-Distant part of Skyrim-
Lyssavi crouches on the ground running his hand through the dirt. "One moment more undead than one would want next..." A frown crosses Lyssavi's face. "This is anti-climatic," he says as he rises and turns toward the cave entrance where Ri'Zakar is slowly limping out, covered in bandages and matted fur. "You survived, my new best friend. Recovery did take longer than I thought, but I suspected you would in the end!" A crafty smile crosses the strange Nord's face. "You will have to tell me how is it that a cat is a dragon."
Ri'Zakar's nose wrinkles up and then he smiles showing his fangs. "Only if you share your story, yes?" Ri'Zakar responds as he leans against the rocks.
Lyssavi raises one eyebrow and laughs. "Best friends do share, do they not?" Lyssavi answers before moving towards a cage near the cave where a half-dead wolf lies on its side breathing raggedly, drool pooling under its jaws. Ri'Zakar slowly moves toward the cage as well, curiosity in his eyes. Lyssavi runs his fingers across the cage bars. "I harm as easily as I heal. More fun, the first," Lyssavi says as he glances at Ri'Zakar, pleased with the Khajiit's curiosity. "I infused your body with dragon's blood, among other things. I suspected your nature...and I was right!"
A soft growl emanates from Ri'Zakar. "And if you had been wrong?" Ri'Zakar asks.
"Dead!" Lyssavi explains. "You would have been very very dead!" At Ri'Zakar's growing growl Lyssavi turns fully to him, leaning against the cage as he holds up a hand. "Without me, dead. You know that." Changing the subject Lyssavi taps on the cage. "I am trying very hard to make a unique sickness. One that mimics a zombie's ravenous hunger but affects a living creature...and I want it to be infectious as well."
Ri'Zakar's growl fades as his curiosity returns. "So the creature would be driven to devour the living, but would still be alive? So very cruel," Ri'Zakar says as his eyes move from Lyssavi and the wolf.
"Is that even a word?" Lyssavi says. "You are one to talk. The Reachmen's tribes are diverse. You hail from one of the more savage ones that follows such dark magic paths." Lyssavi stares at Ri'Zakar. "I am not wrong."
"The Storm-Claws adopted this one. I can appreciate their savagery. It matches my own," Ri'Zakar says.
The oddity of Ri'Zakar's speech has Lyssavi tilting his head. "This one, I..." a crafty look crosses his face as he puzzles it out. "Old enough to have learned to talk with your kind, but long enough ago you've adopted some non-Khajiit verbal skills."
Ri'Zakar's fur bristles. "This one is not Khajiit! This one is Reachmen," Ri'Zakar growls.
"A story there. I want that too, my new best friend," Lyssavi responds.
Ri'Zakar's fur settles and his eyes stare into Lyssavi. "Perhaps...this one wants yours too," Ri'Zakar says.

Later over the fire and bowls of stew Ri'Zakar leans back against a rock his eyes on Lyssavi. "This one came with a vampire. But I do not see her," Ri'Zakar asks as he places the empty bowl down.
"Never came back," Lyssavi says, setting his bowl aside and resting his hands on his crossed knees as he studies the puzzle that is Ri'Zakar. "Different clans, from the differences in armor, speech."
"This one owes the Storm Claws everything," Ri'Zakar says. "Chieftain Eiava allowed me into their clan. But she made a mistake, one that Fasi's Chieftain also made. We trusted the necromancer. We ended up as lambs to the slaughter for it," Ri'Zakar growls low in his throat. "Ri'Zakar would not seek vengeance upon the necromancer. I saw what happened when we got too close to his war, his madness. But the fire mage that came for his allies...her I will hunt down and devour her heart...and her power."
Lyssavi leans in. "You seem to be a cat, but you are a Reachmen. A dragon. And you eat cats. There is a story there. Tell me, my new best friend," Lyssavi says.
Ri'Zakar's eyes glow in the firelight. "And if this one demands your story first?" Ri'Zakar asks.
Lyssavi laughs. "Demand. So very savage Reachmen," Lyssavi answers.
Ri'Zakar smiles and gestures with his paws. "This one will go first. I do owe you for saving my life." Distant thunder has Lyssavi perking up and Ri'Zakar laughs at the eager look on the Nord's face. "Yes, I will attempt to teach you storm magic as well. My clan taught this Khajiit, though for a time I lacked the power to grasp it. But as to the other side of my magic...that is one that cannot be taught." Ri'Zakar licks the spoon before setting it in the bowl and starts to speak, Lyssavi at rapt attention.

