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> The Tale Of The Khajiit,, Already Submitted, Criticism Wanted.
Wurlon
post Aug 27 2005, 03:57 PM
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Joined: 25-August 05
From: Pennsylvania, United States






And so the Khajiit walked cautiously into the tavern, amazed at the farmers who gathered there for the night’s drink. The fire flickered with short bursts of crimson sparks and black ash. The bar itself was filled with six tables of the finest craftsmanship, made of wood imported from Solstheim which made it durable and hardy. Along the right side of the tavern was a long bar and the steps that lead to occupied rooms. The bar attendant, dressed in a extravagant red suit with matching shoes smiled and laughed as drunk grey-skinned Dunmer and others rambled on about the day. The Khajiit walked in, nervous, trembling with hope, that this town wasn’t a slaver town. The Khajiit approached the table near the fireplace to the left of the entrance, farthest away from the occupied bar counter. A few people turned to look at the stranger Khajiit, bewildered by his coat of light orange. These men had never seen such a handsome young male Khajiit, and were amazed that he was so secretive.

The Khajiit waited patiently, looking around, holding his tail under the table with his sharp paws of white and orange. He was dressed in a dark sage-green robe that was brimmed with white and silvery lines. His arms were long and his claws had not been clipped, giving him sharp white claws that were like the talons of an eagle. The Khajiit’s face was bold and smooth, and had two thin black lines of fur that went down his bangs, and short pointed ears with no piercings.

As the Khajiit became accustomed with the surroundings he calmed down, and began to wonder if he had enough gold to survive until he reached his home a few days away. He reached to his small cloth bag to find twelve gold coins. It was enough for tonight; hopefully he would be able to survive on the food he bought here. But as he fumbled with the coins a server approached and asked him

“How may I serve you sir?” the female imperial asked politely.

“What is the cheapest thing you have for Firethorn?” The Khajiit asked.

“Well for drinks Mazte is very cheap these days, only one gold piece for a glass, and you may have as much water as you like if you purchase food, we have our own well. If you’re interested in food, the cheapest we have is Corkbulb roots covered in spices for the price of three gold or you could have a half pound of deer meat for six gold pieces,” The waiter replied.

“Firethorn wishes to have the Corkbulb and water please,” Firethorn replied softly, wishing he could eat deer meat every night but it was not the case.

The waiter vanished into the kitchen, where the chopping of food could be heard on wooden boards. Firethorn was now fully relaxed, he even gazed at the fire as it flickered and the smoke rose through the fireplace. It made him feel all warm and fuzzy beneath the coat of fur, something he normally would not feel.

But as if the fire had gone out, a stranger it a black hood cloak entered through the wooden door and stopped. The figure was completely covered; his cloak had extra long sleeves that flopped over his hands and a hood that hanged over his forehead to reveal only a black hole. His cloak dragged along the floor, covering his feet. The figure turned his head and swerved through the tables and sat in the one next to Firethorn, which was shadowed by a pillar.

“Basks-In-Moonlight knows of you, and wishes you to rescue her.

Firethorn suddenly realizing the stranger was looking at him and talking to him, but it must be impossible. How could this stranger know? Was this stranger a guard that worked for the slaver who had chained him and his true love? Could this be the last minute of his life? Sitting in a tavern days away from home? The Khajiit had no choice but to talk, as the stranger was surely armed with something if he was to kill him.

The stranger shifted and spoke again.

“Basks-In-Moonlight will not tell the Khajiit’s name in public, I will use the nickname Firethorn. Firethorn is in the crossroads of decision, and you choose the path away from horror. But you leave behind Khajiit of love,” the stranger said in a hoarse, croaky voice.

The Khajiit began to cry, it was true. He was captured by a cruel Dunmer slaver and four Dunmer slaver guards. He and his girlfriend were both there gazing at the stars in love when it happened, it was so quick Firethorn didn’t know what hit him. The slavers bashed the unconscious with ebony clubs and dragged them into wooden cages stacked in a wagon. He only escaped because he used his claws to cut the rope that kept the cage together and jumped off the side into darkness. Firethorn’s lover had still been unconscious and did not escape. Her soft, perky fur was so distant right now, it made Firethorn weep with anger and sadness.

“Why do you seek Firethorn, stranger, and how does the stranger know of me?” Firethorn replied, wiping the tears from his facial fur.

