Dervish

Mass Effect: Caelestis

I'm gonna be reworking Sabinus for this.

Mass Effect: Caelestis

1-800-hiitsme

The Elder Scrolls: Eye of the Hurricane

Unexpected Connections

Stormy and I

"You there! You look like the sort of lass who could appreciate a luminescent guar statue to light up your stoop! No? How about this blanket that is always pleasantly cool?" Raznog gro-Malak called out to a passing pair of elven women, who only spared a moment's consideration to the wares the bespectacled Orsimer was enthusiastically presenting. Shazali's eye lingered on her companion for a pregnant moment, noticing that even with scaled back attire given the muggy climate, the Orc seemed to try to look somewhat presentable, and perhaps failing via half-measures.

A sleeveless vest covered his powerful torso, the vest missing its paired undershirt, and the fine mahogany coloured trousers were rolled up to his knees with a fancy broach on either pant leg to pin them in place, the look being rounded out with his axe pendant and a pair of crocodile leather sandals he had purchased from this festival only being a few shades darker than his complexion. He wore it proudly and his grooming was as ever on-point, so the Alfiq gave him a pass, turning her attention back to the Investigator Vale novel she was currently enraptured with.

Raznog shrugged as the two prospective clients sauntered off towards the Altmer's perfume stall a few spaces down from where the unlikely duo were set up. He set the blanket down on the bench he had some of the items for sale with their wooden price placards set just-so to the left and folded it with practiced hands. He tapped the stained glass chimes, watching as the elemental enchantments in each pane lit up; the pale blue pane reacted with a flash of lightning, the red a flash of flame, and the white one frosted over before quickly melting again. He slumped down in his wicker chair again, large meaty hands folded on his lap.

"Damn shame; I thought the blanket would have been gone immediately in this climate." he grunted, pulling a stone container from the box next to his chair and pulling a large chunk of fire salt free, setting it into a tray beneath a kettle to boil the water.

"It is only the first night, Raznog; Shazali does not doubt your talents as a salesman. Besides, those two probably couldn't afford my crafts." the Khajiit pointed out, the soft glow of telekinesis encasing a clawed toe that turned the page.

"Probably not." Raznog agreed with a smile, leaning back into his chair, regarding his companion affectionately. "So, has the good Investigator made any leeway in solving the case?"

Shazali shook her head. "No, but if she stopped making bedroom-eyes at the assassin, the Baroness would probably still be alive." Shazali sighed, her head slumping down into a paw to regard Reznog more readily. "This one can't say she cares overly much for the humidity, or the insects that are nearly as large as her, or the fermented meat drink."

"Rotmeth?" Raznog offered.

"Eecth. That is the one. It is good you brought your own supplies, but you may wish to stock up at the festival. The Bosmer will probably get somewhat pissy if you start eyeballing their flowers." Shazali sighed. "Do you think if a Khajiit were to grow Moon Sugar cane in Valenwood, the Bosmer would claim it is a part of the Green Pact? No wonder our people used to fight each other all the time before the Dominion." she pondered absentmindedly.

Raznog shook his head, smiling as he turned his attention to the steam beginning to emerge from the kettle’s funnel. “You know, Shazali, you always grumble about something whenever we go somewhere new, but you always secretly love the new experiences. When we close up for the night, we’ll take a look around and see what strikes your fancy, yeah?”

The Alfiq looked away defiantly. “So presumptuous! Shazali may not be a lightwell of cheer that you are, but she will have you know that Valenwood needs more dry sands and sweet-meats to be tolerable. How do these people make due without spices and real wine? Shazali fears their society will collapse if someone were to offer their King a salad. Would it be considered a threat, an assassination attempt?” she giggled. “Maybe the cherry tomatoes would be seen as his slain children. The horror!” she gasped.

“More likely,” Raznog grinned conspiratorially with his companion. “They’d find a small little cat such as yourself to be a delicacy, what with a lifetime of marinating in moon sugar. You’d be their little sweet meat.”

Shazali pouted with narrow eyes. “There is a darkness to you, Raznog. Shazali will have you know she is too gamey for consumption. More likely, they’d take their tree and run away. Who’s going to chase a walking tree? Simply ridiculous.” She said, returning to her book.

---

Was Fjolte already that high? That drunk? He’d not long arrived at the festival and already the strange happenings were… Happening. There was no way that he could believe what his eyes were trying to tell him.

He’d been making his way through the makeshift market row, on his way to find a quiet spot to take a moment to himself; to escape the crowd momentarily, and to ruminate on the events of the trip… Or simply just to let himself catch up with himself. The lengthy travel through the rough terrain wasn’t sitting well on him. As he shuffled along languidly through the crowd, it was the sun catching the tubes of a wind chime that danced in front of him that stopped him in his tracks and forced his ears to halt and listen too.

The uncomfortably tall man turned his head, running a clammy palm through his thick mane of hair to brush back the carefree strands that would have otherwise decided to stick to his forehead. Humidity he thought to himself in a growl… Maybe he had said it out loud. Something was growling. His stomach perhaps? Fjolte patted one of his hands against it gently as if to encourage it to simmer down.

And then he focussed on the sight, a cat was talking which only made him tilt his head marginally so. He’d met Alfiq before. They weren’t so strange and out of place. Not so out of place as… The Orsimer in spectacles and tailored clothing. Now that was new. It was new, and precisely what he had hoped he might find in Valenwood. A kindly curiosity fell over the Monk as he then turned softly on his heel to walk up to their stall, and quietly he began to admire their wares as they chatted away without yet noticing him. Their very presence was almost enough to ground him from the previous self-inflicted turbulence.

Raznog was fully attentive to the kettle at this point, prompting Shazali to toss a small rock that bounced off of his trousers. The Orsimer looked up to the Alfiq, who pointed a dainty paw towards the newcomer. Raznog turned to see a somewhat disheveled and perhaps inebriated Nord inspecting the wares that were for sale. He stood, grinning widely and approached, appreciating that the Nord looked to be a powerful man who simply was enjoying the celebrations in a way Raznog wished he could at that particular moment.

“Welcome to Claw & Hammer Enchantments and Crafts, friend! We’ve got something for everyone, and if we don’t, we do enchantment services on site. What kinds of wares interest you?” Raznog asked enthusiastically, showcasing the wares.

“We’ve got some more typical things, flaming daggers, frost maces, feather rings if you’re feeling a bit heavy after eating too much, yeah?” the Orc laughed, gently tapping Fjolte’s abs with the back of his hand. “Or maybe you’re in the market for a sweetheart? This dragonfly broach is rather fetching, and it helps mend wear and tear on the body, perfect for long walks without feeling tired! Or if you’re worried about food poisoning in these parts, this band just goes around your wrist and it helps prevent poisoning… I don’t know about you, my friend, but Bosmer cuisine just does not agree with me!”

“I won’t waste your time and pretend I have the coin,” Fjolte replied with a chuckle and a half hearted shrug of his shoulders. His eyes, however, did land on the Dragonfly. It was intricate and beautiful, and, the enchantment sounded like something that could in fact be of use to him. He was feeling more sore than ever after this trek — relief in the form of a piece of jewellery he could easily hide away sounded divine. That piece was to be worn proudly though, to catch light and shimmer out with it, not to be stuffed into the shadows.

“Only time food has given me any trouble was when there wasn’t enough,” he slurred with a wink in the Orc’s direction. “You make these yourself?” He asked, meeting Raznog’s gaze with his own glazed and sparkling eyes.

"Only the pretty woodworking and painted bits; the magic touch is the work of my partner over there with the book." Raznog said with a proud smile, pointing to the Alfiq, who quietly sighed as she closed the Investigator Vale novel. Hopping off the table she was perched upon, she crossed the tent in a non-hurried manner before hopping up in a stool near the front display.

"Shazali is the enchanter who is enchanting, yes? She also does custom services if nothing here catches your eye, although would she be wrong in assuming you did not have eyes on the broach, walker?" The Alfiq introduced herself, lifting a paw.

The dragonfly took to the air and floated gently towards Fjolte for him to catch. "A simple health and stamina enchantment etched into the separate glass panes. It is weak and unremarkable for adventuring and fighting, but for someone who simply wishes to have their bodies keep up with their ambitions? Perhaps a voracious lover? It is more than suitable, this one thinks." Shazali explained in a tantalizing tone, as if it were both within Fjolte's price range and was absolutely essential for someone with his physique.

“It has been quite a few winters now since I’ve given much thought to being a voracious lover,” Fjolte admitted candidly with a sigh. Taking a moment to think about his words, he glanced to the Alfiq and then to the Orc again. Perhaps he could give her something to smile about too, they weren’t the only unusual individuals at the festival. Once more, Fjolte spoke — only in the tongue of the Khajiit, Ta’agra. “I walk over many roads, and on paths that should be unwalked.”

When not talking like his kin, his voice softened and his inflections changed — even his accent differed which spoke to the respect that he had for the language and khajiiti culture. He inclined his head to say as much to Shazali too. As he regarded the dragonfly, he sighed. “Beautiful,” Fjolte said, in the common tongue again. “Too beautiful for someone like me, but maybe I could take advantage of those custom services…”

Shazali blinked and tilted her head, pleasantly surprised. It was very unlike a Nord to know her mother tongue, let alone speak it so beautifully. It was clear this man had spent time in Elsweyr, and more-so became immersed in its culture. She liked him, she decided. <You do this one honour.> she replied in Ta’agra before transitioning back to the common tongue.

“And someone like you surely must know you are beautiful, but your humbleness does you credit. What sort of work were you hoping to have done?” she asked.

Raznog for his part regarded Fjolte with curiosity before returning to his kettle, feeling Shazali had it well in hand.

The Orc wasn’t the only one with curious thoughts, Fjolte watched him too, thoughts jumbled in his mind between where Raznog had come from and how he ended up here, in the company of an Alfiq. He was an almost immaculate man, and the Nord looked down at his own Goat Herder apparel with a sigh.

“Hmm?” He mumbled out eventually, realising he’d followed a tangent of a thought that had taken him miles from the conversation with Shazali; he began carefully rubbing a plain silver ring on his finger before removing it with great care. It didn’t look like much at all. It was just a simple silver band with some etching into the side. A curly F, M, and H lined up next to each other — with a larger, and curlier S. Truthfully it was a rather gaudy piece but Fjolte handled it as if it were a flawless diamond.

