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The moons shimmer overhead, though Xahrshi gives them no mind as he stares down at the blood pooled his boots from the wandering merchant he had come across. He had ravaged the man... a rare lapse in his tightly held control. Perhaps a mistake...but the man's blood had been so sweet under the moons. At last he raises his eyes from the blood to look around at the night. When his claws opened the portal he had no destination in mind, and so it was here that he came. Here that his memories lead him. Reaper's March. Once, he had been in service of the Dominion during the war. A night such as this had altered the course of his life forever. The moons, high overhead. The unnatural howls in the night as his unit was set upon by vicious werewolves. He had survived. He had always been good at that. But that time...he had wished he had not. Cursed by their claws and fangs, forced to become an out of control beast. Xahrshi had always been a Khajiit of order and control. To have that all stolen from him had driven him into despair. Another pack had found him, but he never bonded with them. Just lost himself to despair and the beast until the night the werewolf hunters had come. Poisoned and dying, his pack left him. Xahrshi's eyes close as his memories return to that night.

The poison overwhelming his body and forcing the wolf back. Lying upon the ground in his blood and filth as the hunters approach laughing. Xahrshi closes his eyes. All this time he sought the end. Letting the beast take over his body and mind in hopes it would be stupid enough to hunt something that would kill it. Would end it. And yet...would it end then? Or would he wake to find Hircine standing over him laughing, forcing him to endure this agony until the moons themselves faded? It is that thought that forces him up to lunge at the hunters. They knock him down, and he rises again until the poison grips his bones and forces him to the ground for the last time. The hunter's boots are the last thing he expects to see in this life but he still refuses to let his eyes close. Refuses the end, refuses to surrender. And it is then that she comes. Cloaked in an ebony robe with long hair even darker, crimson eyes, and slight horns. The hunters turn but they are no match for the Dremora that strikes with Daedric daggers and impossible speed and one by one they fall to her. When the last one crashes to the ground he stares at her even as death comes, wondering why this creature would stare at him with such fascination. He was a wretched creature, cursed and abandoned. Worth no notice at all.

She kneels beside him then and touches his cheek. So cold, and yet it is a comfort to the ever-present heat of the beast. "So strong, and yet you have so little control over your destiny," she whispers. "I would take you home, little werewolf. I would make you anew if you will let me."

His claws dig into the dirt as light fades until all he can see is this Dremora, her crimson eyes digging into his. Seeing past the beast. Seeing what he truly is. And offering him the impossible. The cost, he knows what Prince she belongs to. Can see it in her eyes, can feel it in the coldness that emits from her. And yet, that iciness offers escape from the heat and uncontrollable beast. "This one will do anything, pledge anything," he whispers. "Xahrshi refuses to be this disgusting thing any longer."

The Dremora smiles. "My Khajiit. I have never adopted one of your kind before. You will suffer, but when the suffering is over you will be one of Coldharbour's children. You will be mine."

His eyes start to close as another portal opens, as Daedra boots walk closer to him. "This one is yours," he whispers as the world goes black.

Xahrshi's eyes open as he stares up at the Moons. Zen'la had kept her word. There had been agony such as he never knew. But when it was done the wolf was gone and icy cold had flowed through his blood instead of the heat of the cursed wolf. And unlike the wolf, he had been able to control this new beast that he had been made into. A brief time of blood-lust so intense it blinded him but his force of will and strength forced that into submission and all was as it should be. Order and control, and power such as he had never known, and a new master to serve. It was Zen'la who saved him, to Zen'la he in part belonged, but it was the Prince of Domination he served. Every command and order. Purpose under Molag Bal, and it seemed as if Coldharbour and Nirn would become one for a time. But it passed and Xahrshi lost his purpose drop by icy drop as his Prince recovered from that then focused all his attention on his next plan, and when that failed...all purpose was gone. Xahrshi growls as he turns his head from the moons, doing his best to cast the memories aside. And then he freezes, as a strange whisper penetrates the night.

~Vampire~

Xahrshi's eyes narrow. A whisper in the dark. Always in the dark. In the hours he slept, in the depths of Coldharbour and now here. With driving intensity, the Khajiit follows the whispers to a cave and without hesitation slips inside. Small and dark. "Speak," he growls softly. "You whisper to this one. You drive this one to near madness." His claws flex as his orange-red eyes sweep the dark and focus at last on the back of the cave, where the shadows seem more than just shadows.

~What do you seek?~

A step forward and he raises his claws, reaching for the shadows. Order, purpose. But why should he speak to this thing in the dark, too cowardly to show itself? A soft growl and dark laughter from the shadows follow.

~Just that? To simply serve a Prince, is that your idea of purpose? You could have a much greater purpose. What Do You Want?~

The voice commanding. It causes him to still. Causes his thoughts to swirl in a maelstrom and without thinking he slowly speaks. "They should all die. Every one of the beasts. Damn them to a place farther than Oblivion, Damn their Prince as well." he growls as his fur rises.

~Finally. Truth.~ The voice says a trace of amusement within it.

"Why ask this one this?" he growls. "My Prince commands me, but he would never command me to war with Hircine and his foul beasts."

~...Let us just say I seek those with an intense drive towards seemingly impossible goals. Let us say...I want to see what like-minded mortals will do if placed on the same path of destiny. Go, Vampire. Go to Northern Elsweyr and Orcrest. You will find those of like-minded there. Different goals, perhaps. But like-minded all the same.~

The shadows vanish and Xahrshi stares at the cave wall before he turns and leaves the cave. As his head turns to look at the moons overhead a savage grin crosses his face. His deepest desire. One he hid for so very long. Purpose and Order were enough for him. Following his Prince had been enough for him. But now his Prince was in a weakened state. Now his purpose was gone. So why not...give into the dark desires of his heart? With a laugh, he walks into the night heading towards a new goal.