~/~-Many years ago, near the border of The Reach and Skyrim-
Ri'Zakar picks at the scraps Omder tossed into the cage. Hardly enough to even start to tame the rumble in his empty stomach and a growl rumbles from his throat causing Omder to thump his paw against the cage's bars.
"Be thankful you get that much. Cost us our final score. Boss, not happy," Omder says before he lumbers off.
Ri'Zakar watches Omder go and only when he is out of sight does Ri'Zakar run his claws against the bars of the cage. Once, life was different. No bars, no beatings, no scraps of food barely enough to feed a Skeever, but even that life...was not filled with anything good, as if the lights of the moon decided to never shine upon Ri'Zakar. Ri'Zakar leans back against the bars and looks up at the moons. They hold such meaning for Khajiits, but all he has ever felt in his short life from them is indifference and coldness. Ri'Zakar's eyes close as he remembers the life he had before this.
Ri'Zakar never knew his father, had no siblings. All he had was his mother, and his mother had dragged him all around Tamriel since he was a tiny kit. More often than not he had gone hungry then too, his mother betting what little gold she scrounged up on games of chance and endless bottles of alcohol and moon sugar. One day she attempted to cheat Boss Sanarskar, whom was a powerful Khajiit with a clan that followed him...if they could be called a clan. More like a group of bandits and thieves, she had tried to flee with Ri'Zakar and her ill-gotten winnings. Caught, of course. Dragged back before Sanarskar and that was the day Ri'Zakar's life changed. His mother begged for her life and freedom, and to save her hide she sold Ri'Zakar to Sanarskar. The last time Ri'Zakar ever saw his mother, was her walking away and never once looking back. It was then he knew that he had just been a burden to her, and this was all it took for her to finally be rid of him.
At first, Ri'Zakar was allowed freedom with Sanarskar's clan. He was taught to be a thief because he was a kit of five years he could get away with more than they could. All saw him as nothing but a kit...he could get into places and steal stuff with ease. But Ri'Zakar had hated it and had tried to run on more than one occasion and was punished each time. The final time Ri'Zakar had tried to run Sanarskar had beaten him badly and then put slave cuffs he had stolen off a group of Dunmer on his wrists and caged him like an animal. Threatened him with more beatings, no food if he failed to do what Sanarskar ordered him to do. Ri'Zakar had tried not to. But the hunger and pain quickly overwhelmed him and eventually the hope of anything changing faded and Ri'Zakar gave in. Three long years had passed. As Ri'Zakar shivers in the cold clouds slowly move in to cover the hated moons. And on this night... everything changes.
The clan had set on Skyrim in a thieving frenzy and their caravan was loaded up with stolen goods some still splattered with blood. The last target had failed for a simple reason. Because Ri'Zakar had been told to sneak into the Nord's trading caravan and put a vial of sleeping draught in their stew pot. But he had come face to face with a young girl. Her blue eyes were fascinated by this young Khajiit who had snuck into her family's caravan and she brought her finger to her lips that she would not tell. She did not know Ri'Zakar meant harm. That this caravan would end up as all the rest did. Sanarskar was not big on leaving survivors. Ri'Zakar had done the same thing with every caravan. Slipped in unnoticed, the sleeping draught made it easy for Sanarskar's clan to murder and steal everything. But this time...those blue eyes, the girl that must be the same age as him, but innocent and loved. So he told her that bandits were coming and left without doing his job, pouring the vial out along the way. And so when Sanarskar leads his clan later, the caravan was gone, and Ri'Zakar was punished and left with little food.
Ri'Zakar shivers in the cage as the snow starts to fall. Usually, he would be in a tent. Locked up, but at least with warmth against Skyrim's cold. But in punishment, he was left out, and in the mountains, on the border between Skyrim and the Rift, the night had a deep chill that cut through fur. The clan grew quiet as the night crawled on and the snow fell harder. Ri'Zakar curls up in a ball and tries to keep warm, unable to sleep, and therefore he was the only one awake when they came.
A group of Reachmen raiders crept into the camp and Ri'Zakar's eyes followed their movements as they moved to the tents, to Ri'Zakar's clan. The sounds of blades in bodies, short screams, brief struggles. It was over quickly and from the heavy scent of blood on the air, Ri'Zakar was the only Khajiit left alive. A Reachmen, at last, approaches Ri'Zakar's cave and kneels, his green eyes staring into Ri'Zakar's.
"You saw us come," The Reachmen tells him, knocking his fingers against the cage bars. "Could have yelled for your clan, little Khajiit. I saw you watching us." Ri'Zakar snarls softly and sits up and the Reachmen laughs. "I'm Tregrovar, and you are quite the savage one with that growl of yours." Tregrovar then grows serious. "Tell me, why your clan locked you in this cage. Why you did not try to warn them."
