A collaboration featuring the combined arms of the Hank, gcold, and Dervish to free the continent of The Golden Horde
The city was pure chaos as the defeated defenders were forced to retreat behind the heavy reinforced gates of the city, doubtless no longer feeling that the ancient portals could keep them safe as they had countless times in the past. Niernen and Do'Karth, both exhausted and spent after even such a brief skirmish, supported one another as they struggled to find where their company was regrouping. The khajiit felt a kinship with the dunmer woman, not unlike he had discovered with Jorwen, and the two managed to find an unoccupied ledge leading towards the Grey Quarter that they decided was potentially the only place the pair of them could find refuge, and possibly get their bearings. The sounds of the siege still carried over the walls, and those who had kept themselves safe within the city were now starting to get a sense of the desperation that had occurred outside the gates on the docks. It was sobering to reflect on those who had died, and it was only the second day. Sieges could, historically, last for months or even years. Do'Karth doubted Windhelm's ability to resist for that long.
Cries from the argonians wishing to return home to protect their Hist or whatever it was they cherished seemed to be the talk of the town, and Do'Karth wearily shook his head, wondering where sense had gone in the world. "It would seem Windhelm is not the only place people have mind for. Did you come from Morrowind, Niernen? Do'Karth is curious where you call home. It is always good to reflect on where we come from when things seem to be rather bleak."
The Argonians were seriously unnerving Niernen. Their cries reminded her of the war she'd fought, and once again the images of burned Argonian corpses flashed through her mind. But it wasn't just that -- if Black Marsh was under attack, it could mean other parts of Tamriel were as well.
She swallowed hard and nodded in response to Do'Karth's question. "Yes. My family hails from Blacklight, the capital of Morrowind. My brother and my parents live there. It's not far from here. Gods... at least it doesn't have a harbor. What about you, Do'Karth? Any family back home?"
The khajiit shook his head slowly. "No, this one has no family, nor a home. Do'Karth has spent quite some time wandering Tamriel in search of somewhere to settle, but there is still much to see and do, and nowhere seems quite right. Do'Karth has come to Skyrim to see the mountains and glaciers that are quite famously spoken of across the provinces, and the auroras dancing in the skies. He had also hoped to spot a dragon skeleton, but that remains elusive." The khajiit said, with a faint upturn of the lips. He watched the argonians with curious fascination. "What had caused you to come to Skyrim, to become a mercenary? Do'Karth cannot imagine it was easy to leave your family behind." he asked, keeping an eye out for suspicious activity. The khajiit was all too aware of thieves taking advantage of confused and angry crowds in times like this.
Do'Karth's free-ranging spirit amused Niernen, despite everything that was going on, and she smiled. That he had come all this way just to see the sights was a foreign notion to the Dunmer woman, who had spent almost her entire life pursuing her education or fighting in war -- there had always been a very specific purpose to her actions. When he asked her why she'd become a mercenary, Niernen sighed and leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.
She started talking. "When the Nerevarine returned to Morrowind, he summoned all willing Dunmer back to the province and decreed a time of great rebuilding. Part of that was retaliation against Black Marsh. The Argonians had sacked Mournhold, our old capital, after the Red Year. We... that is to say me and my brother, we're part of the Great House Redoran." She lifted her left hand to show Do'Karth her signet ring, engraved with the sigil of her House. "Our standing army, along with other auxiliary forces, invaded Black Marsh and captured many Argonians to be used as slaves. I went with them, to assist my brother as a battlemage. It's something I regret now, looking back on it, but orders are orders and slavery has been a part of Dunmer culture for a long time." Niernen paused and took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around herself.
"We were laying siege to the city of Thorn when two Argonian Shadowscales ambushed me. My guards were killed instantly... I managed to kill the Argonians -- I believe there was nothing left of them to bury afterwards -- but not before they stabbed me with poisoned daggers." She shuddered at the memory, and Garm whined softly. Niernen reached into the breastpocket of her leather cuirass and revealed the rosette; a small, crimson-colored ribbon with the Daedric letter Vehk stitched into the fabric. "They gave me this. A commendation for valor." Her tone was bitter and she quickly stuffed the rosette back where it came from.
"I came out here because I want to prove to myself that I'm not weak and useless," she concluded.
Do'Karth listened intently, understanding all too well the pain and suffering one's actions could inflict upon one's self, not just those they harmed in the process. Here was a woman who did her duty, and was celebrated by her people, but she seemed to carry around that ribbon that was meant to honour her bravery as a badge of shame. Her honesty and willingness to be forthcoming was surprising to Do'Karth, and he could not imagine telling another about what had really brought him so far from Pelletine. He reached out, placing a hand on Niernen's forearm.
