Featuring @Gcold and @Spoopy Scary
Morning, Last Seed 10
Conclave of the Golden Tomb, Jehanna
“Arkay’s law, which we bestow upon the deceased, that their corporeal forms may not be raised to unlawful servitude.”
The priests had been droning on for gods know how long. Keegan was getting sick and tired of listening. Why did Gustav make them attend this boring and sad event? It’s not like Keegan, or any other mercenaries, actually give a damn about these four in coffins. Two of the four were closed caskets anyway, so bringing a whole bunch of people to reflect on how brutal Roze and Adaeze died seemed untasteful to Keegan. He found himself staring at the golden altars, true to the name of the conclave, and finding disgusted similarities to Tmeip’r’s golden airship. Looking behind the priests, Keegan saw the figure Arkay in stained glass, looking high and mighty, and too condescending for mortals to mere mortals to find comfort in.
What disturbed Keegan, other than guards busting their warehouse in the middle of night and flipping through everyone’s belongings, was Dumhuvud being their new commander. There was nearly no other that the Cat-Kicker picked on more often than Keegan, and in those instances Keegan did not wish to recall, Ashav’s presence had been the barrier between discipline and execution. It was now only a matter of time before Dumhuvud let himself go and Keegan would be the one in one of those coffins. There’s nothing more he hated than the image of people pressing a lettered tile to pay respect.
Well, there were other people the Cat-Kicker “accomodated”. The new (and old) Khajiit was one of them, in fact, Keegan saw the beating with his own eyes. There was also Sadri Beleth, being singled out multiple times for “disciplinary actions”. Keegan knew what people say in these situations; the enemy of my enemy is my friend. For what he had in mind, there’s no better friend than Dar’Jzo and Sadri.
Excusing himself quietly from the pews, Keegan walked through the nave to where Sadri and Dar’Jzo sat.
“Let’s talk outside for a minute,” Keegan whispered to them, “about our new commander.”
Dar’Jzo’s needle-like eyes fell on the altmer at the sound of his whisper. The old khajiit studied him for a moment, like it was a tense look of suspicion, but then he nodded and agreed, “Yes. Let’s…”
It would be fair to say that Dar’Jzo’s mind has not left the matter ever since he heard the news of Dumhuvud’s new promotion. When sight of Jehanna first came to view, all he could think about what his grandson -- this was it, this was the place where he was at. Where the Winterhold mages and students had fled to after the near destruction of the College. His long and arduous journey had at last come to an end, but when he heard the title of commander being attached before the Cat-Kicker’s name, he was all that mattered. With that awful Nord’s reputation, there was no imagining what he’d do now that he wielded more power. If he was allowed free reign throughout Jehanna, there was no imagining what would happen if he crossed paths with Saddi. Truth be told, Dar’Jzo’s imaginations have already been long at work about what to do with Dumhuvud before Keegan spoke to him. He nearly forgot on multiple occasions that he was attending a funeral.
As for Sadri, he’d put two and two together way before the funeral. He wasn’t sure as to why he’d picked the spot next to the new Khajiit – was he too afraid to look his comrades in the face, or was he latently yearning for more sugar? Better not be the case, he thought, after all that had transpired back in Solitude and aboard the Tear. He occasionally felt besieged by random things; tinnitus, the blood pumping in his veins, the temperature, but he knew he had to endure. Just as he had to endure all the loss around him. He felt guilty, too, about Solveig, about Roze, the ones whose absences he believed was his own doing. And now he had to endure other things. He had to endure his new commander, which seemed to be somewhat of a problem, given how Dumhuvud was not as willing to compromise as he was. But Sadri always prided himself on being somewhat of a problem solver, and it seemed to him that he wasn’t alone in wanting to fix this new problem.
When they walked out, Sadri shot a cursory glance at Dar’Jzo, and then looked back at Keegan for a sign of confirmation on whether the Khajiit was to be trusted or not. “I assume it is our mutual loss that has brought us here together,” he said, looking at neither of them in particular, his tone a mockery of a priest’s or a speaker’s. “Am I correct?” He asked, his suspicious glare peering straight into Dar’Jzo’s eyes. The Khajiit peered back.
“Dar’Jzo regrets not knowing the dead well enough to feel their loss.” He replied with his accented, gravelly voice. “They deserve more than this one’s apathy, yes? More than some of us.”
Sadri nodded upon hearing the Khajiit’s statement, taking it as a sign of being accomplices. His glare softened into a simple gaze of caution. “Yes, yes, I’m glad we are in agreement,” he replied, his tone still carrying on with the charade. “Those we mourn today were certainly better people than most of us. Ah, well, death is unjust, they say. Always picks the wrong people. Let’s hope the living don’t make that mistake,” he added, his gaze moving back onto Keegan.
“Very unfortunate losses indeed. I believe the martyrs would like the best of us to live a long life, and for the worst us, a swift justice.” Keegan crossed his arms, not giving the others a visible expression on his face. “Death is not solely in the hands of Arkay; we do have a say, no matter how quiet it is.”
Uncrossing his arms and glancing around, Keegan was certain that no one else was around to hear to them in this corner outside of the temple. Dumhuvud certainly wouldn’t; he didn’t even have the heart to attend the funeral.
