A collab by [@Dervish] and the Schaft
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Dawn had an interesting way of pretending it was on the way in the North, but the absence of the sun in the high climates of Skyrim was certainly something worth nothing. It was black as pitch, indistinguishable from midnight, but people went about their business as if any moment the sun would crest the horizon and begin to warm their frozen, aching bodies. 

The khajiit leaned against the wall of the warehouse, staring out into the bay looking for signs that the land would come alive, or if the sun had gone from the world. The days here were short, bitterly so, and it was no wonder that the Nords who called Skyrim home held their liquor almost as sacrosanct as a khajiit would find his moon sugar. Not for the first time, Do'Karth wondered what compelled him to see the North. The mountains, perhaps? The fleeting prospect of seeing a dragon crest the valleys, an impossible creature of unbound power? There were numerous things that the stories and bards said of this land, and the boisterous, offensive attitudes of the Nords were alluring. He had to investigate, to at least say he had been in Skyrim, and make yet another name for himself. 

And to do that, he had the brilliant idea of enlisting in a mercenary company, the first one he had seen, really, mostly for a steady supply of food and to see Skyrim from relative safety and comfort. Sure, he had a contract of service, but only a fool thought that was binding. It was the next big thing to come along, and perhaps something bigger would draw Do'Karth away.  It wasn't that he was in the business of betraying others or letting them down, but he did not consider himself the belonging of any man or people, but was instead a citizen of non-specific origin who was whatever he decided to be that day. It was liberating, in a way. Besides, he knew how to march and hold a formation. He'd fight for them, serve them well, but even this lot would not have him claim a life for them. 

Besides, one could learn so much more from surviving a beating than simply dying. There wasn't anything after death, unless the Big Cat had plans for you.

The workers scurried along the docks, mostly argonians who seemed like they had been doing the same daily grind for far too long, and Do'Karth didn't envy them one bit. He tried to imagine his world being restricted to the frozen planks of wood underfoot, and he came up short. There were planes of Oblivion that seemed far more appealing than the prospect of having this squallorish heap be called home.

At last, the horizon to the East took on a warm glow as the darkness began to retreat against the rising sun. Captivated, Do'Karth watched, shivering under his cloak, as a new day began and the cold, dead world around him came alive. There were all kinds of magic in this world, and this was certainly one of them. He almost didn't hear the warehouse door creek open, another one of the mercenaries emerging from his or her slumber as the company prepared for... something. The brief orientation from the rather dour officers kind of passed as a blur, and the details were admittedly lost on the khajiit who had travelled for some time with a group of merchants bringing their Black Briar Mead to fulfill an order in Windhelm. By the time he had left the temperate, comfortable Reach and discovered the frozen nightmare that was Eastmarch, it was too late to turn back.

Besides, Do'Karth did not turn down from a challenge, even if that challenge was simply not freezing to death.

Jorwen hissed out a breath, smoking on the cold air of the morning. He waited, almost began to get impatient before he grunted and a stream of piss hit the cobbles. Once he was done, he hiked up his trousers and re-did his chausses. He stood for a minute, appreciating the cold on his skin and he slapped at his cheek to wake himself up. Drinking and sleeping late into an early morning like this one was something not foreign to him, but things tend to get stubborn as one ages. He turned around to find another shape swaddled in shivering robes and almost flinched. "I didn't notice you. You should step inside, cold plays hell with your fingers and you'll be needing quick hands around this lot." He held the door open and waved the Khajiit inside. 

In his experience, the newcomers to the company were in one of two camps: those who were quiet and just wanting steady pay, and those who were rude and needed a boot to the face. They wanted names and glory. He was busy figuring out what this one would be and hoping to the Gods that he'd be able to carry on a decent conversation.

