The Adventures of Dar A’jiro a Kahjiit's Tale

a fan-fic from the Elder Scrolls games based on my character in Skyrim.

It is the 5E 325 Imperial City Cyrodiil; it’s a routine morning being shackled by the guards and drug off to the jail. “Oh the life of a thief.”

 Luckily I hid a pick in my shoe under my foot, the jail locks are the easiest to pick. I’m sitting in the cell and according to procedure I’m to be processed, this entails the Warden coming in and asking me all these pointless questions and tell me why I’m here. “And right on cue.” I smile to myself.

“Alright. Name?” he asks

“Dar A’jiro” I respond shortly irritated by all the formalities. He writes down my name in his book and looks up and says, “Khajiit, okay; what are you in for?”

“Theft and assault.” I say plain out. Then he looks up quizzically.

“Theft you say? You wouldn’t happen to be the one who stole the emperor’s ring?”

A huge smile creeps across my lips showing my fangs. “Why yes, that was me.” I tell him; he smiles and nods then lands a blow to my stomach. I should have seen that coming. I’m on my knees and I feel some liquid on my head, I look up to see him wiping his mouth. I then go to lunge at him but another guard hits me with the pommel of his sword, my vision wavers then the darkness takes me.

I wake up in a dark room with a fan blowing in the corner. I look around and of course they have me chained down in a cell. But something is different, the floor is rising and falling. A boat? They have me on a boat. I stand up as much as I can and I focus my energy into the locks and they fall open with a small snap. “HAHA! I love magic.” Since lock picks are fragile I try and save them until I have no more magica left in me. I glance out a crack in the wooden hull to see where I might be. Wait. A wooden hull? They haven’t used wood since my uncle was in the great Skyrim Civil War. So, is it an old boat? I look around in my cabin, it appears to be fairly new if not it was well taken care of. The door locks look a little more complicated but still doable. I focus my energy back into the tumblers of the lock and I slowly will the mechanism to turn. With a quiet click the door swings free. I go directly to a porthole and I look over the imperial city of Cyrodiil. “S**T!” I’m in deeper than I thought. Once in the city I’m on my own. The guild has no power there. The Thalmor routed us out before they tried to take Skyrim. “Alright gents lets go get our guest.” In a panic I look around for a weapon, anything. I spy a small butter knife on the table. Just as I go for it they come through the door and see me on the move. With no time to retrieve my weapon I lash out with a stream of mage fire. I was careless, a wooden hull, so careless. I manage to dispatch only two of the guards. I run above deck as the others were distracted by the flames. Something looks a bit off. Instead of the tops of the waves and the classy reflection off the water I see the tops of buildings and the imperial tower right ahead.

“How are we flying? What kind of magic is this?” flames start to lick my boots. Panic sets in again overpowering my sense of awe. A sharp pain sears through my head and the world goes dark. The next thing I know, the sounds of chains and screaming people come careening through my ears into my consciousness and launching me back to reality. I blink the world into focus and I survey my surroundings. Dank, dark, the smell of feces and urine. All familiar smells at this point, but things are different this time around. I feel magic, but not quite magic. Bound maybe? Enchanted? I crane my head around to see the shackles. Just as I thought, they were warded against magics and my shoes are gone. For the first time in years I felt the feeling of helplessness and defeat. The door opens and a tall Imperial walks through the opening. “Well, well, well… what in Talos’ name do we have here?” he lifts my head by my chin to look in my eyes. I open them quickly and the sudden burst of light makes my eyes shine and slit. I let loose a low growl and show my claws. He recoils quickly and the stench of fear fills the room. I back into the shadows so just the gleam of my eyes are visible. I see him turn to the guard clad in elven style armor and whisper, “So that is a Khajiit. I haven’t seen one in the city before.”

“That is because you through them all out of the city, saying that they are all marauders, murderers and thieves.”

“Well one of those are correct, more or less.” I say from the shadows. “The only time we murder is if we are in dire situations. The marauding is only for the ones who have strayed.”

My eyes still focused on him I step back forward and ask, “What is your name Imperial?”

He looks at me with genuine shock at my abruptness. “Captain Duniianus Baeiant, of Cyrodiil.” He responds with his bearings back. “And you are hence forth my prisoner and charge Khajiit. I suggest you get used to a different life now.”

I smirk and think to myself, “How hard could these cells be to get out of?”

I am finally alone in my cell and begin to pace trying to think of ways to get the locks loose so I can escape. I focus my vision and the dark spaces become as light as if there was a full moon shining upon open ground. Nothing, not even a bone I could rub down and shape into a pick. It’s like they clean the cells after each occupant. “Well this is unfortunate.” I say to myself patronizingly. One of the other prisoners has been staring at me for well over an hour now and in utter annoyance with myself and him I decide to see what he wants. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” I hiss loudly.

