The Struggles of Dar'Farahn the Khajiit
Ch. 1 At a Loss
It was a rainy day. In fact, it was rainier than most days. Riften's normal bustling citizens were still wandering the crowded, dirty streets. It seemed nothing would be stopping them from their everyday habits such as thieving, shopping, gossiping, and whatever else its people did on an every day basis.
Leaves of many different shades of yellows still fell from their trees but instead of floating off with the wind they plummeted to the ground with the rain, and got trampled into the stone or the mud by passerby's who could care less of their surroundings.
Dar'Farahn, a young Khajiit male, sniffed his nose under the cold rain as he raised yet another box of Black-Briar mead and prepared to carry the thing to its designated location. His tacky blue robes were now drenched as he walked and with every step he felt a tear as a new hole in his garment began to form.
"what a bothersome day, truly bothersome I must say." The Khajiit grumbled until he reached the 'Dryside' of Riften, which was where a majority of housing and shops were located.
"Hey there… Cat, you have the goods as ordered right?" A gruff looking older nord male walked up to greet the uncomfortable cat. He wore a set of simple iron armor which was common by any standards of Skyrim.
"Yes, of course," Dar'Farahn replied, "but I do not believe that these were to be delivered to you."
A low chuckle emitted from the barbarian looking man, "and what makes you so sure of that? You are but a milk drinker, a disgusting diseased feline who probably lives somewhere on these vile streets!"
Dar'Farahn's ears instinctively went back and he cast out a low hiss of displeasure. "Well, unless you are, of course, a female perhaps, and Argonian? You might fit that picture though. I don't even have to squint that hard to make it possible!" He smiled for only a second before a large fist was crashing into his fragile catlike nose.
The crate of mead crashed heavily onto the stone pathway causing bottles to shatter and a distinguishable alcoholic smell slowly began to rise from the now broken up delivery box but faded much faster than it had arrived. Within seconds over half of the Black-Briar mead had wasted away with the rain that was running along the trail.
Dar'Farahn raised his upper body from the drenched ground and stared in anguish at the crate that was slowly emptying itself of the rest of the mead. Momentarily he compared this crate and thought of it as his life if Lady Black-Briar were to find out of today's events. He shook the gloomy idea from his mind as his tail twitched and stood, shivering, with each step towards the warehouse, the origin of the mead.
"You foul, Cursed, no-good, unintelligent nord!" He raged until he finally reached the warehouse in the 'Plankside' of Riften where the Black-Briar mead was made and fishing was conducted. Dar'Farahn's eyes widened as he laid sight upon Lady Black-Briar.
"You have failed me once more, you disgust me cat! I knew I shouldn't have hired your kind, you are probably too high on Moon Sugar right now to even understand a word I'm saying aren't you!?" Her words were sharp, like a dagger, but she managed to keep a calm demeanor about her.
"Um, if you mind my asking, my lady," Dar'Farahn began but was quickly interrupted.
"What is it?" The woman's eyes had a fiery look as she glared at Dar'Farahn.
He trembled slightly and his tail wrapped tightly around his right leg. Dar'Farahn finally found the courage to speak once again. "H-how did you even know of the incident that occurred today?" He noted Black Briar's eyebrow twitching and gulped softly.
"What exactly do you mean Dar'Farahn?" Her question pierced deeply into the Khajiit, for she used his name, and produced a fear that most would assume only dragons could cause.
"I-I uh, mean nothing. Just… a confusion of days and information is all." He insisted and tried desperately to make his words believable while attempting to understand the situation at hand, but being a Khajiit made that a nearly impossible feat.
"Answer me or be fed to slaughter fish and made a laughing stalk of the city! It would be most comical to see a cat torn apart by fish, ironic really." Black- Briar chuckled as a look of slight insanity aroused momentarily across her normally bland features.
It was odd for Dar'Farahn to see Lady Black-Briar in such a mood. Normally she carried a displeased or simply grumpy expression wherever she toured. This noble, who was always finely dressed in her fine dark robes with semi-dirty long curly hair, seemed an entirely different person to Dar'Farahn at this current moment.
"I... sort of, well, lost," and again he was cut off.
"By the gods, spit it out!" Her impatient, yelling demands caused a few of the guards to look in her direction.
It was bad enough that she had two heavy duty nord body guards with her and now the town guards and possibly a few passerby citizens were probably tuning into their conversation, or quarrel. This Khajiit was not one for attention of any kind.
Dar'Farahn's tail twitched again as it slowly unraveled from his leg. "I lost, or dropped, a delivery crate of the Black-Briar mead on my way to the inn." A very small sensation of relief tried making its way through the Khajiit but was quickly destroyed when the woman pulled one of her body guard's swords and was now pointing it at Dar'Farahn.
"You are no longer welcome in Black-Briar Company and you are officially evicted from your home," she declared harshly.
"But, wait a minute! You cannot do... You do not have the authority to do such a thing!" Now angered, Dar'Farahn's ears went straight back to a point of near invisibility. His lips rose slightly to show his white sharp teeth in an attempt to scare his opponent with barbaric mannerism.
"Oh but I can, little cat, because I own the plot of land that you are living on. I will give you until the end of tomorrow's eve to have your possessions removed from my property." The angered woman handed the unsheathed blade back to her guard before speaking one last time. "I only spared your life because it is simply not worth taking, and not worth the time. May you rot on the streets like the rest of your kind." With that being said, she walked off into the crowd.