Do'Karth grinned in response, nodding to the growing dawn. "This one had heard tales, most wonderous tales, of the sunrise over the sea in Skyrim. Do'Karth had simply decided that a momentary discomfort was worth the spectacle. It pleases him that the words that had led him here had truth." he said, deciding to heed the Nord's advice regardless. He stepped instead as the towering man held the door, and immediately the warmth, and stetch, of the warehouse became quite aparent. Do'Karth's leg was throbbing, a section below the knee colder than the rest of him like the blade had entered him again. He ignored this and turned to his chaparone, his features warmer than he felt. "This one does not believe we have had a chance to meet one another's acquaintance. It pleases Do'Karth to be at your service." he said with a bow of the head.

He frowned at the Khajiit's back as he edged past him through the door. He took one last look out at the waters and the sun beyond and all he saw was a sunrise. It was a good one, but then he'd seen forty-eight years of them all around Skyrim and Cyrodiil with scant time to sit and ponder the beauties of nature. He turned back and let the door close behind him as he followed the Khajiit. He smiled and nodded as Do'Karth bowed. He'd never talked to a Khajiit before that wasn't trying to kill him or get away from him, so their mannerisms outside of blood-freezing warcries and brandishing curved weapons were lost on him. Of course, he'd shared tea around a fire with Keegan the altmer, so things change. "No, reckon there's a lot of new faces around that I've yet to talk to. Between you and me though, some of them are insufferable." He shook his head at a group of newbeards, propped up on elbows and their blankets around their shoulders before he stuck a hand out to Do'Karth, "Jorwen. I mend clothing, blankets and leaky tents. Good to meet you, Do'Karth."

He led the Khajiit to a couple others that were still sleeping, White-Eye and Cleftjaw. He gestured to an empty space for him to sit and sat himself down after. He picked up a half of a sausage, white pearls of fat in the pink-red meat of it, and he cut a nice slice off and popped it in his mouth. He chewed for a bit before he spoke again, "What brings a Khajiit so far up north? It's always something to see with the few caravans we get up here, we never see you cat-folk alone." With how they're liable to be treated, Jorwen guessed it wasn't surprising they stuck together and their own.

The khajiit took the extended hand, careful to make sure his claws were retracted. The first time he had encountered a man who wished to shake hands had ended with no small amount of shouting and a shallow cut that simply did not want to close. Following Jorwen to the seating area, he sat effortlessly cross-legged without using his arms for support. He eyed the saugage with no small amount of trepidation before returning his full attention to the conversation at hand. "Do'Karth is an intrepid wanderer, one who simply tired of all the seriousness of wars and conspiracies and wished to see what Tamriel had to offer. Elsweyr is a land of sands and jungles, a wonderous place, but it is not all there is to see, and as colourful as this one's people are... well, there simply were too many things he was not seeing." his face curled into an approximation of a smile, something he had learned made men and mer more comfortable. 

"The caravans are not truly representitives of my people, they follow their own selfish aims and are largely exiles from our homeland. If you were to speak with them, you would hear a meloncholy for the warm sands of Elsweyr that they may never see again. But do not mourn them; they made their own choices. It is why this one is allowed into the cities but they are not; Do'Karth is a traveller, not a potential fence for the Thieves Guild or a skoomer pusher." he explained, finally losing out to his peckishness and producing honey nut treats from one of his pouches, chewing on it thoughtfully. "This one takes it you are an old hand with this company?" he asked.

"If only because I was one of the only ones left." Jorwen muttered around a mouthful of sausage before nodding to Do'Karth, "Aye, I do anything needed of me, same as anyone else here. I try not to do much of the bloody work if I have a say in it." Jorwen shrugged, "It pays though, that you'll find soon enough. 'Course, if you went off to get away from blood and conspiracies, you're looking in an odd place, friend."

He held out a slice of sausage to the Khajiit and couldn't help but to study the man. He'd looked simple enough, it wasn't odd to see those like him, swaddled in robes and clutching onto walking sticks. He was odd, but what did he know? He'd barely stepped foot outside of Skyrim for anything other than fighting a war, so Do'Karth might be as common as Khajiit come. "You traveled far, then?"

