A low rumbling hiss resounded against the dry cavern walls, and in an instant, the giant felt a tearing pain followed by a warm sensation enveloping its back. It lunged for its club, its movements heavy and slow, and breathing ragged from the adrenaline. Out of the corner of its eye it caught a smear of white bounding around behind it, and by the time it had finally grabbed its weapon, pain tore through it again, this time across the opposite shoulder.

"You're mine now!" came a raspy voice. The giant clamored to its knees, frantically gathering itself to prepare to face the unseen assailant. But just as soon as it had caught the blur in its field of vision, everything went dark. An enormous thud echoed throughout the cave.

"Too slow, old friend, too slow," chuckled the warrior. He swung his axe through the air, the giant's blood flying off as he did. He approached the beast, pulling out a small knife from the scabbard on his waistband. Kneeling beside the giant's enormous feet, he sliced cleanly two big toes, each one itself the size and heft of a root vegetable. "Unfortunately for you, these toes of yours are worth a lot of gold. It's too bad you aren't one for talking, or perhaps I could have convinced you to give me your toes without killing you," he said, wrapping the toes in cloth and putting them away in his satchel.

With a flick of his tail, he was back on his feet. He scanned the rest of the cave, a small nook, but with plenty of crevices that could hide treasure. He climbed up a tall stack of rocks, onto which he found many tree trunks and heavy stones, some tied together by long strips of animal skin. "Oh, excellent craftsmanship, my friend. This would be sure to maim any traveler that threatens your herd, no doubt," he said. He smirked and turned towards the dead giant on the ground below. "Well, any traveler except Mo'aksa, that is." With a chesty laugh he swung back down to the ground. He was about to leave the cave when a spot of red caught his eye. His narrow eyes darted towards the spot, revealing a pool of blood dripping down from a stone table above his head. He climbed up the table with some difficulty, his claws slipping once or twice on the smooth stone slabs. He strained his eyes in the darkness to see that there was a fresh corpse laying on the surface before him, still leaking blood out of a large gash in its torso. He knelt next to it and observed that it was an orc man, poorly outfitted for a trip to a giant's den. Without missing a beat, he reached for the bag strapped around the orc's waist and rooted around to see what was inside. A few septims and a potion were all that caught his eye, save for a small, folded note which rested in the bottom of the bag. He unfolded it and examined its contents which read:

Don't try to stiff me on this deal, Ulag.

I can talk the Khajiit caravans into a better price than you'd be able to, and the guards are still looking for you after that little skooma incident. Just bring the sap to my stall in Whiterun like we discussed.

-Ysolda

The tip of his tail began to wave eagerly as he stared at the note a while longer. Smirking to himself, he got up, tucked the note into his pocket, and bounded out of the cave. Outside he stepped over the body of another bloody giant as he made his way to a glowing leafless tree that sprouted from a pool of dark water. He examined an old spigot that had been thrust into the trunk, and then pulled out the note. His smirk grew to a wide grin, revealing his sharp fangs. He twisted the spigot, and into a bottle flowed viscous purple sap. His pupils widened as he watched the gleaming liquid pour.

"Oho, my friends, you were holding out on me!"

l===============================l

The market of Whiterun was always a busy place. People hustled about from stall to stall, rushing to claim goods before anyone else could get to them. Mo'aksa awkwardly pushed his way through the crowd, catching more than a few glares as he passed. He stopped at a stall tucked away by an alley and knocked on its overhang, which for him was at about eye level. A small voice came from beneath the counter, calling out a light and feminine "One moment please!". Mo'aksa waited impatiently as the shopkeep rustled around beneath the stall, watching as passersby whispered behind his back. He never liked being in crowds for this exact reason.

At last, a young woman popped her head up from behind the market stall. She had short red hair tucked neatly behind her ears, and her eyes bore the innocent demeanor of one who had lived their life safe within city walls. It was a look Mo'aksa could recognize instantly, sticking out from the tired, cynical eyes he usually encountered.

"How may I help you, sir?" she asked.

