The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep (IC)

Somewhere in the Abecean Sea off the coast of Valenwood…

“Cutting it a little fine, aren’t we, Captain?” the argonian asked, standing alongside his commander on the bridge as they both gazed off the port side at another vessel. “We’re expected to be in port in seven hours. Do we have time for this?” he asked, his voice expressing concern, but not toward the imminent danger. Rather, the ports into Cyrodiil were under tight blockade and under the current political climate, all Imperial service ships were expected to inform the city of destination the estimated time of arrival. Neglecting to do so could end up with you being denied access to dock until the ship was inspected by an armed, over-zealous group of Legionnaires until cleared at best, or having those same Legionnaires attack and scuttle the ship after killing everyone on board at worse. To be fair, it only happened a couple times, and both were proven to be Thalmor infiltration attempts. Still, it was enough of a precedent for any Captain in the Empire’s service to be diligent about their paperwork.

“Drinks-Many Rivers, there is always time to do our duty.” The khajiit grinned, facing his second-in-command. “And who knows? Perhaps this one has what you need to forge a proper wedding band for your lady.” He paused for a moment, winking mischievously. “After all, you’ve paid her enough each time we dock in Anvil, it might as well be her dowry. Do you know she’s been seeing other men? You may wish to hurry before one of them whisks her away on you.” He chuckled, being rewarded with an elbow jab to the ribs.

“She’s a brothel prostitute, you belligerent imp. She’s just the only argonian who works there. You know this.” Drinks-Many-Rivers sighed. “Besides, I think I’d contract rock joint or bone-break fever off of the others.”
“Buying cure disease potions does take up a sizable amount of your cut.” The captain agreed, turning back to the ship. He grunted as he noticed the smaller, swifter vessel changing course. “Perhaps our reputation precedes us.” He turned to the helmsman, “Give chase, see if we can’t catch up. We’ve been on their tail for a week now, it would be a shame if they slipped us again. Don’t let it happen.” He said, walking towards the stairwell to the main deck. Mounted on the deck, hidden between a large canvas tarp was the ship’s newest acquisition, and Zaveed intended to test it. He knew as he approached the crew members hastily pulling free the tarp that the red flag with a sigil of a khajiit sabre buried point first into an altmer’s skull with an ice wraith wraped around the blade in black filled out the details, the symbol became infamous from the Abecean Sea to Topal bay among pirates, smugglers, and even the occasional Thalmor vessel. As the saying went, red meant death, and while the Empire wasn’t officially confronting their foes at sea, they were all too happy to do so with proxies like Zaveed’s ship, the Sea Wisp. The galleon was large enough to sport a 46 man crew, many of which who were ex-Legionnaires or mercenaries, men and women who were yearning for a life of adventure, and those seeking retribution against those the Wisp targeted. Zaveed could sympathize. After all, he used to be one of the men he now hunted for a living and sport.

The khajiit stopped to watch the men removing the tarp to reveal the new tool of their trade, a bow mounted ballista, a siege weapon based off of dwemer designs and crafted by some of the more brilliant members of the Legion, While the design lent itself to supporting assaults on strongholds, it would also prove to be a useful piece of equipment when it came to catching enemy ships. That was what Zaveed was counting on as he rested his hands on his axe heads. He felt the anticipation within him swelling as the crate that contained the actual projectiles was opened and a length of rope secured to the end of the one that would be loaded into the ballista. His pale blue eyes turned once more to the quarry. The irony that it took a former pirate to catch one of the more infamous ones was not lost on him. Today was shaping up well, after all.
_ _ _

The port city of Anvil came into sight, and the Sea Wisp had managed to arrive within the appointed time-frame. As the galleon maneuvered towards the docks, two Imperial galiotes slipped in alongside the ship on either side. They were committed to port at this point, whether they liked it or not.
The skirmish only a few hours earlier went without much of a hitch, the ballista had managed to tear down one of the enemy vessel’s masts with an improbably lucky shot as they managed to close within 200 meters, and forced it dead in the water. From there, the Wisp came alongside the enemy ship and her archers unleashed a brutal rain of arrows against the defenders. By the time the armoured attackers had boarded, securing the enemy ship to their own with ropes and hooks and laying down planks, the enemy longship looked more like a hedgehog than a sea-worthy vessel. In all, the slaughter took less than twenty minutes, in which in a bit of flourish, Zaveed forced the enemy captain to the edge of the deck, causing him to fall backwards as he deflected a blow from the khajiit’s axe. With a free hand, Zaveed caught the man’s coin purse, preventing him from falling into the warm sea. Zaveed simply grinned at the man before severing the chord that fastened the purse to the pirate’s belt, dropping him into the dark waters below. Even if the sharks didn’t get him, he surely would have drowned. It wouldn’t give his victims any comfort, but the man died slowly. As far as justice went, that felt the most rewarding.

As the ship passed the sea wall, Zaveed still clutched the large coin purse, feeling the weight. How many Septims were in there, 30, 50? In all honestly, it was a drop in the bucket from the combined wealth Zaveed’s crew had found below deck in the long ship. Chest and crates filled with food, armour, clothing, and weapons, along with several valuables from the pirates’ previous conquests. Much of it would go towards fueling the growing insurrection in Elswyer, where a growing resistance against the Aldmeri Dominion was growing steadily, like a fire catching. Khajiit were a sovereign, proud people. Having their country occupied by the Thalmor and having the men pushed into serving their war machines and supplying the Thalmor’s war efforts with supplies was crippling. Zaveed’s mother and father, as well as brothers seemed to be doing well, considering. The last time he had visited, they had almost passed the record for moon sugar yield and were able to afford their workers better wages as a result, which was a needed reprieve for the men and women who seemed to find the prices for necessities growing each month due to shortages due to Thalmor demand. Elswyer was in no hurry to rejoin the Empire, but that didn’t stop Emperor Mede from supporting those who would fight his enemies under the table.

