Fire On The Mountain (A Skyrim Quest)

Paths Forward

Do'azda needs to see what has happened with the Captain of the Guards. Hopefully the problem has been dealt with, or else anything else she tries for the next while will be a great deal harder. So while a part of her wants to go check in on those she has left behind for a day, and she knows she'll need to unload all of her treasure one way or another, she instead begins the walk up towards Whiterun. She has to work her way up around the side, passing 'Little Elsweyr' as she moves.

She's nearly reached the old skeever den when she finds the first bones, a scattering of bird bones, with scraps of meat still stuck between them. The bones have been broken into pieces.

It's new, and Do'azda frowns. The skeevers are gone, she's quite certain of that.

There are more bones around the area; pieces of cows and pigs, a sheep's foot… And dung, larger than that left by the skeevers, but unquestionably that of a carnivore.

Whatever it is that has moved in under the walls, Do'azda gives a wide berth - like as not, she'll need to deal with it at some time, but for the moment, she's not minded to tangle with it.

There are less people gathered at the gates of the city than she expected, and they're moving relatively quickly.

Do'azda has no intention of going into the city today, but she meanders closer all the same, curiosity and hope mingling in her breast. She sees the guards just waving people through. Literally waving. The man is gesturing as if he is used to conducting larger groups of people than normal. "Go on, go on, we'll still be doing checks at the temples, and Dragonsreach, but Captain Caius says that it's best to just let it on through and watch it from there, after Sinmir overstepped so greatly,"

"Excuse me, sir, Do'azda hears there is a new Captain of the Guard? Or… no longer the one there was?" she asks, trying not to grin. She is not the best liar in all the world, but she is able to at least hide her glee.

"Right, right, you… you're a religious leader or something like that?" the guard asks with a frown. "It turns out that the other Captain isn't what he said he is, so now the only captain worth talking to is Caius, and he never cared too much about the gate - and we were getting complaints from the Battleborns and other traders about it. Not worth the trouble, he says. Can't say I'm upset about it myself. Waste of my time and yours, right?"

******

The mood around the gate is more relaxed than before - khajiit mingle with argonians, bosmer, even the nords are less on edge. It's a rare soul that appreciates guard scrutiny on the gates.

Do'azda can only linger there for so long before watching a city gate in normal operation - a steady, if unspectacular, flow of people in and out - grows tiresome.

She's barely a hundred paces down the road when a firm little hand wraps itself around her wrist, and she's being pulled into an alleyway by an ohmes in a cloak.

Tsani's sharp features break into a smile as she throws back her hood. "Shaman! Do'azda! Has Do'azda seen? This one could make the run herself, were she so inclined! When last she heard, Sinmir has gone to Windhelm in disgrace?"

Do'azda nods. "This one hears he was dismissed, yes! Tsani's people are able to get through the gate alright so far? Do'azda has been away"

"This one has sent some people through, and K'dasi has begun to reopen their business - this one gathers the shaman's apothecary friend will be pleased to not have to provide for the addicts of Little Elsweyr, no?" Tsani says, "And… she would like to apologise for her harsh words before, when she did not trust the shaman. Do'azda has been helpful,"

"Do'azda does not blame her - the previous shaman…" Do'azda trails off.

"This one would not wish to dwell on such times. She would rather think of the future… we have friends in the city now. Speaking with the dunmer and argonians… we very nearly have a monopoly in this city, you know? A handful of nords still pay tribute to the thieves' guild out of Riften, but we shall see where that goes in time. Kdasi has plans, has spoken with the others…"

Do'azda hums noncommittally. She cannot say she is overjoyed - the khajiiti underworld is friendlier to the Khajiit than any other gang, but they are nevertheless not the allies Do'azda would choose.

"The shaman does not like to think of the messy side of our lives, hm?" Tsani's tone is light, but her eyes are flinty. "She would prefer not to see what we do to put septims into this community?"

"This one will do what is best for the Khajiit of Little Elsweyr, even when it makes her uncomfortable," Do'azda replies. "That is the shaman's duty."

"Very good!" Tsani says, but she's not so happy as she was, Do'azda can see. "Kdasi may wish for some further help down the line, but for the moment, all is well. The shaman can go, this one wouldn't want to make her uncomfortable."

******

All this time, Do'azda has also been thinking, idly, about what to do about the lonely old cats. She can and should visit them no matter what she decides. Even if there's someone visiting them every day for hours, she is the Shaman and it is her duty to care. For whom? Everyone. It is the Shaman's duty not to overlook even a single cat if it is at all possible. It is an impossible standard, but it is one she has to begin with or all else will fall away.