"Actually, it is you who Mo'aksa would like to help," he said, leaning in beneath the roof of the stall. He rested one arm on the counter as he pulled the note out with the other and passed it to the woman. She looked at it with suspicion before extending her fair hand to his and taking the note. In only a second or two, her brow furled, and she looked back up at the stranger in front of her.

"Where did you get this?" she asked.

Mo'aksa pointed to the name 'Ulag' written at the top of the note. "This one, I believe I found his corpse in a giant's den. His chest had collapsed and made a terrible mess on the cave floor," he said with a sneer. He expected her to be horrified at his comment, or at least a little shocked, but to his surprise she only sighed and slid the note into the front of her dress.

"Pity, that. Thank you for letting me know," she said. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" Mo'aksa was caught off guard by her composure and recoiled slightly.

"Your friend has died, you know. Probably a painful death. And you were the one who sent him to it. Do you not have any remorse?" She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"We were merely business partners, I hardly knew the guy. And anyway, what makes you think I'm the one who sent him to that giant's camp?" she spat. She looked back at Mo'aksa, his eyes obscured by the overhang. She tapped her nails against the wooden counter, impatiently waiting for his reply.

"You... are the one called Ysolda, yes?" asked Mo'aksa.

"I am".

"Then there is no mistake, you are the one who sent him to his death!" Ysolda sighed and leaned down on the counter, turning her head up to see out from beneath the overhang. Mo'aksa pulled from his bag a hefty little glass bottle, inside it, the thick purple sap he had collected from the tree at the giant's camp. Ysolda's eyes held a steady glare at it, studying the faint glow it gave off. "Perhaps this will jog your memory…" said Mo'aksa.

Quickly, Ysolda pushed his hand back down, forcing the bottle back into his bag. She forced a cordial smile and held the bottle down as she straightened herself. "Alright, I see what you're playing at," she said. She cleared her throat and turned her face up at him. "It's best for us to discuss this in private, so what do you say to a little drink with me?" she asked. Mo'aksa's mouth curled into a mischievous grin and he nodded.

Ysolda bent down and gathered a few things from the counter before turning a lock and stepping away. She guided Mo'aksa down a block or two to a tavern from which the sounds of music and shouting could be heard even out in the street. She motioned for him to follow her inside, which he did with some reservation. As soon as the door shut behind them, the patrons all turned their heads, and Mo'aksa watched as their expressions turned from merriment to anxiety. Taller than the door frame and with shiny white fur, there was no hope for him to blend in amongst a group of shabby nords. His broad shoulders and blood-stained garb made him imposing enough, but in addition to that, his stench of gore and mud drew much attention, even from those patrons sitting on the other side of the room.

Ysolda paid no mind to the others and approached the older woman at the counter. "I'm heading into the room in the back for a bit, alright?" she said. The stout woman behind the counter nodded and took the coins that Ysolda had set down, watching the cat-man as he followed Ysolda through the kitchen and into a room off to the side. After a brief silence among the patrons, the bard once again began to play his flute, and the merriment continued on as if nothing had happened at all.

Mo'aksa followed the young woman into a dusty room in the back of the tavern and proceeded to shut the door behind him. He scanned the room and took in its layout, much as he did whenever he entered the dens of his prey. It was a small space, likely a break room, with a table and chairs set in the middle. The walls were lined with shelves of vegetables and spices, and in the corner was a barrel which held salted meats. He inhaled deeply through his nose, and picked up the smells of many different people, along with the strong scent of mead from a case on the wall behind him. He sat down on the chair and rested his head in his palm.

"Who are you?" asked Ysolda, taking her own seat across from him.

"My name is Mo'aksa, I'm a hunter. I've come to Skyrim in pursuit of more… exciting prey," he said with a purr. Ysolda crossed her arms.

"You've come to Skyrim to hunt giants? Really?"

"Yes, among other beasts. They are a challenge to face, but that makes them all the more satisfying to bring down." His narrow eyes held a playful glint to them. Ysolda lifted an eyebrow at his response, but then shrugged and shook her head. She had known plenty of foolhardy adventurers who went after dangerous monsters for the mere sport of hunting, so she wagered a guess that this khajiit was another of that sort. She had seen plenty of ragged travelers like that from her stall in the market.