“My family ring,” he said happily, gazing deep into the Alfiq’s sparkling eye. “Perhaps… the enchantment from the brooch on this. Do you think it would work?”

“Look around you, rhook; Shazali put fire enchantments in wood that does not burn. Tamriel is full of enchanted jewelry; why should yours be any different, hm?” she replied with a warm smile. “She will even do this for nothing more than the cost of the materials and a story about how you came to speak this one’s mother tongue with such grace.” she offered.

“I was lucky enough that travels brought me to Elsweyr after a beautiful and mysterious woman pointed me in that direction,” Fjolte explained fondly, moving his hands this way and that, drawing the curvaceous shape of a woman in the space between himself and Shazali. “I met some wandering Monks, and being a hurt and misplaced youth at the time I followed until they let me join in,” he laughed, blinking slowly. “I learned a lot from their simple way of life. To respect the world around me and the like...” There was clearly more to the story, and it was the details he chose to omit that would become the clues to the truth. The truth was too truthful for right now, anyway. Everyone always wanted a story.

“I might push my luck now, on your gracious offer, but I’d like to hear how you met your companion too, if you have the time to tell that tale,” Fjolte found himself leaning against the table lazily, and yet still not allowing his weight to push against it and topple it in -- he was simply enjoying himself in company that already felt so familiar to him. He had decided he liked Shazali too.

“There is beauty in simplicity, no?” Shazali replied warmly. “It is why Raznog and Shazali have traveled together for many moons. He left home to find a purpose after his family agreed to sell the business, and this one has a bit heavier of a tale she does not wish to share in polite company, but suffice it to say, family is a complicated matter and being free of its yolk has allowed this one to travel and find her own way.”

She looked over to Raznog, who was busy pouring tea into three cups, she took notice of.

“The big guy found this one when… well, when she approached him at a particularly unflattering moment of time and she challenged him to a game of cups so she could forget her brother for a few moments. He listened to Shazali, Shazali overshared, and she found that he was pleasant company and made me forget my troubles for a time. Shazali decided to leave the Baandari caravan that took her in to travel with Raznog, because it looked like he could use a companion and we both had room to grow.” she smiled warmly at the thought. “There have been no regrets so far.”

“It’s nice to know I’ve tricked you into thinking I’m polite,” Fjolte chuckled as a twinkle of mischief scattered over his eyes. “But please, I will not pry,” he added reassuringly with an easy smile.

“I’ve been travelling alone for a while until I met my latest friend, he’s been good company indeed. You… Forget what it’s like to forge a bond,” the Nord admitted, momentarily glancing away from Shazali, there was a hint of heavy regret in his tone that also seemed to take to his body as he slumped forward slightly. “But that is how I live,” he sighed, offering a suddenly wan smile as he looked back up. “I am glad you have each other. It’s clear you make a good team.”

Raznog returned, placing a tea cup down next to Shazali, an adorably miniature sized one compared to his own, and he offered another to Fjolte. “Well pal, it’s never too late to reach out to new people and seeing what sticks. When I left Jehanna, I wasn’t exactly all that familiar with Khajiit or expecting to travel with one, let alone when that’s a mite more articulate than my neighbour’s housecat.”

“And Shazali never expected to entwine her fate to a dapper flesh atronach.” the Alfiq hissed, although it was clear from her expression she wasn’t actually offended; it was playful ribbings between two close friends that many could relate to.

“You’re too kind, Shazali.” Raznog chuckled, taking a sip of the citrus scented tea, the cup seeming comically small in his large hands. “Where’s this companion of yours? Bit of advice; if you’re feeling down about being solitary, maybe try to keep the people you like closeby and share these experiences together. You should go find your friend after you’re done here and see what else this festival offers together”

Shazali smiled at Fjolte. “You’re a curious one, Walker, but it’s clear you carry no small amount of weight in your heart… and so does this one, but it does not mean it removes room for letting life fill it. Maybe in these forests and with all of these people your heart will find a new song to sing… and if ever you can’t find your way, you are always welcome here.” the Alfiq said, before transitioning seamlessly back to Ta’agra. <You are kin to this one, no? You have the heart of Khajiiti.>

<This one thanks you for your words and wisdom>, Fjolte answered quietly, placing a closed fist on his heart as a humble gesture to the kindly Alfiq. Then, he carefully took the teacup and directed a nod of acknowledgement towards Raznog too. The drink was delightfully fresh, a much-needed palette cleanser, and something in it was invigorating enough to ease some of the growing pain throughout his body.

“We’ll see,” he said between sips. The Orc was not wrong; things were better shared, and so Fjolte smiled thankfully at the advice of both. He felt a sense of gratitude towards them, and validation in that his observation of them had been correct. “I’d imagine young Gwilym is on the prowl for a different kind of companion,” he jested -- immediately feeling like the comment was harsh. He suspected that there was a depth to Gwilym that the Breton hadn’t wished to reveal yet and it had become a wish of Fjolte’s to learn more about him.

He sipped thoughtfully from the cup again, “you might not like it if I started to sing,” he said with a half-smile. “I’ve frightened off many a would-be friend that way,” he added with a snigger. The Nord began to straighten up again, “you both have been too kind to me today,” he said, finishing the tea. “I hope you are also here to enjoy this beautiful festival and not just work the whole way through? If there’s a song for me to find, perhaps one for you too, no?”

“Kindness is a currency that is shared too infrequently, I think.” Raznog replied. “Besides, you’re more likely to come back with coin when you have a pleasant experience at our humble little enterprise, no?” the Orsimer teased with a playful wink. “But worry not, pal, we intend to take our own time seeing what’s going on around town and mingling with the rest of them.”

“After everyone closes up tonight, there’s a community bonfire the merchants are putting on. We intend to be there… and you should join us.” Shazali said, sitting upright with a twinkle in her eye. “It also occurs to Shazali she has never asked you your name…?”

“I might just do that,” Fjolte answered after thinking it over, though his attendance depended entirely on how much fun he’d allow himself in the time between then and now. He gave his new found friends a parting wave of his hand, electing to leave behind the family ring on the countertop before him. “Fjolte. My name is Fjolte.”

Then, as quietly as he had approached, he disappeared from their stall — not completely, given that he stood practically head and shoulders above most. He simply became another traveler walking on by with the current of the crowd.

Shazali picked up the silver band Fjolte had left in her care as she watched him go before piping up to Raznog. “See, Raznog? First customer and it hasn’t even been lunch yet.”

The Elder Scrolls: Eye of the Hurricane

Raznog and Shazali

Race: Orsimer
Sex: Male
Age: 39
Family Origins: Jehanna, High Rock
Birth Sign: The Tower
Appearance:


A powerful and physically imposing figure, Raznog stands at a commanding 6’03” (183cm) and weighing in around 250 pounds (113.4kg) with an endomorphic build, the Orsimer is heavily muscled with enough body fat to give him a somewhat soft appearance, not unlike a bear. While Raznog will never be accused of being small or weak, he often doesn’t carry himself with the best posture since he subconsciously shrinks himself to make himself approachable to those smaller than him and he often hunches over for the multitude of small, delicate tasks he seems to take an affinity for.

Raznog is a well-groomed individual, having a short chocolate brown quiff-style haircut to go with a neatly trimmed beard. Eschewing the more wild facial piercings and tattoos of many other orcs, save for a couple of bridge ring piercings. A small, modest pair of spectacles round out his appearance, only being put away when hard work or a fight is imminent in a small, wooden case. His green eyes are gentle and friendly, and he has an almost fatherly bearing towards others. His complexion is a mossy green with a slight brown tint.
Dressing in fine travel wear with flair from Orcish, Breton, and Nord sensibilities, Raznog travels with an oil-impregnated travel cloak to keep the elements off of his tunics, surcoats, vests, and trousers, and much of his gear is kept in an almost comically large rucksack or on his guar’s saddlebags, including a mail coat, platemail, a full helm, greaves, gauntlets, and sabatons made of finely crafted orchalcum.

Equipment:
-Orchalcum warhammer with a pick on the reverse face
-Full set of orchalcum heavy armour
-Frost enchanted gauntlets with a reinforced knuckle and finger plate for striking.
Misc. Possessions:
-A pack guar named Stomper
-Travel-sized painting set and parchments
-A small assortment of tea bags and kettle along with cups
-Cooking supplies
-A tent, bed rolls, blankets
-Fire starters
-Rations
-Change of clothing
-Journal and reading tomes
-Wood cutter’s axe and pickaxe
-Assorted spell scrolls in a waterproof carry case
-An amulet of a Malach, an axe

Family and Associates:
Shazali, travel companion and friend
Malak gro-Malzog, father
Nula gra-Lulgra, biological mother (deceased)
Faye LePetite, adoptive mother
Torug gro-Malak, brother
Cynthia LePetite, step-sister

Favoured Skills:
Major:
2h hammer
Heavy armour
Moderate:
Provisioning
Athletics
Mercantile
Novice:
Smithing
Woodworking

History:
Born into one of the oldest lines of Orsimer residing in Jehanna, Raznog gro-Malak grew up in the bitterly cold North of High Rock in a region with such a mixed cultural identity that it was effectively its own unique ecosystem; a kingdom under Breton rule founded by Orcs and settled and governed by Nords, Raznog entered the world in a land that couldn’t have been further from the strongholds to the East or the great city of Orsinium. The family business was working the shipyards and outfitting expeditions, so Raznog grew up with a hammer in hand patching up vessels from across Tamriel and running the modest supply shop in equal measure.

When he was only a few years old, his biological mother passed away from illness, and it wasn’t for a few more that Raznog’s father remarried a Breton woman named Faye who never tried to replace his mother, Nula, but she had no shortage of love for her two new adoptive sons and biological daughter from outside of wedlock. It was a happy family and Faye exposed her children to the art of mastering colours and Raznog took to it with glee, taking up a paintbrush and painting the ships and landscapes that dominated his home life. In particular, Raznog is proud of his contribution to the mural the town put together, bringing colour to the stone carvings of the Orc craftsman, the wooden totems and pillars that frame the homes of the Nords, and the paintings of the Bretons. Life in Jehanna was quiet and perfect, being so far removed from the troubles of the outside world. Raznog had a perfect family, a mix of blood and found additions he loved all the same, and from his father’s hand he learned strength and to uphold his Orcish heritage, and from his mother, a softer and more thoughtful approach to the world.