Dar'Farahn hadn't even noticed the mob that had gathered around him and Black-Briar which was now dispersing to return to their daily activities. He stared down at his furry shaking hands, not realizing he was in a state of shock.
This was not the first job he had managed to lose in his time after moving to Skyrim. He worked the bar, docks, shopkeeper, and even sold his body at one point. This wasn't including the jobs lost in Cyrodil, his original home. Unlike most Khajiit, he was not born in Elsweyr and did not grow up with their customs and traditions. He only carried his Khajiit name and amulet that was passed through his family for who knows how long. The most prominent feature of his though is the moon sugar addiction, just as many other Khajiit have.
Almost an hour had passed before a guard came by and lightly kicked his soaking body. "Hey, you need to move. You are disturbing residents of the area." His iron and leather helmet had many battle scars that could be noticed from at least ten yards away, and his blue tunic and chainmail looked just as battle worn Though his leather boots and gloves showed no sign of damage asides the current watery mud stain.
Dar'Farahn stumbled himself into an upright stance and began to wander aimlessly about the city in deep thought or maybe he wasn't thinking at all. After about an hour or two of pointless wandering he decided to stop by at the Bee and Barb Inn for a drink.
Upon entering the lively inn he made sure that the brute, who cost him his job, was nowhere to be found, which was the case. Dar'Farahn sat with a heavy conscience at the bar and called for his favorite tender. An Argonian, which is the reptilian or lizard-like race, quickly headed to greet him.
He turned to see the large Argonian male, dressed in what would appear to be servants clothing, rubbing his hands on a rag that seemed to be of the color white at one point in its life-cycle. His shirt and trousers were of the same nature but the leather wrappings around his wrists and leather boots were unscathed by any dirt, which meant that he most likely recently had them shined.
"Hello Talen-Jei, would you be a friend and offer me a Velvet LeChance perhaps?" Dar'Farahn's cat like tongue began to work its magic on his Argonian friend.
"Sure thing Dar'Farahn, but what is it that troubles you so? It is not like you to come in so early unless you are distraught in some manner." Talen-Jei's concern showed through his rough reptilian features.
"Well, my good friend, I lost my job and home in a matter of seconds." The cat held nothing back and merely sighed at the completion of his sentence.
"What, you are joking right!?" He leaned over the counter in astonishment but quickly realized that many eyes were now gazing upon the two and sat up with a low cough to settle some tension and hopefully divert the interested watchers.
"So," Talen-Jei started again, "was it the thieves' guild?" He hissed his disapproval which was easily read by his Khajiit friend.
"No, no of course not, you really need to stop obsessing over them. I know how you feel but they do not cause every misfortune in Riften, you know?" Dar'Farahn reached for the Velvet LeChance that Talen-Jei was now holding and took a loaded sip when the bottle was acquired.
"Well, they could," the Argonian grumbled and began wiping down the bar as they began to delve deeper into their conversation.
"Anyway, it was Lady Briar; she found out that I dropped a crate today."
"You did," Talen-Jei interrupted, in an unsurprised fashion, but was quickly hushed by his Khajiit friend.
"Stop interrupting me, I'm trying to tell my story," he demanded and scratched his ear before taking another large sip. "So, it would seem she found out somehow, but I never did find out the details. She was there for other reasons though…"
"Other reasons? You see, this is why I interrupt you. You have many troubles making sense and so your story is coming out jagged and unclear. What do you mean that she was there, and what other reasons do you speak of?"
Dar'Farahn cast another angered glare, only this time Talen-Jei was silenced for the rest of his story telling session. It took about a half an hour to get the full occurrence of his day across clearly, starting from the morning delivery up unto his entrance into the Bee and Barb Inn.
"Well that has to shout thieves' guild business!" The Argonian had, once again, showed his distaste towards the organization and ensured that everyone in the tavern managed to hear it this time around.
"Oh, by the nine," Dar'Farahn let his head fall to the table making a slight banging noise which shook his nearly empty bottle of Velvet LeChance and some table ware that had been place before his arrival.
Talen-Jei let out a sigh and pushed his hand against the almost dry Khajiit. A low grumble emitted from the wretch on the table and soon Dar'Farahn lifted his head.
"I told you to take this stuff slow. It is far stronger than the norm." The Argonian gestured to the door. "You ought to head home now and get some rest or you will regret it later. The rain has stopped so you shouldn't have to worry about the cold"
"Until... next time," Dar'Farahn slurred out his last words as he stumbled his way home through the damp terrain and fell into a comforting looking straw bed upon his arrival. His home was only one room with a fire place, a bed, some dressers, a small safe, a cupboard, an end table, decorations, and a fish rack.
The Khajiit's now crippled body reached for the safe next to the bed and carefully entered in a combination. It opened to reveal a large collection of moon sugar and Dar'Farahn grabbed enough to last the night. Before taking in his drug he stared with empty eyes at the many different wooden planks that were holding together his little wooden house. At least twelve years of his life were spent living under this tacky straw roof. The fear of exile almost consumed him and so he took in the drugs and let them do their work. Soon, the world was spinning right before his eyes and all was good, or so he thought.