From Beneath the Mask

Sarena trudged into the inn in Marbruk and up to her rented bed for the night. Thanks to a very elongated briefing with her superiors and peers in her division of Dominion operatives, she had missed the weekly auction she had grown so fond of lately. As she laid back onto the mattress, her latest orders echoed in her mind.

The Thalmor want blood. We do not. It will be up to you to make sure this clan is still in one piece until we can devote more resources and manpower to shutting them down. This includes protecting their leaders from harm if necessary.

Sarena thought about the latest ambushes by the contingent in Woodhearth and shook her head. Such a thing would be all that simple, especially with all the bustling about in and on the boat lately. As "Swiftclaw the Faceless", Sarena had done her best to integrate herself amongst everyone else, even going so far as to devote her time and personal resources toward fixing that wreck of a boat being used to flee from Greenshade and the Thalmor.

Despite many misgivings about her latest 'comrades', she found a few of them to be rather likable, especially Ja'Amore, the clan leader's estranged son. Sarena was quite impressed with the Khajit lad's ingenuity alongside her own despite him being roughly half her age. She also believed he was having something of a positive influence on his father and hoped everything would turn out well between them. Not knowing her own blood relatives had caused Sarena to take a greater notice towards the familial bonds and keep them in mind when dealing with people. There were others whose company she enjoyed: Bbigeargo, J'Zhirr, Paige, Atrabi, and a few more she had trouble recalling in her current half-asleep state.

Sarena dug into her pocket and found the one thing that provided even the slightest resemblance of a clue to who she originally was, a necklace with the name "Sa'rina" etched into the central charm and chuckled at how it had been translated by her childhood Bosmer caretakers. Perhaps one day she'd find the entire truth of her origin, but greater matters loomed before her. The next few days would be full of tasks preparing Gnarlus's ship for launch, including acquiring the remainder of the supplies her own connections had provided, and a good night's rest would prepare her for such. Sarena turned over on her side, her necklace still gripped in her claws, and allowed the weight of the day's fatigue to push her completely down into slumber. Such a day would only breed many more in and around the tight quarters of the clan's soon-to-be temporary home at sea, and this crafty Khajit agent had to be ready for just about anything, not just for her own sake but everyone else's as well.

(Whew...my first PoV entry after seeing everyone else's. Don't lynch me too badly; this isn't exactly a specialty of mine like others here. >_>')

(Well then, here's something else I managed to throw together concerning the night of Ri'sari's capture and subsequent rescue.)

Sarena made her way inside the boat after being chastised for her and Dar'Atrabi's actions concerning an innocent bystander on the craft and picked up a hammer to help patch up the few remaining holes inside. Her current state of focus would not allow her to work, so at first opportunity, she slipped off into the night and into the heart of Woodhearth.

Without realizing it, her steps brought her to the door of one of the lesser-known establishments in the Wood Elf city. Sarena took a moment to look about her surroundings before removing her helmet and entering. She took a seat at the counter and ordered a flagon of sweetmilk while placing a handful of coins on the bar. Staring into the beverage placed before her, she attempted to make sense of what just happened.

Her superiors were right about one thing. The Thalmor did want blood. Seeing Ri'sari's condition proved that without fail, but is that what Sarena wanted as well? Her hatred for the Thalmor now ran deeper than before, and to some that night, she had taken it out on what appeared to be a wandering citizen. Were they really that innocent though? Through her own experiences, she believed the Thalmor could be anyone anywhere watching and waiting much like herself when out of her clan guise.

Sarena took a long swig from her mug and set it down while her thoughts returned to the clan leader. The Thalmor's direct actions against him would not mesh well with the changes she believed his son was instilling upon him. Still, for the sake of family, she would do what she could to assist them in living a better life than one where you had to constantly look over your shoulder and keep your tail tucked in. No one deserved to live like that if it could be helped, and the Thalmor were making it more and more difficult each day.

