The Nord and the Four-Eared Khajiit, About 20 years after Martin's death, as crimes are spreading, a No Options

[sford564]

Okay, I already posted this on fanfiction.net, but I've revised it a little now. Soooo... here it is. It starts out a little dark and gets lighter as it goes.


Chapter 1: Fulfilling a Promise

The Nord made his way through the forest toward the traveling entertainers’ carts. There were all sorts of low lives of every race in this little gathering. Some of the scum wanted to see the bear baiting or to bet on the pit fights. Others wanted to buy slaves. Others still came to have sex with or buy some of the kidnapped girls the travelers had with them.

Sure, slavery was illegal, but it didn’t matter as long as you didn’t get caught. After Emperor Martin’s sacrifice, everyone’s attention was focused on cleaning their world up again from the Oblivion scum and rebuilding it again. Then, when things began to settle down, the talk of the new emperor exploded into several skirmishes, until most citizens didn’t care who ruled, as long as the deaths stopped. Now that the new High Chancellor took over rule, things were peaceful again for the moment. Alas, though, with all the strife that had taken place, the High Chancellor didn’t have enough time or man power to take care of every problem across the land, which meant that slavers began to rise up here and there in various parts of the world.


The Nord shivered a little and pulled the cloak further over his head so that no one could see him as he rode up to the camp. He had promised the dying Khajiit that he’d find her daughter, but he never expected to find her in a place like this. Still, though, he didn’t have as hard a time finding her as he had expected. It seemed that the sight of the four-eared half breed Khajiit made a lot of stir in every town she was brought to.

As soon as he entered the camp, he was surrounded by a group of dangerous looking men. “I’m looking for a Khajiit half-breed. Four ears,” he informed them.

“We have nothing like that here,” one of the men told him, not liking the looks of the Nord.

“Ahhh, so you’re the one asking around, are you?” another asked.

“What do you want, stranger?”

“I want to buy her,” the Nord answered.

“She’s not for sale!”

“She will be,” the Nord assured, slipping off his horse next to them. The vagabonds backed away a little, as the Nord towered over most of them. “Take me to her,” he demanded. No one moved.

The Nord slipped off his hood, and everyone backed away even more, horrified. There was no real face on the Nord; instead, there were two black eyes and two ears in a mass of scarred and torn flesh. He looked inhuman enough to be one of the Oblivion spawns he had hunted many years ago.

“Now,” the Nord growled. The group instantly spilt away from him and one vagabond, too scared to disobey, made his way through camp – nearly running to get away from the Nord – to where the Four-eared Khajiit was locked.

There was a small group of laughing, jeering people in front of the cage. They didn’t even notice as the Nord walked behind them.

This post has been edited by sford564: Sep 5 2010, 07:12 AM

[sford564]

Chapter 2: The Feral Khajiit

The Four-eared Khajiit was a small thing, with two bright yellow eyes with pupils slit into slivers in a very feline fashion. Her lips were small and delicate looking, but she had sharp teeth and huge canines inside.

She was so thin that nearly every bone in her body could be seen.

Even with these oddities, she still would have looked like a regular human were it not for the soft yellow-orange ears that rested atop her head, just above her human ears. There was a big chunk of missing flesh in one of these ears, which told of years of abuse. Her little nose, though human, was a soft pink like that of a cat’s, and she had whiskers on each side of her face, right next to her nose, and a long stripped tail.

The Nord wasn’t sure what was supposed to be going on – was the ‘show’ just the sight of the strange, humanoid four-eared creature? If it was, how could they laugh at such a sad sight and not pity it as it sat there in the little bit of hay and grass in its cage?

He did not have long to contemplate this, for the Four-eared Khajiit’s owner, a strange looking half breed himself – a Dunmer-Orc mix – brought another cage into the Khajiit’s. There was a large rat inside the smaller cage, snarling and scratching and trying to get out. The Four-eared Khajiit, who all this time refused to look up at the ridiculing crowd, suddenly bolted upright, spinning around toward the cage. This got the crowd excited. The Dunmer-Orc opened the cage.

The rat, seeing the Four-eared Khajiit, charged for her. The Four-eared Khajiit, with feline-like reflexes, charged toward the rat and pounced on it. It was hard to know exactly what was happening, as both the rat and the little Four-eared Khajiit tumbled and rolled, hissed and growled, biting and scratching, until, at the very end, the Four-eared Khajiit lay on top of the rat, it’s back broken, tearing at its neck.