If these cats had loving families willing to care for them, ones still alive, they would not be where they are. So she has to either find someone who would love to talk to them, who feels it is their duty to talk to them and keep them company… or pay someone. She cannot imagine there are that many who have the free time to spend a few hours as a caretaker. But she does not…

It is only a few minutes after she finally hears of the fate of that horrible Captain that she realizes someone who might have time. There are at least a few unemployed cats, here and there, and she has met a few of them here and there. There's also, of course, the cats who get by on chaining jobs… but she thinks about it and frowns through it.

She wants someone who can be paid to do it, but not someone who will treat it as an assignment in the sense of a life-duty. Many of those cats who got by on day labor were energetic and likely to treat it as a series of tasks. She needed someone laid back enough to not tire them out. That's her feeling, at least. Maybe she's wrong, and they would appreciate someone who treats it like the most important job in the world.

Do'azda also knows, frowning and shifting off to the side of the street to think, that whatever she can pay for this is not what the work should pay. But the likes of the cats who all live together and work whenever they can be bothered… they're not likely to demand a sum she could not pay. She has been making a great deal of Septims just from the act of robbing the dead, and while this was hardly sustainable she has enough Septims even now to last a while if she wants to spend widely on helping the community.

Perhaps she wants to.

When she was walking back to 'Little Elsweyr' she thought about how it had felt to fight against the bandits. It had been thrilling, exhausting, and terrifying in equal measure. She wants to do it again, and she's pretty sure that this fact means that there is something wrong with her. Or at least, a Shaman should not glorify such things. They're not mercenaries, or warriors.

These thoughts occupy her all the way down the road, until she sees the layabouts again. They're at roughly the same place they were before, and so she is pretty sure that they don't have much going on right now.

Anusi is at least in a better mood, smiling faintly and jingling what looks like a small handful of coins. "And that's this week stitched up, Anusi would say." She leans back, reaching for the tankard of ale at her side carefully, as if she is afraid of spilling. Which probably indicates that she has at least begun to drink. "Anusi shall make sure it all gets to the landlady so that she stops complaining."

"She will never stop complaining," Hustasarr predicts, but he scratches at his chin and from the set of his ears and tail he is not actually in a bad mood.

"Well, as long as she complains less, that's about what we can expect," Jotiska. "We still owe… how much?"

"Fifty Septims. But it's in bits and bobs," Anusi says. "A septim here, a septim there when you were too hungover to work hauling manure last summer." She smirks at Jotiska. "You did not smell quite as ripe as you should have, Anusi would say."

"Right, right. We all have days we can't manage work," Hustasarr insists, with a frown. "They could increase, they might not." He shrugs, as if old age is a problem for another day… and to be fair it is.

"Ah, we have the Shaman watching us," Anusi says, looking over at Do'azda with a thoughtful expression. "Is there something you wanted?"

"Do'azda was wanting to see whether any of you might want to do a job for her. She has something she needs done… three or four times a week, and she can pay for an hour or two of the work each of those days." She couldn't afford seven days a week, but if they came every day or so, and she came every other day, that'd be just fine.

"Oh, a job?" Anusi asks. "You know who we are, right?"

"Yes, Do'azda knows, and Do'azda knows you could use a few more coins."

"This… is just about always true," Anusi concedes. "And the Shaman must have heard about our shortfall. The landlady is not going to kick us out if we do not pay such fees, but she can make things more difficult for us. This one would not wish to move back in with her sister, that would be most unfortunate."

"It would," Jotiska says, considering. "So what's the job? Jotiska could definitely use another income, though he is going to be very busy with the 'trade' thanks to you, Shaman. His income is likely to double or even triple if all goes well."

"I'm glad for you," Do'azda says honestly. She considers the fact that he smuggles Skooma and decides that maybe not him. "Do you know the old cats who live in the Warren? They are very lonely, and they could use someone to visit them for an hour or two each day, and just talk to them, or help out around the area. It is not much, but I'm willing to pay you for it for each day you spend an hour or two there. Maybe three times a week."

Jotiska frowns and says, "Jotiska is not sure it is for me."

"Anusi could do it… how much are we talking here?"

"Perhaps four or five Septims for the hour, and then three each week?"

"Maybe…" Anusi says, clearly tempted by what Do'azda has feared would be a very meager offer. "But three times a week… And some of them only speak Ta'agra…"

"Hustasarr can do it. He is used to humoring the old," he says with a shake of his tail. "If it is five septims, he will do it for two hours, three times a week. But, Hustasarr thinks it would be best if the Shaman provides it directly to the debt owed to the landlady."