With her drink emptied and a few more coins flipped to the bartender, Sarena left, remembering to don her mask again once outside, and began walking towards the stables where she always left her mount while in town. It would be a long and winding ride northward towards Velyn Harbor in the region of Malabal Tor where she had some personal supplies waiting for her. She rode hard along the roads of Greenshade hoping that the recent clan emergency would not leave her empty-handed and that those she considered friends would stay safe and alert long enough to keep out of trouble until the ship was ready to sail. Short fuses aboard cramped quarters--even her own--were not things she wanted to deal with during the clan's planned maritime escape from Woodhearth. Just thinking about being on a moving boat in the first place was already making her uncomfortable enough as it was.

(Yes, I know Five Claws is the only drinking establishment we actually see in Woodhearth, but I took a little artistic license to keep her away from 'clan territory' in an unmasked state.)

(Ladies and gentlemen, cats and kittens of all ages, welcome back to another installment of "From Beneath the Mask" where you get to see inside the mind of your favorite "faceless" female feline. Today, we come to you during the morning after first settling into S'ren-ja. Let us watch, listen, and learn, shall we?)

The morning sun broke through the cracks of one of the old storage sheds and landed across Sarena's face, causing her to roll over and then blink her eyes open when she ended up running into a round wooden object. Sitting up and looking around, she found herself in a corner surrounded by barrels with her traveling pack and weapons nearby and her facemask rolled up at the head of her bedroll like a pillow. It took her a few moments, but Sarena was able to piece together the recent events that brought her here, the end of the boat ride from Woodhearth and the trek across Malabal Tor and Reaper's March to finally reach the relatively empty village of S'ren'ja that the clan now claimed as their own.

The lithe orange-furred Khajit stood up and stretched her limbs in the musty air the makeshift shelter provided and took notice of a less dusty patch near the barrel rack. Sarena shrugged and assumed her recent companions Dar'Atrabi and Ma'Zha were off acclimating themselves to their new surroundings as she herself was about to do. As she changed out of her "Swiftclaw" attire and into something more suitable for local exploration, she could not help but think about the two and their views of the situation before them. Their closeness also reminded Sarena of a certain male Khajit that held her own interest, and she made a mental note to send correspondence updating her situation and whereabouts.

Once dressed and armed with bow and hidden blades--Reaper's March was unfamiliar to her unlike the forests of Valenwood--Sarena peered outside the shed for possible witnesses and passers-by before creeping out and making her way towards the nearby city of Rawl'kha. If she was going to be here a while, she would need to know as much about the area as possible and felt she could do it better as an unrecognized face instead of the blank slate the clan was used to seeing.

They were coming. The Thalmor were on their way to S'ren-ja in full force.

The news had spread like wildfire over the village. Some clanmates were ready to fight, others flee. Neither sounded like a viable option to Sarena. Those that fought would most likely be killed. Those that fled would be hunted down and then killed.

To be honest, she felt like taking off herself. The Thalmor had become too much of an interference in her own mission. It was as if the Thalmor were on a completely different wavelength than the rest of the Dominion.

The other half of her wanted to stay and fight just on the off-chance that Lord Vorion Stormor showed his face. Sarena had a more than a few choice words to share with him about how he did things. To her, the Thalmor were originally just more rigid in procedure; this particular contingent had the "shoot first and ask questions later" attitude.

At the moment, Sarena's body was in as much of a blur as her mind. In the village courtyard dressed in her "Swiftclaw" guise and armed with her green-tinted daggers, she swung and stabbed at the air as if it were an actual foe. Minutes passed by during her routine before she decided to switch things up. Sarena sheathed her daggers and began a new sequence of movements bare-handed, this time smoother, more fluid, and reminiscent of a senche-tiger in action. It was a special type of hand-to-hand combat taught to her by a group of Bosmer fascinated with how and why the various creatures of the land acted the way they did, and it always had the effect of calming Sarena down when she felt stressed, much like her flute-playing or looking out over the sea from a peaceful dock.

They struck!