The audience ooohhh’ed and aahhhhh’ed at the sight of all the blood and the sounds of the battle cries, but when the fight was over, and the Four-eared Khajiit tore at and ate its prey, a general hiss of disgust rose up from the crowd. More jeers and some small rocks met her this time. She ignored them for the most part, until a stone was thrown against her back; she turned around, mouth full of raw flesh, and hissed at the crowd.

The crowd laughed and jeered and soon, after leaving some coins, left. All did, that is, but the Nord. He watched as the Dunmer-Orc went back into the half breed’s cage, and cursing and muttering of what a “vile animal” she was, threw her back to the ground as he took up the rat’s carcass.

She frantically tackled him with one hand as she pulled the rat from his grasp with the other. Her master took a whip from the side of his belt and let it fall hard against her shoulder where the rat had already caused a wound. She cried out in agony and fell back just as the tip of the whip struck again, grazing her already cut feline ear.

The Dunmer-Orc grabbed her by her long reddish-blonde hair and thrust some coins under her nose. “I told you to entertain them. You’re an animal: you’re supposed to show that! But you just sat there!” He let go of her hair long enough to smack her head, and then grabbed it again with renewed strength. “They like to see you angry. You hiss at them. You growl at them. You climb your little bars for them. Anything to make them happy. If you want to eat, you entertain. The more you entertain, the more gold I get. The more gold I get, the more you eat.”

“Then take this, and let her eat,” the Nord interrupted, offering some coins to the elfish-orc man.

Both master and slave jumped, and turned their eyes onto him. The half breed Khajiit’s was a mix of fright and wonder, while the Dunmer-Orc’s was one of agitation.

“You there,” the Dunmer-Orc demanded of him, “what are you doing here? What cage have you escaped from?”

The Nord glared at him, but answered, “I want your Four-eared Khajiit.”

“Well you can’t have her!”

The Nord tossed a bag through the bars at his feet – he picked it up and opened it, exclaiming when he saw all that was inside: pearls of the finest quality, gold, silver and all sorts of gems. Why, this would be a king’s ransom!

Laughing and muttering incomprehensibly, the Four-eared Khajiit’s master lost all control of his senses for a few moments, but, then, realizing that the Nord might change his mind if he was not given the half breed right away, he declared, “Deals are final! No changing your mind – now get in here and take this monster. She’s yours.”

The commotion he caused made a crowd gather round, and silently gawking and muttering about the state of the Nord’s face and why he’d want the half breed, everyone watched as the Nord made his way toward the back of the cage that the Dunmer-Orc had opened for him.

The Four-eared Khajiit looked up at her master, a mix of horror and fear spread across her face. She knew what to expect from him, but this new man – this creature with no face – what did he want from her?

She put her hand on her master’s leg, as if asking him what was going to happen to her and begging him not to give her to the Nord.

But the Dunmer-Orc sneered at her. Looking down into the Four-eared Khajiit’s big, frightened eyes, he whispered into her ear, “Well, why do you think he wants you? He’s a monster, just like you.”

The Four-eared Khajiit looked back at the Nord, cringing slightly at his monstrous face and huge frame. It was hard to take one’s eyes off such a horrific, scared sight, especially when two black, piercing eyes stared at her from under all the mutilated flesh, but the Four-eared Khajiit still managed to observe the rest of the Nord.

He was long and thick, resembling a Minotaur in width and brawn. His hand as he reached for the cage door looked as big as her head.

He was not in any attire she had seen before. Rather, with thick furs draped across his shoulder as a cloak, thinner furs under that for his clothing, and thick fur wrapped around his leather boots, he looked more of an animal than the animals that adorned him must have.

She looked up at her master once more, never saying a word, but silently pleading with him with her eyes.

He sneered at her. “Maybe he wants you for another one of his cloaks,” the Dunmer-Orc snickered. “But he probably just wants you for his mother of mine. What type of monster like that could get anything aside from another monster? If you live, he’ll probably take your freak children and sell them just like your father did with you.”

The Nord, not quite sure what they were saying, but sensing that something was wrong, slowly advanced toward the two.

The Four-eared Khajiit tensed and hissed at him. The Nord, not sure if this feral-looking creature meant to attack, stopped for a second.

