Do’Karth watched the Dark Brotherhood members depart, having made a surprise appearance that was shockingly to the group’s benefit. Of all the stories the khajiit had heard of the group, he’d never expected to meet one, as they’d always seemed to be somewhat like a folktale rather than a tangible group of murderers, let along in a fashion that wasn’t them trying to claim the life of himself or someone else he knew. Tsleeixth called out, drawing Do’Karth’s attention. The argonian had gone out of his way to be a supportive and kind soul, and Do’Karth felt somewhat ashamed of his existing prejudices against argonians in general. Do’Karth never claimed to be an ideal or flawless person, of those he had substantial amounts, but he had always thought himself to be rather egalitarian and accepting of all. However, he’d never thought of entertaining the notion of befriending Tsleeixth, regardless of the argonian’s kindness. 

A pang of regret and shame burrowed in Do’Karth’s chest; even after the utter chaos that had been the past two days, every single time Tsleeixth had spoken up in support of Do’Karth, trying to comfort him when they had to cross to the college in choppy waters that gripped the khajiit with fear, affording him a position on the dingy to escape the sinking ship knowing full well only a handful of the company might escape, and even now rushing over to see if he was okay. It was almost a bit too much, and it touched Do’Karth. The khajiit tried to conceal his eyes watering from the argonian, the stress finally getting to him. Now the thread of battle was over, the warrior aspect of Do’Karth disappeared into the ether, the aspect he’d tried to deny for years now as he became a wanderer, and the reserved and introspective person who had never expected to have found such acceptance when he signed up with the mercenary group for a bit of coin… he’d been so ready to leave them after the convenience ran its course, and instead, he kept risking himself time and time again and he sought their acceptance and approval, and no one embodied that sentiment more than Sevine and now Tsleeixth.

“This one is fine. After the Kamals, Do’Karth was glad to face against something comparatively much more his speed.” The khajiit said with a smile. He shook his head from side to side. “This one has not seen if any of the enemy have survived the skirmish. Even the ones this one had dueled were put down by others. Perhaps they left notes or orders? It doesn’t matter to this one; Do’Karth is just pleased to be on solid land again.” 

Looking towards Sevine and seeing Leif rushed to her side, he felt a pang of… what? Envy, jealousy? He wasn’t sure which, and chided himself for being irrational for being judgemental of the Nord’s foolish advances on Sevine, as if he didn’t understand her at all for all the years he was at her side. Did she see in him what he saw in her? It wasn’t a comforting thought, and Do’Karth knew better than to give himself hope that baring his soul to her, the only living soul that knew his true nature and the khajiit that Do’Karth had buried in the sands of Torval so many years ago, had meant anything more than comfort between friends. He didn’t even find humans attractive, but something about her…
[I]Forget it, Do’Karth. You are being a damn fool. Focus on helping others make it back to Dawnstar alive, you foolish cat.[/I] he chided himself angrily, forcing himself to look away and he took notice of Sadri sitting up on the ground, and looking rather battered himself. Strolling over to the dunmer with the missing ear and curious bonemold prosthetic replacement for his lost arm with a slight limp, Do’Karth set himself down beside him, letting the pressure off of his bad leg. Now the adrenaline had ebbed away, the khajiit was all too aware of how his old wound screamed at him to take it easy, and he sighed in relief when he stretched out his leg, working out the kinks in his muscles with strong hands. 

Following Sadri’s gaze towards Solveig, Do’Karth silently understood exactly what the dunmer must have been thinking, as both men had eyes for rather unobtainable individuals. Fumbling about his pouches, Do’Karth pulled out a jar of honey and a whittled down stick he’d kept on him and offered it to the dunmer. “Comfort food. Do’Karth thought you might appreciate it.” He said, sitting in silence as the frosty coastline gave him the illusion he’d never feel warmth again.
 
The night was cold and the weather unrelenting, subjecting the members of the company to frigid temperatures and damp air due to the proximity to the coast, which the waves continued to crash upon with ferocious force, ejecting white spray across the beachhead. The survivors had laboured well into the night, scavenging whatever equipment could be carried from the [I]Courtesan[/I] and the dunmer ship, and setting up camp in the cave where the Armigers had taken refuge of their own. Do’Karth was relieved to see his rucksack and coat were intact, and the warmth it provided was unparalleled. He had helped strip the dunmer bodies of their equipment and helped bury them under loose rocks found along the beach while others made the treacherous climb upon the ship to retrieve the supplies. It was tiring, thankless work, but Do’Karth felt better that he was away from the sea and able to give the dead their proper dues, saying a few prayers to Mara to give the warriors a respectful send off to whatever followed. They were enemies, but they were still soldiers who were doing their duty. Fallen warriors deserved respect for their convictions, if nothing else. 

When rations were cooked and dinner handed out, Do’Karth sat with his friends and made idle chit-chat as the storm raged outside of the cave where the fire was kept alive and fed by a generous reserve that the Armigers had collected; they clearly had intended to stay here for some time. When the company bedded down for the night, Do’Karth volunteered for first watch, sitting by the mouth of the cave and passing the hour by sketching the ghostly hulls of the beached ships. It was certainly one of those occasions he would look back at in future years in wonder, and as he stared out into the blustering snow and collecting ice, he could not shake the feeling that there was something inherently wrong about the storm. By the time he was relieved from watch, Do’Karth found his bedroll between Sagex and Keegan and almost immediately drifted off to sleep, the tension of the day finally taking its toll and giving Do’Karth a much needed reprieve.