"I suppose that's all well and good, but if you're an outsider, then let me offer you some advice: giants are more trouble than they're worth. If you antagonize the giants, then they get angry and attack nord villages," she said. Mo'aksa nodded along to her statement, but from his expression she could tell he wasn't taking anything she said to heart. "And anyway, what could giants possibly have that makes them so desirable to hunt?"she asked with a huff. Mo'aksa's eyes lit up as he pulled his bag around and rifled through it. Ysolda tapped her fingers impatiently as she watched him dig through heaps of bottles, purses, and other trinkets before finally pulling out a bundle wrapped in cloth, stained red in various spots. She leaned forward to get a better look as Mo'aksa untied the cloth, revealing two large toes, caked in dirt and calluses on the bottom with thick, cracked nails. The blood had congealed and turned black, and the smell was quite strong. Ysolda immediately recoiled, absolutely disgusted.

Mo'aksa laughed. "It is as you say, giants are quite dangerous. But their toes are useful for making potions, so Mo'aksa retrieves them and sells them to alchemists," he said, picking up one of the toes and examining it. The more he turned it around, the further Ysolda retreated. Noticing this, he got a mischievous grin on his face and brought the toe in close to her face. "Personally though, he does not see what is so valuable about them. Can you tell?"

"Ugh, that's disgusting! You're just carrying that around with you?" She scrunched up her face and pushed his hand away. "Alright alright, I get it, so please just put that thing away already!" she pleaded. Moaksa laughed again, and finally wrapped the toes up and stowed them away in his bag. "Alright, look. That orc you found was an errand boy of mine. I had him set up a tapper on the tree at that camp and bring me the sap from it whenever it was full. It went for about 100 septims a bottle." This time Mo'aksa listened closely to her as she spoke. "It's called sleeping tree sap. It's a drug found only here in Skyrim, one that makes you feel healthy and strong but also slow and stupid at the same time. People like to load up on the stuff and spend hours daydreaming in drug dens."

Mo'aksa pulled the bottle out once more and held it up to the light. "To think, the mere sap of a tree could create such effects. Mo'aksa is reminded of the skooma bars back home" he said, meeting her eyes with his. Ysolda nodded.

"I suppose with Ulag gone, I've had my last run. My clients are going to be very disappointed," she said, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "That is of course, unless you'd like to take over his position?"

Mo'aksa paused for a moment, holding the bottle tightly in hand. He turned it around a few times before at last speaking up. "Rather foolish to go after giants with only a dagger. A little blade like that won't ever make a cut deep enough to deter them," he said as he looked back up at Ysolda, his tail lifting and swaying slowly behind him. "A job like this requires a professional's touch, wouldn't you agree?" Ysolda scoffed at this remark.

"I already offered you the job. What, do you want me to lick your boots, too?" At this, Mo'aksa let out a hearty laugh.

"A smart woman, to be sure. Mo'aksa likes you. He brings this up with a purpose, you see..." he leaned into her face. Ysolda held his gaze with an icy confidence that gave him pause. "Khajiit wants double what you paid the orc for the sap."

"Mm, no. You do the same job as Ulag, you get the same pay. Sound fair?"

"Mo'aksa doesn't think it is fair at all. Obviously the job you paid the orc for was more dangerous than he expected. By that logic, it deserves higher pay. Surely you can understand this concept, yes?"

"Maybe he made a mistake and got himself killed this time, but that's got nothing to do with me. He made the same trip every time and never had problems before. My price is fair." Ysolda turned her head away and crossed her legs. Mo'aksa's grin widened.

"Alright then, if you won't agree, then perhaps Mo'aksa will keep it a while longer. He is sure he can find someone else who will buy it." He watched as Ysolda's eyebrow twitched. She turned back to him and stared him dead in the eye. He felt his face heat up, but his expression betrayed nothing.

"Fine, you got me. I'll give you 150, how does that sound?" She pulled out a coin purse and bounced it up and down in the palm of her hand, the coins rattling around and making that glorious clinking noise that Mo'aksa so loved to hear.