In the time before war officially began, the crew of the Sea Wisp were the ones shaping history. Not that Zaveed was a stranger to being a world shaper; he was enjoying something of celebrity amongst the people for his involvement in liberating Tamriel from the last Emperor’s attempt to control the very souls of every sentient man, woman, and child across the continent. It was, in fact, the reason he was a sanctioned privateer working on behalf of the Empire to keep the seas safe and prepare for the looming war with the Aldmeri Dominion. Zaveed reflected it would likely be his last time in Cyrodiil during peace time, at least until the next war ended, one way or another.

Not long after, the ship was docked and the crew set about securing it, and the cargo. Arrangements were made with the harbourmaster and after Zaveed had cleared the ship’s identity and contents with the harbourmaster, the crew prepared for a much anticipated shore leave. With their Captain departing for Imperial City for the festivities, the crew prepared for what was shaping up to be two weeks’ worth of freedom. Some would doubtless take the time to try and visit family close by, others would likely squander all of their earnings during that time, and others would undoubtedly find themselves in situations that were best left unspoken in polite company. Securing and locking the cabin, Zaveed set about assigning last minute tasks to those who were remaining with the ship, either as punishment or by volunteering for a bit extra gold, the khajiit gathered his gear and headed down the ramp to purchase a horse. A group of crewmen struggling with crates caught his attention.

“Horogar, catch!” he called. A burly nord with an impressive beard turned at the sound of Zaveed’s voice. Moments later, the heavy coin purse landed firmly in his heavy hands. Zaveed pointed to each of the men. “Have an evening, courtesy of your illustrious and noble Captain.” Zaveed bowed to the mens’ cheers and call-outs before heading on his way. Before he could leave the docks and head into the City’s center through the massive, reinforced gates, a distinctly Imperial voice caught his attention. “I thought it might be you. Had to find out for myself.”

Zaveed turned, hands resting easily on his axe heads, and apprised the man who was hailing him. From first glance, he was a ranking officer in the Legions, rugged looks, dark, wavy hair, a cleft chin, and steady brown eyes. On his hip hung a mace, typically not a common sight on the Legion’s finest. The man had a ready smiled and an extended hand, which Zaveed clasped in a firm handshake. “I do not believe we have met, friend.” He said, tilting his head slightly in an attempt to recall the man. The Legionnaire let out a short laugh and shook his head. “No, I am certain you would remember. I am Captain Dontos Caspian, of the Tenth Legion. We are stationed in the Colovian West, which includes Anvil. Your reputation precedes you, Zaveed.” The man stepped away from the wall he had situated himself by to keep an eye on the docks and the coming and going of people through the gate and extended an arm towards the city. “As I understand it, you are making your way to Imperial City for the festival. As fate would have it, that too is my destination, as keeping a line of communication with the headquarters and the Legion is paramount in these uncertain days and I have reports to deliver on behalf of General Cornethian. What say you, Zaveed of Senchal?” the Captain asked.

Zaveed grinned. “If you insist. Lead on, friend. I am certain you are in as much of a hurry as I am.” He said. Caspian smiled in turn. “Putting it mildly. Come, I’ll show you to the stables. I trust you ride.”

The privateer walked with Caspian, and found himself in the Legion stables outside of the city gates not long after. Horses were prepared for them and the six guards who would serve as Captain Caspian’s escort, and they rode out down the Eastern road, which would take them by a few cities before reaching Imperial City, including a now-thriving Kvatch. Zaveed rode alongside Caspian’s black stallion with his own brown and black mere. They rode in comfortable silence for a few minutes before the Captain spoke up. “You know… I owe my life to you, even if we’ve never met.”

Zaveed remained quiet, watching the rode ahead and the forest. One could never be too attentive when travelling. The khajiit waited for the Captain to continue.

The Imperial sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t explain what it was like, being under that spell. I felt like my thoughts were my own, nothing really seemed amiss, but I became so obsessed with preserving the Empire and serving Emperor Felix that I… did a lot of things I regret, and would never have done otherwise.” His face hung heavy, recalling memories he clearly wished were gone. “The worst part was, it wasn’t like some unseen force was driving me to do these things. I felt like it was the right thing to do, that I came to the conclusions myself. It wasn’t until after the spell was at the beginning of the Siege of Storms that it occurred to me what I’d done. I… wasn’t the only one who had regrets. Some couldn’t handle it and sought death shortly after. I nearly quit my posting in the Legion, but I suppose it’s hard to throw away the purpose in your life after so many hard years.” He turned to face Zaveed. “So, what about you? Why was it that you remain free-willed when so many others were not themselves? Why did you risk your life to stop the auroras?” he asked.

Zaveed collected his thoughts, pulling a bottle of Aldo wine from his travel pack and pulling the cork free. After a spell, he spoke. “If a disturbing and highly horrendous necromancer are to be believed, my not-so-distant ancestors had been directly influenced or blessed by some divine power. According to him,” he mimicked the accent of the dunmer necromancer as he held the bottle out towards Caspian, “’Mortals cannot hold power over the aedra and daedra, because I said so.’” The Captain laughed, taking the bottle from Zaveed and taking a swig before handing it back. “As insufferable of a bastard as he was, one can’t help but wonder if he was right. Regardless, my companions and I did not have much of a choice. I was never one to revel in the idea of going into hiding until I’m old and grey, I’ve accepted I will most likely leave a young, dashing corpse one of these days, so might as well make sure that happens while doing something useful.” Zaveed shrugged, drinking deeply from the bottle. The taste of grapes was strong, despite the bitter taste of the wine.