"What?" Jotiska said, blinking, "You getting responsible on us?"

"We cannot party happily while there is all that debt over us."

Do'azda considers that she has nearly five times the number of Septims as their 'big debt' and that she could easily double her amount just by careful sales of the treasures she'd found. It is enough to leave her dizzy. "If Hustasarr wants to do this job, you should come with Do'azda now." She nodded to herself. If he really is going to do a good job, she'll need to watch him and make sure that nothing odd happens.

"Go on," Anusi says. "Anusi will buy you an extra drink tomorrow to make up for the one you missed."

*****

Hustasarr is not a talkative cat, but Do'azda tries anyways. "So, how did you meet Anusi?"

"Hustasarr got drunk, and then when he woke up there she was," he says, with a shrug. Clearly he has to be aware of how little that explains. Perhaps he even enjoys it, though he seems too fatalistic to linger on the sensations.

"Okay, so some of the Khajiit are bed bound and cannot leave the house, while others have families or someplace to live. It's the ones that are stuck in the house like Tsrira, Zabhrri, Hush'tani and Fez'shar. There are others, there's close to two-dozen cats, in a space too small for that many."

Hustasarr nods, and does not say the obvious, that he lives with two other cats in space that is probably far less generous. When they reach the home of the old cats, the door is unlocked as always. A thief would find very little worth stealing and even less adventure or thrill to it. The smell of old cat is even stronger as she enters than before, and a few cats are up and crowded around a table. Shav'si One-Eye is winning again, having apparently come to visit, and he turns when he sees Do'azda.

There's several clustered around the table, and then all the rest who are bed-bound, with Adhassa going around to feed them. Adhassa is hardly young, but she is somewhere in her fifties compared to some of them.

"Soup again?" One old man says, but she can hear from his tone the complaint is more than half in jest.

"Yes, soup again. This one has not heated it too much, either - she knows some of you like to drink it quickly, even though it spills." Adhassa replies; Do'azda imagines the true reason the soup is warm and not hot is that she cannot trust them not to burn themselves, but it is kind of her to spare the embarrassment.

"Oh, the shaman is back!" Zabhrri says in Ta'agra, "And she brought a friend! Adhassa has already eaten the cakes Tsrira baked, but I'm sure we can find some mead for the young man!"

"It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance," Hustasarr says, carefully enunciating - whoever taught him Ta'agra evidently only taught him the most formal mode of address, but Zabhrri brightens.

"Oh! What a kind young gentleman! And so polite!"

Hustasarr smiles. "I have talked with the shaman, and it is our consideration that I shall while away some hours in your company?"

"This one cannot bear this! Zabhrri will need to teach the young gentleman how to speak Ta'agra without Varmiina's own corruptive stick up his jacksie."

Hustasarr chokes with surprise. "I… I would be appreciative of that, indeed!"

By the time Do'azda leaves them, Tsrira and Hustasarr are halfway through a lesson in conversational Ta'agra - she's taking him through one of the myths of Baan Dar - the Dance of Days, when he disguised himself as Auri-el to befuddle an Altmer invasion, his divine guidance marching them around in circles until the path brings them to their own rear, whereupon he leads the elves into battle with themselves.

It's just about midafternoon, and there's still long hours before she must rest.

What does Do'azda do with her late afternoon and evening?

Choose a Late Afternoon 23rd of Last Seed

[] Do'azda needs to find a local willing and able to learn potion-craft in order to create remedies that are more affordable than those at the local potion-maker or anywhere else. Someone who can learn Alchemy.
[] Do'azda could begin working towards the plan of the hunters… (each one takes up a slot)
-[] By finding and learning some emotional influence spells.
-[] By scouting out prime locations for traps and more.
[] Study Something (can only take one per day, Do'azda has other things to do)
-[] Look at the Queen's Romance and the Books of Explicit Woodcuts (½)
-[] Spell Tome: Flames
-[] Spell Tome: Illumination
-[] A Handy Guide to Lockpicks (3 uses)
[] Do'azda should find people and places to sell or give away all of the excess treasure she has acquired.
[] Do'azda should check back in with Ka'hasa and Sha'ki (½)
[] Having seen and found one holy location in Whiterun, perhaps it might be best to search the whole city for the religious and magical hotspots for… future reference. (Consumes one time slot, if you're already in the city, two otherwise)
[] Do'azda has found her feet. Perhaps it is time to look for somewhere she could purchase magical tomes within Whiterun, and other such tools to expand her options.
[] The mayor and leadership of "Little Elsweyr" has not talked to Do'azda much, but she could perhaps go to see about them.
[] It may be in Do'azda's interests to talk to the local healers to see what if anything she can help with there, though there is no expectation that she'll get put into rotation until she's at least a little bit more settled, perhaps in a few weeks… but doing it now might help her prove herself.
[] Whatever lives where the Skeevers were must be dealt with, and whatever has brought it back must be resolved.

