18+ The Plain Gate

[Balomew]

12th of Sun's Height 4E 201
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The terra-cotta Suthay took the hilt of the sword hesitantly, setting her bow and drawn arrow on the ground beside the giant, looking downwards at the unfamiliar one-hander. She turned her head up and looked straight at Baroth, her grip tightening around the hilt. "Thank you," she told him, her voice lowered to keep the conversation private. The quiver she felt in her bones was not present in her voice. Straining to avoid embarrassing herself, she turned toward the giant and walked around its curled body until she was facing its head, sideways with one side to the ground.

She crouched and looked across at it, as it looked across at her. She wasn't sure if Baroth was watching, or Tsee-Keth for that matter. She found herself wanting to say something. She leveled the blade at its eye and paused, considering her words. The giant might have had a reason for attacking her kin, but she didn't much care. She had heard a story outside the gates that a particular clan held an intense dislike for the scent of skooma. Atahbah had been struggling to stay off of the potent drug; perhaps it had sensed this and gone wild, or perhaps there was another reason.

Regardless of it, she did not respect its actions, how quickly it turned to mass violence, even if it had no control over itself. "No more," she told the creature, shoving the blade into its eye, turning her face away as she did so. She felt the sword push through layers of flesh and other organic material; it sent a shiver through her spine that spiked the fur on the back of her neck. And then she drove it back out again, and got to her feet, not daring to look at the wound. She walked up to Baroth, holding out the sword as he had done for her, as the he breathing of the massive humanoid behind her slowed and then ceased altogether.

 

[fellowknight]

Baroths eyes lingered on the massive limp body sprawled out before him then shifted to Khamundar, holding the hilt out to him as he'd done to her.

When he took the hilt into one hand, he wrapped the other on Khamundars hand and nodded over his shoulder.

"Lad's weak." he regarded her friend, teetering on the edge of death. "Go to him. I'll meet you and Tsee at the inn later."

He looked over her shoulder, at the deceased giant. "I got a little work to do."

With that he patted her shoulder and brushed past her, stepping over the giant and kneeling by his head. He murmured something, an old passing prayer, and rose to his feet.

The groans of the wounded were more important than burying the giant, however, so Baroth would have to focus on that first.

He didn't know if the others were helping, but he did what comforting he could as he moved down the line of catawaling men, both kinsmen and suthay alike.

 

[Balomew]

12th of Sun's Height 4E 201
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At the mention of her 'friend,' Khamundar turned, remembering Ma'randru-jo. Khayla was crouched next to him, the dark-furred Suthay-raht's earrings gleaming in the sunlight. She seemed unharmed and was speaking to Ma'randru-jo, a tremble in her voice that spoke of emotion. Khamundar did not recognize any parting words, so she turned and set about to finding Ri'saad and Atahbah, who had likely run off and might not be fond of returning if Khamundar's suspicion of her role in this was true.

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

Tsee-Keth saw the two part after Baroth's sword was returned, Baroth going to help his wounded brothers-in-arms, and Khamundar presumably going to find her caravan. Against his better judgement, he set off after the khajiit.

Reaching her and matching her stride, he looked around, searching for other cats around. "Kitties know more people can find more people, right?" he offered, as explanation.

 

[Balomew]

12th of Sun's Height 4E 201
​

"Yes," Khamundar replied, decided not to respond to the nickname he had, like many others before him, given to her people. "But wounded natives are more important to these people." Even if the caravan was allowed inside the city - an impossibility - they still would have likely been attacked by the giant. If Atahbah had gotten her hands on skooma, she might be the cause of Ri'saad's death. Khamundar had liked the old cat and hoped against better judgement that he was still alive. She did not want to spend her first full day in the city in mourning of a man that nobody else knew. "Can this one help? This one is looking for a brown-furred Khajiit, very stealthy, wears heavy armor."

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

"So, a strong kitty cat? With soft feet? Sounds fun," he replied sarcastically. "Where would Tsee-Keth go, if he was hiding from a giant?" He began peeking up trees, trying to spot a twitching tail, a glint of armor, anything.

"Hmm... no hiding if there is no cover, yes? Tsee-Keth can burn the trees! Would that work?"

