Ahsamiir's Scratchings - The Junkie

[Allet]

SUMMARY
Play as a Khajiit drug-and-narcotics specialists, focusing on his fists for combat and his wits (or brute strength) for monetary gain. Start with nothing, eventually get to... ?

I BACKSTORY
II PLAYSTYLE
III PLAY RESTRICTIONS

I - THE BACKSTORY
Ahsamiir grew up in the trade caravans of Skyrim, never quite becoming attached to any single hold. His family constantly traveled and his friends constantly shifted, leaving the poor young Khajiit from a young age to learn to keep relationships at an arm's length. The shifting nature of his childhood leaves little room for stories of growing up to reminisce about, unless one counts the time he smuggled into his caravan leader's tent and had more than his fair share of moon sugar.
As the young Khajiit began to grow, he became more meddlesome. Targets of acquisition slowly got larger and larger and deviated from the drug trade - he would hoard for himself horker tusks, potions, poisons and alcohols of every type. To keep him out of trouble, the caravan agreed to post him on guard duty during the travels; the young cat quickly learned how to fend off the occasional ravenous wolf with his claws and lacerate the invading bandits that strove to steal of the caravan's precious supply. No matter how busy the Khajiit was kept, though, he still managed to make it into the skooma before it was shipped out.
As the cat slowly become known among the caravan for his subtlety, a reputation was formed. Ahsamiir found himself eventually being used to smuggle the occasional high-value loads on foot, when speed mattered, to very discerning clients. One of the newer clients had such a craving for the high-inducing substances that he ordered a dozen vials of Sleeping Tree Sap. As the Khajiit came up to deliver the crate though, one was found missing.
The client, outraged, said nothing, but arranged for the Khajiit to be apprehended by Imperial Scouts on his way back to the trade caravan...



II - PLAYSTYLE
Ahsamiir is a drug addict - skooma, moon sugar, Living Tree Sap or alcohol. If it can provide a buzz, he's in the middle of it. Even if the Khajiit isn't using it per se, he still feels a need to be involved with the substances to some degree, mainly because they are profitable. His upbringing causes him to favor hand-to-hand combat, and he does whatever is needed to ensure that the sharp bashes of his fist land first and last.
The Khajiit doesn't have terrible morals, but he will kill in order to get a fix. He is a pickpocket by "trade" and a brawler by nature, and these two skill sets modify his behavior almost as much as his cravings. He also prefers his food in the form of fresh game - no silly bunny food for Ahsamiir!

III - PLAY RESTRICTIONS
- difficulty set to 'Master'
- HUD set to 0%
- only carry 30% of what game allows
- No Weapons
- no use of potions while in immediate combat
- must pull back hands to use a potion
- not allowed to use magic other than power and shouts (for character role playing)
- not allowed to harvest unreasonable items (if a dead elk has a garnet don't take it)
- do not activate overpowered/unrealistic perks (like conditioning; heavy armor weighs nothing)
- must sleep for at least 6 hours every day (allowed to make rare exceptions)
- must restore at least 5% of your health every day, 15% if plant matter (through food or meals)
- no use of smithing (must find/purchase all gear)
- may learn enchanting only through natural means (buying filled soul gems, making role-specific enchantments)
- not allowed to swim while wearing armor (and not allowed to enter freezing water unless under Living Tree Sap High)
- May only wear light armor except for gauntlets
- must apply level points to stamina and health in a 2-1 fashion
- may not use in-game map unless at a known location
- not allowed to fast travel
- no use of exploits
- not allowed to cut wood for money
- may only use manual saves before sleeping (resting)
- when character dies must load from a previous manual save
- may only use auto-saves in the event of a game freeze
- if character dies must sleep at an inn for 7 days and pay for 7 meals
- no companions that break character
- no horses

Inspired by Filim, who was inspired by Hrisskar!
Check them out too

 

[Allet]

Sundas, 17th of Last Seed

Stupid Imperial muts. They are all turncloaks - the whole lot of them! This one almost ended up as a trophy for the undertaker - Ahsamiir is sure of it! A big trap lets small skeevers slide through though, as the saying goes. A big fascist pig got captured and summoned a big flying cousin of an Argonian (stupid lizards) to get out. Mighty handy that this one managed an escape as well!

