Chapter 1

Tirdas, 8th of Hearthfire, 4E 176

It was a rainy day in Riften. The guards made their daily rounds , their chainmail and cloth armor offering satisfactory protection from sword blows but not from the brutal precipitation. Of course they were used to it, a rainy day in Riften was nearly every other day. Which isn't so great for a Khajit, as the youth huddled underneath a shabby shelter of sticks and cloth quickly figured out. This young man had entered Riften just three days ago hoping to find work, but really he was here there for one reason, thievery. The boy's name is Fa'khar. He can't quite remember if he made the name up, or it was given to him by one of the many guardians he's had throughout his life, but it mattered little to him. He stopped caring about his history years ago, after survival became his main priority.

But that's enough reminiscing for now, he had more pressing matters to attend to, such as not dying. He was soaked to the skin by the rain, and he shivered miserably under the pathetic shelter he had constructed. He had eaten some fish remains he found by the docks earlier in the day but he doubted that was enough to keep him going. At least water wasn't an issue, there was plenty of rainwater to drink, even it had to be gathered in the dirty rags he called clothes. But most of those problems could be solved now after what he had just stolen from an unsuspecting shopkeepers pocket just moments ago. 20 gold coins. This could feed him for a few days, enough time to steal some more money and goods. The shopkeeper also had some candy in his pocket which Fa'khar took gratefully.

Anyway, the money wouldn't keep him out of the rain, so some sort of shelter had to be devised. Fa'khar would be instantly removed from any home or shop he entered (none of the locals trusted his kind), and the few other spots around the city that could provide a modicum of protection were already taken. That leaves one option, the Ratway. The Ratway is the name given to the sewers beneath Riften's streets. It is home to all sorts of undesirables including but not limited to, thieves, murderers, the criminally insane, and any homeless that can live there without being stabbed in the back. The guards are completely indifferent to the goings of the Ratway, making the area lawless and cutthroat. And worst of all, the Ratway is said to be home to the Thieves guild, a band of burglars and swindlers who terrorize all of Skyrim. At least they did until they were cursed with a streak of bad luck that soiled their credibility. A young khajit boy such as Fa'khar would stand no chance against the Ratway.

But Fa'khar had no other choice, and so he ventured into the canal that cut through the middle of Riften and located the entrance to the sewers. From the outside the door seems unassuming, and you would probably miss it if you weren't looking for it. But behind the rotting wooden door there laid an entire world of treachery and intrigue. And so with a fearful heart and the thought of the worst on his mind Fa'khar pushed through the door and into the Ratway.

The door creaked open ominously, the squeal of many years without a proper oiling. As soon as there was space wide enough for Fa'khar to squeeze through he was assailed with the pungent stench of mold and what he could only describe as the smell of death. Just the smell was almost enough to discourage him from entering if not for him convincing himself that staying outside would only result in an untimely demise. he pressed on fearfully, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed by any axe murders, or worse. The Ratway's dank corridors were claustrophobic, usually only four feet wide at most. The walls were coated with grime, and the only light came from the few torches on the wall. Most of the torches had gone out however, and the darkness was overwhelming, too much even for his khajit night vision. Fa'khar had to keep one hand on the wall at all time to make sure he didn't get lost.

After what felt like hours but in reality was only a few minutes. Fa'khar located a suitably dry space to sleep in . He put his belongings in a bag and hid them in a hole in the wall which he then closed up with a loose brick. After his valuables were secured he laid his head down to rest on a makeshift straw pillow. He thought the fear of being attacked would keep him awake, but his exhaustion put him to sleep as soon as he closed his eyes. He clutched a small iron knife in his hands.

The next day Fa'khar awoke to the sound of the methodical rhythm of water dripping onto smooth stone. He quickly gained a bearing of his surroundings and went to take note of his possessions. He retrieved the bag he used to carry his things from its hiding place in the wall and rummaged through it to make sure he hadn't lost anything during the night. His 20 coins were still there, along with a rag and a half eaten apple. There was also a shiny rock he found by a riverbed and some charcoal and paper. He sheathed his trusty knife into his belt and pushed the bag it back into the hiding spot, it should be safe there until he returns. He made his way along the same path he took yesterday through the Ratway and exited into the soft morning light.