And so it came as something of a shock when Raznog and his siblings came of age and were adults in their 20s when their parents announced that they were going to be moving to Daggerfall to tend to Faye’s aging parents. The family business was to go to the children, should they want it, or it would be sold to help finance their future endeavors. On one hand, it was the opportunity for a clean break to pursue other passions and to see where all of these colourful travelers came from by sea, but it was also a hugely disruptive thing where what had seemed as unchanging as the Druadach Mountains was now eroding suddenly. 27 years old and the eldest of the siblings, the three sat down to discuss their future. In the end, Torug would go with their parents to meet with family he had yet to meet, Cynthia would travel to Imperial City to study and follow her ambitions to serve the Empire as a political figure, and this left Raznog with somewhat of an empty feeling; he simply did not know what he wished to do with his life. In the end, the eldest brother decided to sell the business with his siblings and he would simply take time to travel until Zenithar or Malach gave him some ideas of where he should go.

And so for the first time in his life, Raznog gro-Malak boarded one of the ships that came to Jehanna and left the only home he’d known for his entire life.

Because of his multicultural upbringing, Raznog found it easy to assimilate into whatever culture he came across and found differences between races more endearing than alienating. Knowing his coin wouldn’t last forever, the Orc often paid his way through his services as a woodworker and smith, and eventually a caravan guard given his size and strength; the Imperial who had watched Raznog lift up the side of a wagon with one hand and place a repaired wheel with the other had insisted the Orc use his strength to protect the caravan. Instead of paying a fee for travel, Raznog was now being paid to guard caravans, giving him free food and a chance to keep his body and mind sharp.

This somewhat nomadic lifestyle inevitably put him into contact with the Khajiiti Baandari caravans on a few occasions, and Raznog found a curious kinship with the catfolk of Elsweyr, finding their hospitality to be warming and he had spent many nights by their campfires, listening to the stories told by the clan fathers and mothers and enjoying the uniquely sweet meats and stews they served. It was one of these chance meetings near the border with Black Marsh where Raznog was confronted by a tiny Alfiq who dropped a bottle of Colovian whiskey beside Raznog as he rested against a tree trunk reading a book.

The tiny cat stared up at him defiantly. “Shazali bets she can outdrink you, dull-claws.” She challenged.

And so, on one of the more memorable and strange nights of Raznog’s life; the Alfiq had clearly already been drinking and had this desperate, dishevelled look to her. Instead of turning the challenge down, Raznog poured two equal glasses out of his tea set and under the guise of challenging the cat, he learned her story and how she was the youngest daughter and elder sister, yet being an Alfiq meant that she was often overlooked or shoved aside compared to her more noticeable family, despite her accomplishments as a mage, or how outsiders confused her as a housecat or treated her like a child despite being an adult. Her distressed reason for confronting the Orc was that her younger brother, a Cathay-raht who towered over everyone in camp, and her had gotten into a rather heated argument and he used his size to push her around, so in her drunken wisdom decided to challenge the next biggest person she could find. She wasn’t three drinks in before she had fallen asleep against Raznog’s leg, where he covered her with a blanket and fell asleep with the small Khajiit snoring gently against him.

Five years later, the duo had been constant travel companions, equals in many ways and discovering the world apart from their respective families. Although unlikely friends and companions, there is an air of comfort and familiarity with the two of them that makes it hard to imagine a time they weren’t with each other as they go from destination to destination to live life on their own terms, at least until they figure out what they’re looking for.



Race: Khajiit, Alfiq
Sex: Female
Age: 29
Family Origins: Dune, Anequina
Birth Sign: The Atronach
Appearance:


A cinnamon and white short-coated Alfiq, Shazali would be easily mistaken by outsiders at a glance as a common housecat if not for the curious clothing she wears, namely metal torc bracelets about her front ankles, a fetching embroidered blue scarf, an azurite pendant, and a prominent black leather eye patch covering her right eye. Her remaining eye is a pleasant and sharp amber hue with feline irises, which compliment her golden canine tooth on the right side of her face, which has long healed from whatever incident claimed her eye and tooth.

Lithe and agile, Shazali remains quite in good physical condition, able to climb people, trees, and other such obstacles with grace and ease. She usually has a mischievous, or at least curious, gleam to her eye, and considering her physiology manages to have quite an expressive face.

Equipment :
Enchanted channeling pendant and torcs

Misc. Possessions:

Spell books
Soul gems
Portable enchantment table
Grooming bowl and bathing items
Personal effects

Family and Associates:
Raznog gro-Malak, friend and companion
Dra’Zarri, clan mother (Cathay)
Chalsini, biological mother (Suthay)
J’Tashir, younger brother (Cathay-raht)
Hisrido, younger brother (Suthay-raht) (never met)
La’Purani, older sister (Ohmes-raht)
Ko’Kulira, older sister (Suthay-raht)

Favoured Skills:
Major
Alteration
Enchanting
Moderate
Conjuration
Merchantile
Minor
Provisioning

Spell List

Telekinesis
Ebonyflesh
Paralyze
Detect Dead/ Life
Mage/ Candlelight
Summon Frost Atronach
Banish Daedra

History:
Shazali was born the middle child of 5 siblings without a father figure in the city of Dune, an ancient metropolis in Northern Elsweyr, one of the few permanent cities the nomadic tribes had bothered to establish. Much like the desert sands, Shazali’s life was constantly shifting and nothing was ever a sure thing for long; her mother took many paramours, resulting in 5 children from 3 different suitors over her life, and working long hours as a dancer that kept her from home for long. Shazali was raised largely by her older sisters rather than her mother, who seemed to bounce from one crisis to the next with unexpected efficiency, and the siblings had to find ways to help make ends meet. What resulted was a triad of teenagers and a child matured far beyond their years and grappling with the throes of poverty and an absentee mother.

It became apparent early on that Shazali had some form of magical acuity, probably a gift from her own unknown father, although being a small Alfiq limited her options considerably. Often being sent out to beg for donations given her small size and young age and a fairly compassionate community, one day Shazali stopped by a market stall operated by a mystic. Being young and ignorant, she hopped on the stool across from the merchant and demanded he tell her how she can escape her unfair life. The merchant smiled, twirled his finger, and a line of clairvoyance appeared, pointing to an old beginner’s tome for enchantment. “Magnus never lies, my child. A gift to your good fortunes!” the merchant said with a smile, helping her shove the tome in her pack and sending her on her way.
At the time, Shazali found the encounter strange and unproductive; she couldn’t eat a book or use it to pay her way out of the city, but in time she learned that the old mystic might have been onto something.

Spending all day and night when she could get away with it trying to understand the book and running through some basic exercise to teach herself magic, she had enchanted her first object two months later when a small wooden horse toy she was practicing on suddenly took on the lightning enchantment, briefly sending electrical bolts in all directions. The wood was scorched in beautiful burn marks and the house wasn’t destroyed; it was a breakthrough that was a clear turning point for Shazali; she was going to become a mage. The young Alfiq, almost reaching maturity, hurried back to the market where she had found the mystic, and she presented him with the toy horse. He took it with a proud smile. “Not the strangest form of payment I’ve received, but well done, rhook.” He said, sharing some of his lunch with the girl before sending her on her way.

The next few years were a bit easier on Shazali and her sisters, and now her baby brother, as Shazali honed her craft and used some of the family earnings to purchase enchantment supplies and before long, they had opened their own merchant stall in the same market as Shazali’s mystic patron. Her eldest sister, Kulira, was studying medicine and had taken up alchemy, selling all sort of tinctures alongside her sister’s enchanted goods, and their other sister, Purani, had an abundance of charisma and was a shrewd negotiator, and she was the one that often ran the stall. While it was strange for a trio of young girls to be running their own business, the locals were supportive; their situation at home was well known to the neighbours and it was something of a project to support the trio. For once, the three of them were mostly happy and able to make ends meet.

Trouble found them again before too long when their brother Tashir was beginning to grow and grow, given he was a Cathay-raht; not only was his hunger making their meager food supplies stretch to their limits, but without strong parental guidance, Tashir used his size and strength to push his sisters around; one time, he actually picked Shazira up and threw her against a wall in a fit of rage, an event that broke a rib and put her out of work for a month until the healers and potions could mend her. Their brother’s reign of terror eventually led to Purani to run away from home to locations unknown and Kulira to join a monastery. Shazira felt abandoned and irritable at being stuck with their mother and younger brother, but she tried to keep the merchant stall running, which was failing, and eventually did when thieves ransacked it and ran off with what goods she had left.

Just when things seemed like they couldn’t get any worse, the town guards came with sobering news; their mother had been found unresponsive in a skooma den and was being looked after by healers, but it was unclear if she would ever wake up again. It was too much for Shazali, not quite an adult yet, but she knew that nothing remained in Dune for her, or her brother, who had taken their mother’s condition especially hard. Shazali, desperate for answers, returned to her mystic patron, pleading with him for answers.
“Please, Shazali doesn’t know what to do.” She begged.

It wasn’t a clairvoyance spell that guided his hand next, but instead he picked up Shazali to hold like his own daughter and he took the hand of Tashir and led them to the outskirts of the city where a field of tents and colourful fabrics were set up. Finding the most elaborate tent of them all, the mystic presented Shazali and Tashir to Clan Mother Dra’Zarri, who looked upon them with kindness and love. The two siblings were brought into the arms of the Baandari. Shazali looked at the mystic as he left, and their eyes met for the final time, and she could have sworn a teardrop fell down the man’s face as he turned, pulling up his hood as he disappeared into the city gates once more.

The following years were full of wonder for the siblings and no shortage of hard, but fair, work. The Banndari was like a large family where everyone contributed and faced the same hardships; neither felt unwanted or out of place. Tashir finally found proper role models and learned to temper his anger much better while putting his strength to good use, and Shazali finally had teachers to help her hone her magical crafts. Unfortunately for Shazali, she overestimated her capabilities and one of her enchanting sessions went awry, causing a fire rune she was casting on a boulder to explode violently, striking her in the face; the incident cost her a tooth and blinded her in one eye, teaching her a humiliating and humbling lesson in hubris.

