TemplarKormac
Political Atheist
I present the Prologue and first chapter of my short stories revolving around the Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion game. It is based on two characters I'm currently playing in the game right now. If there are geeks around here, you'll be very familiar with the lore I'm using. I'm still looking for an appropriate writing site to post this on. Feel free to drop any suggestions if you like. Khajiit has stories if you have coin!
Enjoy!
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Legend of Tahjik and Ayali
Prologue
Ayali and Tahjik were born one year apart in different litters to their tribe in Anequina, Elsweyr—Tahjik on Last Seed 15th, 3E 410, and Ayali on Hearthfire 15th, 3E 411, as recorded in the clan chronicles that survived their tribe’s destruction. Born under a waning crescent Masser and waxing gibbous Secunda, they bore white fur with tiger stripes and ice-blue eyes, rare marks that set them apart. Inseparable yet drawn to danger and thrills that raised their fur and tails, they grew under the harsh desert skies. Their tribe was destroyed by necromancers when they were cubs, the attackers enraged by a tribesman’s theft of a sacred lunar artifact from the necromancers. Shunned by other Khajiit in Anequina once news spread of their tribe’s destruction and their orphaned state, they remained to defy the harsh stigma against outcast Khajiit, determined to prove their worth.
Ayali, Tahjik’s sister, is 22 years old, a Listener for the Dark Brotherhood, and a thief by choice. She became an assassin-thief to serve Elsweyr and avenge Emperor Uriel Septim’s death, a trauma from her imprisonment in Cyrodiil. She and Tahjik have endured horrors in Elsweyr and their adventures in Cyrodiil, scars that linger.
Tahjik, Ayali’s older brother, is 23, a skilled assassin who despises the Dark Brotherhood. Like his sister, he turned to thievery, using lethal skills to survive. He doesn’t resent Ayali’s Brotherhood ties but hates their toll on her. He yearns to live freely as a Khajiit with her in Elsweyr’s wilds. Though he believes their actions are wrong, they’ve kept Ayali alive—it’s the only life he knows. He hopes one day to atone for their sins.
Following the Dark Brotherhood’s custom, Ayali left a letter for Tahjik in a dead drop, revealing a Cyrodiil cult, the Mythic Dawn, who killed the Emperor before her eyes as she tried to aid his escape.
Brother Tahjik, I stood helpless as an assassin’s blade took Septim’s life. This one could not stop it. Baurus, a kind Blade, led me through sewers with a necklace Septim gave me—the Amulet of Kings, it is called. This one did not notice tears rolling down my fur, but Baurus consoled me, urging this one to flee before the Mythic Dawn caught up. I cried for him as I did our mother and father, brother. I must avenge him as I must for our parents and tribe.
Tahjik wondered how Ayali always located him, but he trusted her, familiar with the Brotherhood’s secretive ways. He recalled her pain when their parents were murdered before her. The Emperor’s death might have broken her or guided her to a true path. Their mother would have wanted that.
Weeks later, Ayali’s next dead drop spoke of Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Blades, who met at Weynon Priory.
Brother Tahjik, I gave the Amulet of Kings to Jauffre, though this one longed to steal it. Septim’s plea—“close shut the jaws of Oblivion”—stayed my hand. Jauffre bade me seek Martin, a priest in Kvatch. You may have heard whispers of Kvatch’s fate, brother, but when this one reached Kvatch, I found it ravaged by a fiery Oblivion Gate, swarmed by hordes of Daedra. This one aided the Kvatch Guard to close the gate and slay the Daedra. After the battle was won, Savlian Matius, their leader, gave me his armor, saying he was weary of fighting, like I am. I am ashamed, brother—mother would scorn my path. “Hero of Kvatch” they name me, a balm for my shadowed life.
I did find the priest, and I took him to Weynon Priory. While this one was there, Jauffre revealed to me he was Septim’s illegitimate son, but heir to the throne! This one had assumed, like Baurus, that the Septim bloodline had ended. By the divines, brother, my heart leapt with joy! I must end my words here, as I cannot linger, for I make many enemies as I fulfill Brotherhood contracts. Yet I make the time for you, brother.
“She would scorn me, too, sister. We must find a way to honor Mother again,” Tahjik sighed.
