So I've written a short story about my character, Do'Rakk Khabiri. If you wish, you can reference my character bio here
. This story is of one of his great adventures in Cyrodiil right before the war bgeins. It also highlights some of his back story via dream sequences (a little cliche i know, but ya) So i present to you "The Brawler" (for lack of a better title)
Feedback is welcome. Featured in The Tamriel Chronicle, Issue #17
“You’re so slow Ja’Rakh! Ha ha ha! OOF!”
“Behave yourself young cubs, we are expecting guests.” Dro’Brahi was the steward of the house. He was a kind old Khajiit, though tended to be stern with Ja’Rakhar and his brother J’urabi. The cubs took to calling the old cat “Whiskers.” His many years showed through his silver fur, and under certain light, his whiskers seemed to shimmer as if made of crystals. “Now come along you troublemakers,” he said, “we must get you ready for your father’s company.”
“Yes Dro’Bahi,” the cubs replied. The aged Khajiit led them to their chambers to prepare for their father’s distinguished guests.
As Ja’Rakhar opened the door to his bedroom, he was met with flames. Confused, he turned to old Whiskers, only to find him dead with a blade in his throat. The fire grew hotter. Down the hall he could hear his younger brother call out, “Do’Rakk! Do’Rakk,!” Who was this Do’Rakk? His brother must be in danger. As the young cub ran towards his brother’s cries the manor continued to burn around him. “Do’Rakk! Do’Rakk,” his brother screamed.
The fire burned. Everything burned. Blood covered the floor, the lifeless bodies of maids and butlers lay scattered. His brother’s cries grew more panicked, but no matter how fast Ja’Rakhar ran, his brother’s room seemed to move further away from him. A hand reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt. “Got one,” the man yelled. Ja’Rakhar turned and found a monster. His very being emanated pure evil, and his eyes were as red as the flames that consumed his home.
His brother’s cries continued. “Do’Rakk! Do’Rakk!”
“Do’Rakk!” His eyes opened. “Get ready, they have arrived.” Another dream. Do’Rakk looked out beyond the cave opening he had been waiting in with his partner, Sintabe. They overlooked a small clearing surrounded by thick woods. A couple Imperial men came out of the wood line, and below, the Khajiit they had been assigned to escort during this… business transaction. “You were dreaming,” Sintabe said to him, “what about?”
Do’Rakk, reflected on his dream, of a life that was no longer his. All of that was in the past now, best to leave it there. “Nothing important,” he began, “Keep an eye out. Our buyer wanted pure moonsugar delivered all the way to Imperial territory. That means he’s rich… and dangerous.”
The Imperials were obviously wealthy. One dressed in fine clothing, the other, though clearly a servant was dressed better than most of the commoners they had come across thus far. The Khajiit brought forward a cart holding a single chest. He opened the chest to reveal bags of pure moonsugar. “I trust you have kept your end of the bargain my friend,” the Khajiit said to the Imperial.
“Of course!” the Imperial replied, “It would be rather inconsiderate to have you travel all this way only to leave empty handed.” He produced a sly grin, and signaled his servant to wheel a cart over with a chest in it. “Your payment. I do hope you brought more than just yourself, it is quite heavy.”
The Khajiit paused, careful not to give this Imperial any information he didn’t need. This man had his product, and he had his gold. “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you I can manage. We appreciate your business.” The Khajiit began to turn around to wheel the cart back towards Do’Rakk and his companion, but was suddenly interrupted.
“I must ask, how have you enjoyed the scenery in this fair province? I imagine it must be quite different than the deserts of your home,” the Imperial interrupted.
Do’Rakk’s ears twitched. Why is this Imperial asking such trivial questions? He should know how important it is for them to remain discreet and brief. He readied his swords. He looked at his companion, who began to look worried. “I don’t trust that man.”
The Khajiit replied to the Imperial, “I must confess, my stay has been brief. I haven’t had much time to pick the flowers. I don’t mean to be rude, but I really must be off.”
“I insist!” the Imperial roared. “You must stay and enjoy the beauty of my home land.” Suddenly, Imperial soldiers rustled from the edge of the woods, sword in hand. Damn, this was a set up. “Although, I’m not sure how much you will be able to see from a prison cell.” The Imperial soldiers moved in to arrest the Khajiit. One soldier felt a sharp pain in his back, and looked down to see to bloodied blade coming out from his gut. The soldier fell dead.