With more diligence and respect, Shazali became quite an impressive enchanter and she took lessons in Conjuration to help summon Atronachs to protect the caravan and she found Alteration a school that suited her well as it had some similar parallels to enchanting; at first it was to detect hostile presence from the living and dead alike, casting spells to protect herself (being hurled against a wall by Tashir certainly stayed in her psyche), and being able to help lift and move things with telekinesis made the gap between her size and other Khajiiti furstocks a lot smaller.

For the next 8 years, Shazali had seen much of Tamriel, been exposed to many different cultures and people and life constantly on the road suited her; she had nothing but contempt for her memories of an absentee mother she could no longer remember the face of and her two sisters who abandoned her and Tashir, even if they had their reasons. Her brother was now known as J’Tashir, and he was one of the tallest and strongest in the caravan, wielding a sword so large for most that it looked modest in size to him, and a spear that was as long as he was tall, which is to say the only thing getting past him was an arrow. It was hard not to be jealous that her baby brother was physically imposing and seemed to have everything he wanted, whereas Shazali was treated like a child still given her high voice and small-size. She was infuriated at being treated like a house pet by non-Khajiit.

And so, it was a fateful night after perhaps a bit too much drinking after another row with J’Tashir that Shazali found herself angrily taking her frustrations out on an Orsimer from another caravan and unknowingly finding the next stage in her life. She decided that she could no longer live under the metaphorical and literal shadow of her brother any longer, and despite the tearful and hard goodbye with the Baandari, she parted ways with fond memories of her found family that had given her a chance to grow into so much more than she ever dreamed. Now with Raznog gro-Malak she was free to discover herself outside of the lens of looking after community and family, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel small or lesser with a partner who had always treated her as an equal. Five years on and she hasn’t found a reason to doubt her decision.

The Elder Scrolls: Eye of the Hurricane

@Stormflyx I'll get to editing tonight! Thanks for the thoughtful feedback!

The Elder Scrolls: Eye of the Hurricane

What a fool you are. I'm a god. How can you kill a god? What a grand and intoxicating innocence. How could you be so naive? There is no escape. No Recall or Intervention can work in this place. Come. Lay down your weapons. It is not too late for my mercy.

@Spoopy Scary

The Elder Scrolls: Eye of the Hurricane

Raznog and Shazali

Race: Orsimer
Sex: Male
Age: 39
Family Origins: Jehanna, High Rock
Birth Sign: The Tower
Appearance:


A powerful and physically imposing figure, Raznog stands at a commanding 6’03” (183cm) and weighing in around 250 pounds (113.4kg) with an endomorphic build, the Orsimer is heavily muscled with enough body fat to give him a somewhat soft appearance, not unlike a bear. While Raznog will never be accused of being small or weak, he often doesn’t carry himself with the best posture since he subconsciously shrinks himself to make himself approachable to those smaller than him and he often hunches over for the multitude of small, delicate tasks he seems to take an affinity for.

Raznog is a well-groomed individual, having a short chocolate brown quiff-style haircut to go with a neatly trimmed beard. Eschewing the more wild facial piercings and tattoos of many other orcs, save for a couple of bridge ring piercings. A small, modest pair of spectacles round out his appearance, only being put away when hard work or a fight is imminent in a small, wooden case. His green eyes are gentle and friendly, and he has an almost fatherly bearing towards others. His complexion is a mossy green with a slight brown tint.
Dressing in fine travel wear with flair from Orcish, Breton, and Nord sensibilities, Raznog travels with an oil-impregnated travel cloak to keep the elements off of his tunics, surcoats, vests, and trousers, and much of his gear is kept in an almost comically large rucksack or on his guar’s saddlebags, including a mail coat, platemail, a full helm, greaves, gauntlets, and sabatons made of finely crafted orchalcum.

Equipment:
-Orchalcum warhammer with a pick on the reverse face
-Full set of orchalcum heavy armour
-Frost enchanted gauntlets with a reinforced knuckle and finger plate for striking.
Misc. Possessions:
-A pack guar named Stomper
-Travel-sized painting set and parchments
-A small assortment of tea bags and kettle along with cups
-Cooking supplies
-A tent, bed rolls, blankets
-Fire starters
-Rations
-Change of clothing
-Journal and reading tomes
-Wood cutter’s axe and pickaxe
-Assorted spell scrolls in a waterproof carry case
-An amulet of a Malach, an axe

Family and Associates:
Shazali, travel companion and friend
Malak gro-Malzog, father
Nula gra-Lulgra, biological mother (deceased)
Faye LePetite, adoptive mother
Torug gro-Malak, brother
Cynthia LePetite, step-sister

Favoured Skills:
Major:
2h hammer
Heavy armour
Moderate:
Provisioning
Athletics
Mercantile
Novice:
Smithing
Woodworking

History:
Born into one of the oldest lines of Orsimer residing in Jehanna, Raznog gro-Malak grew up in the bitterly cold North of High Rock in a region with such a mixed cultural identity that it was effectively its own unique ecosystem; a kingdom under Breton rule founded by Orcs and settled and governed by Nords, Raznog entered the world in a land that couldn’t have been further from the strongholds to the East or the great city of Orsinium. The family business was working the shipyards and outfitting expeditions, so Raznog grew up with a hammer in hand patching up vessels from across Tamriel and running the modest supply shop in equal measure.

When he was only a few years old, his biological mother passed away from illness, and it wasn’t for a few more that Raznog’s father remarried a Breton woman named Faye who never tried to replace his mother, Nula, but she had no shortage of love for her two new adoptive sons and biological daughter from outside of wedlock. It was a happy family and Faye exposed her children to the art of mastering colours and Raznog took to it with glee, taking up a paintbrush and painting the ships and landscapes that dominated his home life. In particular, Raznog is proud of his contribution to the mural the town put together, bringing colour to the stone carvings of the Orc craftsman, the wooden totems and pillars that frame the homes of the Nords, and the paintings of the Bretons. Life in Jehanna was quiet and perfect, being so far removed from the troubles of the outside world. Raznog had a perfect family, a mix of blood and found additions he loved all the same, and from his father’s hand he learned strength and to uphold his Orcish heritage, and from his mother, a softer and more thoughtful approach to the world.

And so it came as something of a shock when Raznog and his siblings came of age and were adults in their 20s when their parents announced that they were going to be moving to Daggerfall to tend to Faye’s aging parents. The family business was to go to the children, should they want it, or it would be sold to help finance their future endeavors. On one hand, it was the opportunity for a clean break to pursue other passions and to see where all of these colourful travelers came from by sea, but it was also a hugely disruptive thing where what had seemed as unchanging as the Druadach Mountains was now eroding suddenly. 27 years old and the eldest of the siblings, the three sat down to discuss their future. In the end, Torug would go with their parents to meet with family he had yet to meet, Cynthia would travel to Imperial City to study and follow her ambitions to serve the Empire as a political figure, and this left Raznog with somewhat of an empty feeling; he simply did not know what he wished to do with his life. In the end, the eldest brother decided to sell the business with his siblings and he would simply take time to travel until Zenithar or Malach gave him some ideas of where he should go.

And so for the first time in his life, Raznog gro-Malak boarded one of the ships that came to Jehanna and left the only home he’d known for his entire life.

Because of his multicultural upbringing, Raznog found it easy to assimilate into whatever culture he came across and found differences between races more endearing than alienating. Knowing his coin wouldn’t last forever, the Orc often paid his way through his services as a woodworker and smith, and eventually a caravan guard given his size and strength; the Imperial who had watched Raznog lift up the side of a wagon with one hand and place a repaired wheel with the other had insisted the Orc use his strength to protect the caravan. Instead of paying a fee for travel, Raznog was now being paid to guard caravans, giving him free food and a chance to keep his body and mind sharp.

This somewhat nomadic lifestyle inevitably put him into contact with the Khajiiti Baandari caravans on a few occasions, and Raznog found a curious kinship with the catfolk of Elsweyr, finding their hospitality to be warming and he had spent many nights by their campfires, listening to the stories told by the clan fathers and mothers and enjoying the uniquely sweet meats and stews they served. It was one of these chance meetings near the border with Black Marsh where Raznog was confronted by a tiny Alfiq who dropped a bottle of Colovian whiskey beside Raznog as he rested against a tree trunk reading a book.

The tiny cat stared up at him defiantly. “Shazali bets she can outdrink you, dull-claws.” She challenged.

And so, on one of the more memorable and strange nights of Raznog’s life; the Alfiq had clearly already been drinking and had this desperate, dishevelled look to her. Instead of turning the challenge down, Raznog poured two equal glasses out of his tea set and under the guise of challenging the cat, he learned her story and how she was the youngest daughter and elder sister, yet being an Alfiq meant that she was often overlooked or shoved aside compared to her more noticeable family, despite her accomplishments as a mage, or how outsiders confused her as a housecat or treated her like a child despite being an adult. Her distressed reason for confronting the Orc was that her younger brother, a Cathay-raht who towered over everyone in camp, and her had gotten into a rather heated argument and he used his size to push her around, so in her drunken wisdom decided to challenge the next biggest person she could find. She wasn’t three drinks in before she had fallen asleep against Raznog’s leg, where he covered her with a blanket and fell asleep with the small Khajiit snoring gently against him.

Five years later, the duo had been constant travel companions, equals in many ways and discovering the world apart from their respective families. Although unlikely friends and companions, there is an air of comfort and familiarity with the two of them that makes it hard to imagine a time they weren’t with each other as they go from destination to destination to live life on their own terms, at least until they figure out what they’re looking for.



Race: Khajiit, Alfiq
Sex: Female
Age: 29
Family Origins: Dune, Anequina
Birth Sign: The Atronach
Appearance:


A cinnamon and white short-coated Alfiq, Shazali would be easily mistaken by outsiders at a glance as a common housecat if not for the curious clothing she wears, namely metal torc bracelets about her front ankles, a fetching embroidered blue scarf, an azurite pendant, and a prominent black leather eye patch covering her right eye. Her remaining eye is a pleasant and sharp amber hue with feline irises, which compliment her golden canine tooth on the right side of her face, which has long healed from whatever incident claimed her eye and tooth.

Lithe and agile, Shazali remains quite in good physical condition, able to climb people, trees, and other such obstacles with grace and ease. She usually has a mischievous, or at least curious, gleam to her eye, and considering her physiology manages to have quite an expressive face.