“I find it so inauspicious that many had died to accidents. Our esteemed commander, Ashav, fell from a lighthouse.” Keegan tried to sound somber, but he was far more angry and impatient. He involuntarily fidgeted with his hands; Keegan shook his head. “What would happen if the same misfortune befalls upon the Cat-Kicker? I, for one, would not spend much time grieving.”
“With so many departing our company recently, would another death be suspicious? Or just routine?” Keegan shrugged. He felt uncomfortable about what to say next, so Keegan looked around. The area is still unoccupied beside them. Keegan swallowed a lump in throat.
“If the next death is any one of us, it would probably be because of Dumhuvud, and there’s nothing any one of us can do about.” Keegan sighed.
“But if Dumhuvud is the next to die, no one would be certain who the killer is.” Keegan cut straight to the chase. “We owe our fallen comrades a better leader, and we owe ourselves an end to abuse. All we need is to give the Cat-Kicker a little push; don’t you agree?”
“This one has already given it much thought.” Dar'Jzo admitted grimly with a slight bow of his head. “But not without help. Hmph, Dar'Jzo thinks he can adapt his strategy. It would take time, but that depends…”
“Well, Keegan said it first, not me, but I can’t help but agree with you two fellows on the matter,” Sadri chimed in after Dar’Jzo, his lower lip pouted. “We owe our living comrades a good leader as much as we owe our fallen, and as… stubborn as our beloved Dummy is, I’m not sure if he can hold up to late Ashav’s standards, Arkay bless his soul.”
He paused for a moment.
“…And considering that even his standards weren’t enough to keep him from losing his life in a tragedy, I’m not sure if our new leader has a chance. Plus, I don’t think he’s garnered enough love from anybody around him for them to search for him if he were to disappear.”
Sadri wouldn’t admit it, but it wouldn’t be the first time when he’d had a colleague of his disappear, either.
“Disappear?” Dar’Jzo repeated. The old khajiit leaned in. “Then the elves are not just interested in simple butchery? If they seek to prowl Sangiin’s hollow, Dar’Jzo can show the way… but know they must leave something valuable behind.”
Sadri’s face soured for a moment. “...Couldn’t we find a way without leaving valuables?” He asked, after a few seconds of silence. “Could just go for a quick dump in the sewers.”
The khajiit looked at him with a curious tilt of his head, but then gestured toward the lighthouse. “Think like the lighthouse. Embarking on a dark voyage, you must find your way back or become lost. We stay focused -- forget your emotions. What is your lighthouse?” A glimpse of Saddi flashed behind Dar’Jzo’s eyes. “Know why you kill before you do, and be sure it is of strong foundation. Poor ones become mudslides and are slippery.”
“Very well, gentlemen.” Keegan nodded in appreciation of the dark planning going on. “I believe the lighthouse is the most accident-prone location in this city, certainly where our new leader may repeat his predecessor’s mistake.”
“While people can disappear, we are in a foreign place where they can resurface without us knowing.” Keegan suggested. “It is better for us to act quickly, instead of worrying about the details and losing the opportunity in the end.”
“You can make poisons,” Keegan pointed towards the nodding Dar’Jzo, “and I can lure him to the lighthouse.” Then Keegan motioned to Sadri with his thumb. “You have an eye for accidents, correct?”
“...I don’t see why we don’t just gut him in an alleyway, honestly,” Sadri replied. “But I suppose I have an eye for accidents. I guess.”
Dar’Jzo added, “two deaths shortly after The Tear makes port ill for its repute. Should the sin of three make murderers of a whole crew? They should hide or mislead. Fewer guards on this one’s tail, the better, as Dar’Jzo sees it.”
“The more advantage we have, the less chance for him to struggle.” Keegan reminded Sadri. “We have to make this quick for the Cat-Kicker, because we can’t stoop to his level and make him suffer needlessly. And, you know, loud dying screams tend to attract unwanted attention.”
“Let’s not waste any time, gentlemen.” Keegan concluded. “I shall find a ‘private’ way to bring our friend to the party. While you, Sadri, clear the premise. And you, Dar’Jzo, prepare his ‘refreshments’.”
Afternoon
Jehanna Harbor
The warehouse was clear; no one’s there except for Keegan and Dumhuvud, and Dumhuvud didn’t know Keegan’s there. There was a desk in the office allotted to him by Gustav, and on the desk, a letter looking strangely out of place. Had it been Ashav instead, the letter would have been examined under further scrutiny. But this was the Cat-Kicker, and he hadn't the slightest patience.
Dumhuvud screamed out in anger. He was about to tear up the paper when another line came into focus. How did he miss it? It couldn't have popped onto the paper.
“I slaughtered an entire Stormcloak detachment to avenge my family!” Dumhuvud bellowed. His fist squeezed the paper tight until he was going to destroy it. Then he noticed words growing out of the backside. Dumhuvud was so mad that he didn't even notice it was not how ink worked.
Dumhuvud took his axe and slammed it straight into the desk, nearly splitting it in half and smirking when he heard the desk gasp. Then he stormed out of the warehouse, so full of anger that he didn't notice the doors opening themselves again after he had slammed them shut.