“Like you, I’ve also done some pretty terrible things in my time, only I don’t have the defense of being enthralled by a lovely dancing sky to absolve me of my crimes. Apparently, an Emperor’s pardon is the same thing, to my delight. I had learned something of myself those few weeks, with those people I am going to be reuniting with in the capital. Chief among them is how to care for more than myself, and that apparently people gravitate towards me to lead them during a crisis. I have a lot of red on my ledger, as they say. I thought perhaps by redeeming the souls of everyone in Tamriel, perhaps I’d make up for some of my wrong-doings. And I thought it would prove to be a most enjoyable tale.” Zaveed grinned from behind the lip of the bottle. “I am who I am, and I make no apologies for it and the things I’ve done, but I must say the lot I have stumbled into in life seems to agree with me. It wasn’t that long ago that I used to have to flee at the sight of Legionnaires, and now look at me! The honoured guest of the Emperor himself and something of a folk hero.” He paused, handing the bottle back to Caspian. “Is it true they made statues of us?” he asked.

Caspian drank deeply from the bottle and laughed lightly. “You’ll have to wait and see, khajiit. Wait and see.”

"Careful...careful..." Elayna steadied her hand as she dropped some nightshade nectar into a bubbling green concoction with an unbelievable odor. As the dark drops hit the mixture, the liquid glowed, bubbled even more, and then settled down. The potion smelled very floral and rich now. "Perfect..Ellie, once again, you've created a lovely perfume." Elayna patted herself on the back, proud of her ability. This was her first time working with these ingredients, which her instructor supplied. Elayna took a red vial, filled it with the fragrance. She set it down to let it cool.

This really was a nice set-up. Her current teacher, Dominus Gravenis, an old Imperial, was a kind old man, and provided her with good reagents to practice with. She never usually used them for perfume, but she wanted to go get mead tonight. And this new brew would turn all the men's heads in her direction. It was the reason she never sold the stuff: Couldn't have competition, could she? Besides, it wasn't a daily thing. Elayna only made perfume for special occasions. As she thought this, Toadstool brushed up against Elayna's leg. "Hey Toad...hungry?"Elayna asked the fox. He yipped in affirmation, and Elayna went downstairs to get him a fish. Dominus was there.

"Hello Ellie. I can smell that potion you were working on. What was it exactly?" Dominus asked, somewhat curious. "Just a little something for my night out tonight. Nothing mind-altering, don't worry."Elayna said with a laugh. Dominus just shook his head. "You and your outings. Just please don't come home drunker than who knows what. Don't need you causing a ruckus." Dominus said in a light-hearted way. He was like a second father to Elayna, from both his appearance and demeanor. Elayna smiled. "I'll make decent decisions, don't worry."Elayna assured him, then remembered her promise to Toadstool. "We have some fish in the cellar, right?" She asked. "Yes, we should have some longfin. I'm sure Toadstool will enjoy it." Dominus said, guessing who it was for. Elayna nodded and headed down into the dank cellar. It was dark, and reeked of fish and herbs. She fished into a barrel, and pulled out a slimy fish. It was so gross. Holding it between pinched fingers, she took it to Toadstool, who gulped it down in a flash. Grabbing her perfume, now cool, Elayna and Toadstool left the shop to get a couple things for dinner.

I sat there in my chair, in my house, with my tea. But still, I feel as though I have no control over myself. Each sip I took consoled me a little more, but still, there was an emptiness inside. I am fine with how things are, I'm calm and at most, satisfied with how my life is going. There were wrong twists and turns that I took, and I loathe the fact that I took them. Each day that passes, I am more aware and more conscious of my surroundings and the world that I now live in, rather than the world I left. My parents, my sister... Delayn. They all helped shape me, made me prepared for days like this, where I wonder if I should continue. There were other factors, such as the military, it definitely fortified me for whatever may come, at least, battle wise. The only thing no one could help me with was love, loss and emotion. I hated that these all played a role in my life, but they do in all others, so I have no reason to sit in the dark and feel sorry for myself.

I stand up and set the marble cup on the wooden table in front of me. I reach over to my left and twist a small knob on a lantern, the room illuminates with a sudden burst, books all around, dirty clothes, unwashed dishes... This was the life I was leading. Bland and stale. If I had no motivation to go on, then I don't see a reason to search for one. It should present itself to me. I did all of this for a better life, but I felt more intact when I was at home, with the ones I love. Suddenly, interrupting my thoughts, there was a knock at the door, dust flew off of the windowsill that was attached to the doors frame. I walk over to the door, dodging piles of rubbish and papers strewn on the floor. I fling the door open, and to my surprise, this was no tax collector or salesman. This was man that I knew, he worked down at the fisherman's docks. The right hand man to my boss, Ronogh. He was a pale Nordish man, with dirty brown hair.
"Ey, Tzun, Boss said that there were a few fish missing. Told me to talk to you about it, seein' as how you're the only one that's been around to work these past few days."
"And he believes that this is of my doing?" I reply.
"No one ever said that," he looks at my suspiciously "We were just wonder-" I cut him off before he can finish his sentence.
"Listen, I have to be somewhere, I'll talk to you in two days about it."
I grab a back that lie next to me, and partially shove Ronogh out of my way, closing and locking the door behind me. Honestly, I had no where to be, this man just gives me the urge to hurt someone. I go over to my shed before he has a chance to say anything back to me. I open the door to the shack and pull out my bows and arrows. I'm sure that somewhere quiet would take the ease and strain off of myself.

