[I]It is mornings such at this that make this one wonder if he should have left bed.[/I]

Although the body had been removed, the word of what transpired skirted through the air as attention grabbing and alarming as watching a sabercat sprint across the tundra to take an elk. Crimson blood pooled and glittered through the door frame, guarded by some of Ashev’s more trusted fighters of the company as others did the thankless job of cleaning up the very lifeblood of a man they’d all called friend. Orakh might have been an orc, and barely an acquaintance to Do’Karth, but the loss was still numbing. He thought of the times he’d been cut and nearly bled out, and before him was a grim reminder that everyone was all alike in the end, and the pools of sanguine blood that marked a violent end looked the same, be it man, mer, or beast.

The gods seemed content to not let the company enjoy more than an evening of reprieve of the horrors of the world, and hearing of Farid’s betrayal brought Leif’s brewing rage into sharp focus. Sooner or later, that would be a dragon that would have to be subdued, and word around the company was that he was all but prepared to die just the night before. It would not be altogether surprising if he chose to attempt to take Do’Karth’s life in the process, and so with that grim thought, the khajiit thought of Sevine and the unenviable position she endured of having the two people she cared for most be at such grave odds. He already swore to himself that he’d defend her with his very life and provide the comfort and sanctuary they found in one another, and immediately there was the prospect of Leif acting with lethal intent, or the two of them having to duel regardless. He would not kill the man, nor did he particularly wish to find himself as the man’s enemy, but one did not predict what the gods had in store. There as a reason for this, was there not? A test of faith, of his compassion? Do’Karth clutched the amulet of S’rendarr about his neck, beseeching the cold sandstone and brass amulet for an answer. The answer was silence. 

Glancing up at the sky above, the lazy clouds drifting by unhurried, as if the storms that had ravaged the expedition in Winterhold were but a dream long forgotten, Do’Karth recalled the night he received the red ribbon dagger and his life forever changed, where the assassin would soon die and the wanderer was born. A voice in the back of the khajiit’s mind reminded him how easy it was to kill, and how for many years he trained to become very good at it. He suppressed it, knowing that he’d resist the temptation to demonstrate what he was once so readily capable of, and spoke to the cosmos, “This one will not play your games. We will both survive, and this one will not allow Leif to follow Farid’s path.”

~ ~ ~

As the circle was erected, Do’Karth had picked a nearby boulder to sit upon, the blank yellow page of his journal becoming increasingly filled with details as the charcoal in his fingers danced and traced line after line, soon bringing the scene to life, knowing full well what was about to transpire. He did not know who would fight Farid, but this was a moment Do’Karth wanted to commit to the pages of his journal in the only way he knew how. For years and across countless leagues and the provinces, Do’Karth had wandered, recording the important occasions and images to paper to serve as either a reminder of the journey he would one day tire of and settle, or to act as his eulogy for whomever would find him vanquished.

[I]Do,Karth, you are rather preoccupied with mortality this day. Calm yourself.[/I] he thought, the medical supplies sitting about his waist in various pouches being to be all but useless for one of the men this day. As he sketched and the crowd grew, he was watching the darker side of the Nord culture he was indulging himself in unfold. When he had signed the parchment with a rough approximation of what a signature should have been, agreeing to terms he simply took at the recruiter’s word, he knew there would be death, and he would see some troubling things along this leg of his adventure. He’d never dreamed it would be like this, and seeing Jorwen’s great bearded face take place at the edge of the circle, Do’Karth immediately began to capture his likeness, the grim and somber resignation for what was about to transpire. Do’Karth feared for his friend, and found the moment perhaps more moving than the duel that was about to transpire. Day by day, Jorwen was bidding the final farewell to his few remaining friends one by one… the man was lonely, crushed under the weight of what war was taking from him. One by one, the faces disappeared, replaced by younger and younger strangers like the youth who had died in the wars he had fought. 

There was an air of powerlessness that Do’Karth felt as he shut the journal, deciding, perhaps wisely, that he did not wish to capture the final moments of two men he’d fought alongside for what had felt like years but had in reality only been a few short weeks. Finding Sevine in the crowd, Do’Karth moved through the lot, grim faced and hard, until he stood at her side. He clutched her hand in his, and soon, Farid was brought forth. Do’Karth studied the Redguard’s face, and he knew of his crushing loss he must have felt. Many in this crowd now hated him for what he had done, and he faced his end bravely, choosing to meet it with blade in hand instead of letting others take what little power he had from him.

Ashev’s champion was Dax, the argonian Do’Karth had briefly met while enjoying the spoils of his victory against Solveig in their friendly contest of arms. The argonian was barely with the company for a day or two at most, and here he was, ready to slay Farid and boasting proudly of the feats he had claimed, enjoying the pomp and circumstance of the moment, the glory he would seek at the end of a blade. Perhaps it took a stranger to take Farid’s life, for there was too much blood and iron shared between many of those men and woman who stood observing the trial by combat with Farid. Whatever he had done this morning, he had a history of feats as a good and respected man. Do’Karth’s lips grew heavy with disappointment as he observed the argonian, who relished in the bloodshed to come. The thought of Ashev accusing Jorwen of treason for his insubordinate attitude crossed his mind, and would he be forced to fight in a spectacle such as this? There was little doubt Dax would step forth again and attempt to slay Do’Karth’s friend. He found his grip on Sevine’s hand tightening, and he loosened the pressure immediately, feeling suddenly self-conscious. He could not let that happen. He would not allow his friends to be disposed of, and to do that, he had to stop them from making foolish mistakes.

[I]This is why you wandered, Do’Karth, this is why you never allowed others close. Death follows you like a shroud.[/I]

The melee that soon followed was a particularly brutal affair, without a clear victor apparent as the wounds and vicious blows, parries, and counters mounting in this desperate mortal dance of steel and blood, Farid and Dax throwing themselves into the fray with such savage and hateful ferocity it felt like neither would survive. When the argonian had Farid pinned to the ground, feebly reaching for the dagger, Do’Karth closed his eyes and clutched his amulet, reciting a quiet prayer for the anguished man’s soul to find the peace he was denied, and to reunite with the family that was robbed from him. The silence the followed was deafening, and soon the familiar intonations of Jorwen broke the air, declaring Dax the victor. As the crowd began to disperse, Do’Karth gave Sevine a quick but reassuring embrace before breaking off to head Jorwen off. The khajiit grasped his friend’s wrist as he passed, sharing a gaze with the man who had such a fierce reputation, but to Do’Karth, was one of the most compassionate men he’d met. Jorwen looked utterly defeated, and Do’Karth wanted to, no, [I]needed[/I] to show him he was not alone, even in dark times such as this. The Nord continued on, no words shared between the two.

Do’Karth stepped into the ring, placing a hand over his heart as he paused for a moment to look down at Farid’s fallen form to pay a form of respect before approaching Dax. “This one offers his services to mend your wounds. You fought well.” He said, not quite meeting the argonian’s gaze. A veritable storm of uncertainty filled Do’Karth, but he still had a duty to fulfill, regardless of his misgivings.