Ten minutes later...
Keegan never thought it could work in his wildest dreams. He almost chickened out before going through with his plan in the first place, and when he saw Dumhuvud all worked up, it took all he had to not run off in fear, and keep his excretions within his body. But it worked out splendidly. Someone believed that piece of paper he enchanted in five minutes, and the obstruction spell that hid Dumhuvud's shield shouldn't have been convincing with the way it flickered so often. Then again, the Cat-Kicker was too stupid to notice that the words weren't real; they're planted into his vision through enchantments and altered with Keegan's illusions. Finally, Dumhuvud missed Keegan hiding under the very desk (crouched tight, shaking and holding up an invisibility spell) he nearly chopped apart. It was pretty intense when the axe almost got Keegan's head. Thankfully, Gustav had a good desk, or it would have been awkward popping into plain view with a two-part skull.
As Dumhuvud stomped towards the lighthouse, Keegan tailed behind him, still invisible. Keegan made illusory crowds in Dumhuvud's vision so that he took paths not noticed by most people. Soon enough, they were in front of the lighthouse.
It was an unoccupied clearing. Keegan heard earlier that the lighthouse keeper had been arrested and fired for neglect; he had been absent for more than just last night. Someone from the city guards would be tending to the light after nightfall. But now, in bright daylight, they simply locked the lighthouse up and left it be.
“Come out and die!” Dumhuvud yelled, axe in hand and ready to chop.
Only silence replied. It would appear Keegan's co-conspirators had the wisdom to not engage this mad lad in open combat. Now, Keegan summoned a faint flicker on top of the lighthouse, and Dumhuvud turned his head upwards, sneered and approached the entrance. He saw the door was unlocked for some reason, as the lock was so flimsy that any lockpick, opening spell or a strong shove could've opened it. Thoughts of suspicion creeped into Dumhuvud, but he never expected to be climbing to his doom.
Outside, Keegan sat down on a log. The continous manipulation through illusion spells had exhausted him. He was in no shape to help Dar'Jzo and Sadri up there. Keegan only hoped they would be the ones walking back down, or it would be real awkward to explain everything to Dumhuvud.
From atop the lighthouse…
“The Cat-Kicker comes.” Dar’Jzo said to Sadri at this side. He grabbed the mason jar at his side and held his breath, reaching it to grab a soaking-wet rag and wringing out the excess. It was a poison that he made sure was as inconspicuous as possible if the guards had enough presence of mind to check with the local alchemists and read into their sales history. It was made mostly from your typical household ingredients -- chicken eggs, honeycomb, salt, wheat, bone meal, and small antlers, including some other things he could harvest on his own like spider eggs and skeever tails. Floating around inside the liquified and distilled mixture was a giant’s toe for good measure. He cautiously held the rag and the jar away from his face as well as Sadri’s. He had informed the Dunmer that the poison he had made was essentially a horse tranquilizer that would ensure Dumhuvud was knocked out and wouldn’t have the stamina to move even long after he wakes up. Nothing but the worst for everyone’s most hated troll.
“This one suggests leaving no evidence.” Dar’Jzo reminded. “It may only piss it off.”
"Hurm," Sadri replied nonchalantly to Dar'Jzo's warning. "I really wanted to gut the fuck, but, oh well. I think I've got an idea... You want to get the drop on him, or should I?" He asked the Khajiit, rubbing the tip of his chin. A part of him was annoyed that they wouldn’t get to torment Dumhuvud relentlessly before they sent him off to his final voyage, but a clean getaway was more important to murder than how enjoyable it was. “One of us will have to be the bait, and I’m pretty sure he hates both of us equally.”
Dar’Jzo was in the middle of carefully folding the rag into a square to be placed in the center of his hand, which was slowly beginning to feel numb, when he looked back up at Sadri with his eyes narrowed. In most people it was a sign of distrust, and though Dar’Jzo had plenty of distrust to spare, it was mostly a sign of curiosity on his part as his mind fell back to the chaos of the Sload’s attack on the Tear. “Dar’Jzo has seen the Dunmer raving mad but a few moons ago,” he said, “and he knows even the subtlest signs better than anyone. Can he trust you to not smell the drug he has made? This one is uncertain.”
Sadri raised an eyebrow, his good eye gauging the Khajiit with contempt, not for the remark about his sugar tooth, but for just how dumb he must be expecting him to be. "If I were that eager to get myself killed I'd jump off the premises right now, friend. Now's not time to tarry. Just hand that damn thing over to me or take position, I don't think he'll wait," Sadri said, pointing down the stairs with his metal thumb.
In response, the Khajiit nodded in respect of Sadri’s candor, and for a moment he almost found himself reaching to hand him the drug until he realized that he was probably the one who was better suited to hiding. Dar’Jzo knew better than most how to be subtle and minimize his presence and, despite the appearance of frailty his partner in crime gave, observations during the battle showed Sadri to be more than physically capable of holding his own in fight; perhaps even better than himself. Well, at least on a bad day.