The pointy-eared cowards had made their first move against the clan in S'ren-ja, and it was a cowardly one to Sarena. The Thalmor had sent at least one pair of assassins and even went as far as the poison the moon sugar that was to be used in a 'unification ceremony'. That ceremony had been quickly turned into a funeral for Ri'sari's young son Ja'Amore, who had ended up being the first--and fortunately only--victim the poison claimed.

It appeared to Sarena that Ri'sari was meant to be the true target, but the events of the previous night affected him nonetheless, not to mention the rest of the clan present. Ja'Amore was well-liked, and his magic puzzle box was a popular topic of conversation. Now anger and grief swept over the village like a thick miasma, or was that the remains of the strange fire set after the incident? The fumes from that blaze had made Sarena's head swim briefly as she had wandered the outskirts of Sren'ja in thought.

What was she to do now? The Thalmor had certainly gone too far, and they were likely to go further if left unchecked. The Thalmor claimed their actions were on behalf of the Queen and the Dominion, but these were not Dominion tactics. Sarena knew Dominion; she WAS Dominion, for Oblivion's sake.

The Khajit covert agent stared out across the village at the large building where most clanmates often socialized and let out a heavy sigh. Family was lost and for no good reason at that. She knew that feeling all too well. As she had neared adulthood in Valenwood, Sarena's foster family had been harassed by Thalmor soldiers due to her presence, calling her little more than a 'pet' or a 'blight against elven superiority'. Her Bosmer caretakers didn't care what others thought of them for showing mercy towards a helpless cub on a dangerous road, but Sarena had and left at the first opportunity to keep them from getting hurt--or worse--on her behalf, taking what little supplies and skills she could gather in order to better herself until she was capable of doing for others just as well.

Now seemed to be a near-perfect opportunity. Sarena and Ri'sari had common ground. Perhaps she could use that. All she had to do was a gain an audience with the black-furred Khajit. That, of course, would be easier said than done, but she had to at least try. What was the worst that could happen?

The past week among the clan had been quite eventful for the masked Khajit. A ceremony was held to unite the clan, which had been mostly split between fighters and non-fighters. The clan's champion leading the more physical clan members, Qa'iit, cut an imposing figure to Sarena, but she was told that he was the one to speak to about Ri'sari. With her request made, she had been ready to go about her own business when the very Khajit in question approached her in a moon sugar-induced stupor! It had taken nearly every ounce of self-control not to deck Ri'sari then and there for making a pass at her. That and the fact that the injuries in her right hand and arm from sucker-punching a certain mustached Thalmor during the last auction had relapsed due to Qa'iit rock test.

The next major clan meeting had people working to repair the buildings in S'ren-ja with what few supplies were left after a round of thievery had broken out. Qa'iit had taken those following him and begun discussing the possibility of guard uniforms along with a patrol schedule. This made Sarena a little nervous as her style of dress among the clan already made her recognizable enough, not to mention the fact that she was not ready to 'let the cat out of the bag' until after she was able to make herself and her intentions known to the clan leader. Sarena suspected that Qa'iit was testing her worth before such a meeting, and that was fine with her. She was willing to wait as long as it was necessary, but would the Thalmor?

The mustached Altmer had been seen numerous times in the village over the past week. What were his intentions? Was his continued presence and existence a sign of worse things to come? Sarena would have to keep her eyes and ears open at all times for any and all potential threats to the clan and her current mission of helping them to secure a more proper foothold among society and keeping the oppressive high elven tyrants off of everyone's backs.

On this particular morning, Sarena sat atop one of the rocky ledges surrounding and overlooking the Baandari Trading Post staring at the facemask she wore as "Swiftclaw the Faceless" almost to the point where it seemed to stare back. Much had happened in the past few days during the attempted reconstruction of S'ren-ja, but what began to stress her most at the moment were those events directly related to her and her secret identity.