In the daylight, Riften could almost be described as beautiful. The sloping roofs and stone structures cast long shadows, and the birds serenaded the morning with their chirps and trills. The market place at the center of the town was bustling with activity, an ideal environment for pickpocketing. He made his way into the crowd carefully weaved his way between the marketers, his eyes scanning for any suitably wealthy victims. He decided on a man clothed in expensive robes who was standing in front of a jewelry vendor. Fa'khar pushed himself towards the man, earning no small amount of suspicious and unfriendly glances. As soon as the man began to walk away from the stall, he bumped in Fa'khar who was moving in the opposite direction. The man yelled some insult Fa'khar didn't care the make out and shoved him out of the way. Fa'khar apologized profusely and slinked off with a whimper. The man stormed off with a disgusted flick of his hand.

Unbeknownst to the man however, his ring and coin pouch were missing, and had ended up in the pocket of a very happy young khajit. Fa'khar quickly removed himself from the market to avoid suspicion, and creeped into a nearby alleyway to take note of his ill-gained loot. He was thrilled that the thievery went so smoothly. He expected to get caught, but maybe his luck was just too good. Oh right, the was, of course, the pretty gold ring that Fa'khar immediately slipped onto his finger. He might sell this later, but then again he might not. There were 35 coins in the coin pouch. This brings his net worth up to 55 coins. At this rate he could be rich by tomorrow! Fa'khar adds the money to his personal coin pouch and heads off to the general goods store.

The store has everything a young thief would need. Fa'khar buys some bread and apples for later. He exits the shop, but not before swiping some coins left carelessly on the front desk. Fa'khar's mind wanders as he leaves the shop. He wonders whether Riften is the best place for someone like him. Nothing there is easy to come by, and shopkeepers are almost always on the lookout for thieves. And not to mention how dirty and wet the city is. And there is so much homelessness, that there will always be competition. But despite how much of a cesspool the city is, most of the other cities even worth considering will not allow khajit within their walls. Making Riften his only option. But just thinking about it... Because he had his mind in the clouds, Fa'khar failed to notice the man who had stepped into his path, leading him to crash into him unceremoniously. "watch it will ya!" an angry voice exclaimed.

Fa'khar sized up the man. He was armed, that was clear by the very intimidating knife strapped to his thigh. He was many feet taller than Fa'khar, and much tougher looking, and he also seemed very angry. "Terribly sorry sir!" Fa'khar whimpered, attempting to seem as pathetic as possible to arouse some sort of sympathy. He turned to walk away but then felt a strong calloused hand grip his arm. "you're not going anywhere whelp! I've seen you sneaking around. What are ya up to, eh?" Fa'khar knew he was in some hot water and his mind raced to find a way to wriggle out of the mess he found himself in. The man didn't seem like one for pity so employing guilt or compassion most likely wouldn't help, and would probably just make him even angrier. Violence was an option, but that probably would not be very good for Fa'khar's health. Then again... "Answer me cat!" The man growled "Is that your ring or someone else's? The man reached for the gold ring on Fa'khar's finger. This caused Fa'khar to panic.

Fa'khar unsheathed his knife, and in one quick motion, plunged it into the man's thigh. He screamed in pain and his land let go of Fa'khar to grip at his bleeding leg. Fa'khar took the opportunity to sprint towards the Ratway. he left the knife in the man's leg, but it could always be replaced. All he was thinking about now was getting out of there.

He couldn't believe he just did that. The knife was really only just for show and to make himself feel better, but now that he actually used it... Fa'khar didn't really know how to feel. Fa'khar was sitting in his hiding place, back to the wall and listening for any commotion that could suggest he's been found. This will put him in an even stickier situation than before. He doesn't know how many people saw him stab the man, but he's not willing to take any risks. Fa'khar almost wishes he had stabbed the man somewhere fatal, that way the stabbing couldn't have been traced back to him. Nobody would suspect the khajit beggar boy.

