J'aisk looked out into the distance, lost in his own thought, as his jet black stallion carefully and slowly trotted through the Forgotten Desert. It was as if J'aisk wished to savor the solitude of his journey to Skyrim, the land of the ancient Nords.
The winds blew harshly over the ancient and decrepid dunes of the desert, causing waves of sand to blow over and bury old sand. It was a simple cycle. J'aisk watched the sand as it settled and began to heat up in the infernal, radiating presence of the Red Sun. The Khajit scanned the horizons for any sign of life, whatsoever. The name of the desert was fitting. It was void of all life, physical or otherwise. J'aisk had indeed chosen the secluded path. The north winds picked up gradually, and it was not long before sand had begun to infiltrate its way into J'aisk's mouth and eyes, prompting him to covet his face with a black, tattered, hand-woven veil. He lifted his hood quickly over his brow, protecting his delicate, fragile, blue Khajit eyes, both from the harsh rays of the Red Sun, and the penetration of sand. He pulled the other half of the cloth veil over his mouth and nose. It would keep dust and sand from gathering in the corners of his mouth. He could now concentrate better on the increasingly difficult road ahead of him as a sandstorm began to consume visibility right in front of his nose.
Many cities upon holds in provinces of Tamriel had a bounty on J'aisk's head. He was an independent contractor. He would steal what you wanted him to steal. He would intimidate whoever you wanted intimidated. He would even kill anybody you wanted dead. Doing so, however, he earned a sinister name for himself. His reputation would follow him wherever he would go. He was wanted in Cyrodil for assassinating many unscrupulous nobles. He was wanted again in Morrowind for the larceny of a priceless jewel in a high-security Boethian Museum. There were countless other crimes he committed for gold. Both the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion wanted him dead. He needed yet another start. He needed Skyrim.
This is the story of J'aisk the Khajit.
Do'raahn, served as a smith for the Aldmeri Dominion. He would craft an Elven sword with the most delicate technique. The first sword he crafted surpassed that of an orc's unique form. The curves, and the lines of the sword met at the hilt and to the handle with the most elegant style. The emerald green material shined in the moonlight as if it were covered in wisp wrappings. The blade was sturdy, and strong, yet sharp enough to rival even an Ebony sword in lethal standing.
Do'raahn was tall and shapely for a Khajit. His fur was a white chestnut color, with luxuriously groomed black hair. His eyes are a sharp yellow, with alert, black pupils, that give off the sign of awareness, which were lined with black, also showing exhaustion. He was a modest person. He rarely spoke of his craft. He kept to himself whenever he could.
He worshiped Fadomai, and secretly kept an amulet that he crafted himself in her honor. The amulet was his most prized possession. The amulet was a small disc made out of gold. He cut out the shape of a crescent moon, and a fang right next to it. The empty space of the moon was filled with sapphire, and the fang with ruby. The craftsmanship was beyond great. It was his secret idol. He'd always keep it tucked away in his shirt. It brought him good luck, he would believe.
Often times, he would drift away thinking about how Fadomai's Amulet would bring him luck to leave the camps stationed at Valenwood and return back to Elsweyr and start a family of his own.
"Do'raahn!" barked the Bosmer overseer.
"Yes, overseer?" answered Do'raahn with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "How can I assist?"
"We're going to need about two dozen maces repaired for a skirmish by Fredas. Make them quality ones," snapped the Bosmer.
"Impossible!" objected Do'raahn. "What have they done with their weapons? Have they thrown them at walls? I have never filled a job like this!"
"Well, it's going to be filled, or you will have me to answer to." replied the Bosmer with a cocky grin on his face. "Get them done." He plopped down the bag full of broken equipment to be repaired.
"Very well, but do not expect them to be worth the wait, elf..." replied the defeated Do'raahn. He began to melt down the materials used for repair when he was interrupted by the soft voice of a beautiful and stunning female Khajit.