Equipment :
Enchanted channeling pendant and torcs

Misc. Possessions:

Spell books
Soul gems
Portable enchantment table
Grooming bowl and bathing items
Personal effects

Family and Associates:
Raznog gro-Malak, friend and companion
Dra’Zarri, clan mother (Cathay)
Chalsini, biological mother (Suthay)
J’Tashir, younger brother (Cathay-raht)
Hisrido, younger brother (Suthay-raht) (never met)
La’Purani, older sister (Ohmes-raht)
Ko’Kulira, older sister (Suthay-raht)

Favoured Skills:
Major
Alteration
Enchanting
Moderate
Conjuration
Merchantile
Minor
Provisioning

Spell List

Telekinesis
Ebonyflesh
Paralyze
Detect Dead/ Life
Mage/ Candlelight
Summon Frost Atronach
Banish Daedra

History:
Shazali was born the middle child of 5 siblings without a father figure in the city of Dune, an ancient metropolis in Northern Elsweyr, one of the few permanent cities the nomadic tribes had bothered to establish. Much like the desert sands, Shazali’s life was constantly shifting and nothing was ever a sure thing for long; her mother took many paramours, resulting in 5 children from 3 different suitors over her life, and working long hours as a dancer that kept her from home for long. Shazali was raised largely by her older sisters rather than her mother, who seemed to bounce from one crisis to the next with unexpected efficiency, and the siblings had to find ways to help make ends meet. What resulted was a triad of teenagers and a child matured far beyond their years and grappling with the throes of poverty and an absentee mother.

It became apparent early on that Shazali had some form of magical acuity, probably a gift from her own unknown father, although being a small Alfiq limited her options considerably. Often being sent out to beg for donations given her small size and young age and a fairly compassionate community, one day Shazali stopped by a market stall operated by a mystic. Being young and ignorant, she hopped on the stool across from the merchant and demanded he tell her how she can escape her unfair life. The merchant smiled, twirled his finger, and a line of clairvoyance appeared, pointing to an old beginner’s tome for enchantment. “Magnus never lies, my child. A gift to your good fortunes!” the merchant said with a smile, helping her shove the tome in her pack and sending her on her way.
At the time, Shazali found the encounter strange and unproductive; she couldn’t eat a book or use it to pay her way out of the city, but in time she learned that the old mystic might have been onto something.

Spending all day and night when she could get away with it trying to understand the book and running through some basic exercise to teach herself magic, she had enchanted her first object two months later when a small wooden horse toy she was practicing on suddenly took on the lightning enchantment, briefly sending electrical bolts in all directions. The wood was scorched in beautiful burn marks and the house wasn’t destroyed; it was a breakthrough that was a clear turning point for Shazali; she was going to become a mage. The young Alfiq, almost reaching maturity, hurried back to the market where she had found the mystic, and she presented him with the toy horse. He took it with a proud smile. “Not the strangest form of payment I’ve received, but well done, rhook.” He said, sharing some of his lunch with the girl before sending her on her way.

The next few years were a bit easier on Shazali and her sisters, and now her baby brother, as Shazali honed her craft and used some of the family earnings to purchase enchantment supplies and before long, they had opened their own merchant stall in the same market as Shazali’s mystic patron. Her eldest sister, Kulira, was studying medicine and had taken up alchemy, selling all sort of tinctures alongside her sister’s enchanted goods, and their other sister, Purani, had an abundance of charisma and was a shrewd negotiator, and she was the one that often ran the stall. While it was strange for a trio of young girls to be running their own business, the locals were supportive; their situation at home was well known to the neighbours and it was something of a project to support the trio. For once, the three of them were mostly happy and able to make ends meet.

Trouble found them again before too long when their brother Tashir was beginning to grow and grow, given he was a Cathay-raht; not only was his hunger making their meager food supplies stretch to their limits, but without strong parental guidance, Tashir used his size and strength to push his sisters around; one time, he actually picked Shazira up and threw her against a wall in a fit of rage, an event that broke a rib and put her out of work for a month until the healers and potions could mend her. Their brother’s reign of terror eventually led to Purani to run away from home to locations unknown and Kulira to join a monastery. Shazira felt abandoned and irritable at being stuck with their mother and younger brother, but she tried to keep the merchant stall running, which was failing, and eventually did when thieves ransacked it and ran off with what goods she had left.

Just when things seemed like they couldn’t get any worse, the town guards came with sobering news; their mother had been found unresponsive in a skooma den and was being looked after by healers, but it was unclear if she would ever wake up again. It was too much for Shazali, not quite an adult yet, but she knew that nothing remained in Dune for her, or her brother, who had taken their mother’s condition especially hard. Shazali, desperate for answers, returned to her mystic patron, pleading with him for answers.
“Please, Shazali doesn’t know what to do.” She begged.

It wasn’t a clairvoyance spell that guided his hand next, but instead he picked up Shazali to hold like his own daughter and he took the hand of Tashir and led them to the outskirts of the city where a field of tents and colourful fabrics were set up. Finding the most elaborate tent of them all, the mystic presented Shazali and Tashir to Clan Mother Dra’Zarri, who looked upon them with kindness and love. The two siblings were brought into the arms of the Baandari. Shazali looked at the mystic as he left, and their eyes met for the final time, and she could have sworn a teardrop fell down the man’s face as he turned, pulling up his hood as he disappeared into the city gates once more.

The following years were full of wonder for the siblings and no shortage of hard, but fair, work. The Banndari was like a large family where everyone contributed and faced the same hardships; neither felt unwanted or out of place. Tashir finally found proper role models and learned to temper his anger much better while putting his strength to good use, and Shazali finally had teachers to help her hone her magical crafts. Unfortunately for Shazali, she overestimated her capabilities and one of her enchanting sessions went awry, causing a fire rune she was casting on a boulder to explode violently, striking her in the face; the incident cost her a tooth and blinded her in one eye, teaching her a humiliating and humbling lesson in hubris.

With more diligence and respect, Shazali became quite an impressive enchanter and she took lessons in Conjuration to help summon Atronachs to protect the caravan and she found Alteration a school that suited her well as it had some similar parallels to enchanting; at first it was to detect hostile presence from the living and dead alike, casting spells to protect herself (being hurled against a wall by Tashir certainly stayed in her psyche), and being able to help lift and move things with telekinesis made the gap between her size and other Khajiiti furstocks a lot smaller.

For the next 8 years, Shazali had seen much of Tamriel, been exposed to many different cultures and people and life constantly on the road suited her; she had nothing but contempt for her memories of an absentee mother she could no longer remember the face of and her two sisters who abandoned her and Tashir, even if they had their reasons. Her brother was now known as J’Tashir, and he was one of the tallest and strongest in the caravan, wielding a sword so large for most that it looked modest in size to him, and a spear that was as long as he was tall, which is to say the only thing getting past him was an arrow. It was hard not to be jealous that her baby brother was physically imposing and seemed to have everything he wanted, whereas Shazali was treated like a child still given her high voice and small-size. She was infuriated at being treated like a house pet by non-Khajiit.

And so, it was a fateful night after perhaps a bit too much drinking after another row with J’Tashir that Shazali found herself angrily taking her frustrations out on an Orsimer from another caravan and unknowingly finding the next stage in her life. She decided that she could no longer live under the metaphorical and literal shadow of her brother any longer, and despite the tearful and hard goodbye with the Baandari, she parted ways with fond memories of her found family that had given her a chance to grow into so much more than she ever dreamed. Now with Raznog gro-Malak she was free to discover herself outside of the lens of looking after community and family, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel small or lesser with a partner who had always treated her as an equal. Five years on and she hasn’t found a reason to doubt her decision.

The Elder Scrolls: Legacy

Helpfully written on the job offer in (mostly) legible writing was an address, as if there were some sort of internal debate of whether or not to post it and this was the unfortunate compromise. Fortunately for La’Shuni, her new friend Megana seemed none-too-concerned about finding the guildhall and the two set off together, excited for the new adventures to come. The echatere scuttled along just behind them.

“La’Shuni thinks your cloak is very pretty, miss Megana!” the Khajiit said, beaming an inviting smile as she looked over at the Nord. “Did you come down from Skyrim, too?” she asked.

"Ahh, thankies!" Meg retuned the smile with one of her own, clearly pleased with finding someone friendly and open right off the bat. There was a spring in her step even though she was walking- it was quite similar to the walk of happy dog. "It's just somethin' I picked up 'fore leavin' Whiterun, needed somethin' t'keep me warm at night, y'know? I really liked the green colour too."

She then let out a small chuckle. "Y'don' havta call me 'miss', just Meg is good 'nough!" She looked to the Khajiit, properly taking in her suit once more. She was a pretty sort with her white hair, black spots, amber eyes and long white hair, but it was easy to tell from the garb she wore, and most certainly that interesting mount that was following her, that the Khajiit named La'Shuni had seen quite a lot of outdoors as well.

"You've been t'Skyrim eh? That' m'home! I've been 'round most of it, but lived in Riften an' Whiterun the most. Guessin' you musta been there yerself?" She paused to jerk her head in the direction of the creature behind them, intrigue shining in her eyes. "Where'd ya get that one? Ain' seen any beastie like that in my travels."

“Meg it is, then!” La’Shuni agreed with a polite smile, turning back to look at Scooter, who tilted his large head quizzically at his master. “Oh, Scooter comes from New Orsinium, far West in Skyrim. This one imagines the Orsimer brought many echateres with them when they relocated from Wrothgar after the past three times they had tried to establish their kingdom, but this time feels different? This one hopes.” The Khajiit shrugged, adjusting the pack on her back. “La’Shuni has spent a few years living and working there, her uncle had business and family ties there, and La’Shuni felt it would be a good experience to see something different in her life. It has been a truly wonderful experience, and it’s why she is here now; adventures and lending her spear to people who aim to do good things… Scooter just likes to go for walks.” she said with a giggle, prompting the echatere to snort back.

Ah, from far West Skyrim. That was one of the few places in her home country that Meg had decided to leave alone while venturing about by herself- She didn't want to be one of the Reachmen's victims. "Scooter?" She grinned at the name, looking at the large echatere over once more before returning her attention to La'Shuni, nodding along. She could certainly understand the zeal to travel and attempt to make a difference in the world.