Gorzath walked into the city, with his hood of a cloak he had bought pulled down low, in an attempt to keep his identity secret. He had no want of the googly eyes and the praises and the stares of adoration. He did what he had to do, most of it he was not proud of. His part in slaying the dragonborn, the worlds savior, one of them. He walked quickly through the crowds, gently pushing aside those he couldn't slip by. He watched from under the hood as life bustled in Imperial city. People having minor arguments over the current emperor, is he good, or is he bad?

And anything involving him and his acts. Something that wasn't common to see during the time of the aura. Gorzath thought to himself. He shifted his gaze and saw something not so nice that came from the aura being destroyed. Along with the lack of free will and speech, there was a lack of hate and racism between the individual races. Unified, but not free. That had changed when the aura ended. People reverted to old ways, and Gorzath could clearly see the effects of it now. Argonian, Khajiit, and the Elven races were the main parties seen in poverty, and treated like dirt. But there were Nords, and others who were thrown along with them. Gorzath growled and muttered to himself, but had no money to spare.

In addition to that...tensions are on the rise once more between the differing nations....in a time of what should have been peace, and I can't shake the feeling of war on the horizon.. Gorzath thought once more. He continued like this, largely unnoticed, until a certain incident. It began with children, dashing around him and running into him, causing him to stumble. Their mother came up and started scolding the children and apologizing to Gorzath at the same time. Gorzath simply chuckled. "It's no matter. They are just children, doing what children will." He crouched down in front of the children and spread his hands wide. "Want to see a magic trick?" He asked. They nodded enthusiastically. Gorzath grinned and snapped his fingers. Little balls of flame leapt up and danced around the children.

The balls were no more than lukewarm, and couldn't have hurt the children, even if they did manage to catch them. And they did try. The flames teased them by dancing in front of their noses, then darting away. The children, shrieking in delight, leapt after them in pursuit. Gorzath chuckled. "The balls should disappear in a minute or so." The mother began to thank him, chuckling herself, when she got a good look at his face. Her eyes popped wide, and she opened her mouth and shouted "You're one of the heroes of Tamriel! One of the ones who ended the aura two years ago! Gorzath! Gorzath the Wanderer!" Before he could say anything. Immediately, people began to crowd around them, eager to get a glimpse of one of the heroes, whose faces they knew so well.

Gorzath sighed. "So much for a quiet entry..." he muttered. Then, he held a ball of water and a ball of flames in either hand. Before the crowd could grow any bigger, he clapped them together, and steam immediately covered the area, making it difficult for him to be seen. He quickly beat a hasty exit, and after taking a few twists and turns, ended up in a shop, clearly owned by an Imperial woman. "Er..hello there...I'm Gorzath the Wanderer, and I've suddenly appeared in your fine establishment to avoid the massive crowd that is exited to see me. Please don't draw more attention." Gorzath said bowing then rising once more. His eyes flicked around, looking for a sign of who owns the shop. He can't find anything. "Ms...?"

The candles on the dark stained desk had burned out long ago, only a nub of wax remaining. Isabella had been at the ledgers all night, and apparently all morning. Sun streamed in through shutters, enough light that she hoped it wasn't noon already. She would have to admit defeat soon and return home before long. None of it looked very promising, but she kept searching, tired blue eyes darting across the parchment. Oh, she could have paid someone to do this work. In fact the business had several men on staff devoted to numbers and figures. But Isabella did not gain her position and prestige by relying on others to do the work with the perfection she demanded. Still, they would have likely told her that it was bad, and not likely to improve; that was a more important reason to be doing this herself. The only hope of Baubles by Cosma riding out this storm was by keeping quiet the dire straights it found itself in.

She flipped the top sheet over to look at the next for the hundredth time that night. Hidden Reserves wasn't fairing much better. It had never been a reliable source of income for the Cosma estates, but it provided a good amount of wealth over the years. Or at least it had. The past two years had been difficult to say the least. The Emperor's spell could have been enough to destroy the businesses if not for Isabella's ingenuity. Now, with the political climate brewing as it was, clientele she relied upon were no longer reliable. Folks, of any race, had better ways to spend their money than on some adventurous romp for relics.

She sighed, cradling her head between her hands. The celebration for the heroes was soon. She had received an invitation for the grand event, an honor in and of itself. It was a good indication that word of her impending disaster had not yet spread. She could hope for a little more time, perhaps one big expedition to keep her afloat long enough...Isabella pushed away the documents, closing the leather cover forcefully. It was time to call it a night, or rather a morning, and go home to bed for a few hours of restless sleep, then prepare herself for the event of the year. She frowned as she stood, stretching and letting a yawn escape. She needed a good night's sleep, but a nap would have to suffice. Perhaps a bottle of wine would help, maybe two.

Isabella moved from the office she kept above the jewelry shop, down towards the customer end of the business. She nodded at her niece who stood behind the glass cased counter. "Aunt Isa," Rena refused to be professional no matter how much Isabella corrected her, "No one's been in today. May I go out for a bit? I want to see the heroes pass through since I can't go to the celebration." The girl pouted, her lower lip jutting out. No matter that she knew Isabella had been there all night, her brother's daughter lacked any sense of decorum. Setting aside her wish to sleep, and feeling that perhaps the store was better off without the girl's presence, Isabella agreed. "Go ahead, but don't make any trouble. Try to remember who and what you are." Rena ran to the back of the store, barely pausing to grab her cloak, and then darted out the back door. Isabella sighed with aggravation as she looked over the unwanted goods. There'd been a few sales leading up to the event, but no one who was anyone would wait until the last minute to procure the proper accessories for a night like this.