Do'raahn looked to her and was almost stunned to see the beauty of the Khajit that stood before him. She was a slim Khajit, with blue, fragile eyes. Her ears were sharp, and looked as if they were perked and standing at attention, but relaxed at the same time. Her fur was was a bright and vibrant orange color. Her black hair reached down to her shoulders, and was braided in the back. She had normal red peasant clothes. She sat down on a bench and looked at Do'raahn.
"Do you require assistance with your hefty task?" asked the mysterious Khajit woman. She placed her small hand on the bag of broken weapons. "It is... a large burden to handle."
Still astonished by this mysterious female that decided to taken an interest in him, Do'raahn shook himself out of shock and quickly responded.
"Ahh... no, I do not require assistance, thank you," declined Do'raahn.
"I am an alchemist, not a child. This one knows exhaustion when she sees it," observed the mysterious Khajit. Do'raahn knew this was true, he has been working nonstop since last Loredas.
"I'm afraid I cannot hide my condition from you, miss...?"
"Please, call me Jo'eeja," she responded with a smile as she handed Do'raahn a stamina potion. Do'raahn nodded a thanks and almost immediately swallowed the potion.
"Jo'eeja," he said with a smile as he used the grind-stone to sharpen the edges of an emerald Elven mace. "Jo'eeja, this Khajit owes you a debt of gratitude. What are you doing at this camp anyhow?" questioned Do'raahn.
"As I have said previously, I am an alchemist. I left the warm sands of Elsweyr in search of purpose. My travels have led me to join the Aldmeri Dominion as a field alchemist healer. I have saved the lives of many with my own special concoction made especially for wounds of the blade," explained Jo'eeja.
"Interesting. And you do not miss the warm sand dunes of Elsweyr?" asked Do'raahn with curiosity as he finished his third repair.
"Of course I do, greatly so... But this one left in search of opportunity. More so, however, in fulfillment of oneself. It gives great satisfaction to help others, and it is nice to know that you are wanted," finished Jo'eeja meekly. Do'raahn sighed and looked at the crestfallen Jo'eeja.
"Jo'eeja, you are as beautiful as the full moons, and cool the hot sands of ugliness and despair. It is for this purpose, and also to make you feel wanted, that Do'raahn will craft you a special Elven Dagger. I will include a sapphire that I have kept with me for years, and it seems only fitting for you to keep it," confessed Do'raahn. Jo'eeja looked astonished.
"Certainly you are after my own heart, but what makes you do this for a stranger that you have only recently met?" she questioned.
"That is because you are after my heart as well, and I am more than ready to give ownership to you," he replied with a hint of shyness.
"You are a wonderful Khajit, and I accept," she responded happily. She got up, and kissed Do'raahn on the cheek, and walked to her tent. Do'raahn immediately dropped the repair order and began working on Jo'eeja's specially made dagger.
The next week of being stationed at the camp seemed more like a romantic getaway for the two Khajit lovers. They slipped way from the Bosmer Watchdog and managed to go swimming at the near reservoir at dusk. They would spend until midnight simply talking about their dreams, aspirations, and even true love for each other. The two lovebirds went about like crazy hares frolicking throughout the forest and playing with each other.
"Look, it is an orange fox!" pointed out Do'raahn while holding onto the waist of Jo'eeja.
"It is magnificent what visions nature can create for two lovers, no?" asked Jo'eeja.
"Not as magnificent a vision as you, my love," replied Do'raahn. "Speaking of which... I finished your dagger." He handed her the finished emerald dagger, with a feather-like weight and design, complete with a sapphire-bejeweled hilt. Jo'eeja looked at Do'raahn with passion, as did he reflect the passion right back at her with desire and love. They made love in the clearing.
One night, they fled the pressure of being on duty in the Aldmeri Army on horseback. They settled in a village in Elsweyr called Fargyl. They decided that they were safe from the persecution of the Thalmor here, and decided that they can now raise the family that they so desperately wanted. They had two children.
Their first cub was a male born on the 3rd of Rain's Hand. He was born under the constellation of the Mage. His name would become Jo'zhad.
The second cub was also a male born on the 4th of Last Seed. This newborn however, was found to be birthed under the Serpent constellation. His name is J'aisk.