The snow began to roll over the mountain tops of Skyrim as a wind blew in from the west. The thick, crystal, flakes whipped in a blanket of white as it settled down over Whiterun hold and all within it's natural borders. The beauty of the valley and meadows that surrounded Whiterun slowly became enveloped in a white coat of snow. Small pockets of color perked up from the cold layer as the mountain flowers adjusted to the fresh fall of winter and the evening sun set in behind the peaks. A lone khajiit draped in a thick leather trench-coat and his armor of leather & bone stepped across the drifted cobblestone pathway of Whiterun hold. His hood, a marvelous Lion head stuffed for a half-helm & hood, sat over the Khajiiti's head to warm it and shelter it from the snow that tightened under his feet and settled on the fur-made coat.He continued on hi path as the snow followed nature and stacked in a thick layer over the next several hours, each passing moment presented deeper drifts then the last, and before long the pockets of color dissipated into non-existence. A film of white as thick as a mammoth swallowed the land, leaving only the most obvious of places untouched, like ponds of warm water, cave faces, ancient ruins, and all the place the un-kind care to dwell. Fortunately this made the Khajiit's task slightly easier, the feline fellow sought a Ruin. He sought a ruin in which rumors of an artifact had spawned, rumors of an artifact capable of expanding upon a Summoner's and Conjurer's magics. Whether this was true was yet to be known, but the Khajiiti male was certain to discover it. He huffed and tensed his muscles as the cold of Skyrim settled in with the fresh night as it had done for so many years now. The Khajiit never stopped, save for the attention of a traveling merchant, or the unwanted attention of ravenous beasts. Fights were fights, but ruins were treacherous and this male knew to save himself for the right moment. As the two moons drew high into the air as the night came to a peak the Khajiit paused and looked to the sky where he marveled at Secunda and Masser, the glory of his people and the Deities of the Lunar Lattice. He stepped to the side of the path and knelt down while looking to the moons while whispering.
"By the Lunar Light I am born, by the Lunar Grace I am gifted, By the shroud of their shadows I am protected, and by the Brilliance of their presence I am blessed."
He stood to his feet once more and then continued on his path, with a light from the moons shining almost in coincidence as a compass. He passed by a stone marker and noticed in the distance a large Ruin entrance-way, it was the exact match to the rumored Ruin. The Khajiit male made his way with haste across the small expanse of snow-covered field to reach the Ancient doorway of the Ruin. The feline fellow took a moment to check the door for traps before attempting to open it, and while it was stubborn, it was shortly opened with a bit of force to reveal nothing more then a normal Ancient Nordic Burial Tomb. The Khajiiti drew his axe and continued on through the Tomb, with each step and each corridor he grew evermore wary of the tomb and it's lack of restless dead. He knew most of the tombs had Draugr, undead Ancient Nords awoken to serve a never-ending sleep for war, and yet he knew he had yet to see one in this tomb. He noticed many bodies in their places along the walls, but also a great lack for them in many places as well. He had his mind speculate a bit, for avid reasons of caution. He pondered of how maybe Necromancers looted the bodies, or perhaps they were grave-robbed, or maybe even just awoken and killed already to lay burnt, decaying, or disposed of elsewhere among the tomb. Though one thing remained clear, he made his way deeper into the Tomb for a few hours until he came to a puzzling door. A door requiring a key to unlock, and him with no lock-picking skills. Though his need for one was met by ill-fated coincidence as a body lay propped against the door, as if to be exhausted and holding the door from letting something out. The Khajiit examined the body to find a rusted key in the deceased Elf's hand, which he promptly used to open the door and find a massacre of the Undead and now Dead. It seemed that no longer then a few weeks back a group of adventurers heard the same rumors as this Khajiit, and now they had met their fate, but had incidentally saved the Khajiits. They had laid waste to the Draugr in one fell attempt at the end of the Tomb. The Khajiit stepped through the doorway and passed into a short, wide, corridor littered with elven and draugr corpses alike, but at the end sat an odd doorway ajar. It was one of the foretold "Claw" doors which required a precious key to open with the knowledge of the Ancient Nordic workings, with no need to muster a key or a certain skill this time the Khajiit passed through the door into a grand sight. The door led into one of the infamous underground Caverns of Skyrim. This was one of the massive Grotto of the Northern Cold, which held a small island in the middle with a massive, gaping, wound in the earth overhead to shine brilliant moon-light onto the grotto and let the thick snow palette down into the grotto. Around the Island sat sauna-like water that steamed with the falling snow and radiated warmth. The khajiit descended down a small set of stairs and passed by trees on a small trail to reach the island. Once he arrived he viewed it with a closer eye, to see a large hole in the ground surrounded by carved stones, an idol-like statue with a small platform, and large pillars and rock cairns across the Island as markers.