"Aye," she agreed after a moment. "My Pa stays in Whiterun, used t'live there too 'til like a year ago. Wanted t'see more of the world, y'know? Go 'round an' help people like my Ma used to! She was part of the Companions!" There was a proud look on her face. "I figured if I wanna be like her, I need t'have people who got my back, an me them." She chuckled, slightly embarrassed, and decided to change the subject.

"Guessin' yer from the South before headin' t'New Orsinium though, righ'? How long 'fore y'got used t'the cold? I met Khajiit back in Riften who'd always remember the warm weather from Elsweyr."

“Leyawiin, actually. It feels strange to be this far North, far from home, but still in the same province, the same Empire.” La’Shuni remarked, taking in the Imperial and Nord infused architectural stylings of the city. “La’Shuni has not written home for a few months, she wanted to have something to share with her parents that was worthwhile, but the words fail her. Perhaps her fortunes have changed, yes?” she said with a self-assured smile. “Do not worry about trying to live up to your mother’s legacy, Megana; La’Shuni feels like she would be proud of you for simply starting on the path. All great journeys begin with a single step, and in this case, wherever this address is…”

“I hope so!” Meg replied with a nod. She didn’t doubt the Khajiit’s words- her Ma had after continued travelling and adventuring even after she was born. “This is my great journey I think. Ain’ ever been in Cyrodiil ‘fore now, never even knew ‘bout a place called Leyawiin…” An embarrassed laugh pushed past her lips, and she peeked at the Khajiit woman, hoping her new guild companion wasn’t offended that she had no clue about the city La’Shuni was from. “Uh, maybe we could ask someone where it migh’ be?” She attempted to look at the piece of paper, happy to grasp at a subject that didn’t have to do with her lack of geographical knowledge

La’Shuni’s eyes twinkled with a friendly recognition, knowing that she could help her new friend with. “La’Shuni has a few maps, and there will certainly be more where we are going! This one would be honoured to show you how wide our world is.” she said confidently before glancing back at the chicken scratch that passed for an address, her long lips raising slightly as she let out a long breath. “But first, let’s find out how large this city is. A shopkeeper would know, certainly. La’Shuni did not have time for breakfast before discovering Scooter had run off. Let us find something to eat first, yes?”

---

The guildhouse was what would lovingly be called a fixer-upper in the old part of the city, among a copse of quiet or abandoned houses and structures in various states of repair. Despite the remaining residents’ efforts to keep nature at bay, it struck La’Shuni as a losing battle as grasses were a bit too long, weeds running rampant, and vines and lichens reclaiming many of these structures’ wooden walls, as if the earth itself were preparing to pull them beneath the dirt. The Adventurers Guild hall, thankfully, looked more charming than condemned and both women approached the door to knock at what would be their new home away from home.

---

It was the sound of a loud knock that roused Dro’Sintaba from his rest. As each one thudded out down the empty hallway, he wondered at first why Ivy hadn’t answered it. With a grumble he pinched the bridge of his nose with a huge hand, his claws scratching either side as he dragged his large form from lying to sitting. The bed groaned as he released the frame from his weight. Bare feet touched the floor as the naked Cathay-raht stalked the length of the room to find his robe, coughing into his hand as his lungs adjusted to the morning air that filtered through the gaping window.

As the knocking continued, the cat roared out in a rasping voice; “I’m coming!” muttering a curse to his Dunmer colleague afterwards.

Eventually he made his way to the door and opened it. His plush velvet robe open at the chest but covering his modesty none-the-less. In the doorway his eyes travelled down to spot two young women, a khajiit, and a nord. Immediately, and in a flustered manner he pulled the robe even tighter around himself. They were his recruits. La’Shuni and Megana if he wasn’t mistaken.

“Ahh, ladies, good morning..” he growled out, embarrassed, still sensing the tickle in his throat. He glanced over his shoulder and yelled down the hallway - he could now hear the tricky Dunmer in the kitchen. Pots and pans banging and clattering. “Ivy!” he called out in the general direction.

After there had been no answer, he once again called out; “Ivy!”. For a moment the pottering stopped.

A soft and feminine voice called back, “Sinty? What is it?”

He sighed, his shoulders drooped and he opened to door further. “Recruits are here,” he called back - and then the sound of a whole pot hitting the floor was heard - followed by an excited “oooh!”. Dro’Sintaba rolled his eyes and took a step back, looking back upon the two women in the doorway. “Please, enter.”

"Ah... g'day!" Meg blinked up at the Khajiit, a little stunned. Never before had she ever seen a Khajiit man that tall. Having lived amongst Nords all her life as well as chatting with the occasional Argonian or sneaking away from the rare troupe of Altmer she would see, Meg had most definitely seen tall and generally large people. However, it seemed to her that the dark furred Khajiit took the cake. She cast a glance at the Khajiit standing next to her, and then back at the one who'd opened the door as if to compare, and found both as opposite the other as were their furs, like day and night.

"Uhm, I'm Meg," she continued before quickly stepping in, realizing she was probably being incredibly rude. "Megana really, bu' I like Meg better. Y'can call me wha'ever y'like though, tha's all good!" She bit down on her lip to keep more blathering on so that the Khajiit she'd become acquainted with earlier would have a chance to introduce herself. In the meanwhile, her nose worked- a nice smell was wafting through the air, agitating her stomach just a little.

After spending a considerable amount of time with Orsimer, La’Shuni had considered herself pretty accustomed to brash and socially awkward situations. She did not, however, expect to be greeted by her new employer being only just covered up by what had to have been the most oversized robe local suppliers had in stock. She put a balled fist up to her sternum and bowed slightly, both as a gesture of deference and respect, but also to free herself of the creeping heat that was building at the nape of her neck.

“This one is La’Shuni. She apologizes for arriving at an inconvenient time. Please do not trouble yourself with us; we will wait here until you are ready to receive us.” she said, trying to sound reassured and confident, but her voice edging on a quiet meekness.

Dro’Sintaba sighed again, at himself this time. “No, no. It appears I’ve overslept… Meg… La’Shuni” he said, noting their names back to them. “It happens when… Well, when one gets older... And, other things.“ His ears flicked back and he tried to smile, it was more a grimace.

Fortunately for him, his colleague was on her way. In spite of the awkwardness, he felt that had it been anyone else at the door he might not have felt such a mixture of embarrassment and ease at the same time. They were the two younger recruits that he and Ivy had discussed quite a lot. The Nord being a girl he had wanted to choose for his squire. He wished he could have made a better first impression.

“Ah! Why you two must be Megana and La’Shuni!” Ivy trilled out from the end of the corridor, before setting her eyes over Dro’Sintaba. “And you should go get dressed for breakfast, Dro’Sintaba…” she said - knowing by his flustered stance that he had not yet introduced himself. The Dunmer motioned with her hand to the two newcomers to join her.

Unlike the guild leader, Ivy had at least gotten herself ready for the day. A long and floating dress in a marigold yellow, held up at the waist by a leather corset belt. “Come, come! I’ve prepared eggs, bread, cheese, juice! You girls must be hungry!” she giggled, moving up and down on the balls of her feet with excitement.

"Hello!" Meg greeted, looking away from the large Khajiit to the Dunmer instead. She was immediately in awe of the woman's vibrant, fiery hair, only tearing her eyes away to look her head on at the mention of food. "I'm Meg, an' yes, I guess I am purty hungry..." Was it terribly impolite to say it so blatantly? Meg wasn't too sure but she figured it'd be worse if she declined the offer. Already things seemed to be going in a positive direction- three new friendly people in the span of a short while! Deciding to wait no longer, she gravitated towards the dunmer, though paused in hindsight to look over at her new friend, not wishing to leave the Khajiit behind.

Admittedly, the humble breakfast La’Shuni and Megana had shared after their meeting hadn’t been overly filling, and the Khajiit’s stomach rumbled somewhat at the thought of it. “This one is humbled by your generosity.” she said to the Dunmer, finding her enthusiasm and cheer warming, like a flower garden. Ivy, she presumed from the recruitment paper, didn’t strike La’Shuni as a particularly guild leading sort of woman, but she knew better than most not to judge one from appearances. Few would have pegged La’Shuni for having been a scout for Orsimer clans the past few years.

The dining area was open and inviting, and it appeared Ivy had been preparing for their arrival, along with the rest of the recruits. La’Shuni found a quiet corner to set her belongings down and stood near the table, hands folded neatly before her. Manners still counted for something, and she didn’t wish to presume anything with her new employer. “This is a beautiful guildhall. Are we the first to arrive?” she asked.

“Oh! I’m glad you like it,” Ivy said with a smile - resuming her spot by the stove to collect up platefuls of food for the new arrivals. “Dro’Sintaba and I have spent quite some time trying to make it as nice as possible… It was, really something when we got here,” she said with a breathy chuckle.

“Yes, you’re both the first to get here…” the Dunmer answered. “I hope everyone else has looked at the note,” she continued, her tone had a little trickle of worry in it too, before she snapped out of it with a clatter of a spoon on a pot. “They will be! I’m sure, just means that us girls get to spend some time together… And get the best breakfast bits,” she giggled.

“Did you both only just meet?” Ivy asked curiously, looking at the both with a glint in her eye that suggested there was more than just small talk in her question. Ivy found it more than a coincidence that the two young women in question had found each other so quickly.

“Mhm!” Meg replied, nodding her head. “Uh, not like now now, bu’ like we both saw the postin’ on the board there. There were plen’y other folks lookin’ at it too, nearly smashed m’face into a huge Argonian!” Her hand rubbed at her nose, which remained quite straight and unbroken despite years of actually hitting face first against things. “Didja know-” she paused to jerk a thumb at La’Shuni “-she has a beastie as a friend. A… er… echa somethin’...”

Her forehead creased and nose crinkled in thought before relaxing. “Sorry! Forgo’ wha’ they’re called..” She gave La’Shuni an apologetic smile.

“Echatere.” La’Shuni offered with a polite smile of her own towards Megana. She turned her gaze to Ivy. “Do not worry, miss Ivy! It is as Meg has said, there were plenty of others who saw the posting, and this one thinks many matched the names on it?” she trailed off in recollection, trying to put faces to the names. She had been too focused and happy about her own success she didn’t take in the others. “Meg and La’Shuni had met after we had found our own acceptance letters.” she bowed her head politely.