On the way to town was an old mine. Ahsamiir would have ignored such a stinking place but the Orc... The Orc guarding it smelled of wine - not fine quality alcohol by any means but enough to wet my appetite. I thank whatever divine power that leads my life that I chanced upon this dwelling of drinkers. The judgment of claws is swift and merciless, so much more so when there is drink to be had! Silly bumbling buffoons that they were, the particularly drunk ones nearly had me by toes for a second there!

Once in Riverwood, I settled down for a little bit. Hunger was settling in, so a few wines were scarfed down before the hunting trip began! Hircine would have been proud of this one, if ever was I a follower, for this one caught many fish and rabbit.

Ahsamiir's cravings are growing though. One can only live on rabbit haunch and mead for so long! I shall have to wake early and pay these sleeping townspeople some visits - surely one of them is willing to share their supply before they wake up.

 

[Friday is My Day!]

Thanks for the shout out, man! Great entry and a great character. Very creative. If you'd like, I'll post a link to your journal in my thread. Enjoy the journey!

 

[Allet]

Morndas, 18th of Last Seed

This town is a boring lot. Nobody even has so much as a tiredness potion lying around! The wrinkly-faced archer had quite a few catches lined up along his fireplace though, which was quite convenient. So many rabbits... Khajiit loves meat but rabbit is gangly and tough. Some salt-roasted fish would be good right about now; if the trader had any salt, this one would be quite well satiated indeed.

Speaking of the trader! Silly man apparently can't keep a hold of his valuables. The wind here carries thick with rumors and one rumor claims his valuable has been taken to Bleak Falls Barrow! A local pointed out where this favorite haunt of gangly men was. Nothing but superstition, Ahsamiir is assured, but a superstition that houses a treasure that perhaps can be put up for a ransom! It was a jaunty stroll through the ice-tipped rocks, until a tower loomed in the distance! Well, this one says a tower, but it was a glorified watchpost. Ahsamiir names this place Riverwood Lookout. The guard's warhammer was heavy with ice, or the owner just had bad aim; this Khajiit cannot tell. The archer was so lightweight that punches launched her off the cliff face... One hopes she doesn't have any lockpicks on her!

Bleak Falls Barrow was no victim of superstition. Not only do gangly men prowl the halls, but one of them uses magics! Khajiit does not like magics, and abandoned the chase at once. At least the Golden Claw treasure was recovered. The webbed-man's journal indicates it may have a use though - this one is reluctant to return this treasure just yet.

~

Ahsamiir suffers a cold night this eve, since his temperament grows ill. A drunkard was worthy of claws today. To think the citizens have never even seen a bar fight! As soon as Embry forfeits, this one has half the town armed to the teeth, chasing and scratching. Refuge in Riverwood Lookout is cold, but safe. A caravan must be making some routes soon - tomorrow, Khajiit heads to Whiterun. Perhaps a stop by the Sleeping Tree is on the horizon.

 

[Nameless1]

Nice, man. I appreciate all these interesting character inspirations comin off tha forums. keeps skyrim feeling new, yah digg.
nice writing too. I may have to follow this

 

[Allet]

Thanks for the shout out, man! Great entry and a great character. Very creative. If you'd like, I'll post a link to your journal in my thread. Enjoy the journey!

Thanks! It's still a good read, I'm hoping it continues long past mine so I still have an engaging read. It's definitely a good standard to reach for

 

[Allet]

Nice, man. I appreciate all these interesting character inspirations comin off tha forums. keeps skyrim feeling new, yah digg.
nice writing too. I may have to follow this

Thanks! It's starting off rocky at first (I'm a writer by profession, so learning to write for entertainment will take a little transition), but hopefully it'll smooth off into something unique soon

 

[The_Deadliest_Troll]

A fist-da-cuffs drug addict, very creative! Good luck with this.

 

[MushroomGenius]

I'm liking this so far! I'm glad that you're staying true to the Khajiit vocal tones and customs, it makes reading a bit more enjoyable.