The khajiit looked up through the gap in the earth to see the Moons so shining in the sky again, before a terrible roar filled the air from outside the cavern. A shadow passed over the wound and a flying image passed over the sight of the moons for only a moment. The Khajiit turned his body and ran to the idol-like statue to examine the panel for an Artifact, a loose necklace sat on the platform, made from what seemed like bone, moonstone, and leather, but when the Khajiit went to grab it the necklace turned to dust and he pushed back from the island with great force and sent sliding on the ground. A massive figure now sat in the dug-out stone ring, with gripping claws, seething breaths, and heavy fangs the beast came into clarity.
A Dragon, a Dovah, sat before the Khajiit with brilliant Purple and Teal scales that wrapped over the beast like a grand armor. It's horns were very straight, unlike many other Dovah, and numbered in six with three on each side of it's skull all descending in length down the back of the Jaw-bone. It's wings were massive and they spread through the Grotto like marvelous paintings, the color shimmering under the moonlight from the sky. The mighty Dovah stretched it's body, revealing a long neck that wound itself a moment before fully lengthening out and it's tail whipped back and forth before the beast let out a mighty roar and a new set of Draugr emerged. They rose from a laying position in the waters that surrounded the now obvious Dragon Burial Site. It's minions groaned to an un-earhtly call and they slowly moved around to the statue and stood between the Dovah and a now "hidden" Khajiit. The Khajiit Male had though himself unseen and dug his way into the foliage of the Grotto and sat behind a few trees and thick brush in the hopes of avoiding the Dovah, but when the Dovah spoke the truth of his actions were revealed.
"Joor. Joor. Ni Joor." "Mortal. Mortal. No, Mortal."
The Khajiit tensed and turned with an anger as the Dovah seemed to "talk" to him. He relentlessly stepped from the brush and foliage to reveal himself.
"Joor, Hin Sahlo?" He spoke with his devilish tongue, before announcing his words again. "Forgive me Mortal, I forget you are not of Dovah-tongue. Why do you enter my home, my domain? Do you seek me, my minions, or the supposed treasures of these Ancient Ruins? Tell me Mortal, of who are you to a Dovah." The Dragon curled it's neck and then lowered it to just above it's minions head's and glared at the Khajiit as it removed it's hood to reveal it's face.
"This one is Rawlith-Dar, a Khajiit from the Tenmar forest of Elsweyr, now of a tribe in Skyrim. This one is nothing to a Dovah, not in meaning, nor comparison." He spoke lowering his head. His black, grey, and white features now visible, his long snout and pointed ears gathering a tiny bit of the snow still flowing in from the surface.
"Kaaz. Khajiit. I see now, you are of beast-folk. You Kazz have been persistent in pursuits since the ages, now again, what brings you to this place?" The Dovah asked with a growing tone of slight irritation.
"This one simply sought to learn of a rumor's truth. This one was stricken with need and curiosity at the tale of an artifact with innate connections to Conjuration Magic." He stated looking to the Dovah as he moved his body slightly and the beast's tail whipped back and forth slowly.
"Mortals are always so indulged by the treasures of other's, the things that make them wonder are what they hunt so diligently." The Dovah stated while taking a step forward as the minions parted to allow the beast room. "Tell me Kaaz, why do you seek an artifact of Conjuration? You do not adorn the apparel or the attitude of a magically skilled mortal."
The Khajiit churned inside as a sensation of fear, and anger, slowly rose inside him with the hesitation to speak. He answered though with knowing disdain for the need to answer. "This one is however a Conjurer. He is a skilled summoner of the spirits and seeks to further his knowing and power." He answered while watching the Dovah.