Choose An Evening Slot For 23rd of Last Seed

[] [Evening] The Caravan is still open, and it might be a place to go shopping to see what they have to offer.
[] [Evening] Rahjin has been sorely neglected, she should probably see about talking to him. (½)
[] [Evening] Whatever lives where the Skeevers were must be dealt with, and whatever has brought it back must be resolved.
[] [Evening] Study Something (can only take one per day, Do'azda has other things to do)
-[] Look at the Queen's Romance and the Books of Explicit Woodcuts (½)
-[] Spell Tome: Flames
-[] Spell Tome: Illumination
-[] A Handy Guide to Lockpicks (3 uses)
[] [Evening] Do'azda should check back in with Ka'hasa and Sha'ki (½)

VM AN: The pest situation is still problematic! But you fixed a couple of other things, and the city guard has been fixed up! I'm sure the nords won't mind.

TL AN: Progress is being made. Towards what? Well, one will see!

Selling Off

Do'azda is in a very good mood after all of this. It seems as if her gambits are working out so far. A bad Captain of the Guard has been removed and with it a source of harassment that nonetheless doesn't seem to have stopped the real crimes from occuring. She's found someone to help keep the old, homebound Khajiit company, and while she feels as if the pile of things she still has to do is endless, there's a feeling as if she's sorted through a number of them. So what she is going to do with the rest of her day is… take care of her own affairs. She needs the Septims if she is going to keep on paying everyone, and there are other problems she can only solve if she actually has septims.

The world sometimes has solutions if Do'azda has coins. Right now she doesn't have nearly enough, though at least she has few of the expenses that an adventurer would have. She knows that armor and weapons are not cheap, but her only expensive weapon she's gotten for free, and been served well enough by it. She's never used its power yet, but there again, if she is out in the dark of night with the moon above that means something is going wrong.

Atani's shop is open, and she steps into it carefully, wondering how Atani feels. She no longer has to provide a fix to the Skooma addicts, but that is coin that she cannot make back up. But then again, the wealth that the contracts might bring her could be…

She debates back and forth all the way until she sees Atani behind the counter, clearly working to arrange some of the potions kept out of the way. "Ah, Shaman! Atani greets you, and says that she is very glad to see you."

"Do'azda is glad for that," she says. "She knows that she has brought changes so far."

"Changes and adjustments, adjustments and changes," Atani says, her voice sing-song. "Atani is an alchemist, her whole line of work is change. She makes potions for all sorts of situations. When the cat does not like the thickness of fur, or when they do not like the deepness of voice… all sorts of things she can change. She truly wonders at what the Shaman is thinking, to imagine that she is so easily disconcerted."

At this performance, Do'azda can only nod and say, a little weakly, "Good, she is glad there is no problem at all. She would like to ask Atani more about a venom, and perhaps to sell some of this venom to you." She pulls out the skeins, and the bottles, which she has kept in a separate leather bag.

She pulls them out.

"Ah, Frostbite spider venom. And a lot of it. You should tell Atani all about how you got it. Perhaps a good story would be worth more than the eight Septims I'll give you for each."

"Eight?" Do'azda says, taking on a posture of affront. "The Shaman is not here to become rich, but even she cannot imagine parting with it for only eight. Why, Do'azda knows enough to guess that each bottle could be worth twelve or thirteen Septims."

"Is it fresh, though?" Atani shoots back, sounding offended and speculative in equal measure.

"Venom is not any better fresh, Do'azda believes."

"Oh, Atani must have forgotten."

Very likely, Do'azda thinks dryly.

"Thirteen Septims is practically robbery. She can give nine for each, or ten each for three or four, because there are only so many uses. Though there are ways to put it on your weapons," Atani says.

"Twelve each, for three, and you tell Do'azda how she might use it in the future," Do'azda says, aware that if she does get involved in another fight she might not be as lucky as she has been so far. She is not hurting for Septims, but thirty-six would pay for two weeks of the new program she has started, and so it is worth it just for that. She has to think that way, in a way that she imagines is very similar to the day-workers, counting every coin towards achieving some goal or minimum required to make everything work.

"Eleven, and Atani will do just that," she says, with a frown.

Do'azda reads the set of her tail and ears, and suspects this really is the best offer. She considers it for another moment and says, "Deal. Would she like the skein ones or the magicka bottle ones?"

