I snap awake, jolted from sleep in milliseconds as adrenaline floods my system. The feeling soon passes and I force myself to breathe evenly, free of almost all the pain. I’m dead, I must be. The impact with the wall broke my neck and dispatched me to the heavens. I glance around a welcoming wooden house with a lit hearth and plenty of food, a mighty black axe hangs from the wall opposite the bed I lie in. I chuckle, I guess I’m still alive. There wouldn’t be weapons in the heavens. Then where am I? I sit up, the thick quilt dropping to my waist, exposing my bare chest. I pull the quilt up and breathe a sigh of relief when I see I’m dressed in a pair of baggy black trousers. I don’t particularly like the fact that I was changed, but at least I'm wearing something.
I swing my legs off the bed and sit up, shocked at the absence of my bruises. Healed, cleaned, clothed. What happened? I try to stand, but I’m still wobbly and weak. I drop back onto the bed, I guess that’s to be expected. A massive pang of hunger grips my stomach, forcing a groan. When was the last time I ate? I pause, what day is it anyway? I glance around the room, finally taking in my surroundings. The room has a small bed, an end table, and a dresser. The room is fairly narrow, and has a frosted glass window on the wall opposite the open door, letting broken beams of light permeate my surroundings. I gather myself and push myself to a standing positon, grunting with the effort. Just one foot in front of the other. I stagger forwards, catching myself on the doorframe. I suck in a breath and take another step, stumbling slightly but remaining upright. I take another step, again and again until I make it out of the room. I look around the house, it’s a sprawling three-story home with a basement and a number of interesting artifacts hanging around the walls: dragon teeth, magic staves, ancient-looking swords, and intimidating midnight-black armor polished to perfection. I slowly limp over to the decorative red door and push it open. The faint early morning light greets my eyes and a gentle breeze wafts through the pleasantly warm spring air. A wide field spreads out in front of me, framing the snow-capped peaks of mountains far off in the distance.
A loud crack snaps me back to reality, was that a bow? I slowly walk around to the side of the house, where a shadowed figure stands with a black bow at full draw. The figure looses the arrow and it strikes the bull’s-eye of the furthest target. I stand at the corner of the house as the figure lands arrow after arrow on the four targets, each one a near perfect bull’s-eye.
“You can stop hiding.” I jump at the sudden noise, nearly falling over. The figure drops his stance and puts away the bow,
“I knew you were up.” I make a face and the man continues,
“I heard the door open and your shadow gives you away.” I nod, impressed yet again by this man. I open my mouth to speak, but he holds up a hand,
“I’m sure you have many questions, they will be answered. But first, please come inside with me and I’ll fix you something to eat. You must be hungry.” I nod, not arguing with food. The man prepares a meal of eggs, ham, sweet rolls, and fruit. I do my best to eat in a civil manner, but my hunger gets the better of me and I end up wolfing down my food. I wipe crumbs from the corner of my mouth,
“Sorry, I didn’t intend to be so rude. I can’t remember the last time I ate.” The man nods,
“No need to worry, you have been asleep for near a week.” My jaw drops,
“A week?”
"Yes. I didn’t expect you to get up today. My friend, you were in bad shape.” I nod,
“I suppose I owe you for more than I thought.” The man dismisses my remark with a wave of his hand,
"You owe me nothing. Especially after my people treated you in the manner they did. In fact, I think I still owe you.” My brow furrows,
"How so?” The man chuckles,
"Look at you my friend. You have no money, no armor, no weapons, you wouldn’t even have clothes if it weren’t for what you are wearing now.” I nod, embarrassed.
"Allow me to help you out a bit more and you will be free to go afterwards if you please.” I nod,
"Thank you for your kindness.” The man nods,
"Excuse me, but I have yet to learn your name. The soldiers that captured you did not provide any information.” I nod,
“My name is Dasdan Jadavi.”
"Pleasure to meet you, Dasdan.” He pauses,
“You have a strange name for a Khajiit.” I nod,
“I was born in Hammerfell, and so named by a pair of Redguards.” The man nods, not pushing further,
"My people call me by many names: Legate, Harbinger, but I’m sure you have heard the most common.”
"Dovakiin,” I supply. The man nods,
"Yes.” I feel like I should be surprised, but after seeing the shouting match between him and the dragon I can easily understand.
“My real name is Aventus.”
"It is an honor to meet you, sir.” Aventus smiles,
"No need to go all formal on me boy. I am a friend, not a lord.”
“After you defeated the dragon, what happened?” Aventus sits back, dim light framing his face. He’s older than me, probably in his late-thirties with a kind, chiseled face, short black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a friendly smile marred by a long, twisting scar traveling from the left cheek, across the mouth and down to his Adam’s apple. He still retains a youthful spark and his body has grown powerful from all his battles.
