A Visit

Part 1: The Disappearance of Ri'Zharim
Part 2: A Visit

The room was dark, and still. The door swings open letting in rain from outside, as Ri'Zharim hurries in, shutting the door behind him. He walks over to the table on the side of the room, cupping his hand around a candle as he ignites it. The candle ablaze causes lights and shadow to dance around the room illuminating a fish dinner plate and a note that read:

~turn around~

Ri'Zharim grabbed a fork off the table and jerked around pointing it towards the door. Thairus swept around out of the shadows from the side, grabbing the khajiit's arm, spinning him around and forcing him to stick a fork in the fish on the table.

"I made you dinner and this is how you show gratitude? Khajiit always spark the curiosity in me" Thairus proclaimed.

Seeing a friendly face and giving a sigh of relief, Ri'Zharim pulled out a chair to sit and started to eat. The khajiit began to answer, while munching on his meal "This one did not know what..." he pauses to swallow the food building up in his cheeks "or who to expect, khajiit is not use to coming home to a warm meal"

Thairus pulled up a seat across Ri'Zharim, stretching his arms out and then resting his hands down, tapping his fingers one by one on the table.

"To be blunt, I need weapons and armor, for roughly a for a dozen men" Thairus says as he slides a folded parchment across the table "Instructions" he explains.

Ri'Zharim gave a nod as he filled his mouth once more. He stood up from his seat to fetch a quill and ink from the desk and returned to the table.

"Ri'Zharim can do this, does this mean that Thairus has found them?" he asks with a mouth full of food as he dips the quill in the ink well and begins to write.

Thairus stares at Ri'Zharim while tapping his fingers on the table. Ri'Zharim tilted his haed to the side curiously.

"Yes" he said while hanging his head having out a slight sigh "However I don't think you should come"

Ri'Zharim's heart sank as he slid down in his chair. His head hung down low from the disappointment. "This one understands, Ri'Zharim would be in the way. One cannot do well in combat." he muttered while sliding the parchment across the table. "Ri'Zharim will bury the equipment here, it is the least the khajiit can do"

Part 3: The Makeshift Blacksmith

Zharim left Vulkwasten to begin his task away from the eyes and ears of the townsfolk. Fear that questions may be asked, the khajiit had lived so long amongst these people as a tailor and now a member of the council, he did not want to suddenly start forging armor in front of them. Leaving his duties behind, not sure when or if he would return, Zharim headed towards Velyn Harbor.

It was in Velyn Harbor that Zharim began his work, while staying at the local inn. Rain or shine, he toiled away heating the metal, molding it, striking, heating and striking again. The equipment was ugly and crude, Zharim had little skill as a blacksmith, knowing just the very basics. A more skilled worker could have taken on the task in much shorter time, and crafted much better arms and armor, however that was a cost that Zharim's friend could not afford.

Months passed and the work was finished, 13 sets of crude arms and armor; one set for Zharim himself, and twelve for Thairus and his men. The dull iron of the gear was specked brown and black with imperfections, it was all the group could afford without a current stream of income. Zharim had left a majority of his gold in Vulkwasten in a rush to leave and get started, in the back of his head nagging at himself "Khajiit should have taken more time and care into these preparations". However, now was the time to transport the equipment to the delivery site in the north east part of the Malabal Tor forests. It was then Zharim realized that he had no means of transporting this much equipment. He spent the night pacing back and forth trying to come up with ideas in his room at the inn, muttering under his breath...

"Zharim could hire workers to carry them or purrhaps a carriage" he pauses for a moment and gives a heavy sigh

"What's left of khajiit's gold is in Vulkwasten..."

It was late at night, the city was asleep. Zharim continued to pace in his dark room at the inn, only illuminated by what little moonlight pierced through the trees, and reflected off the ocean of Velyn Harbor in through the single window of his room. Across the way he could hear the neighing sounds coming from the stables. He looked outside towards the horses and noticed a dark brown steed, still attached to a cart with a burlap cover laying inside. A mischievous thought popped into his head, the only means of transport he could think of.

Zharim cloaked himself and began carrying the armor. Piece by piece he loaded them onto the cart under the burlap. Once the cart was loaded, he led the horse with a rope, maneuvering behind buildings on the outskirts of town, passing through a creek to avoid the bridge and the guards it stationed. Sweaty palms and heart pounding, Zharim made it out of the city and onto the path.