Skyrim Chronicles: Ma'Roken

by Masterless

The Skyrim world of "Onyx". After Alduin was banished, this ebony Dragonborn still wanders the hostile lands searching. Killing. Shouting. Purging. Defining his presence in both cruelty and grace. But a young Khajiit will forever change how he looks at things; the Ebony Dragon discovers something far more potent than most of his endeavors.

1. Ma'Roken I

There are at least nine still standing strong while two are on the verge of dying. I can only spot four carcasses and thankfully none are Khajiit but that would probably not be the case soon if I don't make my move. Taking a deep breath…

"Zun Haal Viik!"

That path of the Thu'um disarms the archers and thankfully the sword wielding Breton who was about to get his shot at one of Ahkari's ally. Bows, blades, even shields fall on the ground and the raiders fumble to retrieve their weapons—the shout caught both the attention of ally and enemies alike and the moment of pause is all I need to gain my grounds to force Shadowmane and myself in between the group of bandits and Ahkari's caravan. Jumping off Shadowmane, I unsheathe Muramasa and take my first kill.

"You are late!" Kharjo admonishes as he slams his shield on his opponent's head.

"You will have to present your forgiving nature, Kharjo," deflecting a sloppy attack, I counter immediately, which results to the bandit falling on the ground, blood quickly staining his leather armor. "Besides, did you not mention that you would convince Ahkari to wait for my arrival?"

Bashing his oncoming assailant, Kharjo quickly retaliates by smashing his mace across the helmet, quickly ending the bandit's life. "It was not something that could have been delayed, Onyx."

"That is not the impression I got when we last spoke. Fus!" the mage lost her footing, which of course stops her attempt from throwing a spell. Out of nowhere, Ahkari lunges at the mage for the kill, both daggers on the caster's throat.

"That last we spoke was many nights ago, Onyx. Besides, where in the name of the Alkosh have you been? This one hears that you fulfilled your prophecy, but you disappeared without a word."

Anyone else who would have dared to utter those words would probably not be considered my ally; I don't need anyone delving into the idea of what I have been doing or my whereabouts. Truth to be told, after the battle against Alduin, after experiencing the Nords' idea of the afterlife, I felt a surge of uncertainty. I needed time to think for myself; I decided it was best if I kept myself busy in a less than glorious way; methods that are questionable—ways that even I myself wonder why I went that route for the past few weeks. After all, who in Oblivion deals with their ambiguity by inadvertently becoming the leader of one of Tamriel's most bloodiest groups? I suppose the better question is: how in the name of Boethiah did I become the Night Mother's new Listener?

Deciding that it is best I shove those thoughts aside, I speak. "Busy," my reply is as quick as the act of plunging my blade through the breastplate of the shorter than normal Nord warrior. "Though I did realize that the fourth message from a courier in a matter of a week meant that the situation is dire."

Kharjo's response was a quick 'hmph' before setting aside his mace to grab his bow. Ahkari does the same, stabbing her bloody daggers on the ground before hurling her spells at the remaining raiders who are making an effort to retreat. Following the tactic, I grab my bow and start shooting as well. Ahkari had always made it a point to make sure that no attackers should ever escape with their lives for attempting to ransack her caravan—and as the last man falls from her ice spike, she makes that point once more.

"I will make the safe assumption that you would have survived without me," I say, attempting to lighten the mood. "Though you could have waited for my arrival."

Ahkari takes a moment to stare at me. From the first time I met her, Ahkari always strikes me as a beautiful Khajiit. Those feline eyes of hers, green and ever so exotic when in direct sunlight, though despite those prominent features, I can say that at times I forget that she is beast-kind. Then again, even for an Ohmes-Raht, Ahkari has less Khajiit trademarks. Aside from the wagging brown-gold tail behind her, and the pointy ears, one can almost mistake her for a mer. She truly tries to make up for that with the tattoos intricately etched on her face; designs that may not be my first of choice on a woman, but they do not take away from her visage. And while I have not met many Khajiits in her lunar cycle, I can say that even Kharjo mentions how she is one of a kind; I'm not sure if it is because she is almost flesh and no fur from head to toe; with long acrobatic legs that are all too smooth, a figure that competes with some of the more promiscuous worshippers of Debilla, curved and endowed for anyone not into her race, and a face all too easy for any eyes… perhaps those are the reasons why Kharjo states that she is one of a kind, as if she is not one of his kind. I cannot lie to the idea that those are big factors as to why I found myself sharing beds with her—but for the most part I just felt as if she needed a companion when she travelled. I gave her that for a while, but my destiny to fulfill the prophecy barged through our borrowed time together. While Ahkari understood, I could tell that she was bothered by it. Of course Kharjo's decision to travel with me took one more ally away from her caravan, which added to the 'grief', so to speak. I did not and still do not know how to apologize for that. I suppose being a seldom guard for her travelling caravan is one of the ways I try to exude my sincere apology.

