Kazahan
Apr 2nd, 2017, 02:41:54 PM
"And where is this slave of yours? It's nearly midnight and he still hasn't shown himself."
"Oh don't be such a bore. My beast may strain at his leash but he is all the more effective for the lack of punishment I dole out. He will be here."
Justiciar Andren Malwaio sneered at the woman before him, with her shaggy black hair and piercing eyes.
"Don't talk down to me. Know your place."
She smiled and stepped to the side, bowing to him. He smirked.
Conveniently, doing this also allowed her to evade the arrow that buried itself in his chest and sent him flopping back from the force of its flight. If she had not moved, the arrow would have lodged itself in her neck and perhaps even have decapitated her.
"Justiciar!"
Another arrow lanced in from the darkness surrounding them, penetrating a soldier's helm and spitting his head through before protruding out through the helm's opposite side.
She laughed, flames dancing in her hands.
"Find them!" the soldiers' commander ordered, the plume on his helmet magnificent and pompous.
Another arrow. Another death.
"There!" a voice shouted, causing the whole group to stand and look around. The pained screech coming from her left drew the remaining Altmers' attention.
"It's the Khajiit," she breathed, her eyes widening and drinking in the hulking form of the desert walker in the shadows outside the campfire, a soldier sliding off the sword he held in one hand.
"Raaaaah!" the soldiers charged, and she watched breathlessly as the Khajiit killed them all, one after another with brutal economy until the only one who remained was her. He turned to her with deadly intent, and she panted.
The war-knife dripped blood into the earth.
Flaming orbs dripped fire onto the scored earth below her.
"You've become stronger, Kazahan dear," the High Elf breathed, a manic grin spreading over her face. "Yes. Keep looking at me like that. The hate in your eyes is delicious."
He snarled, and charged, the war-knife flashing in a movement too quick for the eye to truly follow. She stepped to the side and released a fireball into his stomach. He flew, falling back over his feet and rolling a few times until he came to a rest on his back. He stared up at the stars in hazy pain until her silhouette blotted them out.
"I trust this little temper tantrum has worked itself out of your system?" she asked, a healing spell enveloping her hands. "And this is becoming predictable, you know. I'm starting to have trouble enlisting lackeys to come along when I have a mission to give you. Apparently they seem to have noticed a tendency for my companions to die violently and wish to avoid that fate."
He tried to move, but pain and magick held him still. As her magick weaved through him and his pain faded, he could feel her hands pressing against his stomach.
"I have a little favor I want you to do for me, Kazahan," she breathed, running her hands up and down his stomach and to his chest. He growled. She laughed, her voice husky, and traced her fingertips over the scars on his face. "There are rumors of fire down in Blackreach. I want you to go down there and investigate, and if possible bring evidence back to me." She bit her lip and leaned in closer. He growled louder. "I know you'll do me proud."
She pushed herself off the Khajiit and walked off. Two minutes later, the spell paralyzing him broke.
In the frigid moonlight, he left the battlefield to its silent decay.
TWO DAYS LATER
The sun gleamed on the river, creating small glowing jewels of light on the water's surface. A doe stepped to the water and drank deeply, her hooves disturbing a butterfly from its roost on a flower. The butterfly danced elegantly in the air, making its way across the river to find another perch.
It was careful to weave around the figure standing on the bridge, a dark colored and gigantic Khajiit with a bushy mane and bright gold earrings contrasting with his natural tone. He was facing the town of Riverwood, his tailed swaying languidly behind him.
"Come along, girl," Kazahan called, keeping his eyes on the guards watching him from their posts in Riverwood. "If you don't dawdle, we can make it to Whiterun before evening."
"Oh don't be such a bore. My beast may strain at his leash but he is all the more effective for the lack of punishment I dole out. He will be here."
Justiciar Andren Malwaio sneered at the woman before him, with her shaggy black hair and piercing eyes.
"Don't talk down to me. Know your place."
She smiled and stepped to the side, bowing to him. He smirked.
Conveniently, doing this also allowed her to evade the arrow that buried itself in his chest and sent him flopping back from the force of its flight. If she had not moved, the arrow would have lodged itself in her neck and perhaps even have decapitated her.
"Justiciar!"
Another arrow lanced in from the darkness surrounding them, penetrating a soldier's helm and spitting his head through before protruding out through the helm's opposite side.
She laughed, flames dancing in her hands.
"Find them!" the soldiers' commander ordered, the plume on his helmet magnificent and pompous.
Another arrow. Another death.
"There!" a voice shouted, causing the whole group to stand and look around. The pained screech coming from her left drew the remaining Altmers' attention.
"It's the Khajiit," she breathed, her eyes widening and drinking in the hulking form of the desert walker in the shadows outside the campfire, a soldier sliding off the sword he held in one hand.
"Raaaaah!" the soldiers charged, and she watched breathlessly as the Khajiit killed them all, one after another with brutal economy until the only one who remained was her. He turned to her with deadly intent, and she panted.
The war-knife dripped blood into the earth.
Flaming orbs dripped fire onto the scored earth below her.
"You've become stronger, Kazahan dear," the High Elf breathed, a manic grin spreading over her face. "Yes. Keep looking at me like that. The hate in your eyes is delicious."
He snarled, and charged, the war-knife flashing in a movement too quick for the eye to truly follow. She stepped to the side and released a fireball into his stomach. He flew, falling back over his feet and rolling a few times until he came to a rest on his back. He stared up at the stars in hazy pain until her silhouette blotted them out.
"I trust this little temper tantrum has worked itself out of your system?" she asked, a healing spell enveloping her hands. "And this is becoming predictable, you know. I'm starting to have trouble enlisting lackeys to come along when I have a mission to give you. Apparently they seem to have noticed a tendency for my companions to die violently and wish to avoid that fate."
He tried to move, but pain and magick held him still. As her magick weaved through him and his pain faded, he could feel her hands pressing against his stomach.
"I have a little favor I want you to do for me, Kazahan," she breathed, running her hands up and down his stomach and to his chest. He growled. She laughed, her voice husky, and traced her fingertips over the scars on his face. "There are rumors of fire down in Blackreach. I want you to go down there and investigate, and if possible bring evidence back to me." She bit her lip and leaned in closer. He growled louder. "I know you'll do me proud."
She pushed herself off the Khajiit and walked off. Two minutes later, the spell paralyzing him broke.
In the frigid moonlight, he left the battlefield to its silent decay.
TWO DAYS LATER
The sun gleamed on the river, creating small glowing jewels of light on the water's surface. A doe stepped to the water and drank deeply, her hooves disturbing a butterfly from its roost on a flower. The butterfly danced elegantly in the air, making its way across the river to find another perch.
It was careful to weave around the figure standing on the bridge, a dark colored and gigantic Khajiit with a bushy mane and bright gold earrings contrasting with his natural tone. He was facing the town of Riverwood, his tailed swaying languidly behind him.
"Come along, girl," Kazahan called, keeping his eyes on the guards watching him from their posts in Riverwood. "If you don't dawdle, we can make it to Whiterun before evening."