"Do'Karth has met his share of weak and useless individuals, and you, Niernen of Blacklight, are among the most brave and resolved individuals he has ever had the privilege to meet." He nodded to the crowds in the street, the largely Nord population with the stern faces. "Not many of these people would have braved the docks against the unknown as you have, and you faced that unknown enemy without hesitation to try and save a city that you have no ties to, no reason other than an allegiance to a mercenary company. That is a voluntary thing, not something you were conscripted into. The way Do'Karth sees it, you could have left at any time before the city was encircled if you truly were a coward, but you are not. It warms this one's heart to stand alongside one such as yourself." he said, his eyes twinkling with genuine affection.
The khajiit brought his hand back and started fishing through his belt, reaching for a flask. He blinked as his fingers brushed the leather-wrapped steel and he let out a surprised laugh, prying the flask free of its mount. "This is soup, Do'Karth was saving it for moments such as this between fights. The container is still warm." he let that sink in with a grin. "When you saw fit to save this one by baking him, you must have heated the flask. It is tomato and venison, here." He offered the flask to his friend. "Do'Karth thinks it's only appropriate Niernen tastes the fruit of her labours, yes?"
His disposition remained warm as he contemplated her story for a few moments, searching for the right words. "Do not be ashamed at what you were forced to do, Niernen. You served a cause, and you were simply an instrument on that cause's will. This one understands the animosity between the dunmer people and the argonians, it is how many thousands of years now? How could one see what is right or wrong, if such a thing existed, when you are surrounded by such power and splendor? This Nerevarine, this living god, how could you deny their will? How could you see the horrors to come until are surrounded them?
"All you did was defend your brother, and fight alongside the people you grew to trust. You didn't fight for slavery; you fought for them, Niernen. In the end, you chose to leave it behind and make your own destiny." He nodded and gestured to where she had stashed her badge of shame. "Those powers that sent you to Argonia, regardless of their intentions for the argonian people, saw in you then what Do'Karth sees in you today. Someone worth admiring and following. The way this one sees it, that ribbon is what ties you to that time and place. This means either that there is something that you wish to hold onto from that time, or you feel that it is a reminder of what cruelty is. Perhaps one day you will see fit to cast it aside, and watch as your burden is carried off into the wind."
There would undoubtedly be a period of awkward silence when Do'Karth finished. Madura, who had arrived near the pair minutes ago and quietly taking notes off to the side, decided now would be as good of a time as any to jump in. Maybe distract their melancholy retrospect with recent success, something less gloomy. It worked some times in his interviews, while other times earned him strikes in vulnerable places. All in all, it would be a risk worth taking in exchange for juicy information.
Flipping over to a fresh page and dipping his quill in a belt-mounted inkhorn, he stepped up to the Khajiit and Dunmer. "Hello there. Don't mind if I ask a few questions?" He introduced himself, somewhat clumsily as he fumbled to undo his ungainly rustbucket of a helmet. "Madura Dalas, correspondent with the Tamrielic Gazette. Ashav allowed me to embed with the company." Madura extended a free hand, barely keeping the notebook tucked in his armpit.
"Dunmer sister and master Khajiit, very impressive display of maneuvers earlier." Finished shaking their hands (or not), the journalist readied the notebook once more. "Pardon me, but I've heard a little bit of your conversation earlier. Sorry, can't help being curious, part of the job." He chuckled nervously. Except, it wasn't very funny. So he straitened himself with a false cough. "Lady Niernen, were you a Redoran knight? Or perhaps affiliated with the Telvanni? And master Do'Karth, where does a nomad like yourself learn to wield a staff?"
Niernen had fallen silent after Do'Karth's heartfelt words. She appreciated what he was trying to do, but it wasn't working. Deep down, Niernen knew that she had gone to Black Marsh for no other reason than to prove her academic studies had been worth something. Narzul would have been fine without her and her contributions certainly did not make or break the war. If Niernen had chosen not to participate, her father's influence within the Great House would have made sure there would not have been any repercussions... and besides, would that have been necessary? Nobody would have expected the second child and only daughter of a Redoran House Father to go to war. No, it had been Niernen's stubborn determination to prove her worth, and nothing else. The same nonsense that meant she was now here, stuck in Windhelm with the enemy at the gates. Maybe she would tell Do'Karth this one day. "Thanks," she said quietly, and her eyes softened as she met the Khajiit's gaze and gratefully accepted the offered soup. It warmed her from within and she felt better almost immediately.