"Most moons I set aside my doubts waiting for you, but this was one of those times I couldn't. So let us stop wasting time and go," Ahkari keeps her eyes on me as she ends the life of a crawling bandit by slicing his throat; I would say what a perfect action to pair up with those words.

"It is great to see you as well, Ahkari."

She takes a moment to glare before walking past me. "As I said, we have wasted enough time, Jin."

Using my real name could be taken as a sign of disrespect; for those who get the privilege of knowing it, I have made it clear to only use it when it is necessary or if the situation deems it right. Suppose that is her way of telling me that feelings are reciprocated. Leaving Ahkari to ensure that the bodies lying on the ground are truly corpses, I walk towards Kharjo who is aiding Zaynabi as she helps the injured Khajiit. While I recognize Dro'marash (I can recognize the pierced pointy ears any time even if he is stabbing prone bandits with his sword), the injured Khajiit and the other female Khajiit accompanying this caravan are both strangers to me. Perhaps they are helpers, meant to replace Kharjo after he found a new purpose in helping me.

"Mind telling me what this is all about, Kharjo?"

"A friend of ours sent us a message," he answers after giving the injured Khajiit an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"I assume it is urgent."

"Indeed."

Tilting my head as I stare at him in a confused manner, I slide my masque off before speaking. "Ahkari is less than jovial and you are lacking your usual obnoxious sense of humor. So what exactly am I missing?"

"Come with us to Bruma and your questions will be answered." The center of Tamriel and the land where Talos was renamed Tiber Septim. The land that was once the proud capital of the Imperials before the White-Gold-Concordat was signed—a land I choose to avoid because of the Aldmeri Dominion's potent influence. Kharjo knows how much I evade Cyrodiil for reasons that are too obvious. "What say you, friend? Will you visit your place of birth for a good cause?" and of course that reason. Kharjo knows of that as well. Place of birth it might be but I choose not to remember those days of my life.

Letting out a sigh, I respond accordingly. "Kharjo, you know how to strain this brotherhood some times."

"Come now, Dragonborn. Bruma is hardly Cyrodiil with how much snow it still has. This one knows how much you love snow."

Well, at least there was some humor in his words. "May your gods be cruel to you, friend. You know how much the cold bothers me."

"You will get over it some day."

Despite the joking tone coming out of him, the weight of what is in Bruma still haunts him. Whatever that may be. Regardless, at least I know that Kharjo is still Kharjo. I suppose that can make the journey bearable.

While my eyes have been paying attention to any movement that could mean danger, I cannot help but pay mind to the remains of what was once an Oblivion Gate. It has been over 200 years and the scars of Mehrunes Dagon's invasion still remains, embedded in the snow, refusing to completely dissolve. True, it is no longer standing ferociously tall like it used to. To the naïve eye, the rock like structure that is half the size of an average man is nothing more than another ruin from a long forgotten race. Though for those who are taught to understand some of the most catastrophic and pivotal moments of Tamriel (Selvus was an adamant history teacher; at least to history that he deemed necessary for me to know), one can imagine that when it stood complete and in its full height, it once harbored a tear in reality; a tear that would allow Dremoras and all the horrific creatures of Oblivion to enter this realm. I can only fathom how many brave men, beast, and mer died to close this gate down.

"It heals quickly," I turn to Kharjo, unsure of what he is talking about, "that horse of yours," of course he'll notice. Then again, from Frost to Shadowmane is a rather extravagant change. Why wouldn't he notice? "I saw it took a few hits as it followed your command of protecting us. Kharjo was afraid that you would be horseless. But it is now in full health." The black horse lets out a sound. "And it is listening; staring at me with those eyes."

"We have some catching up to do," I reply quickly, trying to avoid the conversation. Not exactly an open talk to have. Good thing Kharjo understood and merely nods his head.

"Ahkari will most likely speak to you now. In fact, this one thinks she needs company."

I glance at Ahkari's direction and Kharjo is accurate. Sitting somberly in the caravan, she seems to be staring off into the distance while maintaining the warmth through some ragged sheets kept tightly around her by her tail and hands. Without any more words needed, I urge Shadowmane forward and eventually find myself riding right next to the wagon where Ahkari and the injured Khajiit are. I ride next to them in silence, hoping that she would be first to break the ice.