The list of those among the clan whom she knew could connect her face had practically doubled recently. So far she had only trusted three with who she was and why she was with the Sugar-Claws: Ra'Zacc the white tiger-striped Khajit she had first met during a Marbruk auction who literally sniffed her out among the clan and whom she wondered about occasionally after their last encounter and finding what appeared to be a lock of his fur in the magic puzzle box once passed about, Dar-Atrabi whom she had an almost sisterly bond with, and Dar-Atrabi's mate Ma'Zha. Anyone else who found out was either through pure accident or similar methods as Ra'Zacc. Sarena began to wonder what the point of the disguise was if it could easily be seen through.

One of the clan's newcomer's, Kade Thorkan, had followed her onto the balcony of S'ren-ja's clan house after a bad reaction to Kazzah's homemade brews, but Sarena considered him a non-entity as he only saw her face and had little more information than that. Alijham, a Bosmer with an unhealthy sensed of fashion found her out as she was attempting to mingle undetected during the clan's caravan stop in the Post. Not one she wanted to know as she thought he was a little overbearing when it came to many things. Shere'Khaan, a fellow guardsman, had found out by her own folly in responding to him being identified by a less-than-trustworthy merchant seen on the way from Sren'ja. Each time, she was able to keep who confronted her at bay without giving away too much information, though Shere was rather understanding and she appreciated that greatly.

What made the whole situation even worse to Sarena though was a heated conversation with Sycon about her motives and intentions while wearing the mask despite all she had done on the clan's behalf since making her way in back in Woodhearth. Did it matter how she presented herself as long as it was for the right reasons?

As Swiftclaw, she had developed a rougher and snarkier personality in contrast to her normally pleasant self. The difference was intended to keep herself from being found out, but that seemed to be doing little good now. Not only that it was beginning to take over much to her dismay. She needed a break, but it could not be afforded, not with the village's troubles seemingly multiplying before her eyes. The Thalmor, the lack of food and supplies...many hands were needed to keep these problems at bay, and Sarena wanted hers to be among them so her request could eventually be granted and hopefully bring everything around her to a proper and fitting end.

Sarena stood up and tucked the mask away before making her way back down to the bustling town below. It had been a well-deserved change of scenery at least and one she needed badly to free herself from her personal bindings, even if it was only temporary. The caravan would be ready to return to S'ren-ja in another day or two, not something she was truly anxious for, but one must do what one has to, yes?

No rest for the weary, they say. Those words had certainly rung true to Sarena over this past weekend. No sooner had she returned to S'ren-ja with the caravan that she had to prepare for yet another trip. While in Bandaari, she had received a message practically demanding her presence at her division's base in Marbruk. Early the next morning, she saddled up on her horse and left the village with little word towards anyone else. The less anyone knew, the better.

The news Sarena received upon arrival had not been pretty. Thanks to the reports of other agents, she learned that the Thalmor were planning more hostile maneuvers towards the clan in S'ren-ja. At that point, she had been given a choice, either abandon the Sugar-Claws or continue on among them. To her, there was no choice. Even as "Swiftclaw the Faceless," she had grown accustomed and attached to many of the clan members. To leave them to the non-existant mercy of the Thalmor would be sacrilegious. There were risks involved in fighting alongside them, and she knew and understood them. If she was somehow identified by the Thalmor as a Dominion agent, she would be accused of treason and lose practically everything in her life at the time.

After the stress of horse travel and the meeting, Sarena had been too tired to even think of attending the auction this week. She ended up sleeping most of Sunday away and begun the trip back the next day. She hoped she would return in time, but she did risk a stop in Rawl'kha for a quick meal to tide her over for a while once the mask was back on. She also hoped no one noticed her absence too much. For the most part, she was a background player in the clan and preferred to keep it that way as much as possible for the time being.

It was over. It was finally over! Vorion Stormor and his followers in the Thalmor were gone for good. Their punishment was well-deserved. You don't strut your way into someone else's village acting like you own the place making demands then blowing up the buildings just to prove a point.

