Blood and Sand
S'virri was born in a small village in Elsweyr. S'virri's mother loved him very much, and his brother Kharjo and sister Ahkhaviri loved him even more so. But S'virri's father was a rich bastard. He had plenty of money and loved to rub it in his wife's face. But he rubbed worse in her face than that.
Svirri's father constantly abused his wife and beat his children, even raping Ahkhaviri twice. However, when S'virri's village was put under siege by a rival tribe of neighboring Argonians, S'virri's father fled immediately and became an easy target. He was promptly killed, his lifeblood spilling over the flat expanse of unending sand.
However, as all of the other villagers fled, the Khajiit village's warriors tried to fend the Argonians off. S'virri and Kharjo joined them.
The brothers readied themselves for battle, putting on the armor they themselves had forged- Kharjo in steel, mighty and powerful, and S'virri in furs, light and agile. As they did this, however, their mother came up to them with Ahkhaviri in tow.
"Take these, my cubs," she whispered, wincing at the sound of a warrior being slain right outside their home. She handed S'virri and Kharjo matching Moon Amulets, telling them that in times of trouble, they would remind the two siblings of home and provide some comfort.
"Now hurry!" she said fiercely, ushering them toward the door. "This one will take Ahkhaviri to safe haven. Perhaps we will find each other some day."
Whilst Ahkhaviri and her mother fled through the cottage's back door, Kharjo and S'virri stormed through the front. As the battle raged, however, Kharjo and S'virri were separated.
"Kharjo!" S'virri called desperately through the horde of armor, weapons and blood. "Kharjo!"
S'virri forged through the clashing armies to a rocky outcrop the village called Pride Rock, hoping he could get a view over the battle and find his brother. But unbeknownst to him, an enemy Argonian was sneaking up behind him.
Despite the lizard's stealth, S'virri's sensitive Khajiit ears swiveled as he heard the Argonian's blade coming down to end his life and quickly spun around, blocking the Argonian's blade with his own.
But S'virri's sword was brittle and poor quality, and shattered as the enemy's weapon collided with it. One of the shards of the destroyed blade embedded itself in S'virri's shoulder, causing him to hiss and wince momentarily. However, this moment of pain was all the Argonian needed to grab hold of S'virri's shoulder, digging the shard deeper into S'virri's flesh as he did so.
The Argonian threw S'virri into Pride Rock, smirking when he heard a sharp crack as S'virri's head smashed into the rock. The Argonian leaned in close, taking three talons and tracing them along S'virri's cheek tauntingly. Then he savagely tore three claw lines across S'virri's nose and cheek.
S'virri lay defeated, spread-eagled across the searing dunes. S'virri watched with bleary eyesight as the Argonian slowly raised his blade above his ridged head. Just as the weapon began it's descent to plunge into S'virri's furry chest, however, someone else came behind the Argonian, stabbing him through his scaly abdomen from behind. The gloating expression on the lizard's face melted into surprise as he looked down at the dagger sticking out of his belly like a metallic horn.
"Ow," he murmured, and collapsed. As the enemy fell, S'virri looked at his savior through the murky shadow that was overcoming his vision. Clutching his injured shoulder, blood staining his clawed fingers and tawny pelt, he uttered one word.
"Kharjo..."
Then he collapsed, surrendering to the darkness.
S'virri woke with a jolt, glancing around in a panic. It had become night, the full moons and stars mocking him with their cheery brightness.
S'virri looked around at the expanse of sand around him, surveying the bodies. So much blood, he thought. Then he looked at his own blood, which covered his hand and wounded shoulder. Strangely, though, he felt no pain. Worry about his mother and siblings numbed it.
As S'virri examined the bodies, he felt some relief wash over him as he determined none of the corpses were that of his brother. He began to head off in the direction his mother and sister Ahkhaviri went. By noon the next day, however, he still had not found them.
As he scanned the horizon, hungry, thirsty and weary, he spotted two dark figures on the ground far away on the rolling dunes. He approached them, curious. But as he neared the figures, his curiosity turned into utmost horror. No, he thought miserably. "No..." he repeated, this time aloud. "No, no, NO!"