Ayali stayed near Tahjik’s usual haunts, waiting a day for his reply in the same dead drop. Tahjik grew fond of this silent exchange, though he missed her glowing blue eyes, like his own. One day, Ayali would abandon the Black Hand and Brotherhood, and they would walk free from their dark paths.
“Jauffre, then?” Tahjik thought. “Perhaps I should visit this Weynon Priory when I’m next near.”
A week later, Tahjik reached Weynon Priory, its stone chapel and fields glowing softly under the starlight, a quiet haven marred by recent violence. As was her habit, Ayali left a note in a barrel by the Priory door, brief and urgent.
Brother Tahjik, this place is not safe. This one knows you seek Ayali, but I am gone with Jauffre and Martin to Cloud Ruler Temple, northern Cyrodiil, near Skyrim’s southern border. The Mythic Dawn stole the Amulet of Kings, attacking the Priory to claim it. The corpse by this barrel is Prior Maborel, slain in defense. The Blades—Jauffre, Martin—are in uproar. They say the amulet is key to lighting the Dragonfires, which will shut the Oblivion Gates opened by one called Mankar Camoran. The Blades guard secrets, but if you seek me, come to the temple. Jauffre may allow entry. Speak to the remaining Prior for truth.
I am afraid, brother, as when we were cubs, trembling as the night our tribe fell.
The note troubled Tahjik. Concern overwhelmed his caution, and he set out for Cloud Ruler Temple.
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Chapter 1
Tahjik arrived at Cloud Ruler Temple, the cold wind of the Jerall Mountains biting at his fur. Before him loomed the temple’s towering stone gate, flanked by twin towers capped with snow, their battlements bristling with vigilant Blades. One of the men standing guard overhead demanded that he state his business.
“This one seeks Ayali, my sister! Please, send for Jauffre!”
The guard nodded and turned away to fetch Jauffre. Some time later, the giant wooden doors opened, and there stood Jauffre, but Ayali was not with him.
“Where is my sister? Jauffre, you are Jauffre, yes?” Tahjik asked.
“I am Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Blades, sworn to protect the royal bloodline. She is not here. Your sister left word that you might seek her. She bade me give you this, but I must know: who are you, and why do you come to Cloud Ruler Temple?” Jauffre handed him a note and a golden ring inset with a large amethyst stone.
Tahjik’s eyes caught the glint of the ring, hope and worry stirring, urging him to seek Ayali’s words first.
Brother Tahjik, I am not at temple gate, and you wonder why Ayali is gone. This one has departed. The Black Hand binds my tongue, forbids me to speak of what I do. Enclosed is a ring I took from the Shrine of Meridia after this one cleared a cave of necromancers. I heard of necromancers and had to act—killers of our tribe, yes? Locals in Skingrad call it “the Ring of Khajiiti.” I need it not. It makes wearer swift and silent, light as moons’ glow. I hope you enjoy it, brother. My love travels with this letter, and I know your heart worries, but Ayali’s path is not yet done. Keep up if you can, yes!
“Keep up if you can” was a game they played together. Born and raised in the harsh northern Anequina region of Elsweyr, they had few trees to climb but plenty of open, desolate areas to run. The Khajiit of the southern Pelletine had it better, living in the jungles with plentiful water, pristine beaches, and abundant trees to climb and scratch.
Tahjik smiled and slipped on the ring. He ran down the road and back in a flash. Jauffre’s eyes narrowed, recognizing the effect. “The Ring of Khajiiti, I presume? A Daedric artifact—dangerous and unpredictable. You moved swiftly, and now you fade from sight. Be wary, for the gifts of the Daedra often carry a hidden cost.”
“Yes, she calls it 'the Ring of Khajiiti.' This one knows the cost, Master Jauffre. My sister did a favor for Daedric Prince Meridia some time ago, and she granted her this ring. A gift, yes? Of all things, Ayali gifts this one a Daedric artifact. It suits her boldness. The transparency, it’s another trick of the ring,” Tahjik explained.
“What is your intent now, Khajiit?”
“I am Tahjik, from Anequina region of Elsweyr. This one heads to Shrine of Meridia to ask worshippers where my sister walks. I must find her as soon as moons rise.” Tahjik spoke his name and intentions at last, answering Jauffre’s earlier question.
“Go, and may Talos guide your steps,” Jauffre said.
“And may your gods bless her steps, yes?” Tahjik asked.