Ri'Zakar's snarl growls. "They are not my kind," Ri'Zakar spits. "This one...this one is not Khajiit!" At that moment Ri'Zakar had no idea that was the words that would spill from him. Those impossible words, for he was born under the moons, born Khajiit, but the words sang with a truth soul-deep and Ri'Zakar's eyes shine with that truth as he stares at Tregrovar daring him to reject this truth.
"Then what are you?" Tregrovar asks. Ri'Zakar is quiet. If not Khajiit, what is he? Seeing his unknowing Tregrovar's hand moves to the lock as he starts to pick it. "My wife Neslefa has wanted children, but the wild spirits have not granted us such a gift...until now." The lock falls and Tregrovar opens the door and rises. "Hopefully Chieftain Eiava agrees with me," he says with a laugh. "Come. Let us see if you like being Reachmen. If that's what you are inside."
Ri'Zakar moves from the cage slowly, looking up at Tregrovar. "What is this one to do?" Ri'Zakar asks.
Tregrovar smiles, "Be savage! We are the Storm Claw clan, one of the fiercest in the reach! My Neslefa is one of our best Storm Mages!"
As if an omen, or perhaps a blessing thunder crackles overhead and the lightning lights up Ri'Zakar's eyes. "This one wants the storm in his claws," Ri'Zakar declares.
Tregrovar laughs again, "Savage indeed. We'll do our best to teach you."

-Nine years later-
Ri'Zakar growls and then flings his paws up and stalks the training yard in pent-up frustration. "Ri'Zakar can feel the storm! Why can Ri'Zakar...why can I not take it?" Ri'Zakar growls as he turns to not only the one who is his teacher but the one who became his mother in this savage land, Neslefa.
Neslefa moves toward him. "Khajiit is not well known for their magical properties, at least your fur stock," she says gently, and then when Ri'Zakar's fur starts to bristle Neslefa smiles. "I know you are Reachmen, I saw it in your savage soul when the spirits blessed us with you. My husband was not wrong to bring you home. Now come here, my son." Ri'Zakar moves to Neslefa and lets her take his paw into her own. "You will find the answer to this puzzle, my savage one."
Bristled fur rests and Ri'Zakar smiles down at her. It seemed like yesterday that Tregrovar, who had become a father he never had, had brought him here. That he had looked up at Neslefa in all her storm mage attire and almost been frightened of how savage she looked. But then she turned her smile upon him and her hand gently took her paw. It was a strange sensation, to be treated so kindly. Not even the mother that birthed him had ever shown him a single moment of love. Ri'Zakar had tried to be the savage kit, but when he felt Neslefa's love it undid him and he embraced her shaking. Afraid she would punish him for such weakness, but instead, she just folded her arms around him and told him the spirits had blessed her and Tregrovar, and that he was now their son. She saw into his soul, as Tregrovar did. Khajiit only in appearance, Reachmen in spirit.
There was one truth that Ri'Zakar kept to himself. His Reachmen Tribe would understand it, but it was something dark, past even the point of savagery. Something that was Ri'Zakar's alone to carry, and perhaps one day, do something about. The moons, Jone and Jode had denied him their light, just as the Khajiit had denied him happiness, love. One reason Ri'Zakar wished power was to take care of his Storm Claw Clan and family. But the second reason was a festering hatred of Khajiits and their Jone and Jode, he wanted to make even the moons pay for casting him in darkness for the first eight years of his life. But the magic remained out of reach, even after nine years. Ri'Zakar was trained as a warrior, but he wanted to harness the storm as well, and so he would keep trying. As his mother always told him, he would find a way.
There was no question that the Reach was a savage wild place. It reflected Ri'Zakar's heart, and he had now spent over half his life in this land and the Reachmen Clans was as diverse as they could be savage. Some lived in peace with the lands, others followed darker roads. Dark magic, Briar Hearts, ritualistic sacrifices. Ri'Zakar's clan fell somewhat in the middle. Shying away from the more brutal nature of the Briar Heart clans, but embracing dark magic which increased the potential of their storm magic.

Conflict and battles broke out between Reachmen tribe at times. The Tanglethorn Clan thought Storm Claw's magic a threat and wanted their land, and so when Ri'Zakar was on the cusp of adulthood the fighting between the two clans intensified to deadly levels and one faithful night the warriors of both clans met on the field of battle. The Tanglethorns had powerful unnatural warriors born from Hagraven rituals and in the end, the Storm Claw warriors fell.