"You have questions, and I do not blame you," glad she was the first to speak. Did not really have an idea how to go about starting the conversation.

"I will be honest, I would rather know what is going on."

"Bruma is not too far away. Would it be too much to ask to trust that it will be worth it?"

The sincerity in her voice. The gloomy way she asked me. "Dare I refuse you with the way you handle your tone of voice, Ahkari?" She shows a small smile in response to my light hearted comment, but she quickly reverts back to the stern expression, staring forward, pass the bridge that we are about to cross. For a moment my eyes linger towards the other passenger of the wagon. Luckily he hasn't woken up, which means that he is sleeping heavily due to the injuries he received; I can only hope that he is not permanently crippled on his right leg. "For taking a heavy blow, he seems to be doing fine."

Ahkari peels away from the blank staring to glance at her companion before giving me her eyes again. Some of her auburn hair blows into her face and she takes a moment to peel it away before speaking. "Ranar was immediately picked off by our attackers. I would assume they had the mindset of taking out the larger of the group," and as Ahkari said that, I take a moment to glance at Ranar and could definitely see the striking difference of size he has compared to Kharjo and Dro'marash. Larger in height and mass, Ranar definitely makes for a fine guard, and I can only imagine how many have died by the massive blade he carries. "I can only hope that he will be able to use that leg again."

"How is his other injury?" when his breastplate was slipped off, blood was dripping profusely off his brown fur, which brought more than enough fear to believe that he might not have made it. Luckily the weapon did not hit anything vital.

"I believe Zaynabi has done what she can. The rest will be taken care of when we get to Bruma." The blood has stained over the white cloth wrapped around his stomach, which could give anyone enough to worry about in regards to his condition. Though he is still breathing and is steady… luckily we are not travelling that much farther. "But he has a greater chance thanks to your arrival," I latch on to those words immediately, "this one… I am very grateful. I can forgive you being late."

Once again Ahkari's hair flies to her face and she makes an effort to push them aside. Usually they would be tied back, and it most likely was but the battle must have disheveled them. I take in the sight of Ahkari and I take note of just how much longer her hair is now; definitely pass her shoulders now and its auburn shade compliments her skin color more. If she had fur, Ahkari would have close to golden ones akin to the shade of her skin; as if her Mer-like beauty is not enough to make her stand out, the fact that her usual three companions all have a darker shade of fur definitely gives her more radiance. Noticing me staring at her, Ahkari smiles back, her tail tightening around her body, forcing the blanket to press tighter against her. It would be a nice thought to share her warmth but it seems the moment is not right. Besides, Bruma is not too far away and in the event that things go as smoothly as it has been, we will arrive just as the sun is coming up. Hopefully whatever is bothering this group will finally be taken care of. Not too fond of Kharjo and Ahkari being the moping type.

I expected the Thalmor to be more prominent, but luckily they trusted the Imperials to do their work, thus making their presence scarce and hardly troublesome. Passing through the borders posed no threat and entering the city was even easier. Nords are of course on the priority to be searched and questioned—Redguards are almost non-existent here, while Mer and Khajiit are hardly harassed. Perhaps one day I will ask Kharjo what is his point of view with the majority of his people siding with the Altmers—a day where we are not preoccupied with an operation as important as this. At the moment, I will consider myself fortunate that the stalemate that was forced to happen during the meeting in High Hrothgar still stands, which is why I have some leeway with the Thalmor. Though I would imagine I am treading on thin ice; here is to hoping that this task does not include anything that will involve making noise that will attract some unwanted attention. I am really in the mindset of setting aside some time for some peace… which completely contradicts what I have done the past few weeks.

With Ahkari leading, I remain in the back of the group, watching carefully, attentive of every corner. The moment we descended down the lower levels, Bruma's closed quarters houses starts to wall us in. Not exactly the most comfortable situation to be especially when the reason for being in Bruma in the first place has yet to be revealed. With Kharjo and Dro'marash aiding the large injured Khajiit, any attack will most likely fall in Ahkari's and my hands first and foremost. Zaynabi just from face value is not a fighter. It is a shame she is not quite skilled in the art of combat; her darker grey fur and skinny and lightweight frame would give her some advantage in sneaking. I am almost sure that Ahkari keeps Zaynabi around not for the sake of their friendship but because she is the merchant; and by Oblivion she is a good one. Though being adept in the art of mercantile is hardly something that would help in a very closed quarter combat if it comes. Suffice it to say, we are in a very disadvantageous predicament. As my hand twitches as it rests on Muramasa's hilt, the female Khajiit whose name I have yet to catch stares at me, shaking her head as if admonishing me silently for having a reaction. I give her a moment's glare and was slightly tempted to give her a witty remark, but decide that silence is the better option. Judging from the fact that she is even smaller in frame than Zaynabi and the fact that I did not see her make any attempt to fight back during the raid, I would assume that she is not a fighter either. Would be a shame to have that beautiful snow colored fur of hers covered in blood. If there were an ambush, it would be her I would be worried about the most.