Seeing him stop, the Dunmer-Orc reminded him, “A deals a deal. Here’s your mother of mine.” He picked the Four-eared Khajiit up by her hair and tossed her toward the Nord.

The Four-eared Khajiit, though, being an agile creature, leapt into the air the second her feet and fingertips touched the surface, and landed on the Dunmer-Orc. There was but a seconds protest from the bigger creature when an ear-splitting crack was heard. Before anyone could react, the Four-eared Khajiit was over her slave master’s neck and tore it out.

This post has been edited by sford564: Sep 5 2010, 07:10 AM

[hazmick]

awesome. I think i'm going to like this story.

[mALX]

Whew! I was not expecting that at all! ARGH! MORE!

[sford564]

Hehehehe. Thanks for the comments guys! Glad to see that people are interested so far. Oh, the slave master didn't really call her "mother of mine" - that was a censored word.



Chapter 3: Master and Slave

The slave master one time sold her to an old Orc whose name he found on a list of wanted men. Apparently the law began looking for the Orc after he killed his wife, so he went in hiding, somehow managing to get eleven other women, most of whom he bought from slavers.

The slave master gave her the choice of either killing the Orc or letting him “turn you into his wife and then kill you”. She learned how to break an Orc’s back and to tear out its throat. It wasn’t that different than killing a rat.

Her slave master then got the reward for bringing the Orc to justice, and she came back to him, though he always threatened that one day he would sell her to another just like the Orc, only he’d leave her for good this next time.

This was the next time. If he intended to let her be tortured and killed, she would kill him first so that he could not gloat over her fate.

She looked up at the Nord, bloodlust clearly written across her eyes.

The Nord was horrified. He came there to rescue a dear friend’s stolen child, but what he found was a wild, savage animal locked in a cage. He had imagined someone just like Jo Dar – kindly and nice, always with a big smile on her face, even when she was terminally ill; and a warm, loving, scolding remark whenever he was being unreasonable – but he never fathomed that she would be the skeletal creature in front of him, covered in her own, a rat’s and her slave master’s blood, hissing savagely, and surrounded by the corpses of the creatures she just killed.

The Four-eared Khajiit, hissing and growling lowly, was tense, as if she were about to pounce on him, too, to break his back and tear out his throat. The Nord slowly reached for the sword at his belt. Her eyes followed his hand as it reached lower toward the blade, but somehow also managed to stare directly into his eyes, making him feel as if she could read his every thought.

His hands grasped the hilt of his sword. She tensed even more, about to spring on him at any second.

Neither got to strike first, though, as the crowd that had gathered around them, at first too horrified to say or do anything when she had killed the Dunmer-Orc, now grew into a fever of rage and fear.

“Kill the monster!” they cried out to him.

Both the Nord and the Four-eared Khajiit jumped, so intense in their pre-battle that they had completely forgotten that anyone else was around.

“Kill it!” they cried.

The half-breed Khajiit looked through her bars, suddenly realizing that she was completely surrounded and outnumbered. Panic struck her face as she glanced down at the corpse beside her and then up again at the crowd around her. Her gaze then fell upon the Nord, the closest and most immediate danger.

“No,” the Nord told them after a second’s hesitation. For some reason, scared though he was of her, afraid that she’d leap upon him the second he turned his back to her, he could not raise his sword against her.

Perhaps it was because he knew and loved her mother, the very truest of friends. Perhaps it was because he had promised her – promised her – a Nord’s promise – something that he held dear as if it were the gods’ own words – that he would let no harm come to her daughter. Or perhaps it was because she looked at him in such a helpless, defenseless manner that it would have been against his principles to kill a creature such as this: beaten, wounded, and trapped in a corner, awaiting death. He might have looked and even sometimes acted like a barbarian to others, but he hated to see the weak and defenseless hurt.

“No,” he repeated a second time, this time a little more sure of himself. “I’ve come to save her – I cannot harm her.”

“Get out of our way!” they cried. “We’re going to kill her!”

The group of cutthroats and slavers were already armed, so they drew their weapons – whatever they each had – and began toward the cage’s entrance.

Afraid to turn his back on her, but afraid to let them near her, the Nord closed the cage’s door, making the lock spring into place and threw the keys into the cage for the Four-eared Khajiit, who scooped them up.