Dar’Jzo moved to reposition himself, his leg like springs as he went from crouching on one side of the lantern room to lurking in the shadows behind the mouth of the stairwell with silent, measured paces. Though his face was as still as a statue, the fur on his back and neck began to bristle.
It didn't take long for the Cat-Kicker to pick up the pace and finally make it to the top of the lighthouse. While Sadri'd thought of just kicking him down just as he reached the end of the staircase, it would've been harder to dispose of his corpse at the bottom of the lighthouse rather than the top, where it wasn't exactly hard for someone to just disappear into the rocky waves below. That, and he wasn't sure if the Khajiit would appreciate it as much as he did. So, he just flexed his muscles as the Nord bashed the door open. Sadri didn't expect that he'd be this afraid; perhaps it was because he hadn't drawn his sword. So he did the next best thing and opened his arms wide, as if expecting a hug.
"Ah, Dummy Wood! I've longed to see-"
He was quickly interrupted by a roar celebrating a weighty swing from Dumhuvud's axe. Sadri hopped back on his feet to dodge the blade’s edge, and found himself on the edge of the platform. He'd suddenly begun taking this much more seriously.
"Cat behind you! Cat behind you!"
Dumhuvud replied by raising his axe.
Dar’Jzo suddenly appeared behind Dumhuvud, grabbing the shaft just below the axe blade as the Nord reared back, pulling his arm behind his back and causing him to spin around to face Dar’Jzo, who was already ready to shove his stanky rag into his face. Amidst Dumhuvud’s muffled roars of surprise, Dar’Jzo, between grunts from trying to keep him under control, said gravelly, “It’s nothing personal, kit.”
The Cat-Kicker's muscles were not yet ready to go to sleep, it seemed, for he managed to grasp Dar'Jzo's neck with his free hand and begin choking the old Khajiit despite the paralytic rag pressed against his face. Nonetheless, Dar'Jzo could feel the iron grip falter and weaken moment by moment. As the Dunmer watched intently, hesitating to watch, the Cat-Kicker eventually collapsed beside Dar'Jzo, one hand releasing his axe and the other releasing the Khajiit's neck.
"That's it?" Sadri asked, now finding it safe to speak or move, with the hardest part of the deed over with. "You okay?"
Dar’Jzo was still buckled over, wheezing and gasping for air, knowing full well that he’d feel the bruising by tomorrow. When he finally had enough air in his lungs for him to talk, he looked back up at Sadri with his needle-like eyes and simply nodded. He looked down spitefully at the Cat-Kicker, remembering the treatment he received from him in Solitude and realizing that things would’ve ended very differently if any of the three of them missed their beats. This was it. There was only one thing left to do, and after that, it would be safe for him to look for Saddi.
“This one does not let his personal feelings interfere with what must be done.” Dar’Jzo said. “Some deeds must simply be done. But you? Dar’Jzo understands Sadri has no lost love for the Cat-Kicker. Would he like the honors?”
"Think it'd be more appropriate for a cat to kick the Cat-Kicker to his death, but I wouldn't mind giving an encouraging nudge myself," Sadri replied, dragging the unconscious Nord to the edge facing the sea below, and not the pavement the other way around. Before he let go of his haul, Sadri couldn't help but pat the Nord on the cheek lightly as a final insult. "Off you go, sweetheart," he muttered, standing up and pushing the Nord’s legs further towards the edge with the toe of his foot, as to keep them from interrupting with a freefall.
"Shall we?" He asked the Khajiit, extending an arm forward with his palm open as a welcoming gesture.
Dar’Jzo nodded and calmly approached the unconscious body of Dumhuvud. It was an odd sight to see Dumhuvud so peaceful in his final moments as he slept after he nearly tried to kill the two of them, but in his defense, they had premeditated his demise. He shared a few words, “May S’rendarr grant you mercy from Merrunz’s claws and teeth… but this one doubts a single divine breath will be wasted.”
With that, a sudden kick pushed Dumhuvud from the top of the lighthouse and sent him plummeting to the jagged ocean rocks far, far below.
Dumhuvud's fall from grace was so much less than Keegan had pictured. He couldn't see what happened on top, and a wind picked up so that he didn't hear the confrontation either. All he saw was a still figure descending to the sea, and a blink later, it was gone. The tides were growing, and before the end of day, it would wash away all that was Dumhuvud.
The winds died down when Dar'Jzo and Sadri walked out of the lighthouse. Everything was silent, saved from the distant lapping of waves and the occasional bird chirp, as if there was a silent vigil for Dumhuvud like that at the Conclave this morning.
“So it is done; the Cat-Kicker is no more.” Keegan approached his co-conspirators stiffly. He should be breathing a sigh of relief, but Keegan felt no relief at all. “We've rid the company of hatred, and I think we're all better for it. Aren't we?”
"Well, I know I'm not having any regrets," Sadri replied. "I'd buy the whole lot of you a drink for this, but I'd argue it's better if the three of us aren't seen together for a while. Think I'll go get a shave. I look like a damn mountain man," he added, scratching his scraggly mustache. "So yeah. See you folks around."
With that, the Dunmer walked away from the two. The two walked away from each other shortly after, and then, it was over.