"The mortal is a Conjurer? Prove it Sahlo." "Prove it weakling."
The Dovah didn't move, yet his minions seemed to head a command to attack the Khajiit, they hefted their blades and weapons and rushed forward leaving the Khajiiti Male only a moment's notice to react. He gathered his magicka in his palms and lighted his hands out to the side as a gorgeous blue magic began to in-circle him and orbs spawned in his palms which reacted quickly with a burst of magicka. The orbs burst in his hands into dust and two figures formed out of the magical mist beside him. Two massive Skyrim Sabre Cats were formed out of the Blue Magic and they pounced forward engaging the minions. A blood-bath ensued as both side's minions felled the other, the Dovah escaping with one Draugr which knew to hang back a moment while the Dovah seemed to "chuckle" in it's demonic voice.
"Dovah, I mean nothing more to you, let this one go and he shall not return. He wishes only to return to his tribe, find a bed, and sleep." The Khajiit stated to the Dovah while taking a few deep breaths as he slowly began to try and gather his magical strength.
"You are strong, for a mortal compared to other mortals, but you are right. You are nothing to a Dovah, except a Zaam, a Slave." He let out a low growl and stepped forward over the small statue and lowered his head to only a few feet from the Khajiit. "You will serve me well in death." The dragon explained before lifting his head and stretching his wings.
The Khajiit turned and started to run from the Dovah, retracing his steps towards the stairs that would lead him back to the ruins while the Dovah unleashed a Shout that would tear though the Grotto aimed for the Khajiit.
"Dwiirok Ziil Horvutah!"
"Carve Soul Trapped"
The sound thundered through every inch of the cavern and escaped through the ruins and up through the ceiling to the surface. The grand magic of the Dovah's words pushed through the air and sent purple waves of energy through the room before colliding with Rawlith-Dar. The Khajiit took the shout and continued running with a sudden feeling of death overwhelming him, his body collapsed to the stairs and his senses began to faulter, his body quivered, his soul had just been attacked and his body felt like it was dying. The Dovah now flapped it's wings to set itself aloft and target the Khajiit once more with another shout. Rawlith-Dar was now weak from every aspect, his body, his mind, and even his soul was weak. The Dovah let out a might roar once more before screaming in the use of the Thu'um.
"Hokoron Ziil Gahrot!"
"Enemy Soul Steal!"
Rawlith-Dar let out a roar of his own as the male drew up his last bit of strength and powered his palms with magicka. He watched as the Thu'um flew at him before finally reaching him, but the Thu'um collided with the Khajiit's last bit of strength, a Ward, a ward that would only partially work. The thu'um still worked to a degree and began gathering Rawlith-Dar's weakened soul, but the ward infused with the last dying will of a Khajiit conjurer somehow fought the Thu'um. He had successfully negated the Dovah's attempt to steal his soul, but he was not unscathed. Rawlith-Dar now wielded a magical scar, a tree-like scar on his chest that imitated a leaf-less tree. The scar radiated a light pulse of magic, Dovah Magic, it was a seal if you wanted to call it, a Bounding Scar, a Seal, a Magical Ward, it came in many names, but all meant the same issue. Rawlith-Dar's Magic was now limited to extent he would not know. Both entities, Khajiit and Dovah alike, sat in awe-struck anger as Rawlith-Dar survived the Dovah's powerful Thu'um. He quickly scurried to his feet and escaped into the Ruins. He rushed to the entrance, knowing the Dovah might be waiting, but he found nothing more then snow and he fled, running for hours, until he reached Rorikstead. Then he began a couple day's journey to Ivarstead.
The Khajiit now rests in Ivarstead with his tribe, a wandering tribe who works where and how they can to keep a steady income while making there way across Skyrim. Rawlith-Dar himself was resting upstairs in the Tavern, before coming down to enjoy a drink, he noticed a wide menagerie of people in the Tavern on this night, and he had began to hear of people wanting to join this group, this proclaimed DovahFeyn. Rawlith-Dar himself was more them tempted to ascend the mountain and learn what he could. He had been stripped of the things he loved, in more then one way, by the Dovah.
