Silent Hunting, Stories of a Khajiit in Vvardenfell Options

[LadySaira]

Saira's (Shajira's) adventures, my first piece of writing!

Somewhere in the Inner Sea

The boat leaked, and it smelled of it's inhabitants. Shajira hated it. Water was always dripping on her no matter where she lay in the little hold they had forced her into, and the thin prisoner's clothing wasn't enough to keep it from matting down her fur, which by this time was dirty from first her stay in the Imperial prison, and now this raggety thing they dared call a ship. And to think, the furless use these things on the SEAS, how crazy are they? She wondered to herself, curled in a half opened crate which afforded her the best protection from the water. The guards simply added to the miserable conditions, abusive and loud at the best of times, now when they had to check on her by the captian's orders in the middle of the night and this horrible weather, she could hardly avoid a beating even if she was being polite. Which she wasn't often, and that was giving her a fair collection of bruises to go with whatever diseases she might have picked up over the months of confinment in the dirt.

A few days ago they had picked up another prisoner, but he was asleep now, and hadn't bothered to talk to her. Then again, he was a Dunmer who had for years used her kind, and the scaly Argonians, as slaves, and that didn't inspire the utmost respect from either side for the other. She smiled a very feline grin, showing her pair of fangs in a playful manner as she nestled her head atop her thighs in a ball within the crate and fell asleep. The dreams were strange, there was a voice... it sounded sort of maternal, it went on about how it had taken her from the Imperial prison... then strange landscapes flashed before her eyes as the voice faded into insensability, as most dreams do, but strangely one voice out of the chorus told her over and over; to wake up. Her eyes opened, and she hissed angrily, like a cornered tabby cat, as the scarred face of the dunmer filled her vision. "Pah, Khajiit." He grumbled, and her ears flattened against her head as he continued, " I'm Juib, and you cat, were having a serious spasm. Bloody wake up because you kicked me in the face." His hand drifted to a long scratch from his ear, down close to the jawline.

"Shajira." She anwsered. He blinked before replying, "I suppose that's your name, then." He turned away as the guard came to the doorway. It was a man, and he looked Nordic, and smelled it too, all mead and stink of sweat. He picked her up by the collar of her shirt, which surprised her as she expected it to rip far more easily than that, and dropped her on her feet. "Come on. We're here, and I want you bloody smelly cat off my ship." She rolled her eyes, but said nothing more as she flattened down some of the silvery fur on her arms and followed the guard to the hatch out of the hellpit of a boat. "Down onto the dock, they've been waiting for you." The Redguard on the deck told her, and pointed down to where a guard stood on the dock, as if she couldn't understand the words. Always so "helpful" these guards are. Not like I was going to jump in the water instead. I hate water.

[LadySaira]

Onward into the breach!

Seyda Neen

She was still content in the fact that she had lifted the key from under the nose of the captian when an annoying little Bosmer came running up to her. She tried her best to ignore the annoying little mer, but he insistantly tried to get her attention. "What?" She asked crossly, tired of listening to his niceities and dribble. He put on the most pitiful face that Shajira had ever seen, it looked like he was either about to cry, or pulling her tail in the saddest way possible. "Well..." He started, in a whining voice common to Bosmer, "The guards around here are corrupt... or at least some of them are... and they keep taking my ring! It's a family hierloom, but they keep insisting it's stoeln property and taking it from me when they frisk me..." Over the duration of his little tantrum, she had closed her hand over the ring that she had nabbed, running her thumb over it, then smoothly as could be she slipped it from her finger and into the palm of her hand. "Shajira believes that this may be your ring?" The little fellow stared down at the ring in her hand with such a look of relief, it seemed a wieght had been physically lifted. "Thank you, thank you." He stammered, "I'll tell my friend all about you! Really! He runs the only tradehouse in town, and I'll get you some real deals." He nodded so quickly as he said this, Shajira was curious if he head was going to come off. "Shajira is happy to help." She said, then waved her farewell. What a annoying little bother he is. I wonder what he'll tell his friend? I'm an easy scam? I'm nice? Stupid Bosmer.

The town wasn't a desination of interest to officials except as a passing through for new immigrants to the Vvardenfell, so besides the Census office, little Imperial gold was spent on keeping the town representable. There were shacks along the shorefront, and for the bit more wealthy, small houses up higher on the high ground out of the marsh that had spawned from the illkept vegetation. My kind of place. She smiled to herself, as she wandered throughout the town, exchanging greetings with the townsfolk, who seemed to desire to keep to themselves rather than to assort themselves to the rabble that came in from the mainland of the contient, and to her surprise there were only a few Dunmer in town. Of course, what would a Khajiit from the Imperial Province know about Morrowind? She shrugged to herself, and decided that talking to herself was a habit she should've left in the prison cell she had languished in, there were real people out here to talk to instead. Her left ear twitched, berating herself had her miffed, and she decided there and then to go buy some new clothes. Impulsive as ever, she headed straight to the tradehouse entirely set on shoplifting whatever she wanted, and as she opened the door she was already sizing everything up.

It was dim in the house, and the smell of alcohol was thick, pouring down from the second floor giving it the feel of a oversized tavern. An Altmer stood behind the counter, his golden skin seeming to shimmer in the light of the hanging lanterns which gave off a comfortably yellow light, a older dunmer woman stood in the corner looking over the goods, and gave her a suspicious glare as Shajira's tail brushed against the table. Arriel's smile didn't fade as she didn't approach the counter, instead he simply watched her as she touched the clothing stored on the shelves that ran the length of the wall, admiring the material. She had been in the prison for two years, and only through her constant will to stay in shape had kept her from wasting away. Not to say she was as quick as she once was, playing snatch the chain could only keep you so practiced. She did manage to slip a packet of saltrice into the front of her shirt, but she didn't dare try for anything else, lest he become too suspicious of her touching everything. She wandered to the counter, and traded off what little silverware she had retained, and used the septiums from that and those she had got her paws on earlier to buy a iron short sword of fair quality, new clothes, and the curiass made of a curious leathery material native to Morrowind, Netch leather she was told as she inspected it. Good enough. She decided, purchased it, and left the little shop.