"Ah, that is a bit of a story isn’t it? Our battle destroyed the great porch and when the smoke cleared, there were still Stormcloaks to be executed. The Jarl, or the ruler of the hold, decided to have the traitors thrown in the dungeon until a proper execution could be held. Whiterun’s guards can be racist at times and felt it unnecessary to keep you alive. I stepped in and stopped that nonsense, rather easily convincing them you were a traveler and not a Stormcloak. The only reason you were captured in the first place was the blue scarf you had on, which is hardly evidence, it wasn’t even the right color, too dark. Not to mention you had on foreign armor, and carried foreign weapons. Naturally, the men argued, especially since you did fight back. From what I gathered, that is. I explained that a foreigner may not know of the Imperial army’s foothold in Skyrim and when a man attacks said foreigner, they are bound to fight back. There was a fair amount of arguing and I had to pull rank and threaten a particularly racist guard. Afterwards, I took you to the temple, where alchemists and healers did their best to patch you up. Lucky enough, you didn’t lose any teeth. When the healers finished, we boarded a carriage and rode to my home. That was five days ago.” I nod,
"What became of my things?” Aventus sighs,
"I do not know. Your weapons have been taken and most likely sold. We’ll have to get you replacements. As for your armor, I can assume you don’t want to wear anything tattered and bloodstained.” I nod, shoulders drooping,
"Was anything recoverable?” Aventus nods,
"Yes, a dragon claw necklace.” My ears perk up,
"Really? Where is it?” Aventus reaches into his pocket and produces a small, ivory-coated dragon claw strung up by a thick, black necklace between two gray circular symbols. A parting gift from my now deceased parents. I slip it around my neck and clutch the claw,
“Thank you. This is one of the few things I have to keep the memory of my family alive.” Aventus nods,
"My pleasure. What is your story Dasdan?” I sigh, I was hoping to avoid that question,
“My story isn’t a heart-warming one in the slightest. I was born in Hammerfell, named by Redguards who brought me to Elsweyr, and left me in an orphanage. I spent my first couple of years in Elsweyr as an orphan. My parents found me when I was just a little cub and took me in as their own, unable to have their own children. The two of them worked at a monastery, a private school for gifted individuals that offered courses on martial arts, most notably, the Whispering Fang. It was there that I learned our history, our culture, and whatever else our mentors thought necessary to teach us. I took a particular interest in martial arts, especially the Whispering Fang, and by the time I turned twelve I was fairly adept in the discipline. I also learned the basics of archery, stealth, and of course, thieving.” I chuckle,
"I suppose that doesn’t help the stereotype.” Aventus smiles, listening intently.
“When I turned fourteen, a student contracted some disease that caused insanity. Or so I heard. He snapped one day and killed my mother and father. I got there before anyone else and…suffice it to say, my attempts to save them made me look guilty.” My voice shakes at the painful memory, my parents’ last moments brought forth once again. “I was chased from the monastery, across Elsweyr and into Cyrodiil. I found no solace there, and was chased out just the same. I eventually made it to the border of Skyrim, where…well, you know the rest.”
Aventus nods,
"How old are you my boy?”
“I am now eighteen. Hardly an adult in the eyes of the Khajiiti.”
“Do you mind if I ask why you came to Skyrim at all?” I shrug,
“It was the most difficult path to follow and it is home to many of my kind.”
"Is that all?” I shake my head,
"No, I hope that some day I will be able to prove my innocence and remove the bounty on my head. I may not be a Stormcloak, but people want me dead just the same.” Aventus nods,
"I see. Do you mind if I change the subject?” I shake my head,
“Not at all.” Aventus nods, obviously picking up how uncomfortable I am,
“There is a Khajiit caravan not far from here. Do you think they would carry what you need?” I nod, ears perking up,
"I know for a fact they do. However, they do not offer those goods to anyone, so you have to ask specifically. I must warn you, my armor set is fairly expensive.”Aventus doesn’t even flinch,
“Wealth is something I have more than enough of my boy. Would you like to go?” I nod.
"Good, there are some clothes in the dresser in your room, you are welcome to anything
you may find in there.” I nod my thanks and walk back to my room, strength already returning to my legs. I close the door behind me for privacy’s sake. I pull open the dresser and scan through the clothes, picking a long-sleeved red shirt, a pair of simple black boots, and a belt to better hold up the loose black trousers. I roll the sleeves up to my elbows and tuck the necklace under my shirt. I look into the small mirror I hadn’t noticed before. A young, athletic Khajiit stares back at me. White fur and black stripes in exactly the same pattern as a tiger, and bright green eyes. I chuckle, if I crouch down, I swear someone would mistake me for a white tiger, especially without the long hair or ear-piercings of other Khajiit. I step out of my room as Aventus finishes adjusting the straps of the ebony chest piece. I raise an eyebrow,
“Why the armor?” Aventus chuckles,
“Skyrim is not a safe place my boy. Traveling without armor is asking for trouble to find you.” A twinge of fear jumps down my spine,
“I’ve had enough trouble for a while.”
"Indeed,” Aventus says as he finishes putting on the armor. He walks over to a display case and hefts a massive greatsword,
"You said you are an archer, yes?”
"Yes, though not as skilled as you.” Aventus tosses me an Elven bow and a quiver full of steel arrows, along with an archer’s guard,
"Will these do?” I nod as I fix the quiver to my back and the guard to my arm. I sling the bow onto my back as Aventus walks outside and locks the door behind us.