He collapsed onto his knees in front of his mother and sister's still, cold bodies. Then, he sobbed. Heartbroken, gut-wrenching sobs and wails bubbled up through his chest and issued through his clenched fangs, tears staining his fur.
I'll make them pay, he thought. Heaving another sob, he roared, "I'LL MAKE THEM ALL PAY!"
He sobbed for the longest time, repeating these lines until the sun rose. He then stood, wiped his eyes, and started to dig two holes in the sand. As his mother and sister in the sandy ground, he whispered:
"You will be avenged."
He covered the bodies and turned towards the west, towards the setting moon. And then, he ran.
He chased the moon, running from the dawn. Eventually, he fell to his knees and toppled helplessly into the smooth sand, surrendering to the darkness.
When S'virri regained consciousness once more, he did not open his eyes. But strangely enough, he felt himself moving. Blearily, he oped one amber eye and looked around. Then, surprised to realize he was riding in a carriage, he opened both and sat up quickly.
"Easy, little cub," a nearby voice said. S'virri looked in the direction of the voice, seeing a male Khajiit sitting in front of him in the carriage. The other Khajiit looked at S'virri's face, concerned.
"Those are some vicious-looking cuts, little one," the elder said pointing to S'virri's face. S'virri took his hand and traced three finger across the gouges, wincing as he did so.
"Nasty shard of steel in your shoulder when Khajiit found you, too. But no more. Khajiit knew that if it was not taken out quickly, it would probably never come out."
S'virri looked at his shoulder, seeing a bloody bandage. It felt as though there some sort of salve on his various wounds, too.
"Thank you," S'virri said, his voice hoarse from sleep and thirst. "Where are we going?" S'virri asked, looking around.
"Skyrim," the elder replied simply. "Khajiit has some...er, important business to attend to," he added, shifting his weight nervously.
It was obvious that the older Khajiit was a Skooma dealer, but S'virri did not care. He was too busy thinking about his mother and sister...their vacant, glassy eyes...their cold fur, cold as ice on the sweltering desert sands...
"Little cub?" the Khajiit asked, jarring S'virri back to the present. He looked into the elder's worried azure eyes.
"Sorry. It's S'virri, by the way." He extended his hand.
"Ah, a good, strong name. This one is known as Lor'haja." The elder accepted the offered hand and shook it warmly. "Now get some rest, S'virri," he told the young Khajiit. "We have a long ride ahead of us."
S'virri closed his eyes but never could fall asleep. Eventually he sat up and admired the scenery around him. Lor'haja noticed this.
"Beautiful, yes?" The elder asked, gazing as well. S'virri nodded. The forest around him was full of green trees and odd plants and everything was covered in some kind of white, cottony-looking...stuff. And it was freezing cold, a sensation S'virri had not felt before.
"We'll be there soon," Lor'haja soothed, noticing the young Khajiit was shivering. "I hope so," S'virri responded. Lor'haja looked curiously at the young cat.
"What troubles you, little cub?" he asked curiously.
"Shoulder hurts," S'virri murmured flatly. Lor'haja looked at S'virri skeptically. "Even a Khajiit as old as this one can sniff out a lie," he said pointedly. When S'virri did not respond, Lor'haja asked him the question he really wanted to know.
"Where are your parents?"
S'virri cringed, and Lor'haja realized he'd struck a nerve. Eventually, S'virri answered.
"A tribe of Argonians attacked my village," he began. "My brother and I joined the defense as the villagers fled, my mother and sister among them. But I lost my brother in the battle and was knocked out by the same Argonian who gave me these," he continued, pointing to the claw marks on his face.
S'virri took a deep breath and finished with the part he dreaded to recall.
"When I woke up, it was night. I looked at the corpses and didn't see my brother, so I set off to find my mother and sister. And I...I found them..."
The young cat clenched his eyes shut and bared his fangs in anger and sorrow.
"I found them lying on the sand, dead. I buried them and gave them their last rites. Then I walked until I passed out. When I woke, I found myself with you."
Despite his best efforts, tears spilled onto S'virri's icy fur. Lor'haja looked sympathetically at the tormented young Khajiit and placed a gentle hand on his uninjured shoulder, taking him into a comforting embrace.
"Then I suppose it is up to Lor'haja to raise you."