Sarena spent the night after the fateful battle under the influence of healing potions and magics to bring her sore and cut-up limbs back to full functionality. She would need them for the upcoming clan tournament if she was still able to attend. First thing was first though, her final report on the Sugar-Claw Clan. Early the next morning, she took off for Marbruk yet again, this time with a sense of victory about her. Once she arrived at her destination, she learned that while the bulk of Stormor's corrupted forces had been wasted in S'ren-ja, many stragglers were being contained by other Dominion operatives, and at Sarena's request, those names rattled off in S'ren-ja would have their records wiped clean if they had any.

It was not all good news though. The day Sarena feared was mentioned: reassignment. She did request a delay until after the tournament. She did not expect to win, but if the moons were aligned as such, she had a plan to make sure that the Clan Guard was in capable hands.

Speaking of which, a stray thought entered her mind as she made her way to the market plaza for the weekly auction. Shere'Khaann had not been seen against the Thalmor in the village. Sarena hoped he was well and that she'd be able to see him again soon before the tournament so she could share the bad news. Good-byes were never easy to her, especially since she was never in one place as long as she had been amongst the clan during previous missions. While the majority of them merely knew her as "the faceless one", they were still friends to her and they would be missed.

Early the next morning after the tournament Sarena mounted up with her belongings and left S'ren-ja for the final time. Mixed feelings danced wildly in her head as she began the trip back to Marbruk to meet with her superiors for her next assignment. All in all, her mission among the Sugar-Claws had been a success. The clan was truly on its way to a better life than what she had first seen in Woodhearth, and that much pleased her.

Bethany being named Guard Captain was not what she had expected at all, but it was better than some of the other possibilities. Sarena had a feeling the young Breton mage would do fine though. The two had talked on occasion and even found a common thread in their mutual support of the Aldmeri Dominion. Yes, the clan guard--and the clan overall--was in good hands. Before she had left, Sarena had placed one simple message in the clan house upstairs for the clan leader.

Ri'sari of the Sugar-Claws,

The criminal records of yourself and your associates have been wiped clean so that you and your clan may have a truly fresh start. Make the most of the time you have been given for it will still judge all that you do.

No signature had been left, but a close examination of the parchment would reveal the seal of the Dominion as a watermark.

As Sarena took off down the dusty road towards Rawl'kha and beyond, she took one last look at the village behind her before urging her steed onward. Her many friends in the clan would indeed be missed, but they would not be forgotten anytime soon.

(Had something else planned for this entry, but certain events have forced me to modify and delay the final outcome. Until those events in the real world have been dealt with, neither Sarena nor her masked alter ego will be seen among the clan anytime soon.)

The last week since leaving S'ren-ja had been little more than a blur to Sarena. After delivering her final report on the Sugar-Claw Clan, she was advised to spend some time for herself until everything could be consolidated. It seemed that there were still a few of Stormor's minions lurking about in places. Nevertheless, she took the advice of her superiors and traveled the countryside, mostly away from Reaper's March, eventually ending up in Cyrodil for a time and escorting a trade caravan across hostile territory.

Sarena returned to Marbruk the weekend before she was to be given a new assignment to find a festival in town before the usual auction. She slipped in among the crowd in a new disguise but was eventually found out by Dar'Atrabi and coerced into joining the festivities in a more open fashion. The play especially was worth the time spent before saying her final good-byes to her first friend among the clan.

The morning of Morndas finally arrived and Sarena found herself at the door to her direct officer. She knocked audibly and stuck her head through the half-open doorway. "Permission to enter?" she announced.

A high elf with bronze skin, medium-length hair and a suit of lightly decorated armor turned from a set of shelves on the far side of the room, his green eyes recognizing his visitor instantly. "Agent Swiftclaw, of course," he greeted, turning back to his search. "I've been expecting you. Have a seat. We'll talk as soon as I can find your files."

Sarena entered and made her way to one of two sturdy chairs set across a lavish desk set before the shelves the Altmer continued to peruse. "This one thanks you, Alerius, sir."

"Quite alright, Sarena," Alerius responded, taking a more casual tone. "How was your leave? Did you happen to return for the recent festival outside?"

