Adventures of Two Khajiit
Co-authored by me and My Friend
Disclaimer: I only own Yoake, Mi'rasj belong to my friend, and Skyrim, the locations and other characters belong to the awesome Bethesda.
Chapter 1: A night in the bar…
Just across from the marketplace in Markarth, the City of Stone, lies the Silver-Blood Inn, and in that inn, there is a counter, where two Khajiit are getting quite deep in their cups. One is male, brown furred with black markings, with glinting yellow eyes and braids adorned with Elsweyr gold. He is dressed in the metal and fur of the Saviour's Hide; it's bony spikes adorns his shoulders. His boots and gauntlets are Forsworn-made, and go well with both his preference and fur.
By his side a slighter form sits, slender, with spotted honey fur that darken at her sides, pale hair pulled back from her temples, with blue eyes glowing in the gloom where they sit. Her form is shrouded in armour of black and red leather and cloth, her matching cowl is pushed back behind her ears, and her red gloves are folded into her belt. There is a faint scar across her nose.
They have met before when the male strayed too close to a giant, and again in the City of Stone when the he-cat Mi'rasj saw the female tumble from a higher landing, nearly landing on a guard.
''I told you before, and I'll say it again, I did not fall... It was clearly a rapid, controlled descent... through the air… on a... cockroach! It insulted my mother, so I jumped on it!'' The feline female hide her embarrassment behind her tankard of mead, eyes already slightly glassy.
The male laugh: ''But how does Yoake know the tongue of such vermin?'' He turns drunkenly in his seat, nearly spilling his own drink and quickly setting it down on the bar counter.
Yoake stick her nose in the air, adopting an air of superiority ''I'm clearly just that epic.'' Her pretended snobbyness only make the he-cat laugh harder. ''I'll remember not to cross blades with you then, kitten." He grins at her before continuing. '' So, what's next on our great adventure?'' He asks, half expecting her to deny any adventuring with him at all, instead, the furry female surprise him with donning as serious expression as she can while half drunk. ''…Let's go raid some ruins! And kill whatever is inside! And, if we are unlucky, we can fight a dragon...''
The male Khajiit blinks, then a grin spreads across his muzzle. ''Sounds good. The living will die, and the undead will… die again! Shall we go in loud and proud, wielding swords with zeal, or should we go sneaky, stabby, my kitten?'' Yoake ponder his words a moment. ''I'm not your kitten… But we shall go sneaky, stabby and shooty, my friend, purrrrfect for Khajiit.'' She gives a drunken smile, leaning her elbow on the counter to push herself up slightly. ''Now let's go see what riches the dead… and undead… are hiding in their graves!
''Mi'rasj hopes for moonstone and sapphires, himself. But first, another mead, and some grilled chicken'' the brown furred Khajiit says, and signals Kleppr the barkeep. Yoake smile happily by his side, but has a curious look on her.
"Huh. So, your name is "Mi'rasj"? Like the desert illusions, yes? Tell me, what is a desert-cat doing in Skyrim?"
Mi'rasj scratches his ear. "Adventure! Mir comes from the desert town of Riverhold, with its beef-and-radish filled pastries... mmm..." Mi'rasj looks dreamily into the hearth. "Well, Mir left... uhm... four years ago, yes. He went straight east, to Cyrodiil and the town of Bravil. He didn't stay long. After that, he went north, to the Imperial City. Mi'rasj knew he had to go there when he saw the legendary White-Gold Tower in the distance." Mi'rasj took a swig of his tankard.
Yoake had listened with gusto. It was new to hear the story of another well-travelled Khajiit. She had not had time to chat with any of the caravan members. "Yes, then?"
"Mir slept where he could, on roofs, in bushes, in barrels... after a while, he found out what he should do to earn coin: teaching... "resourceful" adventurers how to jump higher, run further, fight with their hands, pick locks and move unseen. Mir can tell you, the locks in Skyrim are... ridiculously easy. Nothing like the locks in Cyrodiil! Ah, thank you, Kleppr! Anyway, one night he slept at the waterfront. He shouldn't have. Someone took all his coin. Probably a lizard.
