[center]Featuring [@Dervish]

Earlier that night...[/center]
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The festival was decent for a change. Keegan liked the whole aspect of people not killing each other and semi-palatable food being readily available; the event scored a five out of seven in his books. Fine afternoon teas felt like a life time away, which had only been thirty years (could have been an actual non-elven life time). Recent hardships tossed all hopes of regular luxuries right into Oblivion. Keegan might as well be reliving his prisoner days, fighting for every scrap of food and bedding. 

After personally collecting payment from the jarl's steward (as he didn't trust Dumhuvud with his money), Keegan bought what seemed to be salted whale blubber and walked as he ate. There were talk of Argonians forcibly evicted from town premises. In times like this, Keegan shuddered just walking past a back alley.

"Ooo, shiny..." Keegan gasped at a golden glow in the said back alley. All fears of danger vanished, only to be replaced by curiosity and a little hint of greed. He thought it could be a glittering jewelry.

"This one got you now!" Came the maniacal laughter of a Khajiit bruiser. Decked out in metal armor and brass knuckles, the oversized cat nearly rivaled the Altmer's own height. This man wasn't Do'Karth or Rhasha; last Keegan checked, they had better senses of humor.

"This got to be the most creative debt collection ever." Keegan sighed. Yep, it's about time his debt comes knocking. 

"You know the drill; money or your life." The Khajiit demanded. Two more punching bags emerged on cue, both without tail. 

"Right right," Keegan said casually, "how did you do that glow anyway?" Sizing up the bad guys, Keegan could no longer find traces of what initially ensorcelled him.

"A magicka mirage magnifier." The cat patted his chest proudly. "This one is very smart, yes?"

"Sure, very smart." Keegan waved. His wave contained magic. Suddenly, the non-Khajiit enforcers fell under an illusion. "Hey, your crotches are burning!" Keegan shouted as he released mind tricks from his hands. Immediately, the Khajiit's minions dashed away in terror, screaming about non-existent fires and patting each others crotches in the process. 

"Well played," the cat mock clapped, "too bad though, because this one got magic warding." He pinned a surprised Keegan by the shoulders against a wall, restricting the mage's hands, and his casting abilities by extension. "Any last words before Muh'ali caves your skull in?" The Khajiit hissed. His features were angry, ugly and scarred like a typical villain. However, Keegan could not make out much of it in the dimming lights.

"Uh, help!" Keegan decided to make his last words, well, hopefully not last words. With the festivities dying down, he banked on someone capable hearing his cry for help.  

As if the gods had heard the altmer's pleas, or a passerby in a busy festival happened to be going by the alley in the diminutive village at that moment, Muh'ali suddenly barked a surprised and pained yelp and backed off of Keegan as his arm was pulled behind his back and twisted against the pressure points. Do'Karth, having just left the inn after meeting with Tsleeixth and the newcomer Dax, heard a commotion and came investigating. he was surprised to see one of the only altmer he'd seen in the company being accosted by another khajiit, and it simply would not do; he'd worked hard at giving his people a better image in people's eyes by trying to be something other than a thieving or murdering brute, and here was a large and ugly Cathay harassing someone he served with. Do'Karth wasted no time in descending upon the assailant and taking matters into his own hands.

"This one thinks you have the wrong mer, yes? Move along, enjoy the festival." He said calmly, as if explaining to a drunken friend that he was being an idiot.

"Quite the contrary." Muh'ali shook his twisted arm in pain. "You've picked a bad time to meddle; Muh'ali the champ will flatten both you and the elf shit."Seemingly unfazed by Do'Karth disabling one of his arms, Muh'ali swung the other in intricate flourishes. "This one was champion of both the butterfly flow and the bee sting."

It was a clumsy attack, given that his free arm had a limited range of motion to reach the khajiit behind him. Do'Karth ducked under or weaved aside the jabs and elbows and landed a savage kick to the rear of Muh'ali's leg, buckling it. The Cathay was larger and stronger than he was, but he certainly knew where it hurt to get hit. Do'Karth put more force into torquing the captive arm. His voice grew into a much more threatening tone, "Move along, or you will not have the choice."

Muh'ali's last ditch was a savage headbutt to Do'karth's face. Given how the larger Khajiit was wearing a steel helmet, this hit sent Do'karth reeling with a headache to remember. However, Keegan was longer helpless at that time. The Altmer had recovered from being pinned and managed to unbuckle his staff from its bindings. He swung the dwarven metal straight into Muh'ali's midsection, jotting the Cathay back and then applied a generous dose of electricity. These combined attacks put the big cat down on his back, who scrambled away with a series of rolls and crawls; figuring he clearly got more than what he asked for.

