Do'Shurh McKaarJul 15, 2014Jul 15, 2014 at 11:15 PM
#1
((These were the times of his life where he didn’t consider himself as the Renegade of Darkness or the Shadow Warrior of the Divines of the First Era, during his first century as the newborn servant of the light his vengeance and loneliness was still newly fresh and the nightmares about the sorrowful death of his family still haunts him every night, forcing himself to create a bad habit to live without the need of regeneration. Most of his first adventures and deeds were originated in Elsweyr, while the native Khajiit witnessed him saving the day more then twice and gave him the name Shadow-Eye as an act of recognition and gratefulness when they’ve finally caught up to him. Personally I think he’d preferred to be nameless at the time but who knows? Oh wait, I do. Anyways, his struggle between his dark past and the present was still a challenge but he eventually learned how to temporarily suppress his emotions while he carried out his duty. If you’re not familiar with this character go to Kath McKaar’s character sheet on the forums. I will keeping adding more depending how much time I have. Hope you all nirnlings enjoy it and please feel free to leave a comment! :3))
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========================================= A Lesson in Fur ===========================================
Long ago, when Auridon was still young, there was once a proud remote town with no name just north near the border between Cyrodiil and Skyrim, located in the center of a small plot of grassland surrounded by a circle of tall mountains, like a bowl that was once inhabited by a thick forest where the ancestors of most of the native Bosmer used to come out and play. Among the town’s people lived the very proud and arrogant Nordic warriors who treated outsiders such as the Khajiit and the Bosmer unkindly, as if they’ve never understood the meaning of the word, equality. And then, one day… a mysterious figure came to the town’s entrance.
Before the unforgiving cold of winter’s eve, a black-furred Khajiit arrived at the town’s heart searching for supplies and food for the coming change of season, cloaked and hooded in loosed stringed rages with dried leaves desperately hanging on as the chilled breeze tries to blow them away against their will. The stranger was carrying nothing more but a heavy leather utility belt strapped with care around his naked thick chest, the individual pockets were fatten with intriguing items, well-guarded from greedy hands of bandits. And a scary black greatsword which seemed to weight more than a few cattle, the blade was carved with strange lightened gold symbols on the base of wide iron bar almost like it came from the soul of Oblivion’s great and terrible forge. Most of the town’s women found the stranger friendly enough to approach unarmed, trying not to stare at the threatening weapon that snuggled comfortably on his back like a baby wrapped in a warm bundle they welcomed him gingerly and asked if they he was looking for the inn like a common traveler would. He looked at them under his hood and nodded slowly, struggling to keep his face hidden in the shadow’s shade, they chuckled and pointed him in the right direction and carried on with their daily lives, leaving him to his business.
The inn was mostly crowded with drunken Nords and a few self-conscious, yet, the claustrophobic Bosmer who seemed to find themselves out of place. The cheerful sounds of Nordic laughter while telling heroic tales and legends from their culture filled the room so loudly that you can barely hear your own thoughts. The seats were all taken and the good mead was almost gone, the bread was stale as water and the meat dried to the bone. The stranger’s ears began to cramp unpleasantly from the horrible singing that sounded worst than a crow’s shriek, he finally ran out of patience and headed towards the door. Before he could, he was stopped by an unfortunate discovery. One of the drunken Nords noticed his tail slithering just above the floor underneath his ragged cloak and the Nord shouted at the top of his lungs, “Cat!” Everything went silent faster than a swing of a sword. Frozen from shock the stranger stood there as everyone looked at him in disgust when someone pulled down his hood from behind. His stern face remained unchanged when the crowd began to call him common slurs and racist taunts, growing more and more intense as they join one by one.
Suddenly, everything went quiet again after a familiar slam at the inn door, taming the noise, the strongest Nord who was the town’s mayor, stood unamused, like he was expecting to find a Khajiit who’s causing all this trouble. The bold Nord who wore ebony armor carrying no weapons slowly approached him, his polished metal boots echoed on the wooden floor until he was staring into the stranger’s unblinking sky blue eyes. He demanded him rudely, “Your kind is not welcome in here, filthy cat! Just who do you think you are?” The stranger stood up to him as he ripped his cloak off and casted it into the fireplace, showing off his muscular body. He looked back coldly at the Nord and demanded, “In my homeland, my people call me the Shadow-Eye. Now get out of my way before I teach you a harsh lesson in manners.” The Nord laughed to mock the insult and punched him as hard as he could, sending the Shadow-Eye flying to the other side of the bar, making the crowd roar with laughter. The Shadow-Eye showen no injury as he quickly got back onto his feet, adjusting his jaw a little bit as he approached again with no intention of fighting back.
The inn suddenly dimmed as the cold wind from outside came in uninvited and blew out a few candles. Unware of the Shadow-Eye’s unspoken enchantment, the Nord was paralyzed out of fright as he looked into his flaming eyes, as if he was possessed by a powerful poltergeist. The crowd was stunned as they watched their town’s major slowly changed into something they despised the most, A Khajiit. When the Shadow-Eye’s spell was complete he mysteriously disappeared into the darkness without another word. After the Nord was freed from his gaze he stood looking confused, unaware of the changes to his body during the enchantment until the crowd completely lost it in laughter. Out of humiliation the once bold and proud mayor ran out of town, forever condemned to his new vessel and was never seen again.