"That's not double," he said. His ears twitched in her direction each time the purse landed in her hands. The light of the fire flickered off her dewey cheeks, and after a few moments of teasing him with the coins, she pulled them in close to her chest, the firelight illuminating her smile.

"Good luck finding a better price than that anywhere else in Skyrim, friend." she uncrossed her legs, leaning her elbow on her knees. Suddenly the naivete Mo'aksa sensed in her back at the market was nowhere to be seen. "How much will it cost you to travel out to different cities to find new buyers? How can you be sure they'll be close enough to the source to justify the resources it'll take to get the sap?" Mo'aksa started to speak up, but paused and pensively placed his hand on his chin. "By the time you've found someone else willing to take a risk and buy that sap off of you, you'll have long since spent what that little bottle is worth. Trust me, it's much easier to sell it to me, someone who lives close to the tree and already has enough clients to make a quick turnaround. You won't find a better buyer than me, I guarantee it," she said, leaning back in her chair with an expression which bore only a familiar sense of satisfaction. It was the same satisfaction Mo'aksa felt after a successful hunt. "Have we got a deal?"

Mo'aksa stood up and nodded, pulling the bottle from his bag and holding it out to her. "What this one says is true. Mo'aksa agrees to the terms," he said. Ysolda, in turn, stood up, and offered him the bag of septims. As they exchanged goods, he felt her hand brush against him for the briefest moment, but the gentle touch was enough to stand his fur on end. He turned away from her and began to count out the coin in the bag. Ysolda held the bottle up to the light and examined it with pride. She stuck the bottle into her own bag and turned back towards Mo'aksa. She watched his back as she waited for him to finish counting and studied his body. She hadn't noticed before, but comparing him to the other Khajiit she had met, he seemed… different. For one, he was much larger than any of the khajiit in the caravans, and more ferocious-looking. She watched his tail sway just a few inches from the ground as he counted, languidly swinging from left to right. His fur had grayish spots and stripes, which itself was not so unusual, but the color stood out to Ysolda. She had seen gray and black and brown khajiit, but never one so bright white as Mo'aksa.

"Say, you're from Elsweyr, like the Khajiit in the caravans, right?" she asked. There was a long pause. She walked up closer behind him and stuck her head out from behind his shoulder. "Did you hear me?"

"Grraaah!" he shouted out. Ysolda withdrew herself as he turned back towards her in a huff. "Damn woman, you made Mo'aksa lose count, now he must start over from the beginning!" he cried. She snorted and covered her mouth, but it was no use. She busted out laughing.

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to distract you. Here, would you like me to do it?" she took the purse back from him in a swift motion and emptied the contents onto the table. She began to quickly group the coins together and count them outloud, fast and precise. He followed her fingers in amazement at her speed. As she counted he looked back at her face and found that childlike shimmer had returned to her expression. He folded his hands and waited for her to finish. "There, one hundred and fifty septims. Satisfied?" she asked. They made eye contact for a moment and there was a weighty pause. Her exotic nord features caught his eye in this moment. He had always held the softness of city girls with contempt, finding nothing at all respectable about the privileged lives they lead or their inferior physiques. But in this moment, he found a certain charm to it that he could not describe. Likewise, Ysolda saw the ragged adventurers that came to the market as uncharismatic thrillseekers, preferring the company of the manicured merchants and townsfolk she had grown up with instead. In this most ragged of adventurers and beastly of men, there was a quality which drew her in. They held each other's gaze for a few moments more before a knock came at the door.

"Ysolda? Are you finished? I need to get the ale from in there," came a gentle voice from outside. "Sorry Saadia, I'll be out in a moment!" chimed Ysolda, standing up and walking to the door. She put her palm on the handle and looked back at the adventurer who had not yet turned her way.

"Mo'aksa will be back in a week or two with more sap," he said, turning only his cheek in her direction. Ysolda nodded and smiled.

"I look forward to our partnership," she said warmly. With that she opened the door and allowed warm air from the hearth outside to fill the room.

~Chapter 1 END~