“The same thing you want. Freedom. I’m in here by mistake, someone from the thieves’ guild raped and murdered my daughter and wife. I went to confront a known affiliate of theirs out in the market district and he attacked me.” He looks like he is deep in a painful thought.

“So what happened then?” I responded still with an edge to my voice.

“Then I killed him. I didn’t know that he was a guard masquerading as a thief.” He lightly taps his head against the bars on the cell. “If you are in that cell then you must be able to use magic pretty well. That’s where they keep the wizards, sorcerers, mystics or what have you. The restraints are warded from magics.” He looks at me then at my clawed feet, “why did they take your shoes though? That’s been bothering me since you got here.”

“I am also proficient with lock picks.” I knew instantly as soon as the words left my mouth that it was a mistake.

“Lock picks? So you’re a thief?!” The rage in his voice made the fir on the back of my neck stand on end.

I quickly backpedaled “Only if the money is right, and I only steal from royalty or the nobles.”

It’s too late, the damage is done and he has turned his back on me. Alone again I run my hands against the wall and I feel one of the bricks wiggle. Curious I pull it out and there sits an opening to the court yard. We are only about 10 meters from the ground, high enough that it would break a regular man’s legs, but Khajiit are more nimble than the average person. I look on the make shift sill and see a worn down, rusty knife used to spread butter on a roll.

Just then I hear yelling and slamming noises coming from down the way, I slip the brick back in its spot and sit back against the wall quietly and begin tapping the bars on the cell with my foot. A guard approaches my cell and looks at me with a look that only troubled souls could possibly emulate. He opens the door to my cell and steps on the slacked chains and brings his other foot swiftly across my head. With blood dripping from my mouth I look back with the look of revenge blazing. “I will deal with you before I leave this place, mark my words.” He scoffs and turns away, after he closes the cell door and locks it I take a glance at the key. “Hm, still using the old skeleton keys huh?” well it will be easy to get the door open then. Not moments later the door opens again and this time I am pushed out the door and forced by sword point down the corridor. All the inmates bow their heads as I walk past and the entire floor is eerily quiet.

I’m pushed out side and into a grassy area. The alcove is surrounded on three sides by tall walls, on top of which sits a heavy ballista and 15 crossbowmen, the Captain steps forward and addresses the guards, “If any of them try an escape, shoot them where they stand.” With all of them nodding their understanding of orders they stand at the ready. Against the back wall where they are leading my I see some other prisoners, Dunmer, Argonian, Orc, and a burly Nord stand with their backs against the wall. Once I’m in place I see 5 more guards close the gap next to the Captain armed with slings and a big pouch at their sides that look rather full and heavy.

“All of you are new here. You would only be sent here if you have committed the gravest of crimes. So let me welcome you to the last place you will ever step foot again, the Imperial Penitentiary.” And with that the guards loaded the slings and loosed them on us. They didn’t look that heavy, but as they landed the balls they threw were solid iron about the size of a fist, and weighing easily 5 pounds. After the first impact I don’t remember much, but the next morning I could hardly move.

“Honestly Captain these people can’t take that kind of punishment! Their bodies can’t handle it!”

“Just mend the bones Doctor, do your job.” He says as I hear the door slam shut.

With a lot of discomfort I roll over and look, “the infirmary, this is good. I can manage this.” I think to myself and wince with a little bit of pain radiating out of my chest. Being Khajiit I have the natural ability to heal quickly, not as fast as the Argonian but still faster than the Nord or the Orc. I sit up and look around, “I need to leave.” I tell him.

“No, you need to rest, you heal remarkably fast but you’re not healed all the way yet.”

The Argonian looks over at me and just watches for a moment before speaking. “Where did you come from Khajiit?” the thoughts of home suddenly made me feel sick to my stomach. Images of vast savannah, rolling sand dunes, and lush jungle race through my mind. “Morrowind.” I respond, hoping he doesn’t see through my lie.

“Ah Morrowind. I miss that place, more opportunities there.” He shoots me a wink and leans back.

“Opportunities for what?” I inquire genuinely intrigued.

“You will see soon enough.”

I am totally thrown off and confused now, I shake my head and lay back. I jump, startled by a loud noise and nearly fall off of my bed. “What was that?!” I look over my shoulder and the doctor is out cold with the Argonian standing above him.

“Come! This way!” He starts out of the room and down the hall, stopping at each cell and undoing the lock.

“What are you doing?! They will kill us!”

“Then we better move fast Khajiit!” before long I’m on his heels and we hand the key off to one of the freed prisoners.