“Basks-In-Moonlight works for the legion, gets paid well, sees many things. I saw you escape, Khajiit, and I know where your lover is. If you listen and trust Basks-In-Moonlight, I will do the same to you, and will help. We will help you find the lady Khajiit if you choose to take the fight,” the cloaked stranger said, boldly.

“Does Firethorn look like a fighter? Firethorn is a humble farmer, not a warrior. Firethorn cannot kill people,” the Khajiit responded, weeping more as he realized he was telling the stranger he did not have the courage to face the slavers.

“You may not have the courage, but does the Khajiit have the love? Does Firethorn want to be able to love the other Khajiit again? There is no other for Khajiit to be happy.” Basks-In-Moonlight questioned and declared.

“Love is something Firethorn has, but the love of the sword is different. Khajiit does not like sword, and Khajiit does not have one.” Firethorn said.

As the stranger looked on to the Khajiit, the waiter came out with a plate with three Corkbulb root portions, and a large glass of water. Firethorn paid her with four gold coins for the tip and food, and looked at it.

“Love can power the sword, and so the Lover can power the sword even more,” the stranger said again in an argonian tone this time, and appeared to have reached for something under his cloak.

Firethorn was bewildered, confused and agitated that this stranger was this persistent with him. But still, the Khajiit thought, there is hope of the rescue of my love. Firethorn picked up a piece of Corkbulb with both hands and bit, loving the spicy taste of the cooked root. He then drank some water and watched as the stranger was now clearly looking for something under his clock.

“It is up to the Khajiit whether you do so, but as gifts I present these items of use,” the cloaked person said.

Basks-In-Moonlight pulled a long black sword with runic symbols emblazed upon it, and as the stranger pulled it out more and placed it on the table, it shimmered with a white and green glow. It was now clearly a magic ebony broadsword, and Firethorn was fascinated with it. The Khajiit held the weapon and gazed at it with perplexed eyes, while the stranger took out a small cloth bag and place it on the table too.

“It is all gifts from Basks-In-Moonlight, and he hopes you use them well. Please, open the pouch,” Basks-In-Moonlight said,

The orange furred Khajiit obeyed, and opened the bag to reveal 92 gold pieces and a small note with Basks-In-Moonlight’s signature. It read as the following:

“Dear Rothwall,

The holder of this note, Firethorn, is the one who I request you give the imperial chain, bonemold tower shield and the horse. Give them to him and let him go on his quest.

Signed,
Basks-In-Moonlight”


Firethorn was absolutely stunned, he could not figure out why this stranger insisted on helping him. But as amazed and dumbfounded as he was he now realized he had to do what this stranger insisted. He had to rescue his lover, his one hope of a happy life again.


“I will fight as best I can, but what if I fail? What if my lover Khajiit never sees our home again?” the Khajiit asked.

“I have faith in Khajiit that the gods will help; Firethorn shall succeed and find a happy, honest life. You must go now, Rothwall waits for you at the stables next door,” the stranger said, as he stood up.

The cloaked figure finally left, and Firethorn saw what he thought was a silvery Argonian tail slip from under his cloak.

Firethorn was now almost certain this was a miracle of the gods, and finally took the last bite of his Corkbulb and the last sip of his water. The Khajiit took the sword and slid it in his belt, put the gold in his pouch and held the note in his furry hand. Firethorn then left the tavern and headed next door.

In this stable, the Khajiit found a taller cloaked figure standing next to a horse with the reins in his sleeves.

“Hand me the note” the new stranger said in a male Nordic voice.

Firethorn obeyed and handed him it and awaited his response.

“Good, take this cuirass and shield and put it on. The plantation you seek is west of here, a twenty minute gallop. Take this horse, let her guide you and rescue your lover” the new stranger said, and then he walked out and disappeared into the shadows of the street.

From there Firethorn equipped himself, and sat on the light brown horse. But as soon as he gripped the reins the horse ran at full speed west without command, and the Khajiit was astounded at the horse’s speed. The horse’s mane blew back and forth with each wide step, and the Khajiit’s fur tingled and bent back from the oncoming wind. Even his tail would flop back and hit the horse’s smooth grey tail until it halted at a gate.

“This must be the place,” Firethorn whispered to himself, and got off the horse which stood perfectly still.