A grunting sound came from outside of the window, where Scooter was peering in, his front legs pressing up against the wall to elevate himself to reach the sil. La’Shuni hurried over to prop open the window, lest the points on the legs break glass. “No, we talked about this!”

"Looks like he wants t'join in on the fun," Meg commented, trying not to let on how amused she was, "or maybe the food's makin' him hungry too."

"Well look at this beautiful creature!" Ivy cooed, immediately opening the window so that her hand could meet the soft snout of the creature. "You are just so beautiful!" She repeated as she gently and affectionately coddled Scooter, she half wanted to climb out and embrace him. There was no fear of the Echatere.

"What can he eat?" She asked, her head suddenly jerking back to look at La'Shuni, her eyes sparkling with joy. "I love him!" she admitted, her fingers finding the underside of his chin to scratch.

Scooter snortled contentedly, lifting his large head to allow for the Dark Elf’s fingers to work through his fur. La’Shuni couldn’t help but giggle at the warm reception of her companion. “Oh, he’s mostly a scavenger, he likes root vegetables and grubs the most, he likes flowers and leaves and berries, and occasionally small rodents. Scooter is great at looking after himself and finding food, but he doesn’t exactly have the best judgement for what’s appropriate.” The Khajiit noted. “He considers me a part of his herd, so he doesn’t like being too far away from me, and as Meg observed, he certainly smelled something appealing in here.”

“Oh…” Ivy hummed our in realisation. “I hope he doesn’t sneak into my herb garden… Those are guild supplies!” She said, only momentarily placing her hand over her mouth. Her deep scarlet eyes immediately moved back to Scooter and she sighed contentedly. “But if that’s what precious wants to eat, how can I refuse?”

The peaceful moment didn’t last, thumping feet vibrates over the wooden floors. The unmistakable heavy gait of the mysterious guild leader - now dressed infinitely more appropriately, but his jaw fell open at the sight in the window. Dro’Sintaba remained like this for some time, slack-jawed in awe at the site — until he merely sighed in resignation and padded more softly towards the food, mumbling under his breath as he went; “already overrun… typical,” his growling huffs were barely audible, but were certainly not malicious. There was no anger in his piercing green gaze, just a surprising warmth.

The Khajiit yawned, working his jaw before digging in to a bowl he’d made up of eggs and bread. “No one else yet then?” He asked, glancing sidelong at the window again. At his provisioner and colleague as she fondled and baby-talked the creature in the window. After she didn’t answer, he turned his attention to the two younger women, and in a tone that was only awkwardly amicable, he asked, “so… How do you like the guild house?” Clearly, the Khajiit had a long way to go with making idle conversation.

"I think it looks great," Meg replied enthusiastically, still in awe of the very large khajiit but not so much that the cat would get her tongue. She hadn't seen much yet, true, but the sights and scents so far seemed very comfortable and homelike, her first encounter with a guildmate had gone swimmingly, and Ivy seemed so kind and friendly and clearly knew how to make good food. "I know I'mma like it here, an' I'mma make sure t'do m'best for the guild!" She slapped a fist against her heart, perhaps a little too earnestly as she faltered a step backward.

Unlike Megana, La’Shuni was more than familiar with her kinfolk and their often wildly different shapes and sizes. For her, it wasn’t all that dissimilar to one having a different coat of fur or shade of eyes; Dro’Sintaba was a familiar soul in a form that was comforting after so long away from home.

“It is a beautiful home! Not quite what La’Shuni would have expected for an adventuring guild, but this one is more than accustomed to the concept that looks can be very deceiving.” the young Khajiit said with a polite smile. She bowed her head. “Thank you for accepting us into our home, and this one will make sure that Scooter puts in his fair share of work, too. He does more than eat, La’Shuni promises.”

“Not my problem what he eats, or doesn’t. Speak to Ivy about that, she volunteered to take charge of that, didn’t you Ivy?” Dro’Sintaba commented, his tone of voice becoming more smug as he went on, the grin on his face more so.

The Dunmer huffed out and scowled at the guild leader. “Well I wouldn’t trust you to do it. Lest we live off nothing but ale and rabbit for the rest of our days…” she said, chuckling as she did so. “But! Ah! Where are my manners?” She cooed, dragging herself away from Scooter to clasp her hands together with a smile. “Allow me to escort you to your rooms, and then afterwards our illustrious leader will talk to you about our jobs list — because he volunteered to sit in his office and be in charge of paperwork… Isn’t that right Sinty?”

He rumbled out a lazy growl in response, muttering something incomprehensible under his low breath, before tucking back in to his meal, enjoying what little silence still hung in the air of his guild house.

Things were about to change.

The Elder Scrolls: Legacy

Bruma
20th First Seed, Morning

“What is that repulsive creature?! Why is digging up my garden?” a shrill Imperial voice broke the cool, damp morning. The creature, unsightly and of an appearance that suggested the Divines had plucked a bunch of parts from a box and stuck them together to see what would happen, disregarded the woman as its tusks plowed into the dirt once more with a contented snort. It was a large creature, standing a bit taller than a typical pony and about twice as wide, supported on six legs that ended in bony, insect-like spikes that connected to a pale grey and black striped coat with a long ridge of rough fur going along its spine, like the peaks of a mountain range. Its face looked like some unlikely pairing of an elk and a bear, and a short little tail wagged behind the creature as its pointy legs probed the dirt, nose sniffing all the while. It seemed entirely unperturbed by the interruption.

The woman then noticed it had a harness adorned to its frame and a length of severed rope trailing behind it. Someone owned this thing, she realized. She had berated irresponsible dog owners in her time, and had no problem shooing them away. This thing, however, made her stay her ground. Everything about it was so pointy.

“Go, shoo! Get!” she demanded. The creature’s face burrowed into the dirt once more.

“Scooter! Where are you, Scooter?” a strangely accented woman’s voice called, raspy in cadence. A Khajiit woman rounded the corner, dark sleeveless leather armour adorning her from, contrasting with her white coat of fur and tidily braided mane of hair. The Imperial grunted, immediately drawing the connection. The creature and the Khajiit even had matching colours.
Suddenly, the Khajiit’s eyes grew wide, and she exclaimed, “There you are!” she said, hurrying over. The creature responded to the familiar voice, brown-yellow eyes turning ponderously to glance back to meet the amber eyes belonging to his master. It bellowed contentedly and began prancing around with surprising agility that could most charitably be described as aerating the garden with its pointed legs. It suddenly stopped, pressing the front half of its body low as its rear end wiggled excitedly, as if this uncouth display was somehow a game.

Despite the utter annihilation of the garden, the woman had to admit, the strange creature was surprisingly cute, in its strange, monstrous way.

The Khajiit hurried up to the creature, which was hurriedly trying to chew on a truffle it had managed to dislodge so his master couldn’t remove it. It was rather dog-like, in a fashion. The Khajiit stroked the creature’s head and pressed hers against it. “You cannot run off like that, Scooter. People aren’t as understanding of your appetite as La’Shuni!” she said.

The Imperial approached with a huff. “This thing is yours?” she demanded. Suddenly, the Khajiit was standing erect, hands crossed before her, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Oh, yes! This one is very sorry!” La’Shuni exclaimed, bowing her head apologetically. “This one tried to tell the stable master, ‘oh no, an echatere is not a horse! You cannot stable him like one!’, but he didn’t listen and this rascal got out in the night La’Shuni imagines, and he’s very clever, you see! He knows how to gnaw through ropes and open simple latches with his tusks, this one swears he only thinks with this stom-“

The Imperial gestured to the garden with an exasperated flourish. “It destroyed my garden! It’s eating my truffle right now!”

“Ah, yes! Again, La’Shuni is so, so sorry! You see, we had a long road coming from the mountains in the North, and there’s all these strange sights and smells and tastes to him, see he’s never left his home before, so he’s kind of like La’Shuni was only a few years back-“

“The. Garden.” The Imperial snapped. “You owe me, Khajiit!”

The flowers in the Khajiit’s hands were thrust out in offering. “That’s why this one bought you this! It is not much, but this one does not have coin at present, spent what little this one had one food and board last night, but she should be getting a job today!” La’Shuni said proudly. “First one, on her own, you see, and-“
The Imperial took the flowers, looking at them quizzically, the fire dying down somewhat in her dark eyes. “While the thought is appreciated, it isn’t going to replace my produce. I grow my own food!”

Another bow of the head, although this woman was being excessively rude. “Perhaps this one can suggest you invest in a sturdier fence? There are goats in this town, and from experience, they will eat everything…” she realized she was rambling on and smiled apologetically. Scooter grunted and tried to return to the garden, stopped by the muscular arms of the Khajiit woman. It bellowed dejectedly and slumped down on its flank with a thud, another unnervingly dog-like behaviour. “So please understand that this one does not have coin at present, but she will! There’s an adventurer’s guild starting up in town here, and this one will be able to pay for your losses in short order. It’s the best La’Shuni can do, but she promises she will return with coin!”

A nearby bulletin board was suddenly drawing a small crowd when an official came around, affixing parchment to it. La’Shuni’s heart raced; it was time!

“Oh! Excuse me, miss! This is likely her employment!” she said excitedly, hurrying over to Scooter. “This one will be back, she promises!” she exclaimed to the woman.

“Wait!” the Imperial shouted, but it was too late. The Khajiit and her echatere were thundering towards the crowd, bony points clacking into the cobblestone.

La’Shuni found herself in an odd assortment of people from all across Tamriel, and she was brushing shoulders with an incredibly large Argonian and a Nord woman with mousy, dark hair. The Khajiit’s eyes darted across the board and her heart skipped a beat.
Her name.

A claw raced out, pulling the paper off carelessly, which made her instantly regret it due to the rip. It would be seen as so disrespectful and unappreciative, a small part of her mind reminded her as she quickly took in the missive.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “This one got the job!”

Her face was beaming, and she began to excitedly pat Scooter’s neck, his legs clacking contentedly. She waved the paper back at the Imperial woman, who couldn’t help but smile and shake her head. The wonders of youth, she thought as she grabbed for a rake and began the long process of rehabilitating her poor garden.