The sound of the door opening and shutting rather forcefully caused Isabella's head to snap up from her contemplation. A stern rebuke was on her lips as she assumed Rena had forgotten something trivial, but stopped herself to see a very scarred orc standing in her doorway. By Akatosh it was him! The Imperial woman bowed slightly, inclining her head as well. "Isabella Cosma. Your safe haven is Baubles by Cosma. Original, I know." She tried to keep her voice light, though the irony of the situation was almost too much. She straightened, instantly easing herself into the role of an enamored yet reserved citizen. "Would you like a drink, perhaps a plate of cheese and bread? Please, at least sit." She gestured towards a small table and chairs set up in the corner. "I promise, I'll not call the masses on you." To show good on her promise, she slowly and with poise approached the door, latching it shut. Perhaps Lady Luck smiled on her yet.

The light shone brightly on the desert sands, casting an eerie blue glow over the rolling dunes. The sky was ablaze with stars, the moon sitting high on its throne in the sky, uncontested by the first rays of the sun. Not yet. It was still the dead of night, the only people about were likely traveling merchants and bandits to stalk them. Such was life in the Northern wastes, the sand had drank of Bosmer and Argonian blood years ago in the early wars and still, it had not drank its fill. Khajiit out here were likely to bare a dagger against you as readily as welcome you into their caravan. There was no changing that, no town guard or Lord of a Kingdom would lead a contingent to patrol the worthless sands and it was decided that one who sets foot in the sands takes reign of their own fate.

Nestled in those very same sands stood a small collection of houses and tents, at the head of which was a large stone building, lamps illuminating the beautiful architecture of sandstone. Like the Temple of Two-Moons-Dance in Torval, Elsweyr had other such temples dedicated to the six different forms of Rawlith'Khaj- Wind, Rain, Storm, Sun, Sand and the well known Two-Moons-Dance. The Temple located in this modest town was dedicated to the form of Sun, one of the three Earthly Forms of Rawlith'Khaj, which complemented the three Heavenly Forms. Sun Form uses sudden and powerful strikes to beat down an opponent and subdue or kill him quickly. The monks of the Temple of Sun, like those in Torval, were wiling to teach anyone willing to endure the harsh training in harsher weather and one such student welcomed the challenge. A foreigner, at least by Khajiiti standards. He'd been away from home for many years, had become detached from the sands to the point where the only thing left of his heritage was his accent and a broken speech pattern.

When the monks received him, his reasons for coming were noble. A violent past produced a violent Khajiit, broken, consumed by something and in the clutches of anger and sorrow, though he apparently had a woman and friends. They were far from Elsweyr, he told them, even so, they were good people. They told him that it didn't matter if his friends were good people for he was the one who stood before them and he was the one who was to undergo the training. He assured them he was, that he was leaving a life of death and anger behind and it was then that they accepted him into their fold, a hooded Khajiit with a messy mane, an Imperial blade on his back, and squinting blue eyes who went by the name Sevari, he wouldn't give his full name. Never, only told them he was an only child as far as he was concerned, he was born in Skyrim, a skinny and starved mess of a Khajiit with no home and no family, his first memories were of a dark cave. The monks and townspeople simply accepted this and not even the Khajiit's loved one knew the truth. Sevari regretted none of this, it hadn't affected any of his relationships with the monks or the townspeople so he never revealed who he was.

He was a hero, according to the people in the Imperial Council, the city srrounding them and the Emperor who ruled all of them. To Sevari, he was simply a man that repayed a blood debt he felt was worth risking life and limb, killing a dragon, braving Dwemer ruins, lead an army and bringing the Imperial City to its knees for. He had conquered Emperor and Empire just to kill one ruler before putting up another. So it was decided that he would return to Elsweyr, far from any talk of heroes and the deeds of the Khajiit, with his companions, who saved the Empire. The Khajiit who slew the Emperor for the good of the people. A Hero, indeed, an assassin, thief, murderer. A Husband. Father.

Sevari stroked the small head of the cub next to him and cradled the body of another. The children may not have been his but he loved them all the same. Ma'zi and Qa'Lling, two of three daughters, three of six children. Two births had brought the children to light for Sevari's wife, Dar'Mai. Sevari scooped both of their small bodies in his arms and rested their heads on his shoulders. Finding his way around in the dark corridors of his home was an easy task for a Khajiit as he slipped into the girls' room. Three beds, one already occupied and the last two he gently lay each daughter into them. Giving eac three a gentle kiss on the forehead before leaving much the same way he came, returning to his seat in the living room only to find it occupied by the eldest son, J'Meir.

"This one grows too quiet for his own good." Sevari smiled, giving a small laugh and taking another seat across from his son.

"Maybe This One grows too old to hear?" J'meir joked, sharp in mind and wits, much like all Khajiit and especially Sevari.

Sevari only nodded and laughed quietly, mindful of his sleeping family. He looked over to J'meir with a fatherly gaze and was returned a smile. He didn't question why the young one was still awake at such an hour and instead sat in silence with the boy, knowing that he valued it as much as Sevari did. He could remember a time where he barely opened his mouth to anyone in the group he traveled with, making him laugh and drawing his mind back to days of adventure. He turned his head and spotted his chest in the far corner of the living room. He had nothing to hide so it was left unlocked and in the open. He wouldn't be surprised if the young ones had rifled through it, being curious as he was at their age. As a matter of fact, he expected nothing less, he had learned that the children were smart and very curious.

"What is in that chest?" J'meir finally broke the silence in asking.

"Old things. Good memories. Go, open it." Sevari urged with a kind tone.