"Skein is purer," Atani says. "She'll prefer that over a venom that might tingle with magicka. She needs to process it, to sell it in tiny little doses at a markup, You rub it on like sword oil. But if you have the regular venom, you have to be careful. Bring gloves, and either spread it on or find a container to put it in and then dunk it… they say that some Forsworn Witches have bubbling, brewing pots of this stuff." Atani says it in her customer voice, clearly something she talks about most often to entice other people to buy it. "Then they stab the sword or weapon in and pull it out, bubbling… but the technique Atani uses to create a good oil is much more complicated, and--"

Do'azda considers what she knows about alchemy and interrupts, "Do'azda suspects that she boils it down a little bit, and if it gets too thick, adds some mineral oil to it, in order to help it spread more. Then puts it in tiny bottles with stoppers, so that a few drops can be poured out?"

"That… is about it, yes," Atani says, blinking.

It isn't even alchemy in the magical sense, just one of those little things you learn if you know how to make potions.

"Atani sometimes forgets…" Atani says with a shrug. "But yes, if Do'azda wishes to use a burner she can, to work on the venom. But Atani will not buy it, and she would like to ask you not to sell it."

"Do'azda intends to use it. Or give it to someone who can use it. How long does the venom last on a weapon?"

"It depends, but much of a day, usually," Atani says after a moment's consideration. "You might get multiple doses from each dose, but if so it'll last just an hour, or two, each. That's what I sell, in these little vials with tiny stoppers. It is popular among… the quiet sort."

Criminals, then.

Do'azda expected it, since of course Frostbite spider venom seems rather scary to be honest, and she knows plenty of people who would back down if someone had that on their knives. Of course, with the way it works, you'd have to be careful not to cut yourself.

"Do'azda understands."

"Does she? There are more kinds of cats in Little Elsweyr than you might think," Atani says with a nervy smirk.

"Do'azda… does not doubt it."

She says it a little weakly, wondering just what there is she doesn't know about yet. There's still parts of this little community she hasn't seen, and considering how many Khajiit there are, she has only begun to know everyone.

Regardless of whatever other thoughts she has, her purse is heavier by thirty-three Septims when she walks out. That's still enough for two weeks, and she knows that once she can sell that Sapphire she'll have the kind of money where perhaps she should begin to look for someplace to stay. But she'll need somewhere nice, somewhere she can entertain guests and petitioners and also have space to set up a shrine. She is not going to be able to get away with praying in the comfort of her bed forever. Azurah she especially wants to set up more permanent worship-areas for, unless there is a hidden shrine in Whiterun. She wouldn't know; perhaps the dunmer have set one up, though no doubt they will have done it all wrong even if they have.

She takes a deep breath and gets back to her work. She makes her way down the back alleys of Little Elsweyr, fur armor in her bag.

It is not a long process, distributing them. They don't smell all that good, but she knows they'll be appreciated all the same. The cats take them silently, looking them over with a critical eye. She slips away while she still can, already with plenty of things on her mind.


Do'azda's next stop will definitely not make her anything like a profit. That is not the point. It may win her a friend, but even then it is not going to be a very valuable investment if that is all her goal is. But it seems as if it is just the right thing to do.

Annabeth's shop is empty when Do'azda walks in, looking around. Annabeth is there, bustling about and shuffling the books around. "Oh, a customer," Annabeth says, and then turns. "Ah, Do'azda. I wondered where you were. I heard you were busy?"

"Heard?" Do'azda asks.

"I went to check in on you. There was nothing going on yesterday," Annabeth admits. "So I went and visited your charming little town."

Ah, of course. "Do'azda was away on business, but she is back now. And she had something she wanted to give you." She pulls out The Queen's Lover.

"Oh, is this- Really? Ahh," Annabeth says, picking it up. "A present for me?!" She almost leaps up in joy. "Ohh, this is such a good romance, I've heard. It is one I haven't been able to read, about the Queen Barenziah and the Nightingale! I'll treasure the gift from a dear friend such as you are. It is a gesture that I shall think of often, and one that--"

"Also, here you go," Do'azda says, and adds to it the pornographic woodcuts.

Annabeth's eyes widen and she begins looking through them, her face slowly reddening. "O-oh. I… this was very… kind of you." She looked away, sweat evident on her face. "You are a very direct and bold type. May I ask where you found it?"

"Do'azda was chasing after bandits that had stolen gold from a merchant. She found these in the bandit camp and thought of you." This is not quite true, but it is close enough to the truth, and it is only after she says it that she finally realizes why Annabeth is so red.