Morning, Last Seed 10
Conclave of the Golden Tomb, Jehanna
“Arkay’s law, which we bestow upon the deceased, that their corporeal forms may not be raised to unlawful servitude.”
The priests had been droning on for gods know how long. Keegan was getting sick and tired of listening. Why did Gustav make them attend this boring and sad event? It’s not like Keegan, or any other mercenaries, actually give a damn about these four in coffins. Two of the four were closed caskets anyway, so bringing a whole bunch of people to reflect on how brutal Roze and Adaeze died seemed untasteful to Keegan. He found himself staring at the golden altars, true to the name of the conclave, and finding disgusted similarities to Tmeip’r’s golden airship. Looking behind the priests, Keegan saw the figure Arkay in stained glass, looking high and mighty, and too condescending for mortals to mere mortals to find comfort in.
What disturbed Keegan, other than guards busting their warehouse in the middle of night and flipping through everyone’s belongings, was Dumhuvud being their new commander. There was nearly no other that the Cat-Kicker picked on more often than Keegan, and in those instances Keegan did not wish to recall, Ashav’s presence had been the barrier between discipline and execution. It was now only a matter of time before Dumhuvud let himself go and Keegan would be the one in one of those coffins. There’s nothing more he hated than the image of people pressing a lettered tile to pay respect.
Well, there were other people the Cat-Kicker “accomodated”. The new (and old) Khajiit was one of them, in fact, Keegan saw the beating with his own eyes. There was also Sadri Beleth, being singled out multiple times for “disciplinary actions”. Keegan knew what people say in these situations; the enemy of my enemy is my friend. For what he had in mind, there’s no better friend than Dar’Jzo and Sadri.
Excusing himself quietly from the pews, Keegan walked through the nave to where Sadri and Dar’Jzo sat.
“Let’s talk outside for a minute,” Keegan whispered to them, “about our new commander.”
Dar’Jzo’s needle-like eyes fell on the altmer at the sound of his whisper. The old khajiit studied him for a moment, like it was a tense look of suspicion, but then he nodded and agreed, “Yes. Let’s…”
It would be fair to say that Dar’Jzo’s mind has not left the matter ever since he heard the news of Dumhuvud’s new promotion. When sight of Jehanna first came to view, all he could think about what his grandson -- this was it, this was the place where he was at. Where the Winterhold mages and students had fled to after the near destruction of the College. His long and arduous journey had at last come to an end, but when he heard the title of commander being attached before the Cat-Kicker’s name, he was all that mattered. With that awful Nord’s reputation, there was no imagining what he’d do now that he wielded more power. If he was allowed free reign throughout Jehanna, there was no imagining what would happen if he crossed paths with Saddi. Truth be told, Dar’Jzo’s imaginations have already been long at work about what to do with Dumhuvud before Keegan spoke to him. He nearly forgot on multiple occasions that he was attending a funeral.
As for Sadri, he’d put two and two together way before the funeral. He wasn’t sure as to why he’d picked the spot next to the new Khajiit – was he too afraid to look his comrades in the face, or was he latently yearning for more sugar? Better not be the case, he thought, after all that had transpired back in Solitude and aboard the Tear. He occasionally felt besieged by random things; tinnitus, the blood pumping in his veins, the temperature, but he knew he had to endure. Just as he had to endure all the loss around him. He felt guilty, too, about Solveig, about Roze, the ones whose absences he believed was his own doing. And now he had to endure other things. He had to endure his new commander, which seemed to be somewhat of a problem, given how Dumhuvud was not as willing to compromise as he was. But Sadri always prided himself on being somewhat of a problem solver, and it seemed to him that he wasn’t alone in wanting to fix this new problem.
When they walked out, Sadri shot a cursory glance at Dar’Jzo, and then looked back at Keegan for a sign of confirmation on whether the Khajiit was to be trusted or not. “I assume it is our mutual loss that has brought us here together,” he said, looking at neither of them in particular, his tone a mockery of a priest’s or a speaker’s. “Am I correct?” He asked, his suspicious glare peering straight into Dar’Jzo’s eyes. The Khajiit peered back.
“Dar’Jzo regrets not knowing the dead well enough to feel their loss.” He replied with his accented, gravelly voice. “They deserve more than this one’s apathy, yes? More than some of us.”
Sadri nodded upon hearing the Khajiit’s statement, taking it as a sign of being accomplices. His glare softened into a simple gaze of caution. “Yes, yes, I’m glad we are in agreement,” he replied, his tone still carrying on with the charade. “Those we mourn today were certainly better people than most of us. Ah, well, death is unjust, they say. Always picks the wrong people. Let’s hope the living don’t make that mistake,” he added, his gaze moving back onto Keegan.
“Very unfortunate losses indeed. I believe the martyrs would like the best of us to live a long life, and for the worst us, a swift justice.” Keegan crossed his arms, not giving the others a visible expression on his face. “Death is not solely in the hands of Arkay; we do have a say, no matter how quiet it is.”
Uncrossing his arms and glancing around, Keegan was certain that no one else was around to hear to them in this corner outside of the temple. Dumhuvud certainly wouldn’t; he didn’t even have the heart to attend the funeral.