 

[fellowknight]

"Easy lad-"

"Aggh! Gods damnit!" he squirmed uncontrollably when the burly kinsman tied a knot around the gushing wound.

"Now then," he placed the guards hand over the gash and pressed it down firmly. "Keep pressure on that until the potions or Farengar arrive. Dont fall asleep, eh? Hate to have to slap you awake on my next round."

With a smack on the shoulder, Baroth rose and combed through the lot, weeding out the wounded and stabilizing them to his best ability. Some begged for death, that instant escape from the pain. Others were too weak to fight their impending demise and simply gave in. A few gathered enough strength sit up and resist the urge to fall over.

Baroth, however, had gone completely mind-numb to the suffering men around him, his hands stained with blood that wasnt his own. He had millennium after millennium to experience the same thing over and over, but that never meant he was used to it. He honestly didn't think anyone could.

Tsee-Keth had left with Khamundar a few minutes past, likely in search of the Suthay's caravan and in hopes of any survivors; he couldn't blame her, had he been in her position, he'd have done the same. Though he partially expected them to stick around and help out.

Thankfully, not a few moments later, an escort of guards lead Farengar down the path with a satchel of, presumably, potions and herbs. Undoubtedly the buffoon would want samples and explanations, but he, and his less-than-masculine satchel, was a damn good sight.

 

[Balomew]

OOC
​

Not even close to a good post from me. I guess I'm a bit preoccupied. It'll be better in the future.

12th of Sun's Height 4E 201
​

Khamundar looked on with a balance of cold amusement and slight irritation. "Atahbah is not a dagi or dagi-raht, scaled one."
"Khamundar?" A Suthay-raht with brown fur darker at the crest of her head approached from deeper within the forest, her yellow eyes dulling as the sun touched them. Her jaw was firmly locked in place, and Khamundar could almost feel her trembling. She could smell the faint scent of skooma masked by dirt, and could tell that Atahbah had not yet taken the drug. "This one is sorry, this one ran off when the fighting started.."
"Calm down," Khamundar told her, "and tell this one to her face where the skooma is."
"Skooma?" Atahbah questioned.
"This one will squeeze it out of Atahbah if she has to. This one does not care where Atahbah got it. Just tell her," Khamundar pressed. Atahbah looked right back into Khamundar's eyes, stubborn and willful - and then sighed.
"This one is standing right next to it," she said, motioning to the tree trunk at Tsee-Keth's feet. She lifted up a bout of moss and revealed a small satchel with a bulge inside boasting a potion. "This one could not bear to be without it.. Khajiit surely must understand."
"Ri'saad may be dead because of you. Go find him and if this one returns empty handed, Atahbah will have nowhere to go," she responded.
"Right away!" Atahbah responded, running off to the farm field immediately without looking back.
Khamundar picked up the satchel and shook her head. "Let's head back."

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

Tsee-Keth was surprised to see Khamundar's reaction to the skooma. Kitty does not like skooma? he wondered. As they headed back to Baroth, Tsee-Keth couldn't help but cast sidelong glances at the Khajiit, trying to size her up.

Finally, he worked up the nerve to ask what was bugging him. "Kit..." he began, but stopped himself, "Khamundar... why do you not like skooma? Tsee-Keth has heard many tales of the addiction your kin have. Are you alone, in despising it?"

 

[Balomew]

12th of Sun's Height 4E 201​

"No," was her short reply. "It is as common in some cities as moon-sugar is in Torval - but it is not moonsugar. This one has seen the effect it has on Khajiit experienced with age." What she had seen scared her. She didn't want to see more of it, and she didn't want to talk more about it than she'd have to. She looked at Tsee-Keth. "There is more to Elsweyr than most here think."​

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

Tsee-Keth mulled over her response as they walked. Perhaps not all Khajiit were what people made of them. His limited experience with them before now was back in the bandit camp. One of those rare Khajiit who came up this far north, seeking shelter that didn't have furry inhabitants. He had been a good guy, if a bit reclusive. Though Tsee-Keth had seen the Khajiit eating moon-sugar and drinking skooma a number of times, he wasn't as crazed as many stories said. If not for the stampeding mammoths, months before Orvar had killed the Chief, Tsee-Keth might have made a friend of him.