The young Khajiit rose to his full height, tall at such a young age, being a Cathay'Raht born under the waxing moon Secunda. The Khajiit opened the chest and pulled out a set of ragged novice robes, rips and burns in the fabric. J'Meir looked to Sevari and Sevari nodded to J'Meir's enjoyment as the young Khajiit tossed the robes onto the chair he was sitting in. The next thing to come out was a full set of tight-fitting pieces of boiled leather, designed to be worn comfortably under clothing. It had many nicks and scars but two stood out, a deep dent in the leather and a hole in the back. The dent was earned in a battle with the guards of Eastmarch in the middle of a festival in Windhelm. The night his life had changed drastically and in Sevari's opinion, for the better. The second scar was a hole in the torso piece of the armor. Some Bosmer bandit archer in a cave had given it to him while they were looking for an Orc woman's hammer. Urzoth was her name, he remembered, a strong woman. No insult could hurt her and no blade could make her bleed. Nothing short of a dragon could subdue her, he learned.

The young Khajiit held a black and wicked looking arrow up to the faint light of the moon, awed by the aesthetics of the projectile.

"Falmer." Sevari spoke, still somewhat lost in thoughts of his old group.

"Elves? Like the Thalmor?" J'Meir asked, curious as to the origin of such an evil looking weapon.

"Maybe once, not now. They live in the Dwemer ruins in the cold snows of Skyrim-"

"You've been to Skyrim?" J'Meir asked with enthusiasm behind his voice, surprised that the Khajiit before him had made his way all the way up to the North.

"Yes, Sevari has been to Skyrim." He answered.

"How did you get this?" J'Meir asked, brandishing the arrow with a fierce look on his face, playfully jabbing with it like a tiny spear.

"My old group and I owed a good man a favor. We had to go into the Dwemer ruin he called home and fulfill his request. This one was almost killed by that very arrow you hold now. I pulled it free of my armor and drank a cure for the poison. I had to sit out the battle but I managed to take a few from the shadows. Their amazing hearing was no match for This One. I decided to keep it after all I had been through. Sevari figured to keep it since he had missed his chance to grab the bone of a dragon." Sevari spoke, making no effort to hide the pride and happiness in his voice.

"Th-This one has fought with a dragon before?" J'Meir asked, Sevari counted on him being surprised by the last thing that he had said.

"Yes, and won." Sevari smiled.

"When can I go on adentures? I've heard your stories about the aurora and the Emperor and I want to have an adventure." J'meir beamed, he clearly wanted what he said he wanted. It may have been a child's goal but it was a goal nonetheless. Sevari only laughed a bit.

"Soon. I will take you to one of the Dwemer ruins in the desert perhaps." Sevari answered as J'Meir rustled through the chest to find an Imperial sword.

"Was This One in the Legion too?" J'Meir asked, unsheathing the sword halfway before sliding the blade back into the scabbard.

"No. No, I was not. A good man, if not misguided, had died by that blade. He had asked me to end his life. His Empire had fallen to war and his goals were shattered like his dreams of peace between Man and Mer. He had spent all the years working for nothing, as a few Mer and some of the Beast Race managed to topple everything," This was the first time Sevari had shown any grief in his reminiscing, "It was that moment, after I had struck him down, that I realized my quest's fate was all too common with his."

The two sat in silence for a moment, Sevari gazing off wistfully towards the moon and the edge of the dunes far beyond for a few minutes before turning to his son.

"Go, off to bed." Sevari ushered J'Meir into the boys' bedroom and wished him a good night's sleep before walking off.

As soon as J'meir was sure his father wasn't coming back and was a good ways away he sat up, unsheathing the blade and beholding it in the faint moonlight, exaggerated by his Khajiiti sight. He held it in both hands and gazed at it in disbelief and amazement. He knew a hero and that hero was his father. He was proud, he really was. Outside of the house, beyond the last houses of the village sat Sevari, overlooking the vast expanse of desert that stretched towards Orcrest, the city beyond the moonlit blue horizon. A small smile grew across his lips, fond memories danced in his head. Zaveed, Urzoth, he even remembered Semedar, wondering if she had fallen in her hunt against the Praetorians. They were good people and it was an honor to call them his companions. Marassa was also one he remembered, that greatsword of hers was deadly, enough to best as good of a fighter as Sevari. What was more was that she was one that the Khajiit confided in, she was one he could truly call a friend, besides Zaveed. Word was she was living quietly in Senchal, back home, much like Sevari. He was happy for her, finally getting that headstrong brother of hers where she wanted him, if only for a moment. It was amazing to see how great deeds could form bonds like these. Sevari sighed, the soft desert wind pushing his mane back and making his tunic writhe.