“I find it so inauspicious that many had died to accidents. Our esteemed commander, Ashav, fell from a lighthouse.” Keegan tried to sound somber, but he was far more angry and impatient. He involuntarily fidgeted with his hands; Keegan shook his head. “What would happen if the same misfortune befalls upon the Cat-Kicker? I, for one, would not spend much time grieving.”
“With so many departing our company recently, would another death be suspicious? Or just routine?” Keegan shrugged. He felt uncomfortable about what to say next, so Keegan looked around. The area is still unoccupied beside them. Keegan swallowed a lump in throat.
“If the next death is any one of us, it would probably be because of Dumhuvud, and there’s nothing any one of us can do about.” Keegan sighed.
“But if Dumhuvud is the next to die, no one would be certain who the killer is.” Keegan cut straight to the chase. “We owe our fallen comrades a better leader, and we owe ourselves an end to abuse. All we need is to give the Cat-Kicker a little push; don’t you agree?”
“This one has already given it much thought.” Dar'Jzo admitted grimly with a slight bow of his head. “But not without help. Hmph, Dar'Jzo thinks he can adapt his strategy. It would take time, but that depends…”
“Well, Keegan said it first, not me, but I can’t help but agree with you two fellows on the matter,” Sadri chimed in after Dar’Jzo, his lower lip pouted. “We owe our living comrades a good leader as much as we owe our fallen, and as… stubborn as our beloved Dummy is, I’m not sure if he can hold up to late Ashav’s standards, Arkay bless his soul.”
He paused for a moment.
“…And considering that even his standards weren’t enough to keep him from losing his life in a tragedy, I’m not sure if our new leader has a chance. Plus, I don’t think he’s garnered enough love from anybody around him for them to search for him if he were to disappear.”
Sadri wouldn’t admit it, but it wouldn’t be the first time when he’d had a colleague of his disappear, either.
“Disappear?” Dar’Jzo repeated. The old khajiit leaned in. “Then the elves are not just interested in simple butchery? If they seek to prowl Sangiin’s hollow, Dar’Jzo can show the way… but know they must leave something valuable behind.”
Sadri’s face soured for a moment. “...Couldn’t we find a way without leaving valuables?” He asked, after a few seconds of silence. “Could just go for a quick dump in the sewers.”
The khajiit looked at him with a curious tilt of his head, but then gestured toward the lighthouse. “Think like the lighthouse. Embarking on a dark voyage, you must find your way back or become lost. We stay focused -- forget your emotions. What is your lighthouse?” A glimpse of Saddi flashed behind Dar’Jzo’s eyes. “Know why you kill before you do, and be sure it is of strong foundation. Poor ones become mudslides and are slippery.”
“Very well, gentlemen.” Keegan nodded in appreciation of the dark planning going on. “I believe the lighthouse is the most accident-prone location in this city, certainly where our new leader may repeat his predecessor’s mistake.”
“While people can disappear, we are in a foreign place where they can resurface without us knowing.” Keegan suggested. “It is better for us to act quickly, instead of worrying about the details and losing the opportunity in the end.”
“You can make poisons,” Keegan pointed towards the nodding Dar’Jzo, “and I can lure him to the lighthouse.” Then Keegan motioned to Sadri with his thumb. “You have an eye for accidents, correct?”
“...I don’t see why we don’t just gut him in an alleyway, honestly,” Sadri replied. “But I suppose I have an eye for accidents. I guess.”
Dar’Jzo added, “two deaths shortly after The Tear makes port ill for its repute. Should the sin of three make murderers of a whole crew? They should hide or mislead. Fewer guards on this one’s tail, the better, as Dar’Jzo sees it.”
“The more advantage we have, the less chance for him to struggle.” Keegan reminded Sadri. “We have to make this quick for the Cat-Kicker, because we can’t stoop to his level and make him suffer needlessly. And, you know, loud dying screams tend to attract unwanted attention.”
“Let’s not waste any time, gentlemen.” Keegan concluded. “I shall find a ‘private’ way to bring our friend to the party. While you, Sadri, clear the premise. And you, Dar’Jzo, prepare his ‘refreshments’.”
Afternoon
Jehanna Harbor
The warehouse was clear; no one’s there except for Keegan and Dumhuvud, and Dumhuvud didn’t know Keegan’s there. There was a desk in the office allotted to him by Gustav, and on the desk, a letter looking strangely out of place. Had it been Ashav instead, the letter would have been examined under further scrutiny. But this was the Cat-Kicker, and he hadn't the slightest patience.
You're weak. We took your puny ass shield. Come bow down to your Khajiit overlords at the lighthouse.
Dumhuvud screamed out in anger. He was about to tear up the paper when another line came into focus. How did he miss it? It couldn't have popped onto the paper.
Scared? Gonna tell mom and dad? You’re no man; you're an overgrown baby!
“I slaughtered an entire Stormcloak detachment to avenge my family!” Dumhuvud bellowed. His fist squeezed the paper tight until he was going to destroy it. Then he noticed words growing out of the backside. Dumhuvud was so mad that he didn't even notice it was not how ink worked.
Hiding behind everyone else again?
1v1 me.
