preparing to strike if the guest is hostile.
"I am just a hermit… also unarmed!" squeals the man, obviously out of breath. Khalash approaches the trim, but fit redguard tangled in barbed vines. The man's head turns toward the orc, staring at him. Now being illuminated by the fire, Khalash makes out the pale, lifeless eyes of the short man hiding beneath dirty locks of curly dark hair. "Mind helping me out? I di'nt intend to startle you".
"Hmmph. You did not startle me…" Khalash lies, trying to not look weak in front of this new acquaintance. Khalash always had a problem with trying to maintain a strong appearance in front of others. This, however, is not difficult to do in front of men, as orcs are much stronger and taller than most other sentient races of Tamriel. Khalash is not full orc, only half. He is the bastard son of the warchief of the Iron Orcs of Upper Craglorn whose mother was a young Nord woman who was taken captive after a siege on Dragonstar. Growing up a bastard and half-breed exposed Khalash to a lot of xenophobic and prejudice attitude towards him. He would have surely been killed if he wasn't the Chief's son. "Stay still, moving will only make the vines grip harder".
"Thanks, again I apologize for frighte-".
"You did NOT startle me!" Khalash interjects in a voice so aggressive that fear washes over the scrawny man's face.
The man takes a few seconds to regain his composure and gulps, "Riiiiiiggghht… Well anyways my name is Hakam al-Jabir, locals around here call me the hermit. I much prefer the term of mystic or wise man-" Hakam rambles, "Sorry, I got caught up in myself… I get lonely out here. Now it's your turn, I would very much like to know more about the hero who saved me from the vices of the bramble vines!" Hakam chuckles, amused with himself.
Khalash stares unamused at the hermit, "The name is Khalash" he sighs, "Now, what in Trinimac's name are you doing bugging travelers like me late at night?"
Hakam's eyes are unmoved from the piece of assassin beetle flesh lying on the cloth next to the fire, "I'm hungry, mind sharing that meat with me?" he says as he licks his lips.
Khalash looks down at the unappealing piece of flesh, realizes he is more tired than hungry. He realizes that he won't get any sleep while the hermit is pestering him, "Fine take it" he throws the food at Hakam, "But what will I get in return?" Khalash questions, not really expecting an answer any more substantial than a bunch of aggressive eating sounds.
"I'll repay you, don't you worry", he says cheerfully, "It's still early, why don't you really tell me about yourself, Khalash".
Now at ease, Khalash clears his throat, "Well like I said, the name is Khalash, just Khalash. I have no family name, being a halfbreed and all."
"A halfbreed huh? You're just as intimidating as a pure blood."
"Cut the bullshit, hermit. Do you want to hear my story or not?" Says Khalash as he picks some sand out from his teeth.
"By all means, go on. Tough guy." Hakam chuckles.
Khalash sighs, "Anyways, my father was the chief of the Iron Orcs and my mother was a nord taken prisoner. A bastard son of a former chieftain, I am", he laughs in self pity, "Can't get much worse than that. After I became of age I left the stronghold as I didn't feel like getting any more scars on my body. I have been wandering ever since doing mercenary work to survive. And here I am now… what's your story?".
Hakam nods at Khalash, "Ok, I'll tell you my story", he shifts in his place trying to get comfortable and takes a moment to think his words through carefully, "I… uh…" he stutters, "...Hakam! Yes, I Hakam al-Jabir grew up not too far away from in a town called Bergama. I had a normal life I suppose, I had two loving parents, a pet duneripper and met a girl and fell in love. We had a kid, a girl…". He trails off.
"And what next? You with me, hermit?".
"Yeah sorry. Our girl died when cultists attacked the town… they sacrificed our daughter to Daedra. My wife blamed me for her death. She later killed herself by taking Jarrin Root and framed me as her murderer. I was exiled and had nothing but the robes on my back. Which brings me to where I am."
"Hmmph", Khalash groans, "I don't like sob stories. So how are you going to repay me for the food I gave you?".
"I'm glad you asked", Pausing from his barbaric devouring of the meat, Hakam grins, his smile hidden by the shadows cast by the orcs large stature, "Volenfell".
Khalash heard what the hermit said but pretended he didn't, "Huh, what are you going on about, Hermit?"
"Volenfell, I will reveal the secret for you, friend." Said Hakam in a discomforting voice, as it was almost rehearsed, "Interested?" he looks up at the orc, the grin still his face is now lit up by the crimson flames of the brush in the campfire.
"Maybe…" Khalash pauses and takes a deep breath, "Why do you mention that mythical ruin, it doesn't exist".
"Now that's where you are wrong, friend" Hakam forces a smile between each bite he takes, "It does exist, and I can show you where it is!". He takes one last bite and quickly chews it, all with the forced smile on his face. Hakam gulps down his partially chewed food and says "Come now, we are both obviously tired, we can venture out at sunrise".
Exhausted, Khalash decides that he doesn't want to bother interrogating the man; he doesn't see him as a threat, small and all. "Fine, but don't try to steal my stuff and run while I'm asleep, hermit. I will hear you". Khalash is a heavy sleeper, he won't hear a thing.
In the night, long after Khalash fell asleep, Hakam takes a thin vial from his belt and empties it into Khalash's mouth, ajar. Hakam recites a few foreign words and prompt, the orc stands up, alive but a thrall at the same time. Hakam's uses soul magic to command thrall Khalash to follow him into the desert, towards Volenfell.