"Okay, tell me the real reason you wanted me to come with you here, Aeron." The Khajiit asked his imperial classmate from the College of Winterhold, crossing his arms in front of his body as they walked down the market district. "I told you already, I just wanted the company." Aeron responded back a bit defensively. The Khajiit stopped walking and stared at Aeron, awaiting for a different response to his question. Aeron sighed as he stopped to face the Khajiit. "Okay, I actually wanted you to come with me for more than just the company. I wanted you to-" "Forget it." The Khajiit cut him off with a look of slight disdain quickly. "Oh come on Qara'Sion, you haven't even let me finish my sentence!" The Khajiit remained in the exact same pose, awaiting for him to say something more so he could just say "forget it" again. "Okay, so I wanted you to try and get an autograph from one of the-" "Forget it! You actually want me to approach one of the champions for an autograph? Why can't you do it yourself!?" Qara'Sion barked, now his face was covered in the disdained expression. His imperial "friend" waved his hands in front of him. "Whoa, whoa, calm down. I want you to do it because you're just better at that kind of stuff. And I'm going to be spending time with my family for awhile so I won't get the chance to actually try to talk to any of the champions for it, when the event starts, it'll be practically impossible. Look, you've got manners, a classy appearance, a way of talking to any kind of person successfully, and good luck on your side." Aeron tried his hardest to convince the Khajiit by buttering him up. However, it seemed it wasn't exactly working. "More like, I have common sense, a unique style, yet horrid luck." Qara'Sion spoke with a glare in his eyes and a groan in his voice as he walked away from Aeron. "Come on, Qara'Sion, I'm even letting you stay with the family since neither of us signed up for the college exhibition." He called to him. "I'll think about." The Khajiit said back to him with a tone that implied he wasn't.
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Once again, another "Scratch my back and I'll scratch your's" scenario. Qara'Sion knew something was up when he learned he was going to leave for Imperial City a day earlier than the college exhibition group, rather than with them. Even though he didn't sign up for it, it would've made more sense to travel with the group anyway than to be a separate smaller party. It was made more clear when Aeron insisted on him to stay with his family rather than staying at an inn. But this was just for an autograph? Really? Although he could understand the subconscious intimidation Aeron probably had considering the autograph was supposed to be from the champions, but still. An autograph? It was childish, and Qara'Sion did not come to Imperial City just for a bloody autograph. This was to be practically his vacation. Which meant no classes, no danger, and no favors that would not benefit himself. This time was for him. He had to keep telling himself that, otherwise he might just snap if he had to do something for someone one more time when said someone didn't really give a damn about him, and only cared about what he could do. Thinking on this made him start to power walk in frustration.
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As he arrived in one area of the city, he noticed a man surrounded by children performing tricks with magic spells, with a woman looking on. Or well he believed it was a man due to the figure of his body as his back was facing the Khajiit. Either a man, or a built woman covered by a cloak. Qara'Sion walked on past the group when he suddenly heard the woman yell "Gorzath the wanderer!". One of his ring covered ears flickered before he turned around to look at Gorzath. He actually got a good look at his face from where he was standing now and noticed that the champion did not seem too happy he was spotted. Soon, Qara'Sion's vision of him was obscured by the number of people walking in front of him. And just as quickly after his vision was of the champion was worsened as he must have cast another spell to sneak away from everyone. He was able to spot something moving in the steam, but couldn't tell if it was Gorzath, or a thief who used this opportunity to steal from someone. That was actually very quick thinking of the thief to do so if there was one. But it was supposed to be a time of peace so maybe it wouldn't happen.
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"Hey! My coin purse was stolen!" A random imperial woman yelled.
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See? Perfect timing of her to yell that as Qara'Sion's thought ended. However his ear flickered again when he picked up on a conversation. It was a mother and her young son talking about him wanting to learn how to create fire like Gorzath. Now this was where his good luck kicked in. The Khajiit quickly dug through his bag and pulled out the novice destruction book for flames. He pretended to read the book as he walked near the mother and son. "Ah, so verry sorry to interrupt but, I hearrd you wanted to learn to do what Gorzath did, am I right?" Qara'Sion said with the heaviest accent he could possibly put on to the two. The son quickly and happily nodded his head to the Khajiit. The mother's eyes squinted as she eyed Qara'Sion's entire body. He kept his look on the boy but knew the mother was feeling wary about him. He had to be quick about this otherwise he wouldn't be able to sell the book. "Well, if you want, I could sell this book to you, it will teach you how to cast firre. With your nice mother's perrmission of courrse." He added to his sentence, looking at the boy's mother from his mismatched colored eyes. "Please mom? Please? Please?" The boy begged. "I don't know... you're a little too young to learn something like this..." The mother responded back.
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Crap, she was one of the overprotective ones; Qara'Sion could tell. "Do not worrry miss. The spell is a very weak one, however it could potentially keep him safer from any harm. So long as you're there to watch and teach him, it shouldn't be a problem. You would want your child safe, wouldn't you?" Qara'Sion tried to coax her. He noticed towards the end of his words, he accidentally started to drop the accent. He didn't know why, but something started to bug him midway as he spoke to her. Luckily, it didn't seem like the mother noticed as her expression remained the same. "Okay, for how much though?" She asked him. Now, he made his accent so thick when he was about to tell her the price to the point he didn't even understand himself what he said. He intentionally mixed the words thirty-four and twenty-four to try and throw her off. Both were cheaper than what the book normally is sold for, but he needed to gain her wanting for the book. If she heard thirty-four, then he made more money. If she heard twenty-four, then he made less money. Even though he obtained the book for free, he wanted to be able to sell it for the higher price. The woman's eyes lit up when he told her the price. "Wow, that's actually quite a steal, since I've heard the book goes for fifty gold from a few friends. I'll buy it." The woman said as she handed him a bag of coins. Qara'Sion smiled with a bit of shock that she understood whatever he said and handed her son the book. "Thank you mister! Thank you mom!" The boy told the Khajiit and his mother. Before the two walked away, Qara'Sion spoke to both of them. Be sure to be there for your son, and be sure to make your mother happy." When he said his sentence, his accent was completely devoid from it. But once again, neither of them seemingly noticed and instead smiled and waved and walked away.
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Qara'Sion ran his fingers through the mane that grew on the sides of his face, opening the coin purse with one hand. He proceeded to count the coins. Then he proceeded to recount the coins. Then, he proceeded to storm off with the purse dangling by one string, both of his ears folded back. As he marched by a beggar, or someone who looked like a beggar; all he saw was a dirty looking man holding a cup in front of a store, the Khajiit dropped all but one coin into the cup and kept on walking. "I don't believe this, she gave me only twenty gold. I know I got some profit from that but still, that isn't what I asked for. And I'm almost positive she could at least hear me say four." The khajiit thought to himself. He really didn't like screwing up with certain things such as bartering, even if there was something he gained. It needed to be precisely what was desired, nothing more and nothing less.
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Qara'Sion sat down on a nearby bench just to relax for a bit. Relaxing was always good. He did start to wonder about that thief and if he should help catch it though. He raised his hand up a bit to begin casting the clairvoyance spell to find said thief. He did feel a bit bad the woman had her money stolen.
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Unfortunately not bad enough as he let go of the spell before it finished and rested his head on the back of the bench. He used the long dreadlocks of his mane to cover his eyes from the sun and kept his bag out of sight and rested peacefully, Until something caught his attention anyway.