"This one and his allies shall return." Muh'ali spat once he put a safe distance between himself and the mercs. "Your debt will catch up to you sooner or later, Keegan Vasque." With that, the [i]champ[/i] turned tail and hobbled away.

"Hey, thanks for the help." Keegan managed to mutter after the incident. He nodded to his savior and then glanced around cautiously, seeing nothing beyond Do'Karth, started to walk back out. Just then, he found a slip of paper laying where Muh'ali fell in the brawl. It was a bounty from Daggerfall city authority, who promised 1200 gold coins for his live capture or 600 for his dead body. Near the bottom of the ledger were tacked on handwriting, ones that were strikingly similar to Horace Fontaine, his former patron. The handwriting cautioned whoever went after Keegan to be aware of [i]shallow physical resistance and abstruse arcane abilities[/i]. Keegan snorted at [i]shallow physical resistance[/i], something he begrudging admitted as true.

"Great." Keegan threw his hands up and shook his head at Do'karth.  "Would you believe it, they hiked my price up again." In midst of a war against otherworldly foes, a bounty upgraded to dead or alive is the last distraction Keegan hoped for.

Do'Karth removed his fingers from his skull, which stung to the point it felt as if it were on fire. The strike had momentarily blackened his vision and the smell of copper filled his snout as the strike cut a small gash into his forehead and his sinus felt like a small amount of blood pooled back there. His fingers came before his eyes, a damp redness discolouring his already rusty-coloured coat. 

"This one thinks you need new friends, and perhaps that he should have not had a few drinks in him before coming to your rescue. Who was that?" the khajiit asked, looking around for a rag to hold against his forehead. 

"A debt collector. They're typically human but I guess the reward attracts everyone now." Keegan answered. He didn't like sharing these kind of details with people, but there was also no point hiding it when it became plain. "I was scapegoated in horrible accident. The most elites of Daggerfall were my patrons, fairweather friends, now blame me for burning down a theater; something I did not do." He showed the Muh'ali's paper to Do'Karth, who either didn't bother to read or couldn't read at all. No matter the case, Keegan explained further. "Daggerfall Theatre belonged to Horace Fontaine, an influential minor noble who happened to be Ariane's uncle. I suspect Ariane is here to spy on me. This has been what, the fifth time they tracked me down. Similar thugs assaulted me in Windhelm; nose breaking seems to be their preferred approach. How come another country and a mercenary company can't even stop them? I'll never get away from..." It felt good to finally find someone to vent his frustrations, his stress and his worries. Keegan talked on for a few minutes, arms flailing emotionally. 

The Altmer went silent when he noticed blood trickling out of the Khajiit's nostril. "Pardon me, I didn't mean to..." Keegan cleared his throat while passing the armiger scarf to Do'Karth. The Altmer had little first aid experience, but he had seen Karth fixing wounds of both self and others. "Are you alright? I believe there is an apothecary nearby." Keegan cautiously placed a hand on his comrade's shoulder, something he picked up from other mercenaries. It seemed like Do'Karth's eyes struggled to focus on what's ahead. 

Do'Karth blinked at the reaffirming touch, it was an unexpected gesture from a mer he had not become acquainted with before, as if Keegan were roping him as a potential ally in his own personal struggles with the bounty hunters. He took the scarf appreciatively. "Do not concern yourself with Do'Karth, he's suffered worse. All blood is is a reminder to do better next time." he said, smiling. He was surprised that Keegan opened up so honestly about his troubles; the khajiit was wondering if perhaps he had an air to him that made him seem trustworthy to total strangers. He found a close friend, a paramour, and now... whatever Keegan would turn out to be. It was rare to meet altmer outside of the Dominion, and those that were were more often than not affiliated with the Thalmor. "To be fair, it is hard for a company to stop something they do not even know is a threat. This one feels he should take offense, for he bleed to stop your rather sizable adversary from collecting you." he teased. "But fear not, you are in Do'Karth's company. He will stand by you when they come back." 

He stopped in his tracks, placing a hand against the building they were walking alongside, the timber from bracing him as he held the scarf against the gash. The burning headache and mild intoxication, and whatever other damage the strike had done, had made him somewhat dizzy. It would pass, but the many factors were not encouraging. "Many pardons, Do'Karth's head rushed so suddenly. A moment, if you would." 