Ri'Zakar lay in the mud, his blood intermingling with it, the storm still crashing overhead. With one paw he reaches up toward the sky, toward the storm that is out of reach, always out of reach. Many of his clan lay dead all around him and the Tanglethorns would go after his village next. Ri'Zakar closes his eyes, the battle flashing before him. The bitter conflict, the blood, and screams. His mother, so strong and proud with the storm striking on her command. The Tanglethorn assassin that had come from the shadows and struck her down in a cowardly blow, altering the course of battle. Ri'Zakar had been far from her, too far. His father, Tregrovar, had been closer. Ri'Zakar can still remember his father's scream of rage, how he killed the assassin and then turned on the Tanglethorns in a berserk fury, taking many down before he too, was killed. Ri'Zakar shudders and forces his eyes open once more. He can just see Neslefa, the one who became his true mother. Wanting to struggle up and reach her, to fold her hand into his once more, even though he knows it will be cold forevermore, the warmth stolen. But she, just like the storm, is out of reach. Ri'Zakar's eyes start to close as death starts to dig its claws into him, but it is then a deep gravely voice reaches out to him.
"You crave the storm, you crave power. I can give it to you, and so much more. Come, cat. Come to me."
Ri'Zakar feels the blood flowing from his wounds cease and strength starts to slowly return and slowly he pulls himself from the mud, growling fiercely. "This one is Reachmen, not cat. Khajiit forsook me, the Moons forsook me. Only my Clan did not." For them, Ri'Zakar will rise. His parents are gone, but his clan lives on, but not for long if the Tanglethorns reach them.
The voice laughs. "Oh, I like you. Come then, Reachmen." The ground opens up under Ri'Zakar's feet and swallows him whole and all fades to darkness.
Ri'Zakar awakes in a massive cavern underground. Ancient ruins, long forgotten. Ri'Zakar rises and moves around the room touching the symbols on the walls, unable to read them but knowing what they are all the same. "So this is a Dragon Priest shrine," Ri'Zakar says.
"Yes, long forgotten," The voice says, so much closer now. "As I have been long forgotten."
Ri'Zakar turns and follows the voice and upon a pedestal surrounded by a glowing field of energy is a soul gem much larger than a normal one glimmering black with shards of colors. Ri'Zakar finds himself drawn to it and his paw moves closer to the glowing energy field.
"Be sure, Reachmen. Be sure. There will be no going back. And there is a cost to keeping this power," the voice warns.
Ri'Zakar lowers his arm slightly, his thoughts moving back to the battle. His mother, his father dead in the mud and rain, the rest of his clan soon to follow unless Ri'Zakar had the power to stop it. "With this power, you promise, This one can save his clan?" Ri'Zakar asks.
"Oh yes, that and more," the voice promises. Ri'Zakar's eyes shine and the voice laughs. "Moon's and Khajiit. Oh...you will find paying the price to keep this power is no price at all."
Ri'Zakar raises his arm again. "Explain, but quick."
"You have decided already, but very well. I am Nirthaarnkras. One of my Priests betrayed me, dared to defy me. They found a source of great power and cast my soul into this prison so he could use my body for his purposes. I would strike him from Nirn but I remain trapped and he is long since ash and dust." Nirthaarnkras rumbles.
Ri'Zakar's eyes widen slightly before he narrows them again. A dragon then, or what once was one. "You are dead, yet alive as well," Ri'Zakar says.
"Alive? This? I think not, I wish to live again. The feel of the air on my scales. To dip my claws in the blood of my enemies, to tear meat with my fangs and gulp it down. After ages past, this is my desire." Nirthaarnkras tells him.
Ri'Zakar growls softly. "You want my body then?"
"My power has waned in this shell. I have not the power to possess you...but you...can absorb this soul gem and infuse your body with what remains. More than enough to harness the storms, to seek your revenge. I would become part of you. The only way I will have what I desire. It is enough to end this tortuous existence." Nirthaarnkras says.
Nirthaarnkras could be lying. But Ri'Zakar knows liers and knows those who speak the truth. Ri'Zakar will bet everything on this one chance. The only chance he has to honor his parents and save his Reachmen clan. Ri'Zakar laughs. "I was not Khajiit. The moon's light did not touch this one's fur, so I became Reachmen. Now Reachmen will become a dragon."
"In part. Though you will remain as you are...on the outside." Nirthaarnkras answers.
"And the price of maintaining such power?" Ri'Zakar asks.