"This one did return in time, yes. She found the Argonian Maid play to be most amusing of all."

"I don't think you were the only one to think that." Alerius's face contorted into a slight scowl as he kept digging through the various bundles of parchments on the shelves and across his desk. "I swear I had your reports here the other day..."

Sarena opened her mouth to speak when a third voice--another Khajit--cut in. "Interesting...most interesting..." She and Alerius turned to see another operative entering while thumbing through a stack of papers in his hands. Sarena recognized the newcomer almost on sight based on the reputation she and many others in her division had heard. The male Khajit before them was about as tall as she was with a tuft of red hair down the middle of his head and two earrings in his right ear. "This one finds these Sugar-Claws most interesting," he mused again before closing and tying the stack in his hands back together again. "Agent Swiftclaw?"

"Yes, sir...?" Sarena stood up at attention to the one she knew answered directly to the Queen.

He immediately raised a hand to put her at ease. "You may stay seated. This one merely wished to ask a few question about your experience with this clan now in S'ren-ja. Were you able to speak with their leader, this...Ri'sari."

Sarena shook her head. "No, sir, but this one feels it is not necessary anymore. By now, he should be aware of his change of status to us."

"Yes, of course...you asked that everyone be granted amnesty after recent events. From what you have witnessed out there, you feel this is the right thing to do, yes?"

"This one does," Sarena answered with a look of determination. "Much has changed with them since Woodhearth. They are no longer the band of criminals they started out as and are trying to make better in their new home."

"So this one has read," the red-haired Khajit said. "This one believes he knows your next move now, Agent Swiftclaw. You are to return to S'ren-ja and the Sugar-Claws."

Sarena blinked several times until Alerius finally spoke up. "Ra--" His outburst was cut short by a raised hand towards him. "Sir...why would she need to go back? They are no longer a threat to the Dominion."

The high-ranked Khajit agent chuckled and opened the file again. "No, but there could be others out there as well. It says here that Agent Swiftclaw signed up to be part of the village guard before Stormor made his move. That puts her in the perfect position for this new--permanent--assignment: keep an eye on the clan and make sure they do not go astray again. Not only that, who better to watch for discrepancies than one who has been among them for so long, yes?" Alerius could do nothing but nod in agreement at his own superior's words.

Sarena sat there in stunned silence. After leaving a week before, she had never seen a reason to go back to S'ren-ja. Now she was being sent back for good, it seemed. Her wild thoughts were suddenly interrupted by her fellow Khajit's voice.

"Is this acceptable to you, Agent Swiftclaw?"

"O--of course, sir." Sarena stood up again and saluted with her right arm across her chest. "This one will return immediately if that is what is asked of her."

Her male counterpart smiled and nodded. "Then go. We will be awaiting the clan's progress each week you return to town for the auction."

"Yes, sir." No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she was out of the office and on her way to the stables in Marbruk to pick up her mount for the trip back home. Home? She considered S'ren-ja home now? What else could she call it? It was a place she met many interesting people, some of whom she could easily call friends, even through the mask she had worn around them.

The trek back to Reaper's March turned out to be rather uneventful, but as she approached Rawl'kha, she passed by another Khajit walking the roads with a pair of shorts on a stick like a flag, a fast but lively song escaping from his lips as he walked. Sarena slowed her steed to extend he time within earshot and even managed to sing along to herself for a time, almost as if she knew the song herself.




Eventually, Sarena arrived back in S'ren-ja still humming the walker's song as she stabled her horse in the barn and made her way to the clanhouse where many other clan members were likely to be until she stopped suddenly, realizing that she had not changed into her 'clan uniform'. She shrugged and continued on regardless. From this point on, she felt that there was no need to act so secretive, but she would see what others would think of her true self first before saying anything.

(And so I bring an end to this chapter of Sarena's life just as other chapters in the clan end and begin. If I do decide to write again, it may be one of the character journals that seem to rather popular here. Hope you enjoyed it, and we'll be seeing you in Tamriel.)