Broke and hungry, Mir stole an apple. He got caught, served his sentence and got out. When a prisoner without a septim to their name is released, they are given 300 septims to take care of immediate things, like food, water, and shelter. Mir bought the first two, then went north towards Bruma. He took the short route, though, across lake Rumare. Saved him a lot of steps." Yoake grinned at "lizard".
Most Khajiits and Argonians no longer see eye to eye because of the Knahaten Flu, which killed thousands of Khajiit in 2E 560. The Flu began in Black Marsh. The Khajiit naturally blamed the Argonians, the Argonians claimed they were innocent, and were offended by the idea that they had created the disease to kill Khajiit.
"How was Bruma? Cold?" "Mi'rasj did not visit Bruma city. He kept going for the Serpent's Trail. But yes, the cold was... awful! Mir was afraid he might lose his toes, fingers, or tail! Or all of them...
Well, Mir went through the Trail, and over the beautiful Pale Pass. He accidentally caused an avalanche while taking a shortcut... but no matter! Now he's here. And lucky enough to find another Khajiit so far from Elsweyr! So, what is this one's story?" he asks, nibbling on the chicken.
"My story? Tell you what, Mir. My story is a lot like a minotaur's tongue: long and messy. When the time is right, you will hear it... Oh, and killing the Frostbite spiders will be your job…''
Yoake says this with a crooked grin. She then waves her hand at the barkeep. "Kleppr! Some proper mead for me! I'll take a Black Briar. And some horker meat." "Hn! You will support that foul Maven Black-Briar with that coin, you know!'' the he-cat frowns. "Mi'rasj also doubt you will be able to shoot straight after drinking that stuff, so leaving the archery to him is a wise choice. But we should not stay the night in Markarth, these stone "beds" are torture for our sleek, wiry bodies.''
Yoake twist her tankard between her clawed hands ''Maven is a scary lady… I just don't want to give her cause to go after me… or the guild… or the Brotherhood…'' Her head turn, eyes surprisingly sharp for the mead she has drunk. ''And watch it, stray… I can outshoot you any day! Also, I only have problems when the spiders are the size of my horse.'' Her look turn confused as she tilts her head ''And what do you mean, "stone beds? We are staying at my house, not at the Inn…''
Mi'rasj snaps his head up, straightening as best he can on the stool, his voice a growl as his long tail lash behind him. ''Be careful who Yoake calls a stray, minx! Mi'rasj will kill the spiders… despite his fear of them..." The last part is murmured into his cup. "...But if she is not more careful with her remarks, she could find herself without Mir's arcane flames for protection and comfort! …speaking of comfort, where is Yoake's house? After that giant clubbed Mir, his topography has gotten a few holes in it, heh"
The she-cat narrow her blue eyes, tail swishing dangerously. ''Cub… I am the Listener of the Night Mother, the assassin who killed the Emperor. I am part of the Thieves Guild, and just because I don't often use them, that don't mean I don't have arcane gifts of my own. I am Thane of this city, so my house is Vlindrel Hall, that overlook the whole of Markarth,'' She roll her eyes with a snort ''and anyone's topography would have holes in it after being launched into the sky.''
Despise being bigger, broader and stronger than the lithe female, Mi'rasj shrink before her, ears flattening against his head as he curls his tail under him. ''Mi'rasj meant no disrespect, my Den-Mother…'' He swallows nervously, but perk up slightly when he sees Yoake's face soften. He takes a sip of mead. ''As Mir was hurled towards our beloved Masser and Secunda, he felt a strange urge to say 'Hús-tòn, we have a problem'. Must have been the fingers of Sheggorath reaching the delicate ears of Mi'rasj.''
Straightening enough to lean back against the bar counter, the male ponders out loud ''Vlindrel Hall have proper beds, Mir recalls from the one time he was there… while it was unoccupied, of course. But Arvak will occupy the housecarl's bed, and the only other one is the bed in the master- erhm... mistress bedroom. Do this one imply we are to... share?'' He cast a wicked grin at Yoake at the question, getting only a deadpan look in return.