Jauffre smiled and nodded. He’d seen adventurers like Tahjik before, seeking to fulfill personal quests and secret missions, those with skeletons in the closet. In fact, some served with him in the temple. He walked back through the towering gate, as Tahjik swiftly made haste south to the Shrine of Meridia.
Enjoy!
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Legend of Tahjik and Ayali
Prologue
Ayali and Tahjik were born one year apart in different litters to their tribe in Anequina, Elsweyr—Tahjik on Last Seed 15th, 3E 410, and Ayali on Hearthfire 15th, 3E 411, as recorded in the clan chronicles that survived their tribe’s destruction. Born under a waning crescent Masser and waxing gibbous Secunda, they bore white fur with tiger stripes and ice-blue eyes, rare marks that set them apart. Inseparable yet drawn to danger and thrills that raised their fur and tails, they grew under the harsh desert skies. Their tribe was destroyed by necromancers when they were cubs, the attackers enraged by a tribesman’s theft of a sacred lunar artifact from the necromancers. Shunned by other Khajiit in Anequina once news spread of their tribe’s destruction and their orphaned state, they remained to defy the harsh stigma against outcast Khajiit, determined to prove their worth.
Ayali, Tahjik’s sister, is 22 years old, a Listener for the Dark Brotherhood, and a thief by choice. She became an assassin-thief to serve Elsweyr and avenge Emperor Uriel Septim’s death, a trauma from her imprisonment in Cyrodiil. She and Tahjik have endured horrors in Elsweyr and their adventures in Cyrodiil, scars that linger.
Tahjik, Ayali’s older brother, is 23, a skilled assassin who despises the Dark Brotherhood. Like his sister, he turned to thievery, using lethal skills to survive. He doesn’t resent Ayali’s Brotherhood ties but hates their toll on her. He yearns to live freely as a Khajiit with her in Elsweyr’s wilds. Though he believes their actions are wrong, they’ve kept Ayali alive—it’s the only life he knows. He hopes one day to atone for their sins.
Following the Dark Brotherhood’s custom, Ayali left a letter for Tahjik in a dead drop, revealing a Cyrodiil cult, the Mythic Dawn, who killed the Emperor before her eyes as she tried to aid his escape.
Brother Tahjik, I stood helpless as an assassin’s blade took Septim’s life. This one could not stop it. Baurus, a kind Blade, led me through sewers with a necklace Septim gave me—the Amulet of Kings, it is called. This one did not notice tears rolling down my fur, but Baurus consoled me, urging this one to flee before the Mythic Dawn caught up. I cried for him as I did our mother and father, brother. I must avenge him as I must for our parents and tribe.
Tahjik wondered how Ayali always located him, but he trusted her, familiar with the Brotherhood’s secretive ways. He recalled her pain when their parents were murdered before her. The Emperor’s death might have broken her or guided her to a true path. Their mother would have wanted that.
Weeks later, Ayali’s next dead drop spoke of Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Blades, who met at Weynon Priory.
Brother Tahjik, I gave the Amulet of Kings to Jauffre, though this one longed to steal it. Septim’s plea—“close shut the jaws of Oblivion”—stayed my hand. Jauffre bade me seek Martin, a priest in Kvatch. You may have heard whispers of Kvatch’s fate, brother, but when this one reached Kvatch, I found it ravaged by a fiery Oblivion Gate, swarmed by hordes of Daedra. This one aided the Kvatch Guard to close the gate and slay the Daedra. After the battle was won, Savlian Matius, their leader, gave me his armor, saying he was weary of fighting, like I am. I am ashamed, brother—mother would scorn my path. “Hero of Kvatch” they name me, a balm for my shadowed life.
I did find the priest, and I took him to Weynon Priory. While this one was there, Jauffre revealed to me he was Septim’s illegitimate son, but heir to the throne! This one had assumed, like Baurus, that the Septim bloodline had ended. By the divines, brother, my heart leapt with joy! I must end my words here, as I cannot linger, for I make many enemies as I fulfill Brotherhood contracts. Yet I make the time for you, brother.
“She would scorn me, too, sister. We must find a way to honor Mother again,” Tahjik sighed.
Ayali stayed near Tahjik’s usual haunts, waiting a day for his reply in the same dead drop. Tahjik grew fond of this silent exchange, though he missed her glowing blue eyes, like his own. One day, Ayali would abandon the Black Hand and Brotherhood, and they would walk free from their dark paths.
