Two Cats Meet in a Bar

Tamriel was not ready for the day I met Marek Do'Renrij... - from the diary of Loki Dar'Renrij, Guildmaster

Imagine that. I guess it all really happened. By the Nine, those were some crazy times. Was it really all true? - from the journal of Marek Do'Renrij, the Punchcat Paladin

A lone Khajiit walks into the New Gnisis Cornerclub. He's wearing simple miner's clothes, old and worn, and wields a bow on his back and a dagger at his side. A simple hood covers his ears and most of his face, save for a single braid that ends in a golden ring. He sits down at the bar and orders an ale and a stew. He pulls out a bottle of something, probably skooma, and spikes his drink before swallowing it all at once.

Another Khajiit walks into the bar. This one is wearing steel armor, clearly crafted and tailored for him. He has no visible weapons. He takes off his helm, revealing tall ears ringed with earrings and a long mane pulled back in the Nordic style. At this, the Dunmer bartender straightens up.

"Your usual, I'm guessing?" he asks the second Khajiit, who nods in response.

This Khajiit sits next to the first, barely noticing him. A full mug of mead and a roasted goat leg are placed before him. He only glances over when the first Khajiit orders another drink.

When he did see the other, he grinned. "Hah, it's not everyday I see another Khajiit in a bar in a city! Tell me, where are you from?" His accent was Nordic and far more direct than a true Elsweyr accent.

The first Khajiit glanced over. "Nowhere in particular. Deserts, cities, mountains. I've lived everywhere. How about yourself?" He had the distinctly Khajiit accent, although he didn't use the same speech patterns.

The second Khajiit laughed. "I grew up with a caravan, but I've lived in Windhelm for as long as it's mattered. Name's Marek Do'Renrij."

"Imagine that. I haven't heard the Do' prefix in years. Dar'Renrij here." Dar'Renrij declined to give his first name.

"What are you doing here in Windhelm? I thought I was the only Khajiit allowed in the walls, and that's only because of my punch."

Dar'Renrij chuckled. "No walls I know can keep this one out. I come and go where ever I please."

Marek laughed as well. "Amusing. Any good with that bow of yours?"

"You might say that. You're an unarmed fighter?"

"Mhm, you might say that. I'm a member of the Paladins."

Dar'Renrij raised his brow. "A pit fighter? Any fights coming up?"

"Aye. I'm fighting the Beast of Elsweyr in Riften in two days."

Dar'Renrij smiled. "Perhaps I'll see you there."

"Try and come if you can. The fight's in the Ratways, but if you're as good with that bow as you say, you should have no problem getting there."

Dar'Renrij grinned at this. "Perhaps."

Loki Dar'Renrij Raihan pulled his grey leather armor off. He'd earned this armor years before. He changed into simple miner clothes and pulled his weapons back on. This time, he pulled his famed blue sword on.

"Another good haul today. Rahjin smiles on our guild. Vex, what are the odds on today's pit fight?"

Vex tossed a knife while she talked. She was used to her boss changing in front of her. "2-1 for Beast, 9-1 for the new guy."

"Do'Renrij. I'll place a thousand on Do'Renrij."

Vex dropped her knife. "By the Nine, Loki, you aren't serious?"

Loki grinned at his lieutenant. "Of course I am. When am I not?"

"But you're the Guildmaster! You don't place bets! You've never placed a bet!"

"First time for everything, hmn? Perhaps Sheggorath is meddling with my mind, but I don't think so. Or perhaps that one nameless dragon."

Vex sighed. "All right then, one thousand for new guy. What makes you so sure he'll win?"

"Gut instinct."

"You're betting all of today's haul on a gut instinct."

"Of course." He grinned. "What did you expect?"

Marek Do'Renrij sat on a sack of moldy potatoes, adjusting his armor so that it fit perfectly.

"Are you ready to battle, Marek?" Gerich, the team's manager, asked.

Marek Do'Renrij nodded. He tossed his two daggers to Gerich. "Hold onto the Little Claws for me, Gerich."

Gerich raised an eyebrow. "Going in claws only? That's a first."

Marek flexed his left hand, showing off his claws. "The way I repaired my armor after last time means that I've got more of an advantage without the Little Claws than with."

"If you're sure Marek. Go on. Good luck, kid. You're going to need it."

"You know, I never liked Beast," Loki muttered to himself. The Beast was posturing in the pit, as usual. "He's not a proper Khajiit."

"Like you are?" Vex snorted.

Loki smirked. "I'm a master thief and talented with sword and bow. Of course I am. No honorable Khajiit uses a staff like that one does."

The challenger walked out of the prep room and into the pit.

The crowd murmured. The challenger, another Khajiit, had no weapons. Only armor.

"I hope your instinct was right, Loki."

"Ay, I do, too." He focused on Do'Renrij. "He looks like a Cathay..." he muttered. "But there's something..."

"What?"

"A Cathay. I'm a Suthay-Raht." Seeing Vex's blank face, he added, "You know how there are different dog breeds, right? Khajiit... breeds are determined by the ja'Kha'Jay, or Lunar Lattice. I haven't explained this to you before?"

"No, you haven't. So, what makes a Cathy different from a Suthy-whatever?"

"Cathay are bigger and brawnier. Suthay-Raht are more common outside of Elsweyr. I haven't seen a Cathay outside of my homeland in years."

"And this is important, why?"

"Beast is a Suthay-Raht. And he has no experience of fighting an unarmed opponent."

"He's going to die."

"Easily."

"I better go round up those bets. We'll need all of them to give you your payoff."

Marek adjusted his gauntlets. The Beast of Elsweyr swung his staff, gaining the admiration of the crowds.

Marek charged.

The Beast swung his staff and scrapped off Marek's shoulder, but Marek ignored the blow, striking his opponent's throat.

Stunned, the Beast staggered. Marek kneed him in the stomach and brought his hands down together over the Beast's head.

The Beast fell, his skull smashed in by the sheer force of Marek's blow.

It was the shortest battle in the history of the Ratway Pits.

Men of the Thieves' Guild went up to their Guildmaster, demanding to know why the Beast lost. Why he died.

Loki's answer? "Va ba. It is," he replied with a cheeky grin.

He walked away with nine thousand gold.