With a sigh, the young she-cat reach out and scratch her companion behind one ear, ''Calm down, friend. This one is only joking… mostly. And what do you mean "Arvak" will sleep in the bed? Your skeletal horse is sleeping in the stables, not in my house… I'm going to assume one meant "Argis" and take the fact that you got them mixed together as proof that you have had enough mead.'' Using the skill of a sneak thief, Yoake stealthily snatch the male's drinking cup from the counter. The brown furred Khajiit doesn't notice, busy staring unfocused into the air, pondering. ''Mi'rasj wonder if our steeds will fare well in cold out there. Granted, they are both other-worldly, but still…'' he reaches for his tankard, which is nowhere to be found. "…hey, has this one seen the mead?''
Yoake rise her head slightly from where it rests on her folded arms on the counter, sarcasm in her voice ''You puffed it away with your amazing powers... It's just as well, this one thinks it's time for bed,'' Trying to stand, she stumbles back, nearly falling on her tail, ''how much do we owe you, Kleppr?''
''Careful there, kitten, one think the mead was more potent than we anticipated.'' Mi'rasj tries not to laugh as he slings one of Yoakes arms over his shoulder, trying not to stumble himself. Placing 30 septims on the bar each, they make for the door, and Vlindrel Hall, with the male in the lead.
Finally arriving at the door, the brown Khajiit rouses the female in his arms, so she can unlock the door. ''Ahhhh, here we are… why are there so many stairs in this place… Hey, could you unlock the door for us?'' The answer come in a confused voice and puzzled eyes, ''Mir… this isn't my house… These are the wrong stairs…'' Blinking, the male look around in mild embarrassment, catching sight of the plaque beside the door. ''Oh... this is the house of Nepos the Nose. Heh. Well… back to the stairs we go then...'' Turning and walking back the way they came, he can't help laughing at the tipsy song coming from Yoake:
''Two drunk Khajiit walking up the stairs… the stairs… the stairs. And we're not falling down, and we're not stumbling off... the stairs…the stairs…the…'' Looking around in bewilderment ''Um… where are we…?'' The male cast his eyes about, equally lost in the labyrinthic city. "It…seems we're outside the Temple of Dibella.'' he exclaims when he sees a building he recognize. Grinning down at the golden furred feline he continues. ''It would appear Yoake's singing distracted Mi'rasj.''
''Let's… find the marketplace. My house should be just up and to the right from there. Then again... the Inn is just beside the market…'' Straightening beside Mi'rasj, the female points in the general direction of the entrance where the market is located during the day. Tripping over their own feet somewhat, the two cats make their way through the quiet city and the night, reaching the point where they started, and begin on the stairs again. This time, Yoake is more lucid, and manage to point them up the correct set of stairs.
At long last, the metal doors of Vlindrel Hall stand before them, and on the other side, a narrow hallway, a large living room, a smaller sitting room and finally the bedroom with it's soft, warm bed. Stumbling into the room, and more falling than sitting on said bed, Yoake start to tug on her boots, dropping them beside the bed with her gloves, cowl and a rather impressive assortment of pointy objects she had been concealing on her person. As Mi'rasj sits down on the other side of the king-sized bed, she tilts her head, looking distantly out into the sitting room.
''Why doesn't my bedroom have any doors…? A bedroom should have a door…or something…'' Falling back on the bed, dragging herself up to the pillows she glares at the male beside her with one blue eye, ''…and Mir… if you ever let me… drink that much again, I will do something terrible to you. Like… hiding itching powder in strange places… and making sure it only affects you.'' Her threat delivered, the she-cat closes her eyes, and still dressed in her ancient shrouded armour, falls asleep completely ignorant to the male's stare.
Mi'rasj sits on the edge of the bed for a while, contemplating, thinking to himself "Strange places? Near you, or in you? Heheh."
He then takes off his Forsworn boots and gauntlets, slides Saviour's Hide over his head, and throws his armour in the corner, next to his dusty canvas haversack containing his nomadic life. Now in nothing but his loincloth, he crawls under the blanket and falls quick asleep, as a bellyful of mead will often make you do.