I'm looking forward to Ahsamiir meeting up with some of the notable Khajiit NPCs that you normally encounter through the course of gameplay such as:

• J'zargo (perhaps you meet him before he heads to Winterhold?)
• J'darr (the likewise addicted Skooma addict in the Alftand ruins) & J'zhar
• Kesh the Clean (the Khajiit alchemist at the shrine of Peryite)
• Shavari (the Thalmor informant)
• M'aiq the Liar

 

[Allet]

Tirdas, 19th of Last Seed

Khajiit has many words to describe his day. Traveling across the open plains was a welcome change to these paws that grew tired of Riverwood Lookout's cold, wet rocks and hills. This one headed first to his old spot Sleeping Tree Camp. The giants and their meat-mounds did not seem to mind Ahsamiir gathering his sap this month. How this one wishes they were so cooperative during the previous year of bruises and sneaking sap-stealing!

On the way to Whiterun, there was a caravan of fellow Khajiits! They did not look local though - he wonders if they came from Elsweyr. Ahsamiir spoke to the leader, one grey-faced Ri'saad. This one could not tell if Ri'saad was a fellow sweet-tooth, but he was most definitely a dealer that has traveled many warm sands. Whatever power is in charge of arranging these meetings is most kind, for their supply was of high quality. Ahsamiir will enjoy the skooma he purchased.

He remembered an old spot behind Whiterun where the young caravaneers of his youth would go to smoke - would they have left a pipe there? A curious idea, but arriving shows that bandits have taken the place over! This one will not let a couple of armed snobs take his spot! One was dispatched with little hassle but the other was not so easily bested. A few solid blows and he went down though - claws are a very good thing, this one thinks. There was a pipe, and a very nice smoke to be had. This hideout was not good though, since three more bandits came by and scared Khajiit away. There was a mage among them that threw more than icebolts; she threw insults! If Khajiit is called a rug one more time, it will take more than magics to scare this one away.

In Whiterun, a drunkard spoke of the "Bannered Mare" and the good ale that was there - all I found was a fistight. A snooty Nord woman clanked all over the place and kept me from enjoying the bard during my drink. The bard wasn't all that good anyway, a mangy mut to hear him speak, but Ahsamiir does not like metal noise in a bar. Ahsamiir pounced.

For a Nord, she strikes most heartily. This one feels that the metal hands were a bit unfair, and hurt more than claws, but they were good for blocking and jabs. This woman, Urthgerd she calls herself (Nord's come up with the funniest names), was a strong fighter to be among Men. Claws could not cut the armor - it was the subtle pawwing at the face and neck that took her down. Still, she says she feels an interest in seeing how Ahsamiir fights trolls. This one does not fight trolls, but her help would prove useful.

The two of us went back to the spot with the trio of bandits. Before the fight, Khajiit enjoyed the Sleeping Tree Sap. Ahsamiir is unsure if the sap actually makes him stronger, but it certainly makes fights easier. Khajiit finds it funny how easily magic people crumple underneath metal so easily. Uthgerd was useful, though she does not use hands in actual fighting. Ahsamiir does not care though. After today, he may go back to Bleak Falls Barrow. This one hopes Uthgerd can fight the gangly men just as nicely.

 

[Allet]

A fist-da-cuffs drug addict, very creative! Good luck with this.

Thanks! I'm surprised I haven't died yet - Light Armor + Hands + Master tends to be a not-too-bright combo.

I'm liking this so far! I'm glad that you're staying true to the Khajiit vocal tones and customs, it makes reading a bit more enjoyable.

I'm looking forward to Ahsamiir meeting up with some of the notable Khajiit NPCs that you normally encounter through the course of gameplay such as:

• J'zargo (perhaps you meet him before he heads to Winterhold?)
• J'darr (the likewise addicted Skooma addict in the Alftand ruins) & J'zhar
• Kesh the Clean (the Khajiit alchemist at the shrine of Peryite)
• Shavari (the Thalmor informant)
• M'aiq the Liar

It's definitely a challenge, making sure third person doesn't get too monotonous! I actually modeled much of my phraseology off of those Khajiit (especially J'zargo) and hope they all meet him at some point. Not sure if Ahsamiir will be able to overcome his fear of magic long enough to have a deep conversation with J'zargo though

Thanks for the feedback!