“Get under the wagon!” Do’Rakk yelled to the Khajiit. Sintabe appeared to the soldiers’ rear, and quickly produced two more dead bodies. The Imperials were better armored than the Khajiit, but not nearly the fighters. Do’Rakk and Sintabe easily outmatched these few Imperials. He spied the rich Imperial nervously trying to escape the chaos. Do’Rakk was not going to let this snake go free. He sliced a man’s gut, entrails spilling out. Another soldier in the way. Do’Rakk dispatched this one with ease as well. He was able to grab the Imperial, ready to deliver a sword to the coward’s throat when a sudden shot of pain tore through his raised arm. An arrow, looks like these dogs came more prepared than he thought. Taking advantage of the opportunity, the Imperial thrust a small dagger into Do’Rakk’s side. Do’Rakk fell to his knees. He searched for Sintabe, only to find that he had been killed by an arrow through his neck. The Khajiit they had escorted lay slumped over with a sword in his chest.
The Imperial kicked Do’Rakk to the ground. “They say cats are supposed to be clever. Perhaps, the clever ones were smart enough to not come here.”
“I could say the same about you Imperials,” Do’Rakk snapped. With his remaining energy, he quickly pulled a dagger from a dead imperial next to him, and threw it into the man’s mouth. The Imperial fell back dead, the dagger protruding out the back of his head. “Now maybe you’ll shut your mouth.” Do’Rakk mustered a slight grin.
“You’re alright now my little Ja’Rakhar.” Comforting words from his mother. “We will have the maids clean that scrape. Perhaps next time you won’t run down the stairs.” His mother’s eyes were so kind and full of love. “What possessed my child to do something so dangerous in the first place?” she asked.
“J’urabi was chasing me, I didn’t want him to tag me,” The young cub whimpered.
“Poor dear,” she said. Her voice was so full of love, “You mustn’t do such silly things. One day, you will be the head of this house. It will be your duty to protect your future family, but you must get there first.”
“Yes mother,” he replied. He was so young, and his father was so strong. “Mother, what if I never become as strong as father? How will I be able to be a protector?”
Her lips grew into a sweet smile, “You will become just as strong as him in time my dear, but until then, I will be here for you.” Her smile was always so comforting and reassuring.
Crack! The distinctive sound of a whip echoes through the halls. The walls crumbled around mother and cub, revealing a strange landscape. The cub looked down to see his fine linens turned to dirty rags. He looked back up to ask his mother what was happening, only to find she wasn’t there. Crack! The call of the whip again. He turned his head to see his mother tied to a post, her back raw with scars and blood. Behind the whip stood a dark figure. His face looked like that of a maniac, each lash he delivered giving him more joy. Another dark figure grabbed him by the shoulder. “You’re whore mother certainly loves you, you little brat. Now you can return your love to her by watching her die!”
Do’Rakk’s eyes opened. He was still alive somehow, and he was moving. He looked up to find his hands tied, and a rope attached him to the back of a horse. That would explain why he was moving. A foul stench quickly reached his nostrils, and he discovered it was coming from him. He wondered how many times he must have gotten shit on while being dragged by the mare. At least these damned Imperials had the decency to leave him dressed. “Where are you taking me?”
Surprised, one of the soldiers responded. “Oh, looks like the cat is awake. Did you have a refreshing nap? A cat-nap if you will?” The soldiers laughed among themselves.
Not amused, Do’Rakk responded, “I asked you a question, little man.”
“Oh, I like this one,” The soldier replied, “half dead and he’s still got some bite left. You’re a smuggler, cat. Where do you think we’re taking you?” The soldier looked out over the surrounding hills. “Let’s stop here, I’ve got to piss.” He looked down at Do’Rakk. “I supposed you can walk the rest of the way, unless you enjoy sliding in the mud.”
Do’Rakk, rolled up on his feet. He didn’t take orders from Imperials, but he didn’t care much for being dragged on the ground either. The group continued on for hours. The soldiers never seemed to stop talking about their “great victory.” Never mind that two Khajiit were able to kill at least ten of the soldiers before he was captured. To pass the time, he began thinking of various ways to kill his captors if he should escape. He had come up with some pretty creative ideas before running into the horse in front of him. “Watch it cat, are you blind? Or do you just like my horse’s arse?” the soldier snickered.
“Quiet,” another soldier whispered. ”Look there.” One the ground lay a single shoe, soaked in blood, with a blood trail leading into the woods. “Should we investigate it?”
“It’s probably just an animal,” another soldier replied. “I doubt it’s anything to worry abo-“
“Animals don’t wear shoes,” the first soldier quickly said. He took a quick gaze back at Do’Rakk. “Most animals, at least...”