A week has passed, the citizens who witnessed the mayor’s transformation had never forgotten the true value of equality and from then on the Nords who still lived there eventually treated the outsiders, including the Khajiit and Bosmer, equally and fair. Finally showing the respect that they deserve from the very beginning. Never again will racism touch the stone walls of their remote town.
“This one has never seen such magicka before! Khajiit is glad that Nord got exactly what most of his kind deserves! Khajiit believes now he will see what it’s like to have a long and dangling tail in-between his legs like a cowardly dog!” – A Khajiit Witness
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
========================================= A Lesson in Fur ===========================================
Long ago, when Auridon was still young, there was once a proud remote town with no name just north near the border between Cyrodiil and Skyrim, located in the center of a small plot of grassland surrounded by a circle of tall mountains, like a bowl that was once inhabited by a thick forest where the ancestors of most of the native Bosmer used to come out and play. Among the town’s people lived the very proud and arrogant Nordic warriors who treated outsiders such as the Khajiit and the Bosmer unkindly, as if they’ve never understood the meaning of the word, equality. And then, one day… a mysterious figure came to the town’s entrance.
Before the unforgiving cold of winter’s eve, a black-furred Khajiit arrived at the town’s heart searching for supplies and food for the coming change of season, cloaked and hooded in loosed stringed rages with dried leaves desperately hanging on as the chilled breeze tries to blow them away against their will. The stranger was carrying nothing more but a heavy leather utility belt strapped with care around his naked thick chest, the individual pockets were fatten with intriguing items, well-guarded from greedy hands of bandits. And a scary black greatsword which seemed to weight more than a few cattle, the blade was carved with strange lightened gold symbols on the base of wide iron bar almost like it came from the soul of Oblivion’s great and terrible forge. Most of the town’s women found the stranger friendly enough to approach unarmed, trying not to stare at the threatening weapon that snuggled comfortably on his back like a baby wrapped in a warm bundle they welcomed him gingerly and asked if they he was looking for the inn like a common traveler would. He looked at them under his hood and nodded slowly, struggling to keep his face hidden in the shadow’s shade, they chuckled and pointed him in the right direction and carried on with their daily lives, leaving him to his business.
The inn was mostly crowded with drunken Nords and a few self-conscious, yet, the claustrophobic Bosmer who seemed to find themselves out of place. The cheerful sounds of Nordic laughter while telling heroic tales and legends from their culture filled the room so loudly that you can barely hear your own thoughts. The seats were all taken and the good mead was almost gone, the bread was stale as water and the meat dried to the bone. The stranger’s ears began to cramp unpleasantly from the horrible singing that sounded worst than a crow’s shriek, he finally ran out of patience and headed towards the door. Before he could, he was stopped by an unfortunate discovery. One of the drunken Nords noticed his tail slithering just above the floor underneath his ragged cloak and the Nord shouted at the top of his lungs, “Cat!” Everything went silent faster than a swing of a sword. Frozen from shock the stranger stood there as everyone looked at him in disgust when someone pulled down his hood from behind. His stern face remained unchanged when the crowd began to call him common slurs and racist taunts, growing more and more intense as they join one by one.
Suddenly, everything went quiet again after a familiar slam at the inn door, taming the noise, the strongest Nord who was the town’s mayor, stood unamused, like he was expecting to find a Khajiit who’s causing all this trouble. The bold Nord who wore ebony armor carrying no weapons slowly approached him, his polished metal boots echoed on the wooden floor until he was staring into the stranger’s unblinking sky blue eyes. He demanded him rudely, “Your kind is not welcome in here, filthy cat! Just who do you think you are?” The stranger stood up to him as he ripped his cloak off and casted it into the fireplace, showing off his muscular body. He looked back coldly at the Nord and demanded, “In my homeland, my people call me the Shadow-Eye. Now get out of my way before I teach you a harsh lesson in manners.” The Nord laughed to mock the insult and punched him as hard as he could, sending the Shadow-Eye flying to the other side of the bar, making the crowd roar with laughter. The Shadow-Eye showen no injury as he quickly got back onto his feet, adjusting his jaw a little bit as he approached again with no intention of fighting back.
The inn suddenly dimmed as the cold wind from outside came in uninvited and blew out a few candles. Unware of the Shadow-Eye’s unspoken enchantment, the Nord was paralyzed out of fright as he looked into his flaming eyes, as if he was possessed by a powerful poltergeist. The crowd was stunned as they watched their town’s major slowly changed into something they despised the most, A Khajiit. When the Shadow-Eye’s spell was complete he mysteriously disappeared into the darkness without another word. After the Nord was freed from his gaze he stood looking confused, unaware of the changes to his body during the enchantment until the crowd completely lost it in laughter. Out of humiliation the once bold and proud mayor ran out of town, forever condemned to his new vessel and was never seen again.
A week has passed, the citizens who witnessed the mayor’s transformation had never forgotten the true value of equality and from then on the Nords who still lived there eventually treated the outsiders, including the Khajiit and Bosmer, equally and fair. Finally showing the respect that they deserve from the very beginning. Never again will racism touch the stone walls of their remote town.
“This one has never seen such magicka before! Khajiit is glad that Nord got exactly what most of his kind deserves! Khajiit believes now he will see what it’s like to have a long and dangling tail in-between his legs like a cowardly dog!” – A Khajiit Witness