 

[MushroomGenius]

Not sure if Ahsamiir will be able to overcome his fear of magic long enough to have a deep conversation with J'zargo though

Thanks for the feedback!

You're welcome!

Yeah, I kinda figured that he was opposed to magic, it's why it would have made an interesting juxtaposition with him and J'zargo. Perhaps bumping into each other at an Inn before J'zargo reaches the College? The possibilities are endless!

 

[Allet]

Middas, 20th of Last Seed

Ahsamiir enjoyed a vial of skooma shortly after waking up, but a particularly strange seeing occured early this morning as result. This one's path crossed a dead giant fairly early during the day, or it could have been a fake-giant for all that is certain, and the grunt's club was slowly rising into the sky. This sight perplexed Ahsamiir for quite some time before Urthgerd began questioning the vacant gaze. This batch must have been a strong one to induce seeings so early during the day. That caravan should come to Whiterun more often!

The two of us hiked back to Riverside Lookout. The snow had stopped for once, allowing for fairly smooth climbing. "So Urd-gurd," I began, trying to learn more of this curious fighter, "why are your hands covered in metal if you do not fight with them?" This question caught her offguard, but she came off with some standard Nordish answer.
"A Nord must be fully protected from the strikes of those that would fight dishonorably."
"No, you misunderstood Ahsamiir's question. He does not ask it why it uses a sword, but why does it not use it's hands?"
Apparently she never thought of this, but her powers of improvising some Nordic nonsense came up with a long winded answer; she finally came up with the retort "Why do Khajiits refuse to wear gauntlets?"
Ahsamiir ponders over this paradox many times in his mind. The first mental response was typical: claws cannot reach past metal! But if that's the only reason, and the metal hands hurt more than the claws...

The discussion quickly halted as we reached Bleak Falls Barrow. Diving deep into the barrow, this one can say that Urthgerd is not a sneaky sort. She also had great problems with Khajiit's perusing through corpses and coffins. On the other paw, she handles the gangly men very nicely. In the final room, we found a strange wall with a king's coffin. This coffin had a powerful gangly man that had magics, but Ahsamiir let Urthgerd take the lead in this fight. This one is sad to say that this tomb could not have been pillaged if it wasn't for the Nord.

There was a curious stone on the body of this last gangly man. Urthgerd claims that the Jarl will want to see it, but Ahsamiir doesn't like the high folk. Much time over skooma and meat is needed to decide if this is something to do. Until then, Ahsamiir will explore the town and see if there is work to be done - a straight dose of moonsugar would be nice, but the price tag is a bit more than this one can afford at the moment.

As the time for sleep loomed ever nearer, a word of a fight broke out. That pig-headed bard was harassing some lady downstairs; now Ahsamiir is no noble Khajiit, but this one has been looking for an excuse to beat that horrid windpipe of a singer. The lady was Carlotta, and offered to pay good money if one could convince this bard to leave her alone. Now Mikael was already a pig in this one's mind; now it was time for the pig to be slaughtered. The bar crowd cheered at the first blow: a swift scratch to the belly. Mikael, once realizing why Ahsamiir was attacking, retaliated with a kick to the shin and a square punch to the jaw. His footwork was quick, too quick to dodge. A cheap shot demands another cheap shot, so this one lunged at Mikael's neck. The tussle went on for about five minutes before the bard collapsed to the ground.

Ahsamiir received payment for the service. This night will be a silent one.

 

[Dovakiin98]

I like these stories man!You have a pretty interesting character.

 

[Allet]

Turdas, 21st of Last Seed

Ahsamiir had a great night of sleep with no bard around to make such cantankerous racket as he usually does. A fresh pipe of Skooma is best enjoyed with good music, and the symphony of silence rests so much easier on these ears than that windbag. Such smoking goes away too quickly though - Ahsamiir needs to find another caravan as his supply is running low. It is good that Urthgerd finds no need for the smokes. Besides, she does not need to have seeings.

We headed off to Fort Greymoor this morning. The guards have said that they keep getting pelted by arrows as they pass, and this one could use the money, so it was a natural plan. This Nordic woman was being put to work, this is certain! The perimeter of the fort was armed with a few archers and a couple of footmen - Ahsamiir laughs at the archers and their terrible aim. Urthgerd would provide cover fire while this one runs up and unleashes the claws; their leatherclad shoulders and chests soon rippled with blood.