Keegan felt awkward for a moment, he had not intended to disclose so much about his past. He started to frown when Do'Karth teased but got around the lighthearted tone a moment later. "I...thank you." Keegan scrambled something that sounded grateful. He never got the hang of thanking people. "You help a lot of people, and I shudder to think what would happen if you haven't came along." 

Seeing the Khajiit stopping to brace himself against a building, Keegan stopped with him and stood close. "Not at all." He assured Do'Karth. "What can I do to help?"

"If one can be of use, why shouldn't he be?" The khajiit replied rhetorically, blinking stars out of his eyes. He was regaining his sense of balance, but the hit had been rather jarring. "There is nothing this one requires, he simply was looking out for a companion in a tight situation. He would think you would do the same, yes? It is simply enough to enjoy the festivals. Do'Karth has not seen anything such as this before." he admitted, looking around at the crowds and the hanging coloured lamps. "Things are somewhat different back home. Where are you from, Daggerfall?"

The words of his Khajiit comrade brought back memories when Keegan watched his mentor die. Honestly speaking? He's a coward, plain and simple. But he had since then vowed to not let those he depended on down. "Yes, you are right. We in the company watch out for each other." He was hesitant to say it, because Keegan could not picture himself in harm's way helping others, like Do'Karth demonstrated more times than he could count. "I'll lend you my spells whenever you need." He rubbed his shoulders and brushed the textures of his stowed staff. "But I think I am going to need to improve with polearms, the physical skills, if we keep taking such contracts." Keegan hinted for Do'Karth training him, but didn't want to ask directly. 

"Uh, yes." Keegan answered , not sure what else to say. "I've lived in other places before, Fir-" He halted himself mid sentence. Do'Karth didn't need to know that much, not now, at least. "Wayrest before that, before it was a pirate nest." Shifting his head uncomfortably, Keegan took in the last strands of sunshine and decided to change topic. "It's tough fighting on foreign soil." He remarked. Involuntarily, goosebumps grew on exposed skin as temperature dipped. "Do you ever get homesick? For Elsweyr, or where ever it is. I heard the moons are sacred to your people, did the bloodmoon nights scare you?" The words slipped out of Keegan's mouth like rapid fire spells. He forced his curiosity down, lest he became as nosy as Madura. "At least the festival is, well, nice. Though I wouldn't try the whale blubber if I were you."

The look in Keegan's eyes when he mentioned needing to improve with his physical staff prowess made it fairly evident that Keegan was asking Do'Karth for help; he was literally the only one in the company who fought with a quarterstaff, and the technique for spear combat was different enough that the skills weren't directly transferable in a lot of ways. The khajiit let the unspoken request hang for the time being, instead nodding at the prompted inquiry of if he missed home. 

"This one does think of Anequina from time to time, it has been years, and this one does not consider it home any longer. A wise man once said not to waste your time looking back, it is not the way you are going." Do'Karth replied, heading back into stride with Keegan, feeling sure enough on his feet to walk in a straight line after having a few moments to recover from the blow. "Jode and Jone, or as you might prefer, Masser and Secunda, are what determine what breed a khajiit becomes by the moon phases. The bloodmoon does not bother Do'Karth, although khajiit communities might take it as a bad omen, mainly since the phases directly effect our births. This one's been walking the sands of Tamriel for over two decades, he needs not worry what he will become." he chuckled. "Do'Karth intends to try a bit of everything. One cannot decide if they like something unless they try it, no?"

"Interesting." Keegan nodded. "Altmeri teachings, um, propaganda, say the moons can be bent to power magic. I wonder if the invaders was the cause behind this." Noticing Karth regaining coordination, Keegan resumed his normal pace. He wandered through a few streets without direction, then decided to head back to the inn and snag a room before none are left.

"I don't know how you could live on the road for so long, as myself never got accustomed to long travels." He said. "I especially don't like ships," reminiscing to the journey just earlier this week, "they are shaky, rough, irritating and the salty stink gets everywhere." Keegan found himself rambling on again, he's going to relearn his small talks if he were to be called an adept of speech.

"When you've been away from home for so long," Keegan slowed down again so that he wouldn't reach Windpeak before he finishes, "you start to forget all its problems and develop an ideal nostalgia for it."

The Altmer suddenly began to wonder about the Khajiit's age. Non-elven people aged like dogs (or cats and lizards), or that's what his tutor told him. "You have been traveling for two decades," Keegan decided to ask indirectly, "did it start on your own or with a family." Keegan then remembered something relevant from the newspaper. "Have you heard what's going on in Elsweyr? The Mane had been assassinated and there's a civil war right now; north fighting south." 