She looked up when another Dunmer approached. There were a lot of them in this city, Niernen had noticed, especially where they were now -- the Gray Quarter. To her surprise, the man introduced himself as a journalist embedded within the company. Niernen cast a glance at Do'Karth, one eyebrow raised, and hesitantly shook the Dunmer's hand. She opened her mouth to say something along the lines of 'is this really the time?' but changed her mind. Of course now was the time. History had to be recorded. "I can answer a few questions, sera," Niernen replied. "I'm a Redoran battlemage. I was instructed by the war-wizards of my House in the schools of Destruction, Conjuration and Alteration."
Do'Karth stared at the man, almost not believing this was a thing that could happen at a time like this. His eyes darted to the notepad, and back to the reporter's face. What on Nirn was this man's angle? The fact he had been recording their correspondence just felt violating. The khajiit didn't take an instant dislike to many people, but this renrij was something else entirely. Scores of people were fighting and dying to protect Windhelm from an unspeakable threat, and this spineless coward hid behind the walls, armed with little more than a quill and a clueless disposition, felt it necessary to make light hearted conversation with people who were trying to save the lives of men like him. Do'Karth did not even regard the offered hand.
Given the ignorance of outsiders to khajiiti culture, Do'Karth simply elected to have some fun at the man's expense.
"This one has the honour of descending from a line of Warrior Farmers practicing the long-forgotten art and earth magics of tilling and working the soil with just our staffs, which naturally work sufficiently to defend our lands from marauders and thieves. Do'Karth cannot tell you details because he took a sacred vow many moons ago, swearing never to reveal the teachings of Nirni and Lorkhaj. This one hopes you understand." Do'Karth said with an apologetic smile.
As his interviewees talked, Madura busied himself scribbling down lines. "I see, lady Niernen." He nodded to the Dunmer woman, absentmindedly concurring with what she said, while most of his attention focused on the pages. "Noble house, honored by the Nerevarine himself." Satisfied with the response for now, Madura gave his fellow dark elf a grateful look.
Re-inking his quill and reaching for fresh pages, Madura began writing down the Khajiit's words. Except, they were wryly unsound. Only did he realize halfway through that the Khajiit was messing with him. Given the circumstance, it was mostly likely not jest for the sake of jesting. "Very mysterious, master Karth." He blinked and thought over some way to get back at this cat. For now, Madura chose not to press on. His face eager to prod, or maybe even return something clever. But he restrained himself. "So be it, I would not prod further if the warrior-farmer does not wish to divulge his trade secrets."
Then, Madura flipped the book forward to earlier pages. Rubbing his eyes, he scanned the pages. The Dunmer man licked his lips, as if the cold sea air could not moisturize sufficiently. "I have a another question. Please understand it is not just directed at the both of you, but something I asked before every battle." Madura declared. The quill and notebook disappeared back to his bag. The journalist rubbed his hands together, his eyes darting to the ground then sweeping over his subjects. Maudra was hesitant to look eye-to-eye with the dual, though he forced himself to concentrate on Niernen and Do'Karth's faces. "Let's say, the worst scenario. What if the city falls, the jarl could no longer direct us for defense. What would you do? Fight on, together? Surrender? Run your own way?"
As quick as he belted out the question, Madura put his hands up as a gesture of innocence. He eyed Do'Karth's staff, and Niernen's, well, hands, skittishly. Fighting men have a habit of taking their rage out on the intermediary, and Madura wished these mercenaries are outliers. "Of course, I speak not defeatist notions; only a hypothetical scenario."
Niernen had to hide her amusement at Do'Karth's story. She very much doubted it was true, but then again, what did she know about Khajiit? Very little.
She rolled her eyes at Madura's question. "I haven't noticed much of the jarl, to be honest," she said icily, "or his supposed direction. I go with the Company, and I expect they will not abandon the city unless all hope is lost." She had absolutely nothing to base that last statement on, but she figured it wouldn't do well to badmouth her employer on her second day. She cast a sidelong glance at Do'Karth, wondering what he would say.
Do'Karth glanced at Niernen and back to Madura. "This one isn't here for the Jarl, this one stands by those who he fights alongside. Past that, Do'Karth does not think of such things. If this one's companions elect to stay, than so will Do'Karth. This one does not expect to see you in the city should it fall, but if he does, please pick up a sword and make yourself look useful. This one is certain there will be no shortage of fallen blades for you to choose from." The khajiit hopped off the ledge, turning to Niernen with an apologetic smile. "Do'Karth needs to check on Solveig, he made a promise to Jorwin. Given how things might change at a moment's notice, time is of the essence. Be well, Niernen. We shall meet again soon."
After collecting his soup flask and staff, Do'Karth nodded to his companion and began to edge his way through the crowd, enjoying what was left of his snack and the peace and quiet of escaping interrogation.
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