Inside the Fort was another story. The bandits were slightly less drunk and more heavily armored. Ahsamiir usually sneaks around behind them while the big clumsy lady bashes their heads in from the front - a good chance for this one to launch a fist at the spine. The leader of this dark, dank abode had different ideas - he pinned himself against a wall! Ahsamiir could not get close enough to make a jab without feeling the sting of his sword. Urthgerd jammed her pommel into his shoulder, dislocating the poor sod's arm, and continued to skewer him against the wall.

After this one packed up the loot, we headed back to Whiterun. Khajiit needed a nice cold mead - preferably Honningbrew, but Nordic would do in a pinch. Ahsamiir turned to the clanking barbarian. "Would Urd-Gurd like to stop by the Bannered Mare after we unload? This one needs a drink."

"I have some, have one!" She tossed me a bottle that she pulled from underneath somewhere (Khajiit shudders to wonder where she keeps such things). "I wouldn't mind stopping for a rest after we bring that stone to the Jarl."

The stone.... Ahsamiir knew this bothersome burden would bring it up again, but the money would be nice. Khajiit knows that jarls are rich and splendorous and reward people nicely. Many warm sands would be available to Ahsamiir if he brought the high man this stone. "This plan is good; we head to the Jarl!" What Khajiit does not know is that this plan was stupid!

A reward was there, but the reward was not good! What does Ahsamiir get? A chance to fight those flying Argonian-cousins! Khajiit does not fight things that breath magics and swoop like giant flying scaly birds! This one will never help a Jarl again, this is certain. Much hiding was done as the lizard did his swooping diving magic-breathing killing pillaging thing.
~
After this one got his act together, back in the safety of Whiterun's walls, he visits the many market stalls. A few rings go missing but nobody notices them, so Ahsamiir will drink well tonight. Khajiit does find a nice merchant though. Ysolda knows much about the caravans and has respect for Elsweyr kind. This one likes Ysolda - she shall not be stolen from during tonight's pillaging of the city. The rest of the city will not be so fortunate - silver is on the menu! Or any finger-metals, Ahsamiir is not picky so long as people do not find his stash. The barrel atop the entrance lookout should serve nicely.

 

[PelagiusIV]

Amazing man! You really did a great job of capturing your character and creating an interesting story. I love the dialog, spoken like a true khajiit. I couldn't imagine trying to write that way, takes real talent! Keep it up.

 

[Allet]

Amazing man! You really did a great job of capturing your character and creating an interesting story. I love the dialog, spoken like a true khajiit. I couldn't imagine trying to write that way, takes real talent! Keep it up.

Thanks! I think I'm finally starting to flesh out this character; took me long enough, right?
I'm glad you're liking it so far!

 

[Allet]

Fredas, 22nd of Last Seed

Ahsamiir has good rest these days, and skooma that calms the nerves most wonderfully. The bar banter below is pleasant and humdrummily lulling the senses like a straight dose of moonsugar after a hard drink. Warm sands would abound if it were not for the recent run-in with the flying Argonian-cousin. It is a shame that this one must soon move to another city for a while - the stealings of last night went very well but people always blame Khajiits when things go missing. Attention would be bad, this one thinks.

Ysolda was at the market again today, muffling and muddling about with the merchants. Khajiit could not help but to speak to this woman.
"Ahsamiir notices you do not sell trinkets like everybody else. Does the Nord not have anything to sell?"