The Four-eared Khajiit stood in awe as the barbarian stood in front of the cage’s door, guarding it. There must have been a good twenty or so people ready to challenge him, and then another ten or so around the cage.

“Don’t go near her. She’s not to blame. I’ll pay for the damages that your friend’s death must’ve cost you, but the Four-eared Khajiit goes with me.”

“She’s a monster! She killed a man! She’ll kill more.”

“Get out of our way! We’ll have her head.”

“We’ll have yours, too, if you don’t move.”

“Fine then, get ‘em both!”

[sford564]

Okay, so I'm not the best at fight scenes... This is the best I can do.




Chapter 4: Fight For Life

What ensued was perhaps the most spectacular fight the traveling band of thieves and slavers had ever encountered. They could kill all the wild creatures they met along the trails, other criminals who were stupid enough to attack their group, and the occasion patrol of guards, but none of them were a match for this one Nord.

The first three that attacked him were felled instantly. This brought the whole group after him. For such a big man, he was incredibly fast and agile. He ducked and dogged and evaded their blows, blocking with his sword and dealing out lethal strikes as the group came toward him.

There were only so many people who could get near the Nord, though, while the others surrounded him. So those not fighting him went after the Four-eared Khajiit. There was a group of scoundrels waiting at the cage’s door, trying to break it open, while others stabbed through the bars at her with their weaponry.

The Khajiit managed to outmaneuver all of their blades by jumping this way and that, and dodging this and that. The only thing she couldn’t defend herself from was an archer.

One of the men grabbed a bow from out of a cart and took aim at her. The first two shots she evaded, but the third hit her directly in the leg. Screeching in pain, she just barely evaded the next one; as it was, the arrow shot through her little Khajiit ear, causing both ears to now have huge cuts across them.

Another arrow was released the same time several blades were swung at her – jumping out of the way of the blades, she watched as arrow flew closer and closer toward her chest, right toward her heart. She held her breath, expecting to be suddenly thrown to the ground by the arrow and then finished off by the blades swinging at her.

But just as the arrow drew close enough for her to see the sharpened tip, a mass of fur and flesh flew into her sight and smashed against the cage’s bars. There was a loud gasp of pain, and instantly the Nord was on his feet again, felling those around him, charging at the archer. The archer dropped his bow and drew a shortsword, but was too late.

As the Nord’s attention was drawn away from the Four-eared Khajiit, the others went back to attacking her through her bars. She had found a spot in the center of the cage where they couldn’t reach her.

Angered, one of the scoundrels grabbed a torch and threw it into her cage. The hay and dried grass on the bottom instantly took to flames.

The half-breed Khajiit jumped back as the flames rushed toward her, getting slashed in the leg once more. Crying out in pain, and trying to avoid both flames and blades, she jumped onto one of the cage’s bars, and then up onto the bars on the top of her cage. There she hung, in great pain, in the center of her cage as everything below her burnt up. The scoundrels could not get to her from up there, and though the flames hurt her wounds and singed some of her hair, they could not kill her like that.

Some ran and grabbed hay stored for the horses and pushed it through the bars. Seeing what they were doing, a couple others ran and grabbed some firewood they had previously collected for their fires that evening. They pushed all of this through the bars toward her; there was only so long she could hold onto those bars, wounded as she was, before she would fall and burn to death.

The door to the cage was being blocked by swordsmen, so if she tried to come close to it, they would kill her. Yet, if she stayed where she was, the flames would get to her.

Crying again, what sounded like a weird mix of a human’s call and a cat’s pitiful mew, she watched as the flames jumped higher and higher.

She did not have long to wait for her call to be answered, for the Nord rushed to her defense. She couldn’t see much through the flames, but she could hear all of the cries of the falling men. Then, from the side of her cage by the door, she heard a loud clash of metal on metal. Again and again, and suddenly the door swung open. The Nord stepped through into heat and flames, trying to get to the scared Khajiit.

“Jump,” he called, his deep voice booming over the roar and chatter of the flames.

The Four-eared Khajiit looked down at him, his massive frame blocking the whole doorway. A few men ran toward him, their swords drawn, but he did not turn yet to face them. The flames began to singe the fur cloak he wore and then it burst into flames. Still he did not move, waiting for her to come down to him.

She swung down from the bars into his open arms. She clung tightly against his chest with one hand while she tore the big fur cloak off him with the other. The cloak fell to the floor of the cage and continued to burn.