The Elder Scrolls: Legacy

Name: La’Shuni
Age: 23
Race: Khajiit, Suthay-raht
Class: Scout

Portrait:


Sum your life so far into a single paragraph:

This one had always been quiet and studious, but an opportunity to join my uncle on a business trip to the new Orsinium in the Dragontail Mountains had opened La’Shuni’s world considerably. She has spent the past 5 years in Orsinium, learning about Orsimer customs and history, and it has awoken an adventurous side to this one she did not know she had! This one is still largely inexperienced, but she is understanding why her sister has not returned home to Leyawiin in some time. When one hears the call to adventure, to see things that you could only dream about before your eyes, it makes it difficult to return to a small, comfortable box. It is a Khajiit’s way to be a nomad, no?

What was the most difficult decision you've ever had to make?:

One is never prepared to choose between lives, but oftentimes, fate does not let you sit idle. While accompanying a caravan across a treacherous mountain pass on the way to Wrothgar, some of the ice pack gave out near the rear of the column, where six of the caravan were clinging for their lives, two having already fallen too far to retrieve. The rest of the shelf was beginning to show signs of wear and damage, and it became clear that to linger would have put the remaining column at risk, and the supplies that were fastened to the horses and echateres were direly needed by the mountain clans and strongholds for the winter… we had to get them off of the shelf and back away from the crumbling ice. This one still can hear the screams and the deafening sound of the impact when bodies… may we move on? It is a difficult memory, one La’Shuni asks herself each day if she could have done things differently, if those people would have survived had she been brave enough, fast enough. But she knows that had she done so, La’Shuni would have likely fallen that day, too.

Tell me how other people would describe you?:

This one has always been quiet, studious, respectful. Following the rules of both the law and home, respecting one’s family and community, and not expressing yourself inappropriately around others were all hallmarks of my upbringing. My sister was, and still is, a brash troublemaker, and La’Shuni spent years trying to cover for her and to try and make our parents happy and proud. It did not always work, and many have commented that this one takes some things too close to the heart. This one was always curious about people, although shy, but she delighted in the stories of people from far away brought with them… they were always the stories belonging to another person, a different life, one that this one would never experience herself.

This one’s parents were quite understandably shocked when she declared she wished to accompany uncle Zegol to the North. La’Shuni, leaving town? No, that could not be right! She was preparing to be a court page, or to inherent father’s business! For so long this one spent her life trying to please others, no one thought to question what it was that this one really wanted for herself… even she didn’t know until something told her if she did not take the chance, she would never find out what she was meant to be.

This one does not wish to sound ungrateful; she loves her family, her community, and she hopes to return to Leyawiin before long, but there is still so much she needs to discover about the world and herself, and after seeing so many people struggling in ways she could not imagine from her life at home, how can she turn her back on them? Since arriving in Orsinium, La’Shuni has been accused of having too big of a heart, to rush in without thinking. The Orcs are big on personal accountability, honour, and strength, and it is hard for them to readily accept an offered hand. This one does not care; if someone is cold, they need a coat. If someone is hungry, they need bread. Pride is a silly thing to suffer for, is it not?

What are your outside interests?:

This one loves animals! Perhaps more than anything, leaving home and seeing what sorts of magnificent beasts roam Tamriel has really turned the embers of my wanderlust into a wildfire. La’Shuni has spent hours sitting on frozen beaches with horkers, grooming and feeding echateres, gazing at the magnificent mammoths and their giant keepers from across the tundra… there’s nothing more pure and wondrous than the natural world and those that live in it. This one even bonded with a badger echalette that has become her companion! She calls him Scooter; she was never very good at naming things, but the little fellow never seems to sit still for long!

She has also had a keen interest in cultures and society and people in general. She never understood why Daro’Vasora had always had her nose in books and focus honed almost exclusively towards a world long passed and people who are long gone when there are so many people here and now who have such incredible aspects to them. Cuisine, clothing, customs, the way they fight, how they build their cities, the rites they follow… it’s something one could spend a lifetime immersed in and still be discovering new things. There is so much war, distrust, and hatred in this world, and perhaps there wouldn’t be if people just simply took time to appreciate what made them different?

The Orsimer have never treated this one poorly for being a Khajiit, La’Shuni thinks they understand more than most what it means to be an outsider, to be distrusted. Many look at this one like she will steal their belongings, or bring skooma into their communities, or that she is a Dominion spy. This one does not think a spy would loudly exclaim delight at seeing a puppy or kitten and rush over to greet it, but what would La’Shuni know? She isn’t a spy.

La’Shuni has discovered how much she simply just enjoys being out in nature. The cities are great, and that is where the people are, but there’s nothing quite like losing one’s self for hours walking the wilderness, immersing yourself in the breath of Nirni, sustaining yourself from the land. This one has learned how to hunt, gather, track. My Orsimer companions certainly see the benefit of one who can see at night with the same clarity as another can see at day, no?

This one loves music, but she has no talent of her own. You would not wish to hear her sing, and she is careful not to drink to excess, so it is unlikely she would ever get to a point she would wish to. Sitting near a warm fire listening to instruments and the voices of those who carry a tune in their hearts with a mug of mead in one hand and the other on a board game piece is a delightful way to spend a night, or simply sitting around a fire sharing food and stories.

Moreover, La’Shuni takes pride in testing herself and training. The Orsimer have this philosophy for preparedness and that every day you do not hone your body and mind and skill at arms, your enemy will be. Should you be overcome by this enemy, it is because they prepared more than you had. While this one has run into bandits, raiders, scavengers, and the like, she has to have taken a life, nor met someone who has challenged her abilities. She hopes it will stay that way, but she knows that with this life, it is only a matter of time.

What are your greatest strengths?:

This one is in excellent physical condition and is a specialist in survival in harsh Northern climates, capable of tracking prey and quarry from vast distances and recognizing when something is amiss, unnatural; it keeps you alive, and there is almost always another way around. Finding food is simple if one knows where to look, and if you can get a fire started in the summer rains or the winter storms, you can anywhere. Likewise, La’Shuni can turn most anything she can find into a passable meal, provided you are not expecting some gourmet dish with the finest Alik’r lamb, Pellitine spices, and Kwarma eggs.

La’Shuni is quite capable with a spear, which is her main form of defense and hunting, and she has been training with twin daggers in more traditional accordance of Khajiiti martial teachings. A Khajiit is more comfortable in light armour that allows us to be agile and flexible, unencumbered by heavy plate. Hard leather protects against slashes and even some arrows, as well as the claws and teeth of many beasts, but it is better if your adversary cannot touch you, no? Being quick of mind and body is more important than how well one can swing a sword, in this one’s humble opinion.

With many respects to my upbringing and the education this one’s parents were able to afford as prominent members of the Leyawiin community, La’Shuni is educated and capable of speaking multiple languages, as well as reading them. She has learned commerce from her father, how to spot counterfeit or poor quality items from uncle Zegol and Daro’Vasora, and she is familiar with the customs of Khajiit and Orsimer quite intimately. This one may appear to be naïve and out of her depth, but looks can be deceiving; this one has learned much and it has brought me to where she is today.

What are your weaknesses?:

Perhaps this one can be too trusting of others and what they say; not everyone means well, and lie through their teeth to take advantage of others, and La’Shuni has fallen for that more than once. Perhaps it is a desire to want to see the good and earnestness in everyone, or perhaps this one does not wish to face the world as jaded and cynical as my sister does. She is lonely and miserable at times, but it makes her push others away from her, and it keeps her from trying to help others in need. That isn’t La’Shuni’s way.

This one also acknowledges that five years is not enough time for one to call themselves an expert at anything, and she has much to learn of the art of fighting and she has not truly had to test herself in any meaningful way. While La’Shuni is proud of her techniques and progress, she also knows that many others have been raised as warriors since they were children, and this one has gone from a world of courtly mannerisms and finding stacks of books heavy to a harsh, unforgiving world where you must push yourself constantly to survive; she would not have it any other way, but she has a long way to go.

On a personal level, La’Shuni is rather meek and modest and she has a difficult time asserting herself in social situations. She is not particularly well-spoken under pressure, and she worries about what others think of her. It makes me push myself harder than she should to prove myself through actions, and La’Shuni knows that that can be a mistake in many ways.

What are your aspirations for the future?:

La’Shuni wishes to travel Tamriel, to immerse herself in what the world has to offer and offer her services to those who are in need. She is not after fame and fortune, at least, not in the way many think of it. Experiences and learning are what she wishes, and to improve herself. This one feels she spent years of her life in such a small place with only a window into the world, and there is much to catch up on.

Why do you want to join this guild?:

For experience, travel, and training. The companionship does not hurt, and there are a variety of people from across Tamriel that this one is eager to learn about. It seems like a good chance to help people and hunt monsters in a way that feels right.

What are your expectations of the guild?:

That it is not just a bandit clan with a new coat of paint, that its leaders are earnest that it is honest work. We are not mercenaries, this one hopes. There are enough people in this world who harm others for amusement, power, and profit. Tamriel does not need more.

Character Skill/Spell/Equipment Table;

Please complete for each character as means of reference. Paste underneath character application.

Hider

Skill Level	Skill
Highly Proficient	Athletics
Moderately Proficient	Spears, Sneak
Somewhat Proficient	Daggers, Provisioning
Novice	Woodworking

Equipment Type	Item
Weapon	Ash spear, wrapped with echatere leather for grip and an orichalc blade. A pair of closely matched moonstone daggers, curved and of Anequinine origins.
Armour	Orcish-styled leather armour with echatere fur lining for insulation. It is layered for additional protection while affording mobility, and knee-length skirts help protect the legs from penetration and the elements. The arms are kept bare to allow for non-restricted movement, something important for a scout and someone who traverses the wilds, and La'Shuni has arm protection she can strap on or remove with ease that is independent from the main armour. She wears similarly constructed bracers and boots, with soft leather gloves. Given her digitagrade feet, boots do not fit her, so she simply wraps her feet with cloth for protection.
Food/Provisions	Dried and salted venison, salmon, berries and local fruits. She also keeps a pouch of moonsugar handy and concealed.
Alchemical Ingredients	None at present, although she does know many common reagents found in the wilds.
Miscellaneous	A leather rucksack for traveling that contains a bedroll, blanket, cooking and cleaning supplies, a pair of books, maps, a whetstone and oil, a tinderbox and kindling. A badger echalete that is only a year or so from reaching adulthood. Its crest is beginning to grow in and its size isn't quite large enough to mount, but Scooter makes for an excellent pack animal and travel companion that is aggressive enough to deter most wildlife, safe for the larger predators or packs.