“I need my gear, where is the evidence locker?” the Argonian points down a narrow hallway that opens up to the barracks. “Great, sleeping solders.” I begin walking down the hall, crouched for stealth. There were 15 beds lined up along the walls and the chest sat in the middle of the room. Luckily enough there were only two or three guards, and possibly a pillow dressed to look like a guard in the beds. “This will be easy.” I think to myself. I get to the locker and find that it’s open already and all my gear is still there including the Emperor’s ring. The leather armor and light chainmail are a comforting feeling in my hands. By the time I have it my gear on and sliding my last dagger into place the roar of free prisoners reach the room. Now stealth doesn’t matter, I take off at a dead run out the door into the melee. I strap on my bag as tight as I can get it. Being shoved about on all sides is unpleasant enough but dodging swords, bolts, and bullets makes it almost impossible to maneuver. I find an open window and see the Argonian in the plaza below fighting off a few guards, swinging a stick around like a makeshift staff. I notice on the tip of the staff is something glowing, and then a burst of light and heat I see a jet of flames consume the guards.

“Oh that makes sense.” I bark sarcastically, just then I am pulled back into the crowd. I whirl around and catch a guard by surprise as my heel lands solidly on his temple. I dodge a sword flying free of its wielders grasp and I grab the knocked out solder’s wallet from his pocket, and his watch. I wait for my opening as I pull a grappling hook out of my pack. “There, there is my opening!” I sprint faster than I have ever in my life. I see the window sill clear my feet and I hook the corner of the window and repel down the seven or eight meter wall. I nearly make the ground when the rope gives and I’m in free fall for the last two meters. Landing that is no problem, I see the giant lizard turn down an alley way. As I reach it I see him motion me to a manhole and he disappears down inside.

 

CHAPTER 1

We have been walking for weeks. The air has grown colder and colder, I’m used to the cold, I was born in Elsweyr and grew up mostly in Solstheim and Skyrim. This feels a lot like Skyrim weather. “Where are we going again?”

“I must get back to my mentor and tell him of what has happened in Cyrodiil.” The Argonian says. “He is the headmaster of the Mages College in Skyrim.”

“A mage, I’m traveling with a mage. Lovely.” I sigh to myself. I’ve had a bad experience with mages in the past. One tried to turn me into a newt, another tried to poison me with a potion she made. That last one I kind of deserved, I spied on her a lot. Anyway, another story for another time. I look up the trail a ways and see a scouting party coming down the road. “So, will you tell me your name yet?”

“All in due time my impatient friend.” A smug look drapes over his face.

The group stops just at the bottom of the hill that we are approaching and I see them grab through a pack and pull out a piece of paper.

“I think we have been made Scales.” Just then a carriage drives right through the group making them move. Seizing the moment we both jump into the bush and run down a shallow hill headed for woods and caves. We reach the timberline and I see movement in the shadows along the tree line. I focus my eyes to see past the shadows and reveal the entity beyond. “Bosmer are in the trees, shouldn’t we turn?” I begin to unsheathe my blades when a crossbow bolt whirls past my ear and I hear a deep thud behind me. “They don’t like the imperials much do they.” I say sarcastically, while my traveling companion hisses with laughter. We arrive in the trees, met with bows trained on us.

“Who are you that the imperials hunt so tirelessly?”

The Argonian looks into the elf’s eyes and tells him, “I am master Ineeme of Winterhold.” And with that he set a show of mage light, proving that he is a mage.

“And you?” he looks at me.

I coolly slip my hand around my hilt. “Dar A’jiro, at your service.” I ceremoniously bow my head to him. I see Ineeme let out a sigh of relief and smile. “May we find some place warmer to resupply?” I inquire. He motions behind him and we follow in step. We both know enough Bosmer traditions not to ask his name in return, it is rude and they will refuse to help us at that point. If he wishes is to know his name he will tell us. We walk to the caves and find an entire regiment occupying the interior of the cave. Some engravings catch my eye they say “LONG LIVE MOLAG BAL.” down the banner,

“Ineeme we need to leave. Now. I don’t like the feel of this place.”

“They are cultists I know.” We whisper back and forth.

I loosen my blade and have it at the ready just in case we need to fight our way back out of the cave, but I sense no malice toward us coming from these elves. I lean in toward Ineeme and whisper. “They bear us no ill will, I feel like they are waiting for someone, or something else.”

“Still better to be prepared my friend we will only stay to catch our breath and leave again.”

I take out my pocket watch and spin it in my hand as I begin counting steps and memorizing the layout of the caves. It is a lot longer once inside than the exterior leads on. Well lit by mage light, the passage ways are distinct enough that I could find my way back out in a rush.

“Excuse me sir, but where precisely are we? It feels like Skyrim outside but the land scape is unfamiliar to me.”

The procession stops and all the Bosmer look back at me. “The Morrowind Empire.” They begin to move again.