S'virri spent many years with Lor'haja. He helped his adopted father sell Skooma, but he did not mind. Lor'haja also taught him more about fighting should a transaction ever turn sour.
The training, travel, heavy lifting and ample but lean diet all combined to make S'virri grow from a weak, flimsy cub to a strong, powerful Khajiit. He grew much taller than his elder, making Lor'haja swear up and down that he had to be part Ka Po'tun, the giant tiger race of Elsweyr.
S'virri grew up in Skyrim for the most part, so he adopted a more Nordic accent instead of the usual Elsweyr accent most Khajiit had.
He also developed a fondness for some of the local animals, especially sabre tried many a time to tame one, and usually failed. Not wanting their soft, fluffy pelts to go to waste, S'virri fashioned them into armor and blankets.
When people saw him, they usually bowed to his great size and fearsome armor, which also had the head of a sabre cat as a helmet. But the few who challenged him regretted it.
He actually learned how to transform into a sabre cat from a mage as payment in a Skooma trade, as well. This ability was useful in many a brawl as well as amusing for the contender usually fled screaming in terror. But S'virri preferred being with Lor'haja rather than brawling or adventuring.
One day, Lor'haja requested S'virri come with him across the Skyrim border into Cyrodiil. The travel to the Imperial City was smooth as the duo neared the border between Skyrim and Cyrodiil.
"Only a few more days," Lor'haja said, grinning. "This is our biggest order yet!"
They rode past the border for about a quarter of an hour until they were intercepted.
The thunder of hooves exploded around the carriage, shattering the serene atmosphere. Several men wearing Imperial armor swiftly surrounded the carriage on horseback. One official-looking man dismounted his horse and approached Lor'haja and S'virri.
"My name is Commander Caius," he stated. "It is my duty to enforce these borders, and to tell trespassers that they've no business here." He narrowed his eyes at the two Khajiit and added, "And you're trespassing."
Lor'haja looked at the man. "But there's no sign, so how could we have known?" he asked calmly. But Caius bared his teeth angrily.
"That's what I'm for," he replied coldly. "Now come with me. We'll confiscate any items you have and take you to Helgen."
He took Lor'haja by the shoulder and pulled him from the carriage. As Caius began binding his hands, however, the elder Khajiit used his tail to grab Caius' leg and pull it from underneath the commander, making him fall.
"Run, S'virri!" Lor'haja yelled.
"No!" S'virri responded. "I can fight! I'm not going to lose you, too!"
The Imperials swarmed the two Khajiit, with glimmering weapons and raging battlecries. But S'virri retaliated with a rending roar as he transformed.
His chest broadened, his fangs lengthened and his legs grew short and beastly. Within seconds, an enormous sabre cat stood roaring and snarling at the men.
"No, S'virri! Flee! Leave me behind!" the elder commanded desperately. He began to say something else, until an Imperial blade cut his words short.
The elder's eyes widened as the Imperial tugged his bloody sword out from behind Lorhaja's back, revealing a gaping hole. S'virri looked on in horror as his second father fell right before his disbelieving eyes.
S'virri changed back to his Khajiit form and collapsed weakly to his knees before Lor'haja as the sounds of the Imperial murderers faded to the background of his mind.
"No..." S'virri whimpered. "No, not you too! Don't die, you can't die!" Tears escaped his eyes as he clasped one of Lorhaja's hands in both of his own. The elder turned his cloudy azure eyes toward the anguished amber ones of S'virri.
He then uttered one word.
"Run."
Then his eyes turned toward the sky and stopped blinking as he ceased to be. S'virri looked at his father, unaware of the tears streaming down his face and the cries of the Imperials.
As he looked on, S'virri felt the anguish of his birth father's abuse, his brother's loss, his mother and sister's deaths and now this come crashing down on him. It hurt more than any physical weapon could.
S'virri was roughly returned to reality as two Imperials grabbed him by the shoulders, Commander Caius screaming at them to bind the "damned cat". All the rage and agony and anguish of S'virri's life boiled up and poured out in four soulrending words that he repeated over and over as the men bound him.
"YOU KILLED MY FATHER!"
Then, Commander Caius' fist connected to his temple and everything went black.
When S'virri awoke, he found himself sitting in a carriage with two Nords watching him.
"You're finally awake!"