~ ~ ~

[I]16 Dawn’s Folly, two hours after dawn…[/I]

After a larger than normal breakfast, thanks largely to the Armiger supplies and the lack of desire to carry an excessive amount of weight through the snows, the company gathered their gear and set out in a long column. Do’Karth joined others who were skilled in pathfinding in the front, having thoroughly reviewed a map and plotted a course back to the safety and relative comfort of Dawnstar, the khajiit in particular valued for his heightened senses that didn’t rely on sight to navigate and would alert the company to approaching dangers. The wounded were kept in the middle of the column, having an easier trek as the snows ahead would have been well trampled down by the strong rotation of point men, which would have to dredge themselves through sometimes waist-deep snows that had accumulated rather suddenly in the past weeks in the unseasonal storms. Following the wounded were the baggage train of people primarily burdened with carrying the majority of the supplies, and taking up the rear were the commanders and other strong fighters, who would ensure the no one was left behind, keeping an eye out for threats to the flanks and rear, and giving orders as needed. 

The column set out when there was enough light to see, as navigating the wilderness in the dark in deep snow is perilous and the slightest incident could cost lives in the blink of an eye, be it from concealed drop offs, collapsing overhangs of collected snow, rockslides, or even just getting lost in the poor visibility. The going was slow, and the 8 point men and women walked in pairs to create a wide enough trail and to lend each other support and strength over the terrain when needed. 

As the hours passed, the blizzard did not relent, and movement was exceedingly halted to recheck the map and reorient the group, as well as stopping every two hours for twenty minute breaks, any more of which threatened to cover anyone who was stuck lying prone. The cold was biting, the snow soaked through any clothes that weren’t oil treated, and overall the mood was rather one of misery. 

If any thought it could not get worse, the wind suddenly started picking up, and debris was thrown at alarming velocity, and even smaller branches that broke off of dying trees hit with the force of rocks. Many lost their footing as sudden, powerful gusts knocked people off of their feet. Do’Karth, whose feet were rather freezing even through his thick foot wraps and well-padded feet, buried his staff into the snow and leaned against the wind to steady himself. “We need to find shelter!” a voice from the rear of the column bellowed, although with the wind and the strain in the voice it was hard to tell exactly who it was. Ahead, in the white void of heavy snowfall was the barely visible face of a cliff. “Press forward!” Do’Karth urged his partner, and the two of them lead the way, struggling through the blizzard as they moved towards the rock and perhaps salvation. The temperature felt like it was plummeting the worse the storm picked up, and staying still was asking for some of the column to be buried alive, an unacceptable fate after what they’d endured. 

The wind shifted, and with it, a strange scent caught on the wind. It took Do’Karth a moment to realize what it was. 

“This one smells fungus! There’s a cave ahead!” he called back, urging the group to press on just a little harder. After what felt like hours although it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, Do’Karth’s hand touched rock and he and the others followed it until they stumbled across a large opening. The cave would be their salvation, Do’Karth hoped as he plunged inside, his eyes adjusting instantly to the dark conditions. After only a few meters, the wind no longer bit at him, and it almost felt like warmth returned in force. Walking ahead to give room for those who followed, Do’Karth heard a curious sound; running water. 

The khajiit walked further into the cave, finding what looked like a worn down foot path down to what looked like a small stream of water running along the bed of the cave floor. Curious, he made his way down to the stream and dipped his fingers into it, feeling the cool fluid running between his fingers, but far warmer than if it had originated from outside. Looking around, he looked at the fungus that had given off the musky scent that led him to the cave, trying desperately to recall if it were poisonous or not. Moving closer, his foot stepped on something that crunched underfoot, startling him somewhat. Do’Karth knelt down, gritting his teeth as his leg screamed in pain, and picked up what it was he had stepped on. 

It was some kind of shed skin from some sort of shelled or insect creature from a molt, the translucent dark substance crumbling to the touch. What on Nirn could be down there with them? A sinking feeling filled Do’Karth’s gut as he decided to double back to the others. His ears soon picked up the sound of splashing water further down the stream, something large and heavy. Gritting his teeth, Do’Karth hurried up the path as fast as he could when he heard the distinct clicking of mandibles from not only below, but above. Suddenly, a splash of a foul-smelling liquid erupted across the stone just behind him, and looking up was a massive, hideous black insect with four long, thick legs and a pair of menacing pincers in front of a horrific maw. The creature scurried down the rocks with alarming coordination, and a group of the insects emerged from the mouth of the stream. Do’Karth didn’t know that they’d stumbled across a chaurus nest. 

And with the chaurus, the falmer were never far behind. Soon hideous, deformed voices and lumbering footfalls filled the air as the falmer, the masters of the dark underbelly of Skyrim with senses of smell and hearing unmatched by most everything else in Skyrim, began their investigation of what intruders had stumbled into the mouth of their dwelling; the musky smell Do’Karth had picked up wasn’t just the fungus, but the decaying matter of the chaurus and falmer victims who had been drawn to the cave for years before. Arrows began to rain down behind Do’Karth’s footfalls, and he yelled after the company that the caves weren’t safe as a thunderous weight crashed into him from behind, forcing him to the ground. Turning on his back quickly, Do’Karth barely managed to grab the powerful pincers that twitched menacingly around his neck, gritting his teeth with effort to keep from finding himself decapitated and a circular jaw of sharp fangs tried to press closer to his muzzle. 

This was not how he wanted to die, the khajiit decided. He didn’t survive the Siege of Windhelm and a godsdamned shipwreck just to be eaten by a horrible bug.