The Nord grabbed two of his assailers and threw them into the cage. As screams filled the evening air, he fought the last half dozen men. All the while the Four-eared Khajiit clung to him, her two arms wrapped around his chest, her wounded feet wrapped around his waist, and her tail tucked under her body.

It was a bloody battlefield. Men lay strewn across the little clearing. The only ones left living were the caged slaves, who witnessed the whole ordeal, the group’s horses, which only stayed because they were tied securely, and the Nord and the Four-eared Khajiit, who remained with her arms wrapped around him, scared to leave.

[Acadian]

Welcome to the forums!

Now. SLOW DOWN, please!

I am intrigued by your story. I found the first two chapters that I read this morning well-written, clever and suggesting wonderful possibilities. When I came back on this evening to review them again and comment, I discovered two more chapters, to which I was unable to give the justice I'm sure they deserved. Given some time, I hope to come back and read chapters 3 and 4 properly.

If you post too fast, people will read too fast, missing your intended details, or get frustrated by their inability to keep up. Your choice, but I would suggest posting a chapter no faster than every two or three days. Ok, please forgive my little rant.

The first two chapters are wonderful. They seem almost suggestive of a 'beauty and the beast' type poignancy, and again, were very well written.

*

Edit: Chapter 3. Nice suspense and tension! Somehow I suspect the Nord and Khajiit will form an unlikely alliance, but that is deliciously on a razor's edge at this point. Very well done!

Edit: Chapter 4. On fight scenes, read the work of others and stick to what you are comfortable with. You show no need to apologize though. You did not need to detail each slash and paried thrusts etc to create the tension and excitement you so successfully did here. It was a wonderfully exciting fight scene, full of action, heroism . . . and the beginning of a solid relationship forged in the heat of battle and sealed with with blood. So far, your story is wonderful. Both your characters are physically flawed yet they both tug at my heart - even at this early stage of your story. Well done!

This post has been edited by Acadian: Sep 6 2010, 01:16 PM

[mALX]

I held my breath through the last two chapters!!!!! This is AWESOME!!! You wrote a riveting fight scene, don't ever say you can't write a good one!

On the censor: Lucky thing it didn't say "Mother of honored user" or "Mother of your boats" (lol)


All I can say is MORE!!!!!!!! PLEASE !!!!! AND CAN YOU POST A LINK TO YOUR FANFICTION SITE?

[hazmick]

I love the fight scene, very nicely done. I'm also loving the character of the Nord, your descriptions are awesome and your characters are really spectacular. So basically...more please.

[Remko]

......eagerly awaiting more......

[mALX]

I couldn't stand the suspense, I went to the FanFiction site and hunted down your profile - and read the full story - AWESOME !! I loved it!!! And will enjoy the re-read here too!!!

[sford564]

Acadian, thanks for the advice. I’ll slow down a little now. Sorry. I’m glad you liked the fight scene. Lol. It gave me great difficulty, so I’m usually more critical of things that don’t come as easy.
hazmick, Remko, thanks so much for the comments.
mALX, I’m glad you were able to find it on fanfiction.net, and thanks so much for all the comments and suggestions you gave me there!




Chapter 5: Her Three Choices

The Nord fell to his knees. The Khajiit jumped to the ground before he landed, crying softly at the pain in her legs. She looked in amazement and horror at the warrior in front of her. His face was pale now, his body was covered in his own and many others’ blood, and his sword had fallen from his hand.

The Four-eared Khajiit slowly dragged the heavy sword away from his grasp. He did not protest, but just look up at her, waiting for her to make her move.

After several seconds she slowly lifted the blade up with both arms, cradling it for extra strength, and placed it in his lap. She drew back a little.

“Come,” he commanded weakly. With great effort he rose, sword in hand, and went to the carts of slaves. The slaves backed away as he swung his blade against the lock. After a few hits, it broke open.

“Search the bodies and free the others,” the Nord commanded. “And one of you bring me fresh water and bandages for myself and the Khajiit.”

The newly freed slaves scrambled to do as they were told. Any slavers still alive were killed, and the Nord commanded that all the bodies were searched for any valuables. All good clothes were to be stripped off them and cleaned in boiling water.

There were two groups of slaves. The men, who were used as cheap work hands, were mostly Khajiit, Orcs, and Argonians – people who would not be missed. The women were of all races, most of them very young and beautiful. They were to be sold as “wives”.