Now the man will go and tell everyone he was stabbed by a khajit and everyone will know that the culprit is little ol Fa'khar. He runs through his options. The first and most obvious choice would be to get out of Riften and never come back. It sounds simple but that would require getting out of town undetected, which is not simple. And when you're this deep in the crap and everyone's looking out for a certain young khajit then everything gets ten times more complicated.

Then there is a less desirable option, which is turn himself in. It sounds completely moronic but it just might work, at least it does in his head. Best case scenario of doing this gets him thrown out of town where he can run away and never be heard from again. Fa'khar can march down to ivarstead and make a living for himself. Worst case scenario, he gets thrown in jail for life. This might not be too bad considering he'd be safe from the townspeople, but then again, what is the punishment for assault? Death? Fa'khar would rather not think about it. Then there is a wild card option. One that is so insane and objectively stupid it could get him rich and out of trouble. Fa'khar could join the thieves guild?

Maybe. The thieves guild was apparently in bad shape so they will be accepting anybody they can get there hands on. And since khajit such as himself are known for their natural stealthiness and dexterity, he could be accepted. No, that is a stupid idea. Why would he even think of that? Even if they did accept him, why would he want to join a guild that is failing? That would be more trouble than it's worth. It is a nice thought though and maybe someday if the thieves guild isn't near collapse than he would consider joining. But for now, he leaves. Fa'khar gathers up his things in his sack and kisses his little home goodbye. He does his best to erase any evidence of him being there. Food scraps, loose belongings, and quite a bit of hair is removed from the shelter and dumped somewhere unsuspecting. This may make it harder for him to be tracked, that is if they even care about finding him, which Fa'khar doubts they will after a few days. Finally he picks himself up and squeezes through the narrow corridors towards the exit.

Fa'khar slowly inches the door open, previously oiling the door with some lamp oil he found to avoid making too much noise. He peeks his head through to check for any patrolling guards. When it becomes clear that there are none he slips through the small crack of the door, minding to close it behind him. He creeps along the wall of the canal, keeping to the wall as much as possible to minimize any shadows he casts. He steps lightly as to not disturb the loose boards beneath his feet. He slinks up the stairs leading to the streets quiet as a mouse. If this were not such a dire situation Fa'khar would have taken a moment to admire his handiwork and compliment his own stealthiness, but this was no time for ego stroking, he had a job to do.

Fa'khar reached street level, and stole a glance at his surroundings to check he was not spotted. Thanks to his excellent night vision as a khajit, he will probably spot anyone else before they see him, but as he always says "It's better safe than dead" Fa'khar efficiently scales the wall of the orphanage that stands next to the walls. Fa'khar hated this orphanage with a old headmistress that owns the building, Grelod the kind, is a cruel hag that treated the children no better than garbage. Fa'kahar hoped she would die horribly someday, maybe by the dark brotherhood or something. He had stayed in the orphanage for maybe a year or so before fleeing when the abuse became too much. After that ordeal he wandered Skyrim with some caravaneers before finally settling on Riften. Fa'khar continued along the roof of the orphanage before finally reaching the wall and hopping down to ground level on the other side.

He felt like maybe this was a new beginning for him, like this was his coming of age or something. Though perhaps he's already had his coming of age and this was just another hurdle he has to overcome in his messy life. He wonders if it's normal to have these struggles, if he is even destined to come out on top. Perhaps he will turn his life around after this, become a farmer, a shopkeeper, or maybe even run his own caravan. Maybe even someday he will be able to see Elsweyr, the home of the khajit. We both know these are lies however. Fa'khar is a thief and he always will be. He will always be on the edge of danger and on the wrong side of the law. At least he knows he will be a good thief, because in this business there are only two kinds of thieves, good ones and dead ones, and Fa'khar isn't very good at dying.

And so he sets out on his grand adventure, not knowing where he will end up, or where he is even going. All he knows is that Riften is behind him, and riches are ahead of him.