The mystified Khajiit pushed the open wooden gate open, revealing a farm full of newly planted corkbulb and ripe green Marshmerrow. Firethorn pushed through the plants and made his way to the torch-lit building that sat in the middle of the huge farm. He approached the door and knocked soundly using a metal ring attached, and footsteps were heard coming through the house. Finally after a few minutes a Dunmer clothed in an exquisite blue shirt and extravagant tan pants answered, with an ebony long sword in hand.

“What do you want Khaj….. IT’S YOU! “The Dunmer asked and then turned into a rage, after realizing the one Khajiit that stood before him was the one that escaped and that cost him thousands of gold pieces.

The two began to fight, their swords clinging and clanging and Firethorn’s shield being bashed, but both of their fatigues did not last long. As they reached the climax of the battle, both swords clashed and stuck in a perfect “x” in the air.

“You N’wah! I will make you pick roots for the rest of your life naked and covered in bugs!” the Dunmer yelled.

But the Khajiit had courage now, and with all his might he glided his sword down the Dunmer’s, slashing his arm with his sword. In an instant the sword that was given to the Khajiit glowed white as a cloud of green mist came out of the slaver’s wound. The Dunmer yelled in pain, but his yells grew fainter as if he was drunk or used moonsugar, and plopped to the ground dead, face first in the soil. Seconds later as the Khajiit searched the body and found the slave key; four guards of the plantation came and viewed the site. But none of them stayed when they saw the sword of the Khajiit glow with the brightest white, brighter then the moons themselves.

Firethorn, now anxious to find his love entered the house, and look thoroughly through it to find the slaves locked in the basement. After opening the lock and removing the bracers, Firethorn found his lover sitting in a corner, smiling with her tail swaying back and forth. She was identified as she looked exactly like Firethorn, except female.

“Firethorn come to rescue! Firethorn is the man for Khajiit,” said the female Khajiit in a loud and excited voice.

Firethorn continued to try to open the lock but the Khajiit took her arm closer to her face, forcing his head closer, and they kissed. As the love of the two was released through their lips of fur, the lock released the fell to the floor with the key. From there they took the horse and rode back to the tavern, to feed his hungry lover.


When they got there, they ordered the biggest and most expensive meal consisting of deer meat, Cyrodilic brandy and the finest breads. They bought enough and shared with everyone in the tavern in celebration, even the workers, and all cheered with kindness and compassion. But then Firethorn spotted the waiter who served him while he spoke to the stranger. He wondered who the stranger was and wanted to ask her to see if she knew.

“Sir have you been drunk the whole time? You were sitting there with yourself and you pulled those items from your own cloak! Cloaked man in the stables next door? Those stables have been locked for weeks and there is no access inside, as the owner died. Truly you should not drink so much!” the waitress replied, chuckling, while sipping some Flin.


And so the two lover Khajiits rejoined each other and returned to their home with peace and much love in mind, still bewildered by who had contacted Firethorn that night.


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Konji
post Aug 28 2005, 11:03 PM
Post #2


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Joined: 24-May 05
From: Behind you!



I like it. One of the things that really bugged me...

The Khajiit walked in, nervous, trembling with hope, that this town wasn’t a slaver town.

The Khajiit walked in, nervous and trembling with hope, that this town wasn’t a slaver town.

I think the latter is a better idea.



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Wurlon
post Aug 31 2005, 10:26 PM
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Joined: 25-August 05
From: Pennsylvania, United States



QUOTE(Konradude @ Aug 28 2005, 07:03 PM)
I like it. One of the things that really bugged me...

The Khajiit walked in, nervous, trembling with hope, that this town wasn’t a slaver town.

The Khajiit walked in, nervous and trembling with hope, that this town wasn’t a slaver town.

I think the latter is a better idea.
*


Hmm didn't notice that, grr should have edited it one more time before submission ehehe. Thank you very much for reading though ! laugh.gif

I hope it can get in.. I tried my best (....) I think I screwed up about 80% of it, as the dialogue was too fast and introducing that way can get a little messy.

What I really wanted was this to be one of those nice little red square books, or put it over a few of them as it's a little long, but WHAT would really be cool is if they have a sketch of a khajiit to place on the front page of the book after the title, that would be sweet.....

This post has been edited by Wurlon: Aug 31 2005, 10:32 PM


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