"To maintain it...to even make it grow you must devour the hearts of those you were born to in ritual. One you will know when I become a part of you." Nirthaarnkras laughs. "You will need to devour the hearts of Khajiit's."
Ri'Zakar throws his head back and laughs. "This one likes the thought of that! Khajiit hearts... I will make the moons weep over such," Ri'Zakar's paw moves toward the barrier and it shatters before him and as his claws close on the soul gem a blinding light pours out, and when it fades the soul gem is gone and Nirthaarnkras's voice is no more. New-found power shimmers in the depths of Ri'Zakar's eyes. "This one..." a savage grin crosses Ri'Zakar's face. "The Tanglethorns will not take this one's clan. They will fall this night," Ri'Zakar promises as he glances up at where he fell from. With an impossible leap, he jumps from the cavern to the surface.

Ri'Zakar races through the night and finds the Tanglethorn warriors on the edges of his village, and all of Storm Claw's that are left that can fight, are fighting. The clouds overhead roar with Ri'Zakar's arrival and the storm breaks at his command as lightning bolts start to pour from the sky in blinding streaks of death. Ri'Zakar roars in time with the thunder and leaps amid Tanglethorn warriors sending them flying with a burst of dragonic strength. Blasts of fire streak from his paws to explode upon the enemy as Ri'Zakar loses himself in the storm, in the power he now possesses, including the innate ability to use it.
When the storm's thunder fades and the dawn's rays hit the land, all of Tangleclaw's warriors are dead upon the mud and dirt and Ri'Zakar stands in the middle of the carnage, and he raises his head, his eyes locking onto Chieftain Eiava who nods once then turns, leaving Ri'Zakar to follow.
Chieftain Eiava pauses by her hut and turns to Ri'Zakar to regard him and the power reflected in his eyes. Ri'Zakar knows he must speak, but to speak is to talk of failure, as well as victory and so he bows his head. "Before this one was not strong enough to protect his clan...to protect my family. Now...now this one is truly savage. I honor my family, and my clan in this way."
Chieftain Eiava also bows her head, for those lost. "Death comes in many forms, Ri'Zakar. The Reach is a savage land, and we will collect our dead and honor them, and the spirits will bless them." Chieftain Eiava pauses and then raises her head and Ri'Zakar raises his to meet her intense gaze. "Our savage warrior, we ask more of you. Many of our warriors have fallen, and you now are our only hope. The rest of Tanglethorn will come for this insult. The war will not be over until there is not a single one of them left alive."
Ri'Zakar stills, remembering Nirthaarnkras's words. "How much time until they come? This one can get more power. I just need time, and...a Khajiit."
Chieftain Eiava carefully regards Ri'Zakar. "You found dark power in the depths of despair and certain death. Far darker than even we pursue," she says carefully.
"It will never harm this clan. All it takes to maintain it is the heart-blood of my accursed birth kind," Ri'Zakar tells her.
"Hatred in your heart. Storm Claw, your clan, tames it. Be sure to hold onto that, Ri'Zakar," Chieftain Eiava says.
Ri'Zakar nods a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. "This one is Tregrovar and Neslefa's savage one. This one is Storm Claw's savage one. As long as my clan draws breath, my hatred at the moons and the Khajiit will remain buried," Ri'Zakar vows.
Chieftain Eiava nods solemnly, taking Ri'Zakar's vow. "Markarth, Ri'Zakar. Travelers from other lands are permitted there, should they be able to brave the journey. You will find Khajiit there. We will gather what remains of our witches and hold back Tanglethorn Clan. Hurry."
Ri'Zakar nods and turns racing out of his clan and towards Markarth at a near-impossible speed, the desperate need for power to protect his clan combined with the unnatural power he now possesses.

-Outskirts of Markarth
A fat rich Khajiit merchant. Easy Prey, and so very much a fool. The Khajiit had perked up when Ri'Zakar approached him telling him of Reachmen willing to trade goods for nearly nothing. He had followed Ri'Zakar out of Markarth like a lamb to the slaughter and when far enough away Ri'Zakar had turned on the merchant and quickly rent him unconscious. "Too easy," Ri'Zakar hisses as he drags the Khajiit into a cave. "But this one has so little time. I will choose a stronger one next time." A large rock in the small cave is just what Ri'Zakar needs and he ties the Khajiit down and steps back. Within moments the Khajiit wakes and starts to beg for his life, offering coin and more. Ri'Zakar looks down at him with the coldest of gazes. "Beg the Moons for salvation. This one did many times until I realized that Jone and Jode are cold and distant and all too willing to turn their back on an innocent kit." Ri'Zakar grins showing his glittering white fangs. "You will not be saved by them, or by any other." Ri'Zakar takes out a razor-sharp knife and the Khajiit starts to whimper as Ri'Zakar starts to chant ancient words, dragonic words that come to him as easy as breathing. He had changed much since the absorption of Nirthaarnkras's soul gem but he was still Ri'Zakar. The power of a dragon dwelt under his fur now. With the final word, the knife starts to glow and Ri'Zakar plunges into the Khajiit's chest without a moment's hesitation, and then with his other paw he digs out the heart and holds it up as it glows with heart-blood power. Ri'Zakar growls and eats the heart, then throws his head back and howls as it fills him with energy and unlocks even more of the dragon's power that dwells within.