She really has to keep from being quite as silly as she's been so far, if she's given that impression. Annabeth seems like the kind of person who would not be satisfied with a fling, and Do'azda has not actually intended to do a fling or anything else with her. She's not sure if she's even attracted to Annabeth, and certainly not enough to…

"She does not mean it in any way as to cause offense," Do'azda declares carefully. "She merely knew that Annabeth likes romantic works, and that some of those…"

"Ah. Right. Very right. Too true," Annabeth said. "I'll just… stock these. For later. Perhaps I can sell them, but since they're gifts I would not want to…"

Do'azda realizes that she's not going to say anything coherent. "Do'azda will be happy to hear you do whatever you want with it. It is a gift, and so it does not belong to her anymore." She nods and says, "Do'azda hasn't read the story, and hopes Annabeth would tell her if it is any good."

"Oh yes, Anna… I mean, I can," Annabeth said with a cough. "Is there anything else?"

"Not at the moment, but if things ever settle down, Do'azda would be happy to read any books you recommend," she said.

A hollow peace offering, since she does not think things are going to settle down. But Annabeth nods eagerly, and they part on good terms.


The jeweler frowns and hems and haws and offers her one hundred and sixty Septims for the sapphire. Do'azda has to calm her breathing, as even by her standards this is not a paltry sum. But she knows that it is absolutely a paltry sum, and that the man eyeing her is smiling faintly. He's suspicious of where she got it, assumes that it is stolen, and it probably is in an absolute sense.

"Do'azda knows it is worth quite a bit more than that. She also knows you are a fine jeweler who could put it in a ring and change a thousand for the sapphire, which is more than it is worth… but a quite generous profit," Do'azda says. "If you worry, you shouldn't. Do'azda is a Shaman."

"What exactly does that mean?"

It is a dusty room, and the man in front of her is a thin little Nord, dressed in finery she cannot afford but which looks a little shabby.

"She is a cat that helps others find the will of the Gods, and helps the community. She was told of bandits who had stolen something belonging to a Khajiit merchant," Do'azda lies. "When she recovers it, she finds this sapphire as well and she thinks of what good it will do, to buy supplies for potions to deal with illnesses, for clothes and blankets for those without homes, for wood for those without fires… why, she can imagine so many things in this little gem." She stares at it, sitting there on the table. "She could not part for it for much less than two-hundred and sixty Septims."

"Why, you must truly want me to be run out of business--"

"She is sure you can find profits, perhaps we can compromise at two-fifty, but she will not see it go down much further."

"Two-forty," the man said, firmly.

"Two-forty-five, Do'azda is sure you can afford it."

"...very well, it is a deal. But if I learn it is stolen, I will not hide you at all, cat."

Do'azda smiles. "She does not expect it, because it is not necessary."

The jeweler sighs. "I will hold you to that."

"Pleasure doing business with you," Do'azda lies.

[+245 Septims, -Sapphire]


The smith cocks her head, testing the weight of the enchanted sword.

"The weight distribution is all wrong - this was probably ceremonial, back when they forged it, and its rusted terribly since. Its old black iron; even if I put it on the grindstone, it wouldn't take an edge." She says. "I'm in the middle of an order for Idolaf Battle-Born - I don't possibly have the time for this. I can give you 10 septims - someone might be collecting ancient nordic swords, I'd have to ask my father if the Jarl's wizard has any interest."

"Ten septims?" Do'azda replies, "Do you know what this one had to go to get this?"

"Then keep it." The woman shrugs. "It's not worth anything to me either way. Find out what the enchantment is, stick it on a weapon worth anything, I can promise you a fair price but for this…?"

Do'azda grimaces. It would've been nice to get rid of the sword, but she didn't have high hopes. "This one is sorry to have wasted her time. Thank you for your honesty…" She trails off.

"Adrianne Avenicci. Not the best blacksmith in Whiterun, but our forge can put out six swords for every one out of the Skyforge." The woman replies, the words coming out like a familiar patter. "I'm sorry I couldn't buy the sword from you. If you'd like, I could take that bow off your hands? I'll give you 60 septims for it? You won't get a better deal for it,"

[ ] Yes, Do'azda sells the bow to Adrianne.
[ ] No, Do'azda keeps the bow - it could come in useful.

When she opens the door to Ka'hasa's house, the kids are play-wrestling, the fighting clearly not very serious from the indulgent smile on the Khajiit's face, and the food seems to have mostly been eaten away. She can smell it, some sort of stew, thick and no doubt hearty.