"Ah." Taking the offered slice of meat and enjoying the warm juices and spices, Do'Karth finished chewing and swallowing before continuing on. "You sound like a natural khajiit; do not do more work than one must, especially if there are others to carry the burden." he chuckled. "Mercenary work is different than living in a land that was overly fond of Thalmor occupation and tensions between the two Kingdoms, this... is much less personal. Put in time, receive compensation, enjoy the perks of being a soldier with none of the suffocating restrictions. While Do'Karth has a curiosity of the civil war that swallowed this land, perhaps it will give him a perspective of what has happened in his own homeland." he explained.

The khajiit grinned, shifting his position as he contemplated the question. "Do'Karth has been far, seen many things. Cyrodiil, Valenwood, Hammerfell, Skyrim... all manner of places and people have crossed this one's eyes and he has heard all of their voices and done his best to become one of their people for a time. Some people simply look at what is different and are afraid; this one embraces it and makes it a part of himself." he paused, a feigned pained expression crossing his features. "Although, the Redguard love of hot foods does not agree with this one's digestion. He feels he can sympathize with the Red Mountain after attending one of the Sultan of Hegathe's feasts."

Jorwen chuckled and slipped another slice of sausage into his mouth, "I think I'm alright not being a worldly man if that's what it means to experience other lands. I'll be waiting with open arms if they want to come here, but I can't be traveling too far in this age." Jorwen finished chewing and swallowed the morsel down just in time for Dough-Boy's voice to echo loud enough in the warehouse to make Jorwen cringe. White-Eye and Cleftjaw stirred from their sleep with less than happy looks on their faces. Cleftjaw's went probing around in his blankets for his knife as his eyes scanned for the offender.

"What the fuck are you saying, pudgy lad?" One of the younger, newer voices of the company carried over from a far corner.

"Battle! To battle! Ships on the horizon!" Dough-Boy repeated. Jorwen looked around at the faces before him and wrapped the sausage back into its packaging, licking his fingers clean after. He grasped up his arming coat and mail, throwing them on and standing as he grasped up his big sword.

"What was that about finding peace in your travels or somesuch?" Jorwen asked.

The commotion certainly led the khajiit to believing his day was not going to be a dull one. "Oh, you misunderstand this one; Do'Karth loves a good fight, good for the muscles, women enjoy his scars. Trouble seems to find this one, but that is fine. At least it is different than what he traded it all for." he replied, standing spryly, quarterstaff held like a walking stick. "This seems like quite the unpleasant city to try to assault by sea, this one thinks. Maybe the ships will be landing ashore elsewhere?"

"They'll be landing, you can be sure of that." Jorwen said, checking the strap of his helmet as he replaced his cap with it. He went about testing the sharpness of his weapon and he clucked his tongue at a tiny spot of rust on the edge, "I've been in the black business long enough to have been on both sides of this. They'll either hop off their boats and try to kill us now or wait until half of us are starving and the other half are sick and dying. Then they'll try killing us. Makes it easier."

No matter how many times he'd donned his armor and checked over his weapons, there was always the familiar mixture of fear and excitement flushing his veins cold with ice and making his heart beat like a joiner's hammer. Of course, his mind was weighed down with thoughts of his wife and daughter this time around. Part of him wanted to abandon the mercenaries and take his family away, but the other part told him running would be no good. He needed to stay, see the battle through, do his part for his family.

Jorwen held a hand out once more, "Let's hope to come out of this alive, eh?"

"Of course. This one also hopes they do not make us wait. After all, is there a worse fate than the prospect of an empty plate?" Do'Karth said, stepping outside to form up with the others. He wasn't nervous, not in the typical way a soldier or warrior is before a fight. He simply accepted things were going to happen as they were, and it was his responsibility to try to stop the less preferable things from occuring. Still, there was always a knot that sat at the pit of his stomach, no matter how at ease his mind wise, and his leg seemed to throb in rhythm with his heart. He had no cause to fight for, save for whatever these mercenaries would pay him, but he decided that this Jorwin was a worthy enough cause to take up arms for. After all, friends were rather hard to come by in a land as harsh and cold as this.

The khajiit's eyes glanced up at the rising sun, and he clucked his tongue in disapproval. The beautiful wonder of just a few minutes earlier was gone. A new day had begun, and it was decidedly not one anyone here had hoped for.