Ri'Zakar races home even faster than when he left. The storm clouds beckon him home as lightning flashes in the skies around the outskirts of Storm Claw Clan's village and as Ri'Zakar nears he sees the battle is fierce but desperate, Tanglethorns pushing them back and Storm Claw's falling into the mud. The storm starts to wane as the witches are taken out but Ri'Zakar's mighty growl causes the storm into renewed fury and lightning rains down upon the Tanglethorns. Ri'Zakar bursts into a leap and scatters them then he's nothing but a blur of fur, fangs, and fierce magic as he rends and slashes, lightning bolts, and fireballs all the enemies of his clan. When at last Ri'Zakar rests all of the Tanglethorn lies dead all around the clan, those not incinerated by fire and storm.
After the injured are cared for and the dead taken for rites, Chieftain Eiava limps over to Ri'Zakar and stands before him. "Protector of your clan, you need a title, Ri'Zakar," Chieftain Eiava tells him. "Neslefa said you would find a way to harness the storm. You have done that, and more."
Ri'Zakar interrupts her, "With respect, Chieftain Eiava, this one knows what he is now. This one is the Devourer of Khajiit's."~/~

Ri'Zakar finishes his tale and falls silent. Lyssavi's eyes regard Ri'Zakar with fascination. "A cat into a Reachmen, a Reachmen into a Dragon. What lies under your fur must be fascinating. And to think I had a glimpse of it," Lyssavi breaths and at Ri'Zakar's look, Lyssavi leans back again. "Will you return to the Reach?"
Ri'Zakar closes his eyes, hiding the pain that flashes through at the mention of his home. "The Tanglethorn clan took many of us during the skirmish between our clans. This one..." Ri'Zakar opens his eyes. "After our rites when my clan fell silent, I went to what remained of the TangleThorn clan and called the dragon fire that lurks within. I incinerated every single one of them, even the innocent." Ri'Zakar's claws clench then relax. "They had to be dealt with. They would have come for revenge, one day." Ri'Zakar's eyes lock with Lyssavi. "Five years ago, this was. If only Storm Claw warriors and witches had marched with the Necromancer, we would have left our children, elders, unprotected. They came with us. They died for our foolish choice." Ri'Zakar's paws curl into fists. "Dark magic. Viperish Night offered us that. I am powerful, but my clan was greatly diminished and The Reach is a hard place. We hoped to find power enough to ensure our continued survival." The loss in Ri'Zakar's eyes is enough to drown the world and he shakes his head. "The Fire Witch that destroyed my clan... This one will find her and devour her heart, and now that my clan is gone...my vow is broken." Ri'Zakar's eyes glimmer. "There is no clan to protect. No clan to hold back my hatred."
"Make even the Moon's suffer..." Lyssavi says. "A goal worthy of a dragon," he says as he crosses his arms.
Before Lyssavi can add anything else Ri'Zakar growls, pushing memories away. "Your turn," Ri'Zakar demands.
A smile crosses Lyssavi's face. "So it is, my dragon friend."

~/~
-Mage's Guild, Solitude, years ago-
Lyssavi is sitting at a table covered with open books on magic and alchemy when an elder Breton mage approaches. "Not often do we see a Nord with such an interest in magic and knowledge," the mage says and adds with a chuckle, "Sometimes I wonder why they tolerate us here."
Lyssavi looks up at the Breton studying him carefully. "Most Nords are... can not think of a polite way to put that," Lyssavi says.
The mage raises an eyebrow and picks up one of the books on the table, one on the history of necromancy. "You are not thinking of pursuing this subject too deeply, I hope?" the mage asks Lyssavi.