"Ah, Shaman," Ka'hasa says with a pleasant nod. "You must be very hungry, but she has left some stew for you. Sha'ki has been worried." There is a moment of hesitation. "After you eat, it would be wise to check in on her."

"Do'azda should do that," she admits, stepping forward. "What is the stew?"

"Rabbit and potatoes, strong vegetables and a strong broth," Ka'hasa says.

As Do'azda begins to set into the stew, the first well-cooked meal she has eaten for days now, the children stop their wrestle, and approach her, quietly moving in from different angles.

"I heard you went into a nordic tomb?" The eldest child, a boy who must take after Ka'hasa's husband, for Do'azda can see little of the suthay-raht in him, asks her in Ta'agra from his place at her elbow.

"I heard you fought bandits?" A younger child asks at Do'azda's other side.

"And the dead!" The eldest boy butts in again. "Did you kill them? Did you cut them open? Did any of your companions die? Did you get hurt? Do you have any scars?"

Ka'hasa clicks her tongue, only once, and the children retreat, shamefaced. "This one is terribly sorry, shaman! She has told them so many times to be polite to her guests, but whenever they have the chance to ask such ghastly questions…"

"This one does not mind," Do'azda replies cheerily. "She did fight bandits, yes. And some nord undead - they call them 'draugr'. None of her friends were killed, and she was not so badly hurt as to cause scars, but she has some scratches from when-"

Ka'hasa coughs quietly. "Perhaps this is not an appropriate topic? And Do'azda had perhaps best go to see Sha'ki? She was worried, yes? Oh! Also, the hunters were around. They talked to Ka'hasa - apparently one of the Thanes nearly killed Sinir, and they're wondering if Do'azda is making progress in preparing her solution…"

Do'azda nods, and considers just what to do, but there's nothing she can do for it now, and so it is best not to worry.

Sha'ki is a little more effusive. When Do'azda opens the door she all but jumps up, and her dog comes with her as she does. J'arin's tail is wagging eagerly, and he rushes Do'azda, almost tackling her as he licks at her leg. "Shaman! Are you hurt? Sha'ki has heard rumors that you were in a fight, and she does not want to credit them, though she knows that Shaman is strong."

Do'azda is tired after the long day, the sun is setting outside and bathing the world in ruddy golden light, but Sha'ki's eyes are bright with concern, and J'arin is beginning to nose at her side, where the draugr's axe hammered her armour into her flesh, and she winces as she sinks into a chair.

"This one is fine. She has a few cuts, and no doubt a terrible and great bruise up her flank, but Sha'ki has no cause to worry."

"No?" Sha'ki challenges, "The shaman says she is going to Riverwood for a trade deal, tells Ka'hasa that there is no risk, tells Sha'ki nothing at all, and then she comes back covered in scrapes and bruises, and her mercenary friend talking of delving into a nordic tomb? But Sha'ki has no cause to worry?"

Do'azda shrugs helplessly. "She was not hurt? And she should not have cause to do such again?"

Sha'ki growls. "The shaman expects Sha'ki to believe this? She thinks Sha'ki is a fool, perhaps? That the skooma cat has addled her?"

J'arin takes the opportunity to half clamber into Do'azda's lap, wobbling a little, his front paws on her knees.

"J'arin is better, then?" Do'azda says, in lieu of responding to Sha'ki. "He seems happier, and he wouldn't have been able to do this with his injury as it was?"

"Oh, yes!" Sha'ki says, "J'arin is tremendously pleased now that his wounds have healed - the beast is running around like a mad thing, trying to climb all over everyone he can. He just wants a cuddle, truly."

Do'azda is not fool enough to raise the matter of her misadventure again; Sha'ki seems happy enough to let it rest.


The fingers of night have stolen over the world by the time she summons Rahjin again. The moon is out, and she thinks of praying to Azurah or dancing in the dark. But Rahjin has not been out in a number of days, and when he appears he is excited. He flies around her, screeching up a story, and then lands on her shoulder. She staggers from the force of the sudden movement, and feels his curiosity.

'What did you do?' he doesn't ask. 'Why didn't you summon me!'

Their souls are linked, but that doesn't mean he can understand everything without being told. So she begins to talk, in her head and out loud, as the moon bathes the world in shadows. Rahjin swoops and flies around, moving closer and further as he grows bored or interested with the story, but the whole time he is listening.

Do'azda paces, tries to put together what happens and why: it is odd soothing, to try to put together a story of just what happened at Bleak Falls Barrow. There are a lot of unanswered questions by the end of it, but Rahjin does not seem to have any at all.