"How is Ranar doing?" Ahkari finally speaks, causing me to turn my attention towards Kharjo and Dro'marash as they awkwardly aid the larger framed Ranar walk.

"He will live," Dro'marash responds after only a few seconds; a hint of strain on his voice is obvious due to half of Ranar's weight is on him.

"But he will need restoration soon," Kharjo adds in.

"It is unfortunate that mages who study restoration are hard to come by," the snow colored Khajiit responds, completely refuting my thought of her being mute. It was plausible; she said nothing from Skyrim all the way here to Bruma.

"The chapel does not offer any healing services?" I ask, causing them to turn their head towards me.

"Decimating the Chapel of Talos some moons back had a very unfortunate affect on any devout worshipers of the Eight Divines. The stories of the massacre still lingers and many claim that the spirits haunt the chapel that was built to stand over the old one."

"Worshippers of The Nine Divines is what you meant, right? It seems only justified that they would continue to plague that very Chapel despite time passing by. The Aldmeri Dominion and all their magic cannot contain the echoes of long scorned hearts," all of them pause for a moment, eyes towards me, eyes that are hinting that I said the wrong thing. And for the sake of where we are and what happened between the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion—yes it was the wrong thing to say. The two Khajiits that I do not know could very well be heavy supporters of the Thalmor. Though what connections would they have with Ahkari's Caravan?

"Did not think you had reverence for the that person, Onyx."

"Being what I am, Kharjo, I have to have some of it," and within the cat faces, it is still far too easy to distinguish the angst. Clearing my throat, I decide to make the situation a bit lighter. "Do not fret. I will not speak any louder than whispers. After all, the louder I utter my words, the more bodies hit the ground." I thought it was amusing but they certainly did not. Kharjo is shaking his head insinuating that I stop while I am ahead and Ahkari has a burning glare directed right at me. Well things certainly turned out for the worse. I try one more time to break the awful moment. "Last time I was in Bruma, I could not help but visit the shop for potions. I suppose that will help for rejuvenation. I have some gold. Would anyone care to attend to this errand?"

Luckily that eased the situation a bit. Dropping the mood of what my opinion roused up, Ahkari turns to the only other female Khajiit aside from Zaynabi. "Bhiisi."

"Yes?" I am no longer entitled to call her the mute one; the snow furred Khajiit has a name now and she responds quickly.

"Would you attend to the task?"

"This one will."

Bhiisi stares at me for a moment before taking the pouch of gold from my hand. She seems a bit shocked that I would offer such a large sum but she quickly goes off, taking the next stairs to accomplish the task. There is an unspoken look of gratitude from Ranar, looking over the best he can as he is still relying the others' weight to stand, and as for the other four, they know that gold would hardly be something I would be short of. After a quick nod from me, we make our way, maneuvering slowly through the walkways between the houses, evading the residents that are slowly getting into their morning routine. Guards give us a firm look but do nothing—some may have recognized my signature 'ebony' look, but none so much try to say anything. Eventually we find ourselves heading towards a smaller house close to the southern walls of Bruma; from the poorly made sign on top of the structure, I can only surmise that this is a general shop of some sort. Odd that this would be our destination.

"Kharjo can assure you that there is no need to worry," I was about to whisper until Kharjo spoke. "Swords and Dragon voices do not have a place here."

I give him and Ahkari a questioning look and they respond with a bit of an eerie expression before the Ohmes-Raht opens the door and walks inside. The others follow soon after, leaving me still a bit lost. The part of me still feels that there is something amiss, but the part of me that believes in my brotherhood with Kharjo seems to want to let my guard down. Hand still close to my blade, I take a deep breath and enter, anticipating anything but hoping for nothing…

"By the Twin Moons!" we are quickly greeted by a woman who sits up in her chair at the sight of us. At first glance, the woman running forward with a very concerned look in her face could easily be mistaken as Mer—Bosmer or Breton to be exact. But the eyes always distinguish things for me. No fur, no tail, pointy ears but bearing the feline eyes, she is definitely an Ohmes. "Quick! This way." She scurries to clear the way for Kharjo, Dro'marash, and Ranar.

"Bhiisi will be in shortly with items to aid Ranar's injuries."