Ysolda responded with a rather depressed tone. "I'm still trying to learn the trade. I have hopes of buying the Bannered Mare one day, but it looks like that'll be far off. In the meantime, I sell to the caravaners when they stop by, when they're willing to buy."
"Ah, this one knows these caravans very well. Ahsamiir used to be a caravaner, before a trade went most foul. Filthy skeevers use the traders, but you do not seem filthy nor are you a skeever."
Ysolda stopped and laughed, then replied "Well, there are some corrupt businessmen that take advantage of the Khajiit. There are some in Windhelm right now. My kind looks horrible because of the proud biggots that live there."
Ahsamiir stopped and pondered this statement. Corrupt businessmen in Windhelm.... This one needs to move to another city anyways; perhaps Windhelm shall be the destination. Ysolda and Khajiit traded a few more words and a blessing before the day's long journey started. Of course, a caravan was right outside of Whiterun. Much skooma was bought, and a few units of moonsugar and Sleeping Tree Sap since this one has many coins to his name. Urthgerd was waiting by the fork in the road - we set off at about 9:30 in the morning. There were, of course, delays, such as the wonderful occupied ruins that clearly have no purpose being where they are, like Morvunskar!

Morvunskar was fun, if one thinks that sizzling fur and black-robed ice shooters both constitute a party. The entrance was heavily guarded and Khajiit decided to sneak in, just to have a peek, when a great "I WILL DESTROY YOU!" rang out from the silence! The Nord rushed in and triggered a fire trap that singed much of this one's fur (Ahsamiir now has a small bald spot between his ears that will take weeks to regrow). "NO URD-GERD!" was all this one could shout as the element of surprise was broken - ice vapors blew out of nowhere!

Khajiit rushed away from the ice and left Urthgerd in there to fend for herself while Khajiit downed some Sleeping Tree Sap. Shapes instantly danced and the landscape turned purple - Khajiit could see the trees and rocks turning around to cheer him on as he dashed blindly into the fray of magics. Streams of fire warped around walls and through the stone floor, chasing Khajiit as he pounded a magics person's face flat. Ahsamiir saw Urthgerd's giant sword turn into the fangs of a spider as she dug the blade-teeth into the dancing, blubbery clothed men. This one chased down the last mage, dodging fireballs and jumping what had to have been twenty feet in the air just to land with a single swipe to the neck. Ahsamiir heard many cheers one last time before the lands turned their usual shade of green, brown and white.

According to the Nord, the 'jump' was Khajiit tripping over a protruded stone after chasing down a corpse that Urthgerd had already slain. This one is ashamed and injured. Urthgerd says the Sleeping Tree Sap is bad, but Khajiit does not think so. We continued onwards to the city.

Urthgerd keeps surprising Khajiit. The Nord's combat skills are amazing, but she is a dumb one. The woman keeps getting stuck on outcroppings, doesn't know how to jump from one outcropping to another, and gets lost most every turn we come to. To make matters worse, she has made many remarks about thieves that are most unsavory to these ears. Urthgerd cannot be a part of Ahsamiir's traveling much longer - she shall be ditched in Windhelm.

On the subject of Windhelm.... Khajiit cannot stay here. Being in the city for no more than an hour has brought on at least a dozen insults from these haughty pig-headed Nords. They call this one a "foul-fingered pipe-head" and a "furry cutpurse" that's only good before a house-fire. Ahsamiir knows of a nearby city, Riften. In the morning, that will be the destination. In the morning, many proud Nords will wake up to wrecked houses.

Before Khajiit sleeps, he takes Urthgerd to some fancy posh bar of the Nords. He claims that there is some business to attend to and leaves many coins for the Nord to enjoy. Ahsamiir rents a room for the night and prepares to sleep. Many halls down, the silly Nord woman is getting quite drunk on all manners of mead. This one thinks she can find her way back to Whiterun in the morning. Or not, Khajiit is undecided if the clanky one is smart enough to walk on the roads alone.

 

[Allet]

Loredas, 23rd of Last Seed

Khajiit has had a busy day and is irritable. The guards of Whiterun were already fresh on the trail as this one woke; the skooma runs sour before the hunt, as the caravers would say. Urthgerd was nowhere to be found. She was probably beaten for clanking too loudly while the wretched bard sang her banshee song. This one would like to wish her warm sands for her help but does not think she will be bright enough to appreciate them. Too bad for the Nord, her brain is fuddled anyway from too many beatings to the face. Perhaps this is why she looks so revolting.

The journey to Riften was a long one full of chasings and runnings. One almost thinks the paths are less safe than the wilderness! It is of no matter though; these eyes spotted Riften before too many bruisings occurred. There was a strange man waiting inside the city. This one did not catch his name but was offered information for a price. Coins are scarce but information is scarcer. This strange man said something about the Blackbriars? Brairhearts? Something about Briars - he was arrogant and haughty and would have received many lashings if Khajiit had his smoke earlier this morning.