To him, she's explained everything perfectly? Her tail flicks at that thought. Then what is the stone she's brought along back with her? What is that wall about? What is being guarded with all this secrecy and the army of Draugr? She cannot remember what exactly they said, either: it is in a language she does not know, and so any approximation of the sounds means… what, exactly.

But Rahjin does not care, or perhaps somehow she's answered her question to the satisfaction of a spirit without realizing it.

She looks out into Azurah's light and begins to preen Rahjin, smiling just a little bit, her tail relaxing and her ears showing her good mood as she does. When she's sure he's happy, she decides to do something she hasn't done in a while, "Dance with me, Rahjin."

He makes a pleased noise and begins flying around as she dances for Azurah in the moonlight, prayers on her lips roiling out of her as if she is a scroll and she is unfolding before the world.

"Azurah," she sang, in Ne Quin-Ali, the language of the cats of Anequina, from before Elsweyr was made whole, "We are the children of the Dawn. Beings who can be guided from the light into the darkness of a night, and from the darkness into the light of a new day."

"I dance before you, as all movements in the twilight are before you. But I sing as I do, and I call attention. I am Do'azda, the Shaman of the Khajiit of Whiterun." She sings not in the tongue of humans and elves, but in the Khajiit tongue, in a language that plenty of Khajiit do not know or do not regularly speak, this far north. She can see a few people peeking out of their houses, or stopping on the way to the caravan. She pays these cats no mind. "May no true harm come to us, for we all live under Azurah's wisdom. May she grant me her boundless foresight to protect and sustain this community and all who live in it."

The world seems to slow down or even stop in moments like these. She dances with as much passion as she has danced with Liesl, and there's that same odd feeling in her stomach, as if she's being seen, as if she's dancing with someone taking in all of who she is. But she knows that Azurah is probably not watching her in particular. But she leans into that feeling, dancing a little more confidently, her steps fast and whirling, her tail part of the dance as well.

She laughs, and hears it almost seem to echo, "Azurah, the rose that blooms at dawn, may these nights one day pass, and yet may we never forget them." It is not enough to hope that the night will pass, that the Khajiit of 'Little' and 'Big' Elswyer might become prosperous and free again.

For here is a truth that a Shaman must hold to her breast as a thorny rose, beautiful and yet painful: just as the night passes, so too will the day. The Khajiit who gambols and runs and plays in the sun with no inkling of night will find themselve shivering and cold before so long. Pass through the night, yet hold it's coming again in one's mind and prepare for it. See the beauty in the twilight and the dawning, the dawn and even in the night, where the Shaman can and must carve out a path to the dawn with their deeds.

It is her opinion, and no unbiased one, that all Shamans should revere Azurah. She is so much of what it is to be a Khajiit. It was by Azurah's will that the Khajiit were brought into being, and it is by her patronage that to be Khajiit is to be shaped by the moons, to be beautiful, to be clever, to be the greatest liars in all the world.

All will change, all will fade away. But there is beauty and there is renewal as well.

The Shaman of Little Elsweyr dances under the light of the moon, on what might later be remembered as one of the last normal nights in Skyrim.

Choose an Early Morning and Late Morning Activity for 24th of Last Seed

[] Do'azda needs to find a local willing and able to learn potion-craft in order to create remedies that are more affordable than those at the local potion-maker or anywhere else. Someone who can learn Alchemy.
[] Do'azda could begin working towards the plan of the hunters… (each one takes up a slot)
-[] By finding and learning some emotional influence spells.
-[] By scouting out prime locations for traps and more.
[] Study Something (can only take one per day, Do'azda has other things to do)
-[] Spell Tome: Flames
-[] Spell Tome: Illumination
-[] A Handy Guide to Lockpicks (3 uses)
[] Having seen and found one holy location in Whiterun, perhaps it might be best to search the whole city for the religious and magical hotspots for… future reference. (Consumes one time slot, if you're already in the city, two otherwise)
[] Do'azda has found her feet. Perhaps it is time to look for somewhere she could purchase magical tomes within Whiterun, and other such tools to expand her options.
[] The mayor and leadership of "Little Elsweyr" has not talked to Do'azda much, but she could perhaps go to see about them.
[] It may be in Do'azda's interests to talk to the local healers to see what if anything she can help with there, though there is no expectation that she'll get put into rotation until she's at least a little bit more settled, perhaps in a few weeks… but doing it now might help her prove herself.
[] Whatever lives where the Skeevers were must be dealt with, and whatever has brought it back must be resolved.

VM AN: Back to normal! Sorry this took a while to get out.

TL AN: So, you're a lot richer now! So that's nice! Don't spend it all in one place.