The Ohmes nods at Ahkari in relief before leading Kharjo and Dro'marash towards the nearest cot on the ground. Ahkari and Zaynabi trade a few words, ones that I do not perceive as anything important—just some mere details about what wares should be grabbed right away from the caravan outside the city walls. In the few moments where I am beside myself, I keep myself busy, studying the close quarters, peeking behind the every corner, ensuring that there will be no surprise of any sort. Quaint and compact, this would not be an ideal place to maneuver; as it is, this is not the safest area of Bruma. Being away from the residential area and even farther from the market district, there are many dangerous things that happen in this area and I am almost certain I saw someone from the Thieves Guild. Not exactly a notable area, suffice to say. Again it raises the question as to why exactly are we here?

"Onyx," I turn to Ahkari as she calls my name with such a solemn tone.

"Telling me now would not have any consequences, Ahkari. Let us be on with it. The mystery is somewhat chilling," I meant no harm with the words but I wanted to make it known some kind of knowledge as to what I am doing here—here in a run down shack, the only Mer surrounded by Khajiit, and an ambiance so depressing that I can feel the air pressing down on me as if it has physical weight.

"Ko'aji, is he awake?"

Ahkari turns her attention towards the Khajiit named Ko'aji, who is still attending to Ranar, making him as comfortable as possible until healing items arrive. After giving the injured warrior a silent gratitude, Ko'aji stands up and turns her attention to Ahkari before staring at me. With her facial features being mostly Mer-like and less cat, it is quite easy to spot the grief eating up Ko'aji. Even responding to Ahkari with a nod is a difficult task, which truly does piques my curiosity as to what is going on.

"No words can express how much it means for you to come, Dragonborn," wiping the tears streaming from her eyes, Ko'aji looks up at me, trying fervently to compose herself. "I can only hope that my gratitude would be enough for now."

At first I was not sure how to respond. I merely stare at her… those hazel eyes of hers drowning within the gathering of her own tears. Smiling softly within my helmet, I speak. "I am here to aid you in whatever way I can."

"And that is all that we would ask of you, Dragonborn. I do hope that it has not taken you away from anything that requires your immediate attention…" well, truth to be told, the Night Mother was trying to speak to me some few hours ago, but this seems more dire. "… but this would mean the world to Ma'Roken."

Judging from those words and the heavy tone, I am more than positive that whatever the Night Mother has to say is not even close to the importance of this. No longer able to say anything else, Ko'aji starts walking towards the stairs leading to another level down below. Ahkari follows soon after. I glance at Kharjo for a moment who now took the liberty of sliding his helmet off. The look in his face reflects everyone else's as well. Hard to see Kharjo without his usual tendency. Dro'marash and Zaynabi are also a bit too quiet for the norm; they themselves have started settling in the little room that is allowed of us from this confining place. After he takes both his gauntlets off, Dro'marash leans on the wall, letting out a heavy breath, causing Zaynabi to stay close to him, allowing the grey furred warrior to lean on her. Holding my Masque under my arm, I decide to follow Ahkari and Ko'aji, each step slow and clinging on to the tendency of stealth despite me not trying. When we reach the last step, I walk into an open space room—spacious for the fact that there isn't as much clutter as there are upstairs. This is obviously the private quarters, obvious by the way things are arranged. To my right, a small space being shared by a small dining table and the cooking area. Not too far away, a poorly maintained alchemy table standing next to a depleted shelf for what I assume would be where the ingredients would be… books scattered on the table and on the ground as if the alchemist was frantic and frustrated. As I let my eyes go farther, I catch a sight of a bed at the other side of the small room; in it is a Bosmer sitting down, his eyes towards a small figure lying down on the bed.

"Pa!" the young Khajiit lying down makes a desperate attempt to sit up as his eyes catches the sight of me.

"Please don't move too much, son," the Bosmer takes it upon himself to remind his son to remain where he is.

"But Papa! Mama and Ahkari brought him!" his cat ears twitch with excitement but his voice carries the message of a strained and obviously sick young cub. "It's him!" he lets out a sharp cough right after his words.

Those hazel eyes shining brightly as the young Khajiit can barely believe I am standing a few feet away from him. Somehow I find myself staring at him, giving him a feint smile—the better part of me understands the situation.

"My strong child," Ko'aji sits on the bed herself, close to the Bosmer, "I can't take credit since it was Ahkari who found and brought the Dragonborn for you."

"Onyx, I would like you to meet Ma'Roken," somehow failing with introductions myself, Ahkari does the honors and leads me to the bed-ridden young Khajiit. "One of his biggest dream is to meet and talk to the Hero of Tamriel before he goes to sleep."

To Be Continued.