Suddenly, an arrow came flying from the woods and knocked one of the Imperials from his horse, immediately followed by a small group of savage looking men. “Bandits!” one of the soldiers shouted. A quick battle ensued. Amidst the chaos, one of the bandits came to attack him. An easy target for the bandit, had it been any other prisoner. Do’Rakk quickly dodged his attacker’s swing, and delivered a strong head but, dazing the bandit. Do’Rakk executed a powerful uppercut, accompanied with the sound of teeth breaking, wrapped his rope around the thug’s neck and snapped it. The dead raider had a dagger at his side, giving the Kahjiit an opportunity for escape. He slid the dagger out half way and used the dead weight of the bandit as leverage to cut the ropes around his hands, and quickly countered another attack. Do’Rakk used his razor sharp claws to drive his hand into his new attacker’s head, through the bottom of his mouth, and proceeded to rip his entire jaw from his face. The battle soon ended leaving Do’Rakk alone, with only corpses to keep him company. Then a weary moan sang out. His original captor had fallen from his horse, an arrow had struck his thigh and he sat, unable to walk. By a stroke of luck, the horse that dragged him here was still alive. As Do’Rakk walked over to confiscate the horse, the soldier called out to him, cursing him.
“Damn, cat! Help me up!” the soldier ordered. Do’Rakk walked over to the soldier.
Picking up a bloodied sword from the ground, he said to the soldier, “Kind sir, do you mind if I borrow your horse?” He then drove the blade through the soldier’s leg, deep into the earth below. “It appears that you won’t be needing it.”
Do’Rakk rode. With his wounds cleaned and wrapped, he made his way back toward Elsweyr. It would be a long journey though, and he needed rest. He happened across a despicable looking tavern. The place smelled of strong ale, and it’s patrons included low-lifes, thugs, and surely some wanted criminals. He felt right at home. He approached the bar keep to inquire about renting a room. “Your money is no good here, cat,” the bar keep scowled.
The weary Khajiit, having spent most of his patience already, slammed his hand down on the counter, revealing Imperial coin he had relieved his dead capote of. “What about your money then?”
Stunned, the bar keep quickly changed his demeanor. “My apologies, I think we might have an open room. Is there anything else you would like?”
“Food and drink,” he replied. As he sat and ate is questionable meal and stale mead, a stranger approached the Khajiit. An Argonian, not the most common resident of Cyrodiil.
“You are quite far from home my friend. What brings you to this dank place?” As the Argonian spoke, Do’Rakk noticed his hand moving sneakily toward his coin purse. In response, Do’Rakk took his dinner knife and slammed it into the Argonian’s hand that was on the counter, then slammed his head onto it hard wood.
Do’Rakk grabbed the stunned Argonians head and whispered “Know this, lizard. You are alive, because I allowed you to live.”
“My apologies, friend. My name is Julan-Zish. Please forgive my intrusion, and if you could remove the knife from my hand, I would be forever grateful.” Do’Rakk obliged the Argonian’s begging. “I did not mean to offend, my friend. Old habits are hard to break. What brings you to this down-trodden corner of Cyrodiil though?”
“Oh, and how did that fair?” After a short silence, the Argonian assumed that it did not go well. “Well, friend, if you are interested, I have some ‘business’ dealings to attend to myself that could use the help of a strong bodied individual like yourself. It would be quite lucrative, and I imagine definitely worth your time.”
Do’Rakk quietly contemplated the Argonian’s offer. Returning to his employer empty handed would probably not go well for the Khajit. He did not care to help a scale skin though, but if the payout was good… “How lucrative?”
The Argonian gave a conniving, toothy grin.
“En guard!” The two young cubs swung their wooden swords at each other. It was a playful sparring match among two very young and unskilled brothers. On-lookers might have had a good laugh watching these two would-be warriors.
“J’urabi,” their father called. In the heat of their sparring match still, the young Ja’Rakhar swung, striking his brother’s hand by accident.
“Ow! Ja’Rakh, that wasn’t fair! That really hurt!” In a fit of anger, J’urabi threw down the practice sword, and angrily punched the unsuspecting Ja’Rakhar. This was the first fist fight the two siblings had ever been in. A passing maid heard the fighting and came out to see what was going on. In horror she saw the two cubs fighting, already bruised and scraped.
“Lord Solvandi! Lord Solvandi, the cubs! Come quick!” The maid ran to find the cubs' father. Ja’Rakhar recoiled from a strong strike to the jaw. He reared back to deliver one of his own.