Dumhuvud took his axe and slammed it straight into the desk, nearly splitting it in half and smirking when he heard the desk gasp. Then he stormed out of the warehouse, so full of anger that he didn't notice the doors opening themselves again after he had slammed them shut.
Ten minutes later...
Keegan never thought it could work in his wildest dreams. He almost chickened out before going through with his plan in the first place, and when he saw Dumhuvud all worked up, it took all he had to not run off in fear, and keep his excretions within his body. But it worked out splendidly. Someone believed that piece of paper he enchanted in five minutes, and the obstruction spell that hid Dumhuvud's shield shouldn't have been convincing with the way it flickered so often. Then again, the Cat-Kicker was too stupid to notice that the words weren't real; they're planted into his vision through enchantments and altered with Keegan's illusions. Finally, Dumhuvud missed Keegan hiding under the very desk (crouched tight, shaking and holding up an invisibility spell) he nearly chopped apart. It was pretty intense when the axe almost got Keegan's head. Thankfully, Gustav had a good desk, or it would have been awkward popping into plain view with a two-part skull.
As Dumhuvud stomped towards the lighthouse, Keegan tailed behind him, still invisible. Keegan made illusory crowds in Dumhuvud's vision so that he took paths not noticed by most people. Soon enough, they were in front of the lighthouse.
It was an unoccupied clearing. Keegan heard earlier that the lighthouse keeper had been arrested and fired for neglect; he had been absent for more than just last night. Someone from the city guards would be tending to the light after nightfall. But now, in bright daylight, they simply locked the lighthouse up and left it be.
“Come out and die!” Dumhuvud yelled, axe in hand and ready to chop.
Only silence replied. It would appear Keegan's co-conspirators had the wisdom to not engage this mad lad in open combat. Now, Keegan summoned a faint flicker on top of the lighthouse, and Dumhuvud turned his head upwards, sneered and approached the entrance. He saw the door was unlocked for some reason, as the lock was so flimsy that any lockpick, opening spell or a strong shove could've opened it. Thoughts of suspicion creeped into Dumhuvud, but he never expected to be climbing to his doom.
Outside, Keegan sat down on a log. The continous manipulation through illusion spells had exhausted him. He was in no shape to help Dar'Jzo and Sadri up there. Keegan only hoped they would be the ones walking back down, or it would be real awkward to explain everything to Dumhuvud.
From atop the lighthouse…
“The Cat-Kicker comes.” Dar’Jzo said to Sadri at this side. He grabbed the mason jar at his side and held his breath, reaching it to grab a soaking-wet rag and wringing out the excess. It was a poison that he made sure was as inconspicuous as possible if the guards had enough presence of mind to check with the local alchemists and read into their sales history. It was made mostly from your typical household ingredients -- chicken eggs, honeycomb, salt, wheat, bone meal, and small antlers, including some other things he could harvest on his own like spider eggs and skeever tails. Floating around inside the liquified and distilled mixture was a giant’s toe for good measure. He cautiously held the rag and the jar away from his face as well as Sadri’s. He had informed the Dunmer that the poison he had made was essentially a horse tranquilizer that would ensure Dumhuvud was knocked out and wouldn’t have the stamina to move even long after he wakes up. Nothing but the worst for everyone’s most hated troll.
“This one suggests leaving no evidence.” Dar’Jzo reminded. “It may only piss it off.”
"Hurm," Sadri replied nonchalantly to Dar'Jzo's warning. "I really wanted to gut the fuck, but, oh well. I think I've got an idea... You want to get the drop on him, or should I?" He asked the Khajiit, rubbing the tip of his chin. A part of him was annoyed that they wouldn’t get to torment Dumhuvud relentlessly before they sent him off to his final voyage, but a clean getaway was more important to murder than how enjoyable it was. “One of us will have to be the bait, and I’m pretty sure he hates both of us equally.”
Dar’Jzo was in the middle of carefully folding the rag into a square to be placed in the center of his hand, which was slowly beginning to feel numb, when he looked back up at Sadri with his eyes narrowed. In most people it was a sign of distrust, and though Dar’Jzo had plenty of distrust to spare, it was mostly a sign of curiosity on his part as his mind fell back to the chaos of the Sload’s attack on the Tear. “Dar’Jzo has seen the Dunmer raving mad but a few moons ago,” he said, “and he knows even the subtlest signs better than anyone. Can he trust you to not smell the drug he has made? This one is uncertain.”
Sadri raised an eyebrow, his good eye gauging the Khajiit with contempt, not for the remark about his sugar tooth, but for just how dumb he must be expecting him to be. "If I were that eager to get myself killed I'd jump off the premises right now, friend. Now's not time to tarry. Just hand that damn thing over to me or take position, I don't think he'll wait," Sadri said, pointing down the stairs with his metal thumb.
In response, the Khajiit nodded in respect of Sadri’s candor, and for a moment he almost found himself reaching to hand him the drug until he realized that he was probably the one who was better suited to hiding. Dar’Jzo knew better than most how to be subtle and minimize his presence and, despite the appearance of frailty his partner in crime gave, observations during the battle showed Sadri to be more than physically capable of holding his own in fight; perhaps even better than himself. Well, at least on a bad day.