Gorzath simply shook his head. "No thank you. I'll wait until the excitement of a 'Hero of Tamriel' arriving in Imperial City has died down, then the attempt at avoiding the massive crowds will be tried once more." He said, leaning against the wall near to the door. He suddenly chuckled. "You must find it amusing that a Spell-sword ,whom has faced down a dragon and a Praetorian at the same time, is running from a crowd of admirers." He was both surprised and relived that this woman, Isabella Cosma, wasn't doing anything most of those who met him did. Googly eyes, jaw dropping, flustered, etc. This he was grateful for, beyond belief, because it seemed that most people these days treated him like a god.

Well, excluding the original group of course. But, the original group he had been with he hasn't seen for two years, so he had no idea who was alive, dead, changed, not changed, etc. Gorzath glanced at Isabella. "Is there anything I can do for you to repay this small kindness? Get you into the party if you don't have an invite, get someone you know, anything?." He asked, rubbing his left snapped off tusk absently.

Isabella shook her head ruefully. Inside she was more than cool and collected. If it wasn't for her high expectations of decorum she'd likely be the same as the masses that drove Gorzath into her shop. But acting that way around your betters didn't ingratiate them to you. Instead she simply smoothed her skirts, nodding as the Orc spoke. "Oh, don't think me displeased to see you here. But I must say, the statue they built in your honor really does not do you justice, the stories they tell of you however, well..." Her smile was small with only the slightest touch of coy and demureness. Orcs and heroes could surely be as pliable in her hands as the members of the Elder Council. "Besides, I am a woman who knows the meaning of confidentiality. I have worked with many who do not wish their business known to others. I don't see why I can't extend that same courtesy in this situation."

Though Gorzath had refused drink or food, Isabella prepared a small plate and set out two goblets and a bottle of Cyrodiil's finest while she mused over his offer of repayment. Lady Luck had indeed dropped a nice solution into her lap. She wrapped her fingers around one of the goblets, taking a small sip-this was no time to drink herself into Oblivion after all-and looked back to the hero. "I actually received an invitation to the celebration, but thank you for your kind consideration." She let the sentence hang as if there was more to say, and indeed there was. But it was a plan that would need time to develop, for now, she would implement the first step. If she played her cards right, both businesses would buoyed. "I however, am unmarried and have no escort to the event. Forgive me for being so forward, but it would please me to accompany you tonight." Honeyed words indeed, she kept the tone light and casual, she wasn't trying to seduce the Orc like some Dibella whore after all.

The back door suddenly crashed open and as Isabella turned a scowl replaced the calm facade. Rena, of course Rena.

"Aunt Isa! I couldn't see a thing!"

The girl came rushing through to the front of the store where she and Gorzath stood. Could everything lay in ruin so quickly?

Suddenly realizing that her aunt had a customer, and then realizing who the customer was, Rena dropped her pack to the floor and screamed. "Oh blessed Eight Divines! What luck, what fortune! I run across the city and here, in my aunt's own shop! One of the Heroes! Gorzath the Wanderer!" She stared wide-eyed, blush creeping up her tanned skin. "Oh! But what happened to your face?! I mean the statue, it isn't so scarred. And your tusks, why they're broken off! Did that happen while you were adventuring and saving the Empire? Can I have an autograph? I know Aunt Isa must have a pen and parchment around here somewhere..." But the girl made no move to find such for herself.

Isabella turned crimson as well, moving to force the girl upstairs and lock her in the office. "I beg your apologies Gorzath, this is my niece, and much more excitable as you can see. Come now girl, we'll discuss your actions later." She spoke sternly in Rena's ear, hissing a curse as the girl refused to be moved.

"But he's here! Right here in front of me! Oh how can you be so cruel! Please Gorzath...tell her it's alright!"

As Elayna and her companion walked through the streets of the Market District, she realized there was plenty of hubbub. She blew it off at first, but then it began to nag at her. After a few seconds, she remembers what today was: The celebration of the heroes from two years ago. The ones that ended the auroras. Elayna sighed in frustration. It's not that she didn't respect them, she did. Immensely. But this was going to wipe out all the stores, and make picking up her saber cat eye orders difficult.. These orders she had placed a week ago, as she was running low. They may have already been bought by another buyer with more Septims.

Elayna hurried along, through the throng of people getting ready for the festivities. It was also going to crowd the taverns, another thing she was looking forward to. And to think, she made the perfume in hopes she would be able to seduce a few drinks out of some guy. So much for that plan. Elayna closed in on the general goods store, which supplies Dominus with many of his imported ingredients. She entered the small store, to see a man walk out at the same time with a jar of saber cat eyes. Not wanting to start something, Elayna simply went back out, rolling her eyes in annoyance. On any other day, this would be fine. But it had to be the day she had plans. Oh well, better luck next week. Maybe she could get some Skyrim mead if she tried hard enough and searched...

Elayna and Toadstool wandered the busy streets of the city, and eventually came across a shop, with a name that caught her eye: "Baubles by Cosma". By Baubles did it mean jewelry? Maybe Elayna could get a necklace for a few Septims. More-so out of curiosity, Elayna knocked on the door to the shop, just to see if it was open. "Hello? Are you open?" Elayna asked through the door.