As he did, he could hear the savage chanting of drunken spectators, and the stench of blood. He struck the other Khajiiti slave right in the face, dislocating his jaw. The crowd’s cheering grew louder. Drunken elves were yelling at each other. Some of them had placed a large amount of coin on this match. The blow provided the opportunity he needed. Ja’Rakhar quickly locked the other Khajiit in a choke hold. This was a fight to the death, and the other Khajiit was not ready to die. After several elbows to the ribs, Ja’Rakhar’s grip loosened. Ja’Rakhar was thrown to the ground, being forced to block wild punches from the desperate Khajiit. An opening. Ja’Rakhar landed a swift punch to the Khajiit’s throat. Ja'Rakhar threw the Khajiit off of him as he struggled for air. Ja’Rakhar lifted the exhausted Khajiit by this mane, and at the crowd’s pleasure, snapped his neck. He took no pleasure in killing his brethren, but in the world, it was kill or be killed.
A dark figure approached. His ashy skin and red eyes made him look like a creature from Oblivion. “Fantastic work slave! You’ve made me a good amount of coin today! I knew you had promise, what’s your name slave?”
“Ja’Rakhar,” he answered.
“Hmm.” After a short pause, the elf continued, “I don’t like that name. You need a name befitting of a great warrior. What do you cat’s call your warriors? Do right? Then that’s it, your new name will be Do…. Rakk. Do you like that name slave? It’s the name of a warrior! Do’Rakk the Brawler!”
With great sorrow, he answered, “Yes… Master.”
The morning sun peered through the wooden panels in the tavern’s walls. Of course, it would happen to shine directly is Do’Rakk’s eyes. It was no surprise for him when he found he had been robbed during the night. At least the thief left him his swords. He would need them today.
He ventured out to a monument not far from the tavern where he stayed to meet the Argonian. The job seemed simple enough. A merchant who delivered goods along this route was rumored to have to have an item of great value today. The Argonian wouldn’t give any great details, but he assured Do’Rakk would know the item when he saw it. Typical lizards.
The plan was simple, and the pay-off high. Do'rakk would get to keep whatever gold was on the wagon, the Argonian only wanted his precious trinket. With any luck, the job would be done quickly and he could get back to Elsweyr. Talk of war brewing in the tavern did not encourage him to stay in Cyrodiil any longer than he had to.
After a few hours had passed, Do’Rakk caught a glimpse of a wagon in the distance. The Argonian came to his side. “There he is my friend.” The Argonian said. “Are you ready?”
“No escort?” Do’Rakk asked. It seemed unusual for someone holding such a precious cargo to travel alone.
“Easy money, right?”
The trap was ready, all he had to do was wait for Julan-Zish to spring it, and jump in if it didn’t finish the job. The merchant was in the right place. Julan-Zish cut the rope holding a tree branch. It swung out towards the unsuspecting merchant. Bulls-eye. At least that is what should have happened. On impact, the merchant disappeared in a cloud of smoke. What kind of madness was this? No matter, Do’Rakk had a job to do now. He jumped down on top the wagon from his perch and threw off the wagon’s covering, only to be greeted by an Altmer in black robes. Do’Rakk was thrown off the wagon by a ball of fire. Mages, Do’Rakk hated mages. Such cowards. He quickly dodged another fire ball. He should have known this job was too easy. As he zig-zagged towards the mage he noticed the elf’s skin seemed to be burning. What was left unburned was incredibly pale. He remembered the elf’s teeth when he first saw him. “A vampire?!” Do’Rakk exclaimed Caught off guard by this revelation, he was hit was another ball of fire.
“Damn, now what?” Luckily his armor protected him, but he knew it would not last forever. He had to act quickly. He weaved his way back towards the vampire again, finally taking cover behind a tree. He felt the heat of another fireball hit the tree and smelled it beginning to burn. Do’Rakk picked up a sizeable rock and came out from his cover and with all his strength, threw the rock at the mage. The mage instantly threw another fireball at him, not noticing the stone. The fireball exploded in mid-air, blinding the vampire. Just the opportunity Do’Rakk needed. Through the smoke, Do’Rakk lunged at the vampire, swords drawn. A killing strike. The vampire looked down at the blades in his chest in total disbelief, and burned to ashes on the swords. Victory
*Knock, knock, knock*
“May I help you?” A maid was at the door. Do’Rakk, didn’t recognize her though. That was no surprise, it had been nearly fifteen years since he had seen his home.
“Who is the lord of this house,” he demanded.