“Jauffre, then?” Tahjik thought. “Perhaps I should visit this Weynon Priory when I’m next near.”
A week later, Tahjik reached Weynon Priory, its stone chapel and fields glowing softly under the starlight, a quiet haven marred by recent violence. As was her habit, Ayali left a note in a barrel by the Priory door, brief and urgent.
Brother Tahjik, this place is not safe. This one knows you seek Ayali, but I am gone with Jauffre and Martin to Cloud Ruler Temple, northern Cyrodiil, near Skyrim’s southern border. The Mythic Dawn stole the Amulet of Kings, attacking the Priory to claim it. The corpse by this barrel is Prior Maborel, slain in defense. The Blades—Jauffre, Martin—are in uproar. They say the amulet is key to lighting the Dragonfires, which will shut the Oblivion Gates opened by one called Mankar Camoran. The Blades guard secrets, but if you seek me, come to the temple. Jauffre may allow entry. Speak to the remaining Prior for truth.
I am afraid, brother, as when we were cubs, trembling as the night our tribe fell.
The note troubled Tahjik. Concern overwhelmed his caution, and he set out for Cloud Ruler Temple.
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Chapter 1
Tahjik arrived at Cloud Ruler Temple, the cold wind of the Jerall Mountains biting at his fur. Before him loomed the temple’s towering stone gate, flanked by twin towers capped with snow, their battlements bristling with vigilant Blades. One of the men standing guard overhead demanded that he state his business.
“This one seeks Ayali, my sister! Please, send for Jauffre!”
The guard nodded and turned away to fetch Jauffre. Some time later, the giant wooden doors opened, and there stood Jauffre, but Ayali was not with him.
“Where is my sister? Jauffre, you are Jauffre, yes?” Tahjik asked.
“I am Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Blades, sworn to protect the royal bloodline. She is not here. Your sister left word that you might seek her. She bade me give you this, but I must know: who are you, and why do you come to Cloud Ruler Temple?” Jauffre handed him a note and a golden ring inset with a large amethyst stone.
Tahjik’s eyes caught the glint of the ring, hope and worry stirring, urging him to seek Ayali’s words first.
Brother Tahjik, I am not at temple gate, and you wonder why Ayali is gone. This one has departed. The Black Hand binds my tongue, forbids me to speak of what I do. Enclosed is a ring I took from the Shrine of Meridia after this one cleared a cave of necromancers. I heard of necromancers and had to act—killers of our tribe, yes? Locals in Skingrad call it “the Ring of Khajiiti.” I need it not. It makes wearer swift and silent, light as moons’ glow. I hope you enjoy it, brother. My love travels with this letter, and I know your heart worries, but Ayali’s path is not yet done. Keep up if you can, yes!
“Keep up if you can” was a game they played together. Born and raised in the harsh northern Anequina region of Elsweyr, they had few trees to climb but plenty of open, desolate areas to run. The Khajiit of the southern Pelletine had it better, living in the jungles with plentiful water, pristine beaches, and abundant trees to climb and scratch.
Tahjik smiled and slipped on the ring. He ran down the road and back in a flash. Jauffre’s eyes narrowed, recognizing the effect. “The Ring of Khajiiti, I presume? A Daedric artifact—dangerous and unpredictable. You moved swiftly, and now you fade from sight. Be wary, for the gifts of the Daedra often carry a hidden cost.”
“Yes, she calls it 'the Ring of Khajiiti.' This one knows the cost, Master Jauffre. My sister did a favor for Daedric Prince Meridia some time ago, and she granted her this ring. A gift, yes? Of all things, Ayali gifts this one a Daedric artifact. It suits her boldness. The transparency, it’s another trick of the ring,” Tahjik explained.
“What is your intent now, Khajiit?”
“I am Tahjik, from Anequina region of Elsweyr. This one heads to Shrine of Meridia to ask worshippers where my sister walks. I must find her as soon as moons rise.” Tahjik spoke his name and intentions at last, answering Jauffre’s earlier question.
“Go, and may Talos guide your steps,” Jauffre said.
“And may your gods bless her steps, yes?” Tahjik asked.
Jauffre smiled and nodded. He’d seen adventurers like Tahjik before, seeking to fulfill personal quests and secret missions, those with skeletons in the closet. In fact, some served with him in the temple. He walked back through the towering gate, as Tahjik swiftly made haste south to the Shrine of Meridia.
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