Both groups of slaves did as they were told, and brought clean water and bandages for the Nord. The Four-eared Khajiit nearly ran several times when the others came near her, but the Nord tightly held onto her hand, keeping her beside him all the while. She could have broken free from him if she really tried to, but his firm grasp seemed to reassure her as much as it scared her.

The Nord had the Khajiit help him remove his clothing and give it to the freed slaves to be cleaned. He then had her wash out his cuts. She obeyed, though she cringed and ducked every time he hissed or cursed in agony.

The Nord then made the Four-eared Khajiit sit down as he examined her wounds. He washed the blood off her, and, after cleaning each wound, and dabbing them with a stinging substance he put on a little, clean rag, he made her drink a strange liquid from a strange looking vial.

“This will heal you,” he explained as he took one for himself.

Alas, when he examined her second pair of ears, his vile, powerful potion would only close the tears. “The flesh is torn off the ears – it will be scarred for the rest of your life,” he gently told her. She seemed too much in pain to worry about that, though.

One of the wounds she received in the side of her stomach hurt a great deal more than the others. When he brought the clean cloth across it, she cried out and, jumping back a little in her seat, hissed threateningly. The Nord ignored this though.

“Shut up,” he told scolded. “Do you think I liked getting an arrow in my chest to save your skinny little self? No. So you don’t complain about a little pain like this. If it gets too bad as I clean these out, dig your fingernails into the chair and cry. Understand? Now don’t worry, I’m going to give you something to heal these up. I just need to clean them first.”

His voice was so serious that the half-breed Khajiit felt she had to obey him, but there was something more, too. There was a softness in his black eyes and a gentleness in his deep, harsh voice that made her trust him. She very reluctantly slid back in her chair, and, digging her fingernails into it, allowed him to continue.

“I want you to talk to me,” he told her as he worked on. “I don’t want you hissing at me. If something is hurting you, I need you to tell me. Hissing and growling isn’t going to let me know what you think or feel.”


That night as everyone slept, the Four-eared Khajiit slowly crawled out from under the thick blanket the Nord had put her in. He told her that he wouldn’t put her in a cage, but that he didn’t trust her yet, so he had her hands tied in front of her and a rope tied around her waist. The rope was connected to his wrist so that if she made any fast movement, he’d know.

She observed that he had his sword and a dagger close at hand.

It was very easy to slip out of the ropes because he didn’t tie them as tightly as he should have; he didn’t seem to want to hurt her.

She carefully slipped the dagger away from his hand. She now had three choices in front of her:

Firstly, she could stay. He seemed to be nice to her. But what if that changed? Would she get another opportunity to escape after this? Now he was still wounded and sleeping; escape would be easy.

But when he was no longer wounded, what would happen then? He was so much bigger and stronger than she, and a fighter like none other that she had ever seen. Escape from him would be impossible.

Still, she had never known what it was like to be alone and to fend for herself. Even worse, she was a half-breed birth defect with four ears. All anyone wanted to do was laugh and throw things at her. What did he want with her? Did he intend to hurt her? Did he want a servant? Did he want a wife? Would being the wife of a big monster like him really be that bad if he was nice to her? Yes, he was ugly and deformed looking, but that didn’t mean he was bad. She was ugly and deformed, and she wasn’t bad, was she?

She shook her head and pondered that for a while.

Then, secondly, she could run away. She could try to escape as he was wounded and slept. But, still, there were many creatures out there. She didn’t really know how to protect herself. And, of course, he’d come after her. If he could kill all those men, then he could definitely hunt her down.

Or, thirdly, she could kill him and run away. That was the best choice. If he was dead, he couldn’t come after her. She’d feel much better if all she had to fight were the many beasts of the forest instead of the barbarian Nord and said beasts.

She sat beside the sleeping Nord pondering all of these thoughts. The dagger lay ready in her hand, and a couple times she raised it above his chest. Something always made her pull away, though.

This post has been edited by sford564: Sep 9 2010, 06:05 PM

[mALX]

You brought out a truism in this story - a lot of them, but one in particular I thought was spot on and is rarely spoken - the lack of trust in someone with solid black eyes. It is almost as if the viewer projects their mistrust onto the character and that one has to give more than the average to prove otherwise - really awesome detail that makes the story that much more real!! I love this story, I can't say it enough! It is just as Awesome on the second read !!!!!