"Maybe there is, Kha... maybe there is."

 

[Balomew]

12th of Sun's Height 4E 201
​

"There is," Khamundar insisted bluntly, unaware of Tsee-Keth's internal conflict. Approaching the area where the giant was slain, a thought coming to her that had to be interacted with as soon as she could, which was now. "What this one said in the inn.." she began, speaking before she had mentally worded her words. "This one understands. A tribe is family no matter what. But action matters. This one should not forget the tribe, but do not linger. Khajiit has no tribe, and perhaps to those that do this is a confusing trait." She saw Baroth and walked towards him, taking notice of a tall robed man carrying potions and a dark satchel. "The people here are not ours, but they can be." She looked at Tsee-Keth again. She had not spoken as much since she met Ri'saad. Perhaps the Argonian had some heart in him after all. She did not know why she cared, and took care to convince herself that it wasn't for him. She had spent too long near city areas, perhaps it was time to explore the ruins she had been initially so interested in. Especially now that she had access to the city.

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

"The people here are not ours, but they can be."

He stopped in place, grinding the gears in his head over her statement. "But... humans hate Tsee-Keth. And Kha, too, right? Why we care, if they don't? Safe behind tall walls, humans need no one else. With Chief, needed guards, so Tsee-Keth was welcome, same as Do'Khujo. Humans have guards, they not need Tsee-Keth. Why stay, and get beaten for scales?" Tsee-Keth was trying to understand what she meant, but it escaped him entirely. "Tsee-Keth better off watching for sabres and wolves, not swords and daggers."

 

[Balomew]

12th of Sun's Height 4E 201
​

"This one does not know, but Argonians are not kept out of Nord cities like Khajiit are. Ask Baroth," Khamundar responded. She was less concerned about being skinned and more wary of hostility. Tsee-Keth had a point - behind their walls, the Nords didn't need anyone else but themselves, and though that might be for the better for them, it gave off an aura of inhospitably to other races. Regardless of their reasons, she was a Khajiit, so she found a problem with their ways even if they were technically right.

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

"Tsee-Keth does not want to be in cities, anyways. Not enough water. Only pools there have skeletons and dying fishes. Why would Kha want dry land? Bad for scales, er, fur for Kha. Water and freedom drive life, why would Kha abandon it for walls filled with hate?" He slapped his tail against the ground, indicating his displeasure. She knows nothing, he thought, bandits can be bad, but they accept all. Cities? No. He turned away, and walked off to find a stream to fish in. "Tsee-Keth will return," was all he said.

 

[Balomew]

12th of Sun's Height 4E 201​

Khamundar shook her head at the mention of dry land. She supposed that it made sense that an Argonian would not understand the lure of a land without water. Torval was known for its rains and floods, but she doubted that it parred with the marshes of the Argonian homeland. Water kept the land alive, to a point, but to her it was the people that made it home. She watched as Tsee-Keth walked off, the confusion clear on her face. She turned and walked up to Baroth, moving aside as the robed elf walked pushed past her. "Sorry about that. This one would help, but Khajiit does not know about healing here." She glanced in the direction that Tsee-Keth had stormed off to. "This one may have ticked off Tsee-Keth?" she added.

 

[fellowknight]

"Sorry about that. This one would help, but Khajiit does not know about healing here." which was fine, being Farengar had brought himself along with the calvary. Fool would probably want details of the whole experience, start to finish, but the lads were getting healed and that's what mattered.

"This one may have ticked off Tsee-Keth?" she admitted.

"Something tells me that wouldn't have been too hard. Lad's probably still wavering on a lot of things." he paused a moment. "I hope he's not thinking of drowning himself. That stream is far too shallow." he joked dryly.

He swept a glance over the battlefield, then to the giant, and back to Khamundar. "There's plenty of work here that needs doing. Your people are worse for wear, scattered. I understand if you want to help them. In any case, a rendezvous at the Mare should do us all some good. All in good time."

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Meanwhile, I've got a giant to bury. Excuse me." he stated briefly, turning to the chunky oversized behemoth.

A job most would dread, and properly should for that matter, but Baroth wasnt exactly most nor normal. If he were, Shor would've put his bones to rest ages ago; he certainly had a practical sense of humor, along with his outstanding patience.