By this time I know we are well beyond Cyrodiil and skirting Skyrim. “Why are we not traveling in Skyrim?” I think to myself, “I know that tensions are high still since the last invasion attempt from Cyrodiil, but could it be that bad?”

I look around and notice less and less guards are around, “Ineeme, any thoughts as to where we are going?”

He looks as though I woke him from a sleep. “Beg your pardon?” I sigh exasperatedly, “Can you sense where they are taking us? We have been walking for almost an hour now.”

A little giggle of a hiss creeps past his fangs, “Patience Kahjiit, all will be reviled in due time.” I hold back just a little, falling behind a few steps and just around the next corner I hear a dull roar; not like an animal or monster though. I begin to feel excited, these sounds are familiar to me. “A city, where are we?” I mumble to myself. The exit is in view now, the light is blinding at first but as my eyes come into focus I see a sprawling city enclosed by fanglike rocks around the city, there is one opening in this natural wall around the city and it is by the ports on the north side. “Finally people!” I say excitedly and we exit the tunnel.

 

Chapter 2

In the Center of the city is a tall structure, either the palace or a temple. I’m betting the temple. You can still see the heavy influence of the Dunmer in the architecture and even the people themselves. The sky is heavy with smog and smoke from the heavy industrializing they have done here, automatons are practically everywhere.

“Ineeme! Where are we? This is amazing!”

“Blacklight my friend, capitol of the Morrowind Empire. The Mages College has a trade agreement with them, we supply filled soul-gems and they supply us with safe passage.” Ineeme pulls out a gleaming purplish gem and hands it to the Bosmer that led us here. After some inspection he hands it back and steps aside.

“I thought the Cyrodiilic Empire destroyed all major port cities in Morrowind. How did this one survive?”

“Would you be able to find this place?” Ineeme asks with the tone of a teacher.

“I would have set sail and come around the coast.”

“BAH HAHAHA!” Ineeme bellows a laugh from deep in his gut. “Sail? In the sea of Ghosts? Are you mad?”

I look around slightly embarrassed by being made to look like a fool. “What about those ships that sail through the air?”

Ineeme stops his laughing and looks at me in shock and horror. “What did you just say?”

“I would have taken those flying ships and come over the mountains, why?”

Ineeme immediately turns around and launches from the stairs with surprising strength and speed for an Argonian. I follow and yell after him. “Ineeme! Wait up!” but he was gone. Out of site. I leap up and climb to the top of a nearby pillar that was fitted with a pulley that was used to get goods up to that level faster than carrying it up the stairs. I quiet my mind and begin an incantation for a spell of Clairvoyance, hopefully I could spot Ineeme anywhere in the city. Slowly my vision turns an ashy grey and a fiery yellow speck begins to move across the city scape and a silver smoke rises in front of me making my path clear as diamonds where to go. I follow the path up to a building not far from the docks, the trail ends here. “Where are you Ineeme?” I say to myself scanning every inch of the building. “No luck, the spell is worn off.” I walk up to a counter where a dark elf stood greeting customers. “Hello there! Welcome, are you interested in a luxury cruise?”

“No, I’m looking for an Argonian, he should have passed through here not long ago. He’s wearing a mages robe.”

“Ah! You’re referring to master Ineeme, yes he was just here. He did not say where he was going though.”

“Well what way did he travel then?!” I’m getting fed up with the secrecy at this point.

“I’m not inclined to say sir, now I must ask you to leave.” I slam a dagger into the wood of the counter before he is able to finish his sentence.

“You will tell me what way he went now. Or you will meet with a very swift end.”

He straightens up and the gleam of a wickedly serrated blade draws my attention. He draws the blade slowly and holds the point up to my throat.

“You will leave this second. Or I will be forced to cut you into ribbons.”

I hear a metallic click to my left and I see a metal tube jetting out of one of the shadowed corners of the room, upon inspecting it more I see the light glow of and explosive rune on a part that looks like a hammer. I don’t know what that is but I have a very bad feeling about it. “Fine, I will find him myself.” I look at the Dunmer as he sheaths his blade.

“Very well, thank you for your cooperation.”

I was about to say something else when I feel a huge muscular hand wrap around the back of my neck. I look back to see who it was, to my surprise it was an Orc. Of all things and Orc, dressed in overalls and a sleeveless white shirt with goggles on his forehead and soot stained face. “I believe he told you to leave.” Then I felt my feet leave the ground and I felt my back slam against something hard that gave way under the force of me being thrown back. The next thing I know I am on my back and people are laughing, and screaming. I try and stand up but the world begins to spin and I sit back down. “There you are Kahjiit! Could you keep up for once?! I charted a steam ship for Winterhold that leaves in three minutes!” he grabs my vest and pulls me up and begins to drag me behind him.