[hazmick]

“The flesh is torn off the ears – it will be scared for the rest of your life,”

That should be 'scarred', although it would be frightening having your ears torn up.

Nasty nitpicking aside, I really enjoyed this chapter. The Nord is trying to save this poor Khajiit but she isn't used to being treated nicely so has made herself believe that there are three choices, I'm just hoping that she'll figure out the best choice and put down that dagger!

[sford564]

You brought out a truism in this story - a lot of them, but one in particular I thought was spot on and is rarely spoken - the lack of trust in someone with solid black eyes. It is almost as if the viewer projects their mistrust onto the character and that one has to give more than the average to prove otherwise - really awesome detail that makes the story that much more real!! I love this story, I can't say it enough! It is just as Awesome on the second read !!!!!

Hmmm....
You know, honestly, I think it all depends on what you grow up seeing. If everyone you know has light blue to light brown eyes, you grow up learning to understand the emotions those eyes can show you. There's no big deal with them. Darker eyes, on the other hand, are much harder to read because you're used to only light eyes, and, if you can't read their eyes, you can't seem to trust them.
For an assignment once, I interviewed two Chinese sisters, who were exchange students. They had just come about a year earlier to the US. When I asked them about what difficulties they were experiencing/had experienced here, they mentioned they had a hard time putting names to faces still, as so many faces looked alike to them; there were tons of light haired (there’s a lot of dyed blondes out there ), light eyed people with the same or similar hair styles. Our eyes were at an odd slant, and they had a lot of difficultly reading them at first, as they were so light.
I just thought it was ironic that they had the same complaints about us that so many people have about them...all look the same and had slanted eyes that were hard to read. And I guess it all gets down to perception and familiarity; you understand what you see the most.
Okay, that was a tangent…
*Ahem* Thanks again mALX.

[sford564]

“The flesh is torn off the ears – it will be scared for the rest of your life,”

That should be 'scarred', although it would be frightening having your ears torn up.

Nasty nitpicking aside, I really enjoyed this chapter. The Nord is trying to save this poor Khajiit but she isn't used to being treated nicely so has made herself believe that there are three choices, I'm just hoping that she'll figure out the best choice and put down that dagger!

Thanks for pointing that one out. Please tell me if you catch any more like that!

[mALX]

You brought out a truism in this story - a lot of them, but one in particular I thought was spot on and is rarely spoken - the lack of trust in someone with solid black eyes. It is almost as if the viewer projects their mistrust onto the character and that one has to give more than the average to prove otherwise - really awesome detail that makes the story that much more real!! I love this story, I can't say it enough! It is just as Awesome on the second read !!!!!

Hmmm....
You know, honestly, I think it all depends on what you grow up seeing. If everyone you know has light blue to light brown eyes, you grow up learning to understand the emotions those eyes can show you. There's no big deal with them. Darker eyes, on the other hand, are much harder to read because you're used to only light eyes, and, if you can't read their eyes, you can't seem to trust them.
For an assignment once, I interviewed two Chinese sisters, who were exchange students. They had just come about a year earlier to the US. When I asked them about what difficulties they were experiencing/had experienced here, they mentioned they had a hard time putting names to faces still, as so many faces looked alike to them; there were tons of light haired (there’s a lot of dyed blondes out there ), light eyed people with the same or similar hair styles. Our eyes were at an odd slant, and they had a lot of difficultly reading them at first, as they were so light.
I just thought it was ironic that they had the same complaints about us that so many people have about them...all look the same and had slanted eyes that were hard to read. And I guess it all gets down to perception and familiarity; you understand what you see the most.
Okay, that was a tangent…
*Ahem* Thanks again mALX.

I agree wholeheartedly with your rant, we trust the familiar - good or bad...and suspect the unfamiliar regardless. Great thought, and that you included that detail in your story is huge!

[Acadian]

Excellent sobering aftermath where your characters show much of themselves by their actions. Very effective descriptions.

Three choices. I loved your Khajiit's rumination as she pondered her options.

Well done!

[Remko]

I really liked the last part but I would have loved it even more if you had given a voice to the Khajiit by having her struggle inside rather than you telling she was struggling with her 3 choices. I would have loved some kind of thought process from her. Some internal monologue or something like that.

[sford564]

Thanks for all the responses ya'll!