Rolling his shoulders and sighing audibly, Baroth hooked a hand in the giants makeshift hide gauntlet and draped his shield over the opposite shoulder, dragging the giant body behind him at a slow but steady pace. He avoided as many small rock as possible and kept an eye out for lingering wolves.

If there were two things he could note from past experience, it'd be giants weren't fond of their dead kin, and wolves loved the extra meat.

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

Tsee-Keth had needed to blow off steam, so he'd spent the better part of an hour fishing in the stream. Finally, when he felt rejuvenated, he climbed out, and piled his caught fish into a burlap bag, heading back for Whiterun.

Once Tsee-Keth reached the gates, he entirely suspected that the guards wouldn't allow him entry, given his heritage and initial entrance to the city. However, they simply looked at him a moment, and opened the gates, standing aside to give him a respectful berth.

What is this? he wondered, as he cautiously moved deeper into the city. Hmph. Tall one keep his promise, then? Making his way to the market, Tsee-Keth sought out the local fisherman, but ended up selling it to some Bosmer hunter. Walking away with 20 gold for the dozen, Tsee-Keth climbed the steps to the Mare, and stepped into the warmth.

 

[Nocte Aeterna]

(OOC: I be back, yeah?)

Thunk.

The deer cried out in panic as the arrow quickly burrowed into its left flank. Orvar’s aim was off by a bit; if the beast hadn’t jolted in place a split-second before the hungry Nord let the projectile slip, it would have instead found the heart, the original intended target. Cursing silently, Orvar remained in a squatted position, determined not to let his prey get away even though it was already scampering off as a direct result of pain and confusion.

In its wounded state, however, the deer was experiencing difficulty. Its hooves met the ground with ease, but the steps were labored and uneven, and the animal’s respiration rate had nearly doubled. Orvar seized the opportunity and withdrew another steel arrow from his quiver. He took aim at one of the mobile hind legs and inhaled sharply.
Thunk.

Orvar’s meal cried out as its knees buckled and gave way in unison. It crumpled to the muddy ground in a heap, paralyzed and helpless. Satisfied, Orvar withdrew one of his short axes and approached the fallen deer.

--------------------

Several hours later, the sun was beginning its descent to the bottom of the horizon line, coating the sky in a lurid gold. Orvar, with a full belly in tow, decided to make the long trek back to Whiterun. The ice wraiths from his earlier assignment had been subdued posthaste, and although he wasn't expecting a princely sum for his efforts, he nonetheless desired for the spoils of his victory to be thrust into his waiting palm.

He passed Whiterun's outer parapets just as the sky gave way to pink. Dusk had arrived; the many low spires of the city's external defenses suddenly became aglow with their usual evening braziers. The torches oft served as a reminder to bandits, political foes, and general rabble-rousers alike that the settlement was not one to be trifled with.

When he reached the top of the hill, the gates opened without delay; evidently, the city guard cared naught for formalities when nearing the end of their shifts. Orvar didn't blame them.

His final destination, of course, was the Bannered Mare yet again. He strode briskly through the city, but decided to make a brief diversion to the marketplace. Shops would be closing within the hour.

There was a bevy of people there, mostly crowded around the stands that belonged to well-funded merchants such as Fralia Gray-Mane and Carlotta Valentia. Had Orvar not been on a successful hunt today, he would have bought meat from Anoriath, a Bosmer, and a fellow hunter. But meat seldom travelled well. Best caught fresh, Orvar always surmised.

After several moments of pondering, he decided to make his way back to the Bannered Mare earlier than he had intended. His gold would probably be there, and with it, a decent mug.

 

[Wauten Dayhil]

(OOC I hope someone's here before Tsee-Keth and Orvar)

Tsee-Keth looked up from his mug to see Orvar walking through the door. "Swift-Sole..." he growled, quietly calling a fireball to his hand, and doing his best to remain unseen. He had to make this quick, for his honor, and so nobody could get in the way again. Hopefully he could kill Orvar and flee before the guards could be called.

Slowly, the fire in his hand built up, getting more powerful and harder to control as it grew in size. Finally, with his fireball ready, Tsee-Keth leapt to his feet, knocking his chair over and taking aim at Orvar.