"Curious for a moment, but no," Lyssavi responds. "All necromancy is about is dead things and making them move again. I prefer things that live. How they work, how one can fix them, and how one can break them." Lyssavi frowns as his thoughts drift back. "My boorish drunken Nord of a father kicked me out after I cut our dog up. Just needed to see how a dog worked. He failed to understand that. Not sure why." The mage slowly puts the book back down on the table and it is clear he is at a loss for words. Lyssavi sighs and puts the book he was reading down and stands up. "Said too much. Or the wrong thing. Why is so much the wrong thing?" Lyssavi turns and walks out of the Mage's Guild leaving the stunned mage behind.

-Wayrest, months later-
Again Lyssavi finds himself outside a Mage's Guild. This time they had kicked him out when Lyssavi started making conversation about the best way to take a creature apart and how far you could go before they died. And then Lyssavi so caught up in his fascination, might have said something he should perhaps have not. Something about the differences in how an animal screams as you take them apart as opposed to a man. And that is when the mage's had threatened to call the guards if he did not leave promptly. "What is so wrong with seeing how things work?" Lyssavi says to himself. It had been a natural jump from beasts to man. A vagabond outside Riften, a thief snatched from the outskirts of Daggerfall, a bandit or two along the way. A Nord, and the rest Breton's, remarkably the same on the inside. Lyssavi would have to find a mer, and then perhaps a Khajiit or an Argonian next. Lyssavi lost in his thoughts nearly bumps into a passerby and Lyssavi takes the opportunity for conversation, "Tell me, would you not want to see the insides of your neighbor? To see how they work?" The passerby startles and moves away quickly and Lyssavi watches him go. Another Breton male but still...Lyssavi stares after him with a crafty look in his eyes.

-Near the entrance to Wayrest sewers, after Nightfall-
Lyssavi stands arms crossed, blood splattered to his elbows. The male Breton he had followed is lying before him on the ground in pieces. "Still not much different than a beast," Lyssavi frowns. Would Mer, Khajiit, even Argonian's be any different? There was more to this, there had to be. It was just on the edges of his thoughts but remained elusive.
"The guards are coming," a small scratchy voice informs Lyssavi.
Still staring at the body Lyssavi distractedly answers, "I gagged him before he screamed. How could they..." Lyssavi stops as his frown grows. "Ah, the mages. I alarmed them more than I would have thought."
"One of them followed you. Saw you follow the Breton."
"Must have lost track of us...I had time with him, though he died faster than I would have thought." Lyssavi at last breaks out of his thoughts and glances around for the source of the voice. "I am in trouble, aren't I? Father did say I was a sick mutt that should be put down before he kicked me out. Is this what he meant?"
"Curiosity should be rewarded, but you need to be more careful. And your interests...need expanding."
Lyssavi, at last, finds the source of the voice, a Skeever that has been circling him for quite some time. Curiosity is deep in his voice as he asks the Skeever, "I know I am missing something. A thought that remains elusive. What is it?"
The Skeever stops in front of Lyssavi and looks up at him. "Have you thought of poisons, diseases? They are such fascinating things." The Skeever happily tells him.
Lyssavi thinks and a smile crosses his lips. "So many poisons and diseases...and what if I could make new ones? If I just knew how to start...I could find all-new ways to fix and break things! And then cut them up and see just how I did it."
The skeever laughs as they turn toward the sewer entrance. "Follow me. My Prince will teach you," The Skeever says.
That pauses Lyssavi a moment. "Prince... a royal figure, or one of Daedric nature?" Lyssavi asks as his smile grows. "Would they let me take Daedra apart as well?"
The skeever looks startled before giving a skeever chuckle. "The Master of Tasks will let you do many things."
"Do they want my soul?" Lyssavi asks. "I have not figured out how souls work yet." Lyssavi gestures at the body before him.
"All my Prince would want from you is for you to spread their message across Tamriel and discover what you will make what vile concoctions you will imagine as long as you show the world."
"The world, alas, fails to understand such things," Lyssavi says. "They may die screaming when I try."
Again a skeever chuckle. "Peryite is going to love you. Come, the Guards will eventually find all of this." the skeever vanishes into the storm gate and Lyssavi follows and finds himself someplace altogether more interesting than the sewers.

-The Pits-
Lyssavi follows the skeever through the gate and finds himself very far from Wayrest indeed. A dark sky with veins of venomous green, an island with decaying ruins surrounded by a sea of molten lava, ghostly skeevers, and stranger things crawl through the shadows. Lyssavi's eyes take in everything and then move to the lava. "I would have not expected that," Lyssavi remarks.
The skeever looks back at him and chitters, "Follow. The Master of Tasks is busy. Very busy, and he is not meant to be kept waiting."
Lyssavi turns to follow the skeever and then pauses as a thought finally crosses his mind. "So at last someone understands the fascination with what is inside living things," Lyssavi says.