“Why Lord Ra’Sir of House Solvandi of course. And who are you?”
Ra’Sir. He was Do’Rakk’s uncle, and as treacherous as they come. Who knows what kind of corruption he had spread and marred his family name. Did he have something to do with that bandit rais so long ago? Ra'Sir always seemed to have a lust for power. Luckily, Do’Rakk was there to claim his rightful place as the Lord of House Solvandi. “Tell my uncle that Ja’Rakhar Solvandi has returned.”
Wide eyed, the maid ran back inside. Instantly, the door disappeared and wall rose around him. He was in the main hall of the house. His uncle sat before him, in all his ill-gotten glory. “Ra’Sir Solvandi. I am Ja’Rakhar Solvandi, and I am here to take my rightful place in this house.”
His uncle stared at him in complete disbelief. “My brother, his wife, and all of his children are dead! You dare come to me claiming to be my dead nephew and demand this house!? All I see here is some insane begger, some kind drunken idiot who’s always fighting by the looks of you. That is an absolute insult, who do you think you are?”
“I told you, I am Ja’Rakhar Solvandi,” Do’Rakk replied.
“Look, maybe you were the great Ja’Rakhar, the heir to House Solvandi, but down here you’re no body.” The scene had changed again. He was in the darkly lit room surrounded by the worst of the worst. He had heard of this area as a child, the dark underbelly of Corinthe. He never would have imagined finding himself here. “I’ll make you a deal. You tell me your name, and maybe I’ll give you some work. You look like someone I could use, and you look hungry.”
It had become clear that Do’Rakk would never be able to reclaim his old life. That life died when his family did. Now he was an outcast in a city that once revered his name. What else could he do? “Do’Rakk. They call me Do’Rakk the Brawler.”
Satisfied, the fat Khajiit replied, “Well alright then. I knew you were somebody I could use. Work for me and I assure you, you will do just fine. The law doesn’t reach us down here. Do you have family Do’Rakk?”
“No… they are dead…”
“Well, that is very sad to hear. I like you though, you have promise. Serve my business well and perhaps I will let you adopt my name. The name Dar’Sien Khabiri will serve you much greater purpose in your new life than the name of an old dead Khajiit will.”
“Are you awake, my friend?” It was a farmiliar voice. That Argonian. Do’Rakk wondered where he was. He looked around. It looked like some kind of cave, and he was tied to a chair.
“I really need to stop waking up like this,” Do’Rakk thought to himself. His head ached fiercely. “What happened,” he thought. Across the room by a small fire, he saw the Argonian.
“I’m so sorry about that knock to your head my friend. I couldn’t risk you running off with my prize though.” The Argonian showed Do’Rakk a strange looking dagger.
“A dagger? That was you valuable item?” Do’Rakk said angrily. “I fought a damned vampire and almost died for that? You could get a dagger at any blacksmith!”
“Ah, but this blade is… very special my friend. This blade, it speaks to me, it... hungers.” The Arogonian had a dark look in his eyes.
“Alright, well you have you little knife, can I have what I was promised and leave now?”
“Actually, there is one more thing I need you to do for me."
"And that is?"
"Die!” The Argonian lunged at Do’Rakk, dagger at the ready. Do’Rakk kicked the chair back only suffering a grazing swipe at the chest plate. Though only a graze, his chest felt hot. He looked down to find that his armor had begun to disintegrate where the blade touched. What kind of blade was that? He broke free from his restraints and went after the lizard. The Argonian was faster than before. Was the dagger giving him some kind of power? Slash after slash, and Do’Rakks armor was literally falling to pieces. In desperation, he saw another attack coming and instead of dodging, Do’rakk grabbed the blade with his gauntlet. He could feel his gauntlet crumbling around the blade. He tore the dagger from the Argonian’s hand and drove it into the lizard’s chest. Julan-Zish fell to the ground, clutching the dagger. “You can’t kill me Khajiit! I am the servant of the might Mehr-“
The Argonian’s words were cut off, and Do’rakk crushed his windpipe under his boot. “Damn lizards.” Do’Rakk left that cave taking with him the gold he was promised, and the dead Argonians horse as repayment for the Argonian’s hospitality. As he crossed back into Elsweyr, He was glad to be out of Imperial territory, and took solace in the thought of not having to return for a long while. Unfortunately that would not be the case for Do’Rakk. As the weary Khajiit rode, he was followed by rumors of war and daedric evil. Do’Rakk would venture back to Cyrodiil sooner than he thought, but that is a story for another time…