"You misunderstand; Do'Karth has only been alive for around two decades. It has only been a few years since he started to wander..." the second part of Keegan's statement took Do'Karth aback; he'd heard rumours, but nothing reliable. In the end, it didn't matter if he succeeded or not in the assassination of the Mane; it would seem that the gods wanted him dead rather badly. It left a sinking feeling in Do'Karth's gut, like his failure and subsequent path of redemption were meaningless if the result was ultimately the same. The civil war, however, was entirely new to him. He'd heard of fighting, but nothing of the sort being described. He stopped in his tracks, suddenly feeling very tense. "This one just thought they were words in the wind, nothing of substance... he had not heard of the war between Anequina and Pelletine, and he did not believe the assassination... there are no words, but this one is thankful he has no family to fear for. Just the soul of khajiit." he lamented softly. 

Keegan got more questions listening to Do'Karth, but he decide to let them rest for now. "I don't know how true they are, but that's what the newspaper Madura brought in said. I believe it's called the Tamrielic Gazette. Have you read one?" 

Now nearing the inn, Keegan checked his purse to make sure nothing was stolen. "The pay wasn't too bad this time, eh?" He changed topic briefly, wondering if the Cat-Kicker distributed the money to everyone. "Do you have a room?" He asked politely. It would be rude to hog the only room when there's someone else needing it. Keegan guessed they could draw straws, if it came to that.

"But I believe the Gazette's due for another issue tomorrow." Keegan said, trying to recall the schedule, if there's still a schedule in a war like this. "They say there's a power struggle on Summerset Isles, and more than the typical politicking in High Rock." Walking onto the inn porch, Keegan felt a little sorry for the refugee tents in the distance. "But there's no use worrying, is there?" He dismissed the concerns. "You should ask Madera for a copy tomorrow, he always receives them first, and then Dunmer's tolerable if you don't let him lead you into questions." He smiled faintly.

Ugh. Memories of the pushy dunmer came flooding back, a mer seemingly oblivious to the horrors around him in the city that pried Do'Karth and Niernen for information. For remembering another lost friend, a feeling of resentment crept up the khajiit's spine like a spider ready to bury its fangs in his neck. "Do'Karth is thankful he cannot read, for he has had the misfortune of meeting this Madura. He cared little for him. This one does not concern himself with problems of a world away, for there is more than enough excitement here." Do'Karth said, standing down a few steps from Keegan. He caught the altmer's gaze towards the assortment of tents. "This one is looked after, your concern is appreciated. Pardon this one's statement," he said, returning to study the altmer's face. "You seem to have a number of questions on your mind, wherever your mind wanders prompts a new thought. Is something troubling you, aside from debt collectors?"

Hearing Do'Karth as illiterate was bit of a shocker for Keegan. The Khajiit never acted dumb, and he assumed there's no way someone as well-traveled as he could get by not reading the signs. Perhaps what they said about "inferior races can't read" on Alinor retained some degree of truth. The Altmer stroked his chin, if it was him three decades ago, he would have mocked the catman. But now, he feels more sympathy than superiority. "You cannot read?" Keegan surprised. "Do you wish to learn? There's a set of chil- uh, beginner books in the tavern. I could get you started on them." He suggested, puzzling for a second on how kids' stuff got into a bar. "There's a few things." Keegan quietly nodded. There has been and always will be. He opened himself today more than he did in the last year. His comrade was trustworthy, but he'll need to ease his concerns out one-by-one, not spewing everything out to bare. "None of them are pressing matters right now." He leaned against the wooden railings, making a calm impression about himself. "I think the best thing for me, after the beating at sea, would be a warm sheet of blanket and a chilling mead." The Altmer chuckled at his unintended rhyme.

Do'Karth rewarded Keegan with a genuine smile. "Perhaps it is time this one settled down enough and figured out what all the fuss with words was about. Do'Karth thanks you, and will find time to read your kitten-level literature. The pictures may prove of use." he chuckled, tilting his head as Keegan looked like he wanted to continue his train of thought, be decided against it, before concluding that he had enough excitement for one day. "Then this one supposes we part ways this evening. There are still many things to taste, and after being trapped on a death trap of a ship, Do'Karth decided he would like to remain out of doors for a while where the sea cannot swallow him." he concluded, only half joking. Offering a parting wave, Do'Karth left Keegan to his devices before swiping the sweet roll from behind someone's back. Few things were quite so delicious as surprise delicacies.