"Perhaps, but you can do so much better! Follow!" The skeever answers and then darts deeper into the island leading Lyssavi through the ruins to a large building, mostly intact. The skeever darts inside and Lyssavi follows. Inside it is lit by torches giving off a sicking green light and a snake-like dragon in various shades of green is coiled in the middle.
Peryite raises their head and their eyes dig into Lyssavi's and Lyssavi stares back and says, somewhat faintly, "So this is what it is to stare into a Daedric Prince's eyes..." Lyssavi says before blinking and shaking his head briefly.
Peryite laughs. "You interest me, mortal. I wish to set tasks upon you...if you are willing to expand your horizons.
Lyssavi snaps to attention as his brain works. "Lord of Pestilence and disease, I have read things on the Princes. I have read on many subjects!" Lyssavi trails off and a look of concentration crosses his face. "I never thought of the things I could do with those. It was there, a thought just out of reach. Until now."
"You have an unusual mind, it just needs a broader focus. I can give you what you need to develop your talents further. All I ask is you create for me. Create plagues, poisons, diseases that I have never seen and set them loose, when the time is right, on Nirn." Peryite says.
A crafty smile crosses Lyssavi's face, his mind already moving in new directions. "That I will do. Your...hmm my Patron now?" Lyssavi asks.
"You can put it that way if you like. Come, I will grant you my blessing. Immunity from what you will create for me, and knowledge that will illuminate your new path." Peryite answers and he gestures with their tail for Lyssavi to come to them.
Lyssavi moves closer to Peryite and kneels and Peryite places one clawed forearm on Lyssavi's shoulder searing his mark into Lyssavi's flesh. Lyssavi hisses slightly then his eyes widen. "I need to do more than just cut up people and beasts. Try this...also that...perhaps I'll return home and show my drunken Father what I can do. He'll make a decent test subject," Lyssavi says happily.
Peryite laughs at this and gestures for their skeever. "Yes, I like you mortal. You will amuse and create for me. My skeever will return you...to Skyrim. I think you are in a fair bit of trouble in Wayrest," Peryite says.
"I do not understand why they find it so wrong to see how things work," Lyssavi says as he turns and follows the skeever out, Peryite's laughter following him. ~/~

Lyssavi finishes his story and Ri'Zakar just stares at him for a few long moments before finally asking, "You experimented on your Father?"
"Yes! And then I cut him up. Good thing Mother died when I was young. I am not sure she would have approved of that." Lyssavi says as he stands and stretches. "He was just another drunken Nord that no one will miss."
Ri'Zakar again is silent for long moments before speaking, "...Perhaps this one would not mind if you did that to his birth Khajiit mother. I cannot eat her heart, because she never had one." Ri'Zakar says.
Lyssavi regards Ri'Zakar. "We make an odd pairing. But, my new best friend, you would not mind running with me, would you? I am sure I could make sure you are immune from anything I create. I know how to fix things as well as break things, after all."
Ri'Zakar is quiet for long moments regarding Lyssavi, regarding his offer. This man showed no hints of regret or sorrow, in fact, this man puzzled Ri'Zakar a great deal. Did he even know that murdering people to experiment on them was considered wrong in many parts of Tamriel? Then again, devouring hearts would be considered wrong as well. Ri'Zakar laughs. "This one has nothing left to do until I can figure out the best way to make the moon's weep. Ri'Zakar will run with you, odd friend."
Lyssavi smiles and stands. "Peryite would say I would know when its time..." Lyssavi says and trails off. "It is not time yet. Or am I wrong? I get so wrapped up in creating."
Ri'Zakar also stands and turns towards the night. "This one knows storms. The storm created by that Necromancer seems to have broken, but lightning still crackles in the air. This one thinks the storm is not yet over."
Lyssavi moves to Ri'Zakar's side. "One more question. Dragon power... storm magic...how did the fire mage beat you?" Lyssavi asks.
Ri'Zakar growls, his fur rising. "It had been too long since I have feasted upon a Khajiit heart. Visitors to The Reach are not common. And I could stray far from our village. This one had to protect their clan, at all costs."
"Then it is settled! We'll head off into the horizon to find you some Khajiits, and to find me some missing ingredients..." Lyssavi trails off. "Can I have the Khajiit's once you are done with them? I have yet to cut any up...it should give me insight with my failed creation." Lyssavi gestures to the sick wolf, who by this point has died.
"Do what you will with them. All this one needs is their hearts," Ri'Zakar answers and so, their plans are set and they return to the cave to rest for tomorrow's adventure.