Dar’Jzo moved to reposition himself, his leg like springs as he went from crouching on one side of the lantern room to lurking in the shadows behind the mouth of the stairwell with silent, measured paces. Though his face was as still as a statue, the fur on his back and neck began to bristle.
It didn't take long for the Cat-Kicker to pick up the pace and finally make it to the top of the lighthouse. While Sadri'd thought of just kicking him down just as he reached the end of the staircase, it would've been harder to dispose of his corpse at the bottom of the lighthouse rather than the top, where it wasn't exactly hard for someone to just disappear into the rocky waves below. That, and he wasn't sure if the Khajiit would appreciate it as much as he did. So, he just flexed his muscles as the Nord bashed the door open. Sadri didn't expect that he'd be this afraid; perhaps it was because he hadn't drawn his sword. So he did the next best thing and opened his arms wide, as if expecting a hug.
"Ah, Dummy Wood! I've longed to see-"
He was quickly interrupted by a roar celebrating a weighty swing from Dumhuvud's axe. Sadri hopped back on his feet to dodge the blade’s edge, and found himself on the edge of the platform. He'd suddenly begun taking this much more seriously.
"Cat behind you! Cat behind you!"
Dumhuvud replied by raising his axe.
Dar’Jzo suddenly appeared behind Dumhuvud, grabbing the shaft just below the axe blade as the Nord reared back, pulling his arm behind his back and causing him to spin around to face Dar’Jzo, who was already ready to shove his stanky rag into his face. Amidst Dumhuvud’s muffled roars of surprise, Dar’Jzo, between grunts from trying to keep him under control, said gravelly, “It’s nothing personal, kit.”
The Cat-Kicker's muscles were not yet ready to go to sleep, it seemed, for he managed to grasp Dar'Jzo's neck with his free hand and begin choking the old Khajiit despite the paralytic rag pressed against his face. Nonetheless, Dar'Jzo could feel the iron grip falter and weaken moment by moment. As the Dunmer watched intently, hesitating to watch, the Cat-Kicker eventually collapsed beside Dar'Jzo, one hand releasing his axe and the other releasing the Khajiit's neck.
"That's it?" Sadri asked, now finding it safe to speak or move, with the hardest part of the deed over with. "You okay?"
Dar’Jzo was still buckled over, wheezing and gasping for air, knowing full well that he’d feel the bruising by tomorrow. When he finally had enough air in his lungs for him to talk, he looked back up at Sadri with his needle-like eyes and simply nodded. He looked down spitefully at the Cat-Kicker, remembering the treatment he received from him in Solitude and realizing that things would’ve ended very differently if any of the three of them missed their beats. This was it. There was only one thing left to do, and after that, it would be safe for him to look for Saddi.
“This one does not let his personal feelings interfere with what must be done.” Dar’Jzo said. “Some deeds must simply be done. But you? Dar’Jzo understands Sadri has no lost love for the Cat-Kicker. Would he like the honors?”
"Think it'd be more appropriate for a cat to kick the Cat-Kicker to his death, but I wouldn't mind giving an encouraging nudge myself," Sadri replied, dragging the unconscious Nord to the edge facing the sea below, and not the pavement the other way around. Before he let go of his haul, Sadri couldn't help but pat the Nord on the cheek lightly as a final insult. "Off you go, sweetheart," he muttered, standing up and pushing the Nord’s legs further towards the edge with the toe of his foot, as to keep them from interrupting with a freefall.
"Shall we?" He asked the Khajiit, extending an arm forward with his palm open as a welcoming gesture.
Dar’Jzo nodded and calmly approached the unconscious body of Dumhuvud. It was an odd sight to see Dumhuvud so peaceful in his final moments as he slept after he nearly tried to kill the two of them, but in his defense, they had premeditated his demise. He shared a few words, “May S’rendarr grant you mercy from Merrunz’s claws and teeth… but this one doubts a single divine breath will be wasted.”
With that, a sudden kick pushed Dumhuvud from the top of the lighthouse and sent him plummeting to the jagged ocean rocks far, far below.
Dumhuvud's fall from grace was so much less than Keegan had pictured. He couldn't see what happened on top, and a wind picked up so that he didn't hear the confrontation either. All he saw was a still figure descending to the sea, and a blink later, it was gone. The tides were growing, and before the end of day, it would wash away all that was Dumhuvud.
The winds died down when Dar'Jzo and Sadri walked out of the lighthouse. Everything was silent, saved from the distant lapping of waves and the occasional bird chirp, as if there was a silent vigil for Dumhuvud like that at the Conclave this morning.
“So it is done; the Cat-Kicker is no more.” Keegan approached his co-conspirators stiffly. He should be breathing a sigh of relief, but Keegan felt no relief at all. “We've rid the company of hatred, and I think we're all better for it. Aren't we?”
"Well, I know I'm not having any regrets," Sadri replied. "I'd buy the whole lot of you a drink for this, but I'd argue it's better if the three of us aren't seen together for a while. Think I'll go get a shave. I look like a damn mountain man," he added, scratching his scraggly mustache. "So yeah. See you folks around."
With that, the Dunmer walked away from the two. The two walked away from each other shortly after, and then, it was over.
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