Ahsamiir was given a peculiar job from the marketplace. This man noticed that Khajiit's pockets did not jingle with the sound of coins. Among one of the things Ahsamiir did for pay was beating up some people that apparently did not know how to pay people. This job was fun - the barkeeper in particular. The lousy Argonian begged for mercy and paid up, but not before losing many scales to this one's claws. A comforting note: The bar patrons actually placed bets on Khajiit during the fight. Ahsamiir loves Riften already.

Brynjolf, the man that tasked this one with the beatings, introduced himself more formerly as a recruiter for the Thieves Guild. Ahsamiir is confused by this concept of a guild for thieves, but if they pay him to beat up lizards and steal... This idea might not be so bad. It certainly wouldn't lead to Khajiit being skewered by some idiot Nord or Orc that is too scared to fight with their hands. They mentioned another job they had - assurances were made that the pay would be good. Ahsamiir accepts this job.

A smoke is needed. This one will retire early for the evening. Khajiit heads to a honey farm in the morning. This new line of work might be the closest thing Khajiit gets to being a caravaner again.

 

[Allet]

Sundas, 24th of Last Seed

In the trading caravans, there was a proverb that frequently floated through the air before customers arrived: Hit the mark early, before it even knows of a chase. Supposedly this came from the hunting tribes of Elsweyr, but the barterers adapted it to selling the skooma: they would offer this delicious smoke at a slightly lower price so the customer would buy it without trying to haggle (haggling always cut into profits too much). Today, Ahsamiir uses it for his own purposes: hit the mark early, before they even know Khajiit is there. The stars still twinkle like burning moon sugar in a pitched pipe as this one exits the walls of Riften. The members mentioned a secret way into the honey farm; Khajiit will have to get his fur wet, but it will avoid the pesky stick-slingers and sword-bashers.

The tunnels in this passageway were dark and filthy, but they served the purposes nicely. The guards inside the estate were most stupid and deaf, as they did not hear Ahsamiir's dripping paws slapping against the grained wood. Khajiit actually did not have to claw wounds but once! This one thinks a bow would be useful - not for fighting, but for distracting! It is a curious idea. Making noise from far off to make the guard leave his post... Would it work?

The escape was a bit tricky. Ahsamiir slowly closed the door and headed to the bee tents, inching along the shadows most precariously. It was high-noon by this time and there was no velvet sky to hide the prowler. The tents were in sight! What also was in sight was the lack of sneaking places. The outcropping was high enough to make swimming around impossible. Khajiit grew bold and stupid, leaving the shadows and into broad daylight.

"THERE YOU ARE!"

Ahsamiir's cover was blown! An arrow whipped right over this one's shoulder, accompanied shortly after by the sounds of pounding feet. Ahsamiir took no time to look behind - a mad dash was made to the bee tents! The twang of a bow was quickly followed by a piercing pain in the shoulder. Ahsamiir could do no better than to hide behind one of the tents and gulp down one of the few healing potions he carried. The stampeding guards were gaining ground. This one could sense the tense, loaded bows aiming straight at his hiding spot.

There was a barely burning torch nearby, most certainly put out only because the sun was up. The cinders were there though - this one grabbed the torch and shoved it into the bee tent. Ahsamiir is particularly proud of this idea, as the fire spread so high and the smoke rose up in thick billows that there was a way to escape without being poked at by the stick-slingers! Khajiit shoved the torch into two other bee tents and then made a run for it: over the walls and into the lake, swimming all the way back to Riften.

~

By this time of writing, Ahsamiir's fur has dried quite nicely. The Blackbriar lady was happy with this one's performance and has tasked him with a job in Whiterun. Khajiit is most happy with the coin that this guild is bringing in. An indulgence in sweet Sleeping Tree Sap is on the horizon, this one thinks. The job people had some jobs in Whiterun as well, so Khajiit shall be paid three times! As nice as everybody here is though, Mercer is quite foul. This one hopes he trips and drowns very soon.