The Khajit lay asleep in his bed, yet he was aware of his surroundings. If a wolf from the surrounding forest were to sneak in; He would know.
He rolled off the bed. Someone was in the room, watching him.
He slept with weapons, fortunately. Not only was he equipped with a greatsword, but a dwarven dagger lay underneath his pillow. Though he was more comfortable with larger blades, a dagger would suffice for a common thief.
However, he could tell this intruder was not an amateur in his "Career". If he was, the Khajit would have sensed him the moment his feet touched the wooden planks. After all, Khajits were the stealthiest in all Tamriel.
He unsheathed his blade, ears perked up. The sound of daggers being poised gave away the intruders position.
Good, yet not silent enough…
The intruder finally decided to attack, lunging at him from behind his dresser, daggers at a position for a quick, clean kill. The Khajit thrust the greatsword up, just in time to meet his steel daggers. The intruder took a step back, readying his daggers once more. He seemed annoyed, yet a smirk masked his feelings.
"Well done, looks like you're not as dumb as the rest of your cat friends!" He spat, before trying to catch him off guard.
The Khajit knew better than to let himself be blinded by rage. He remained calm, deflecting the rest of his attacks. The nord seemed to have taken note of his technique, surprising him by cutting his wrist, causing him to drop the greatsword.
Now the Khajit lay against the bedframe, mind screaming for a way to get out of this predicament.
The dagger!
He reached behind him, gripping the dagger and drove it into the nord's chest. Satisfied, he watched as the body slumped against the wall, as he faced Sithis someplace else.
The Khahjit peered at his corpse. Not a thief or a drunkard. The red and black of his armour gave it away.
Do'Rakha scowled as the image of the Dark Brotherhood came to mind.
The news hadn't surprised her. Runar was an arrogant man. Given the chance to kill, he'd rather show of his skill rather than get the job done. She was not that kind of woman. She'd rather finish her contract, and at the same time, let others do the work for her.
The loss of an apprentice hardly burdened her, though it had left behind a small gap, only resolved through spilling blood.
What a noble nord does when blinded by a little fury… She sang to herself, as she watched two of the prisoners fight.
The display was, in fact, mildly amusing, but would be better if they had actually been taught to use weapons before their show. The male, swung his war axe carelessly, leaving another prisoner clutching on to his spilling guts with one arm before he lay dead, one bloody mess. The female, who had picked a battleaxe only for the high damage it dealt, was having difficulty controlling it. It had scraped the cobble walls countless times.
Fools!
The violence did begin to bore her, and she wanted to end the fight. Grabbing her bow, she aimed it at the two of them. "Let's see who's lucky and who's not," She hissed.
The arrow soared through the air, and it met its target. It landed square in the man's head, and his lifeless body hit the ground. The female, still affected by the spell, lunged at her, swinging the axe at her head. She ducked skilfully, unsheathing two daedric daggers. She kicked the woman, knocking her backwards, and stuck one dagger into her stomach and the other into her head, before returning them to their home on her belt.
"Those idiots barely put up a fight!" She hissed. Even as a child, she would have won. She brought the brotherhood to glory as a teen! Killed a troll when she was just a kid!
But, this… Contract. He would be a challenge. The listener, Dar'Vanni could tell this was the person she'd been waiting for. Someone who could match her skills.
She put her hood and mask back on. Things were about to get interesting for her.
The Letter
Please take care of the cat known as Do'Rakha for me.
~M
He couldn't help but admit this contractor was clever. He or she hadn't signed her full name. The contractor was prepared for the worst. And unfortunately, Do'Rakha was prepared to ensure the worst, did in fact befall her.
He took a sip of his Ale as he sat alone in the tavern.
"Filthy cat," He heard a voice whisper. Not silent enough. However, he could not let an 'accident' ruin his visit. He folded the letter, placing it in his pouch.
"They're about to execute that scum Roggvir!"Someone called from the entrance to the tavern.
Some of the patrons rushed out of the tavern, showing their hatred for the man. Do'Rakha was no idiot to recent political happenings. He had heard of how Ulfric had murdered the high king, and some fool had opened the gate for him. Had he not done so, Ulfric would be taking Roggvir's place today, instead of leading a rebellion.
He honestly couldn't care less about who led Skyrim. The treatment towards Khajit would not be any different, regardless.
Gradually, he stood up, putting the chair back in its place, unlike most of the others who had gone to witness the execution.
"Dar'Vanni! Run! Into the woods!" Her mother had cried, as she backed away from the troll, relishing the taste of fresh blood in its mouth.
The troll swiped at her, leaving her on the grass, bleeding to death.
"Get away from her, you monster!" Her father bellowed, raising a sword to defend him. He swung at the troll, and it barely scarred it. The troll stuck a claw through his chest, and he lay dead on the ground. The troll took the opportunity to bite a few chunks of meat.
A young Khajit girl ran up to her mother, and with the last bit of her strength, held her daughter's hand. "Run." She whispered, as she died.
The girl had no time to cry. The troll made its way towards her. She crawled back, until she found herself trapped. She looked to her right to see her friend staring at her, watching as she cried.
"Help me," She cried, but her voice was dry, and no sound came out. The boy dashed into the woods, gone. "No!" She shrieked, as the troll reached out to finish her off.
She wouldn't allow it. She ducked, crawling through his legs, and grabbed the dagger closest to her. She would not die. Not yet. Not without a fight. As the troll reached out to swipe her, she stepped away, sticking the dagger in his wrist. The troll yelped, but remained determined to kill her. It charged, and she rolled out of the way, causing it to crash into the cart. Dazed from the impact, she dashed forward, sticking the knife into its chest, dragging it down, leaving a gaping wound in its chest, all the way down to its genitals.
The battle was won. What had she won, anyway? Avenging her parents' death? Glory?
I should have let it kill me. Now I'm left with nothing…