Chapter 6: New Clothes for the Khajiit

When the Nord awoke the next morning, he found the Four-eared Khajiit sitting beside him, his dagger in her hand. She looked as if she were ready to strike him, but after a few seconds, he realized that she was sound asleep. She must have been awake all night pondering killing him, until she drifted off to sleep with the dagger still in her hand.

He smiled a little; so she escaped, stole his dagger, and even though he was at her mercy, she decided against leaving or hurting him.

No one else seemed to be awake, so he just lay there and looked up at her. She still wore the blood stained rags from the night before; he hadn’t dared ask her to take them off to be washed. Anyway, he’d have her wear something more covering than the little loincloth and chest covering she wore. Her attire helped add to the image of her being a savage half-breed, and it didn’t look as if it would be very helpful in the cold regions of Skyrim.

Carefully sitting up, he stopped himself from cursing aloud at the pain of his wounds, and slowly reached out to take the dagger from her hand. He had it half way out when a deep cut in his side suddenly tore open further because of the movement.

It was just a little gasp and whimper, but it was enough to wake the Four-eared Khajiit. She opened her eyes suddenly and drew the dagger back.

“Stop it now,” he ordered as she raised it above his arm. She hesitated for a few seconds, pondering what to do. “Give me my dagger back,” he commanded, his rough voice taking on a threatening tone.

She didn’t obey, but she did allow him to take if from her hand.

Cursing under his breath from the pain, he told her, “Help me with this. Get me some of those cloths.”

She jumped to obey him as she realized that he was once again bleeding. She quickly searched the area for a clean rag and pressed it against his wound.

“Thank you,” he muttered after a few seconds. “My clothes. See if they’ve finished drying, and grab a dress for you.”

The Four-eared Khajiit looked at him questioningly, but obeyed. The clothes were hung in the middle of the camp on a makeshift line. It was easy enough to tell the Nord’s clothes apart from all the others, his being nearly completely fur. She just grabbed a dress that hung on the line for her.

“Hmm…They’re a little damp still, but they’ll do. Wait, what’s this?” he asked about the dress. She shrugged her shoulders as if she didn’t know. Why did he tell her to get a dress? “It’s a rag; it’s not a dress. And anyway, you’re too small for it.” Grumbling as he got up, he told her, “Come on, lets go.”

They quietly made their way back to the long line of clothes and the half breed Khajiit watched with interest as the Nord went through all the clothes. The first thing he grabbed was a small black, velvety cloak.

After visually measuring it on her, he went back to the clothes in question. He pulled out two long white under-skirts, both very heavy; a pair of women’s undergarments for the top and bottom – he blushed greatly as he held them out at arms length trying to visually measure them against her; a pair of thick black pants and a matching shirt; and two dresses.

Both dresses were obviously stolen – more black-market material to be sold. One was velvety red and decorated with gold and silver ribbons. The sleeves were made of red silk. He wasn’t sure what the latest styles were in the Imperial City, but surely this had to be on of them. The other dress was of white velvet and silk, and very similar in style to the red one.

“Alright, these should fit,” he told her. He had been so intent on what he had been doing, that he didn’t even notice the Khajiit staring at him with wide eyes of wonder. “Oh, do you like them?” he whispered, slightly raising the dresses up for her to see.

The Khajiit still didn’t say anything, though, and just looked at him with questioning wide eyes.

“Okay, let’s go – we need to go wash the blood off us and dress,” he explained, feeling greatly unnerved by her silence and her constant gaze. She obediently followed him back to their sleeping area – where the Nord grabbed some supplies – and past that, away from the carts, to a little stream. There was no one around, and in case anyone awoke, they were completely covered from view by all the carts.

The Nord dropped the bundle of clothes to the ground, slipped his nightshirt off and went into the water. A few seconds later, his long boxers came to the top of the water and he threw them onto the shore beside him.

“Well, get in here,” he told her.

Her eyes bulged out of her head. She shook her head frantically and ran toward the cart.

“Oh, get over here. I’m not going to look!” The Nord protested. She stopped and watched him, suspiciously. “You need to wash all that blood off you.” Pointing behind him, he said, “Here, you bathe over here so I can’t see you, and I’ll bathe over here so you can’t see me. But you need to hurry before everyone gets up.”

Very cautiously, and much farther down the stream behind the Nord, she slipped into the water.