Dervish — Roleplayer Guild

Due to increased responsibilities as a moderator and ever-diminishing amounts of free time, I'm forced to withdraw from several roleplays. Unfortunately, this is one of them. Thanks for the good times, y'all. @Hank

You gave it a good shot,  I do appreciate the effort! You take care and see you around!

As for the rest of you guys, how we all holding up? I may try to post the next couple of days, assuming I really have something to respond to. I'm having a bit of a time following along, so it's hard to see what I can do. Do you guys want to wrap up the current bit of mission and reorganize for the mineshaft? Hellis is going to have to be your fearless leader for now, because I won't lie, writing takes 100% of my concentration while I'm here, and most of the time, I'm at about 40-60%. :/ Falling asleep at the keyboard has happened, as had it being too painful to sit upright.

Sun’s Height, the 6th… the day the oldest human city in Skyrim fell. Things had fallen into place so fast when Leif had returned from his own ventures, and while he welcomed Do’Karth into his home, the khajiit was under no illusion the man was fond of him, largely because of his overly fond association with Sevine. However, his return today bore the mark of a man consumed by fear as he urged everyone present to pack as much as possible; the city was on the verge of collapse. From what Do’Karth gathered from Leif’s rushed explanation was that the Jarl had fallen in single combat against the Kamal, and several of his loyal guardsmen had thrown their lives away against the invaders. Any moment, the streets would be filled with invaders, and no one had any illusions just what they were capable of. Do’Karth had gathered his things, as well as tied off as much food and bottled beverages as he could in bed rolls that he managed to tie to his person, weighing himself down considerably.
 	
Before long, several others from the company arrived, apparently having noted Leif’s house as an extraction point. Anders, the man Leif had helped save from the sewers, shared knowledge of a network of underground tunnels the Thieves Guild had used, knowing full well that those tunnels were the only way anyone was making it out of the city alive. Do’Karth had helped support Sevine, carrying her across his shoulders atop his well-padded rucksack, and Anders soon had them going beneath the surface. The khajiit offered a sympathetic stare when he met eyes with Leif, who was trusting the life of someone he cared about greatly to a stranger, but also having to give up his home to invaders. The emotional turmoil, let alone the fear of death, must have been consuming for the man. 

The journey was perilous, and the further the company and others outside of the group carried on, the more casualties mounted. The boards gave out, dropping people down chasms to their deaths; it was after this point Leif had insisted Do’Karth relieve himself of carrying Sevine. In truth, the khajiit was growing exhausted with the extra burdens and carrying another person, and his leg screamed in protest at this discomfort. Do’Karth felt grateful for Leif at that time, because after the flight across the fields into the forests, Do’Karth was certain he would have perished. There was no time to slow down, and all around him people fell to spells and the terrifying slug-bears; by the time Do’Karth felt it was safe to stop running and it was okay to look, very few of the numbers of survivors they had set out with remained. It was a sobering and terrifying reminder of all of their mortality. The fear that gripped them all was unspeakable; Do’Karth had never been so afraid in his life, being forced to flee with death nipping at his heels, and it was so close, so many times. It was just another beast altogether to face down one’s enemies in combat and push your body to run because to stop would be certain death. It was being prey, and everything about it sat entirely wrong. His lungs threatened to collapse, and his heart beat so hard it threatened to burst, but despite all of that, and how much his muscles screamed in agony, he was alive, and that was keeping him moving forward. 

Relief came later in the day when Ashev and the other commanders deemed it was safe enough to set up camp for the night, and despite the universal fear of being caught, fatigue eventually won out against any protest. Khajiit caravans peddled their wares, and while he did not stop others from trying to haggle with the elusive cats, who were experts at picking up on desperation, he had managed to secure a fresh rabbit for a small handful of coins and to share what remained of his bottle of Cyrodiilic Brandy, spiced with a generous helping of moon sugar and to share a meal of his own with the khajiit, who were curious of the adventures of a fellow kinsman. Do’Karth decided to lay his bedroll down with his people for the night, offering to help in exchange for provisions.

Having secured the rabbit, Do’Karth cut half of the creature for Sevine and Leif, thanking Leif for his hospitality and generosity for the past few days, and for Sevine for everything she’d done for him. He promised he would protect them both, to the end of his days. It was something that seemed certainly urgent given what had brought them to this point, but Do’Karth was beginning to realize that everything he had worth dying for were right here, in the cold North. The other half of the hare was given to Solveig and Jorwen, and the khajiit thanked Jorwen for being an invaluable friend, and that he would keep his promise to him and Solveig to keep looking out for her, even when times were rough. Do’Karth’s world was small, but it was more than he’d had for most of his life. It was just a damned shame it took the Kamals destroying so much to give Do’Karth such meaning. As he wrapped himself up for the night, warming himself by the caravan’s fire, Do’Karth was all too aware that he was letting people so close into his life, and to lose them was to be unbearable. Troubled by thoughts of loss and fear of abandonment, Do’Karth drifted into an uneasy sleep.

After two days, the exhausted group of survivors had arrived in Dawnstar, marking the next long-term destination on their maps, and immediately they began to move into the town, wishing for salvation, warmth, and good food. Do’Karth had found himself sitting on the docks, resting against a post in a blanket with his sketch pad in hand. The khajiit stared listlessly at the beginnings of the charcoal drawing of Candlehearth Hall he would never be able to finish, and how quickly things had changed in just a few short days. It was enough that he had a moment to rest and reflect, and sprinkling his tongue with a small helping of Moon Sugar, Do’Karth allowed for the sense of warm euphoria to wash over him, giving him a sense of inspiration as he decided to take in the sights of the quiet bay, with the wooden docks, the frozen shores, and the water that shone pale green and black in the brilliant moonlight. After being stuck in a besieged city for days, this reprieve was enough to give him hope for the days ahead. He caught sight of Sevine, sitting outside the crowded inn. It was enough.

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