Ruairi Adelind | Imperial | Appears mid 20s | Vampire Lord

Figures, he scoffed at her joking. Although her tone hinted she was kidding with its playfulness, he had a hard time believing it to be true. It most likely did take magic and lying to get anyone to hand children over to a cat. He didn't know a soul who would do so knowingly, unless the people in these hold capitals were different from the ones he had lived in. But even the Nords held a cold resentment to the Khajiits. And not just the cats, the lizard-folk too, and any other beast-folk that walked the earth. Hell, they even hated the elves to a certain extent. The cold natives of Skyrim were even more prejudiced than his kind were. Certainly, it had to have taken a few lies and spells to get the lady at Honorhall to let the cat adopt the two children.

At the cry of pickpocket, Ruairi averted his eyes from the Khajiit to the city. It was awfully bright compared to the shadowed ground he stood in, and he was regretting stepping out without a cloak, but it was an interesting sight worth seeing, as a Dumner tackled another to the ground. But the scene seemed to disperse quickly, and he was glad for the relief she shadow brought his eyes as he turned back to the Khajiit who introduced herself as Daro'Ashiri Knivett. Giving a nod in return and offering his hand, he said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Daro'Ashiri. My name is Ruairi Adelind." However, he soon forgot all about the introduction as the hoarse roar sounded in the air above the city. He stepped back and held a hand over his eyes, trying to focus on the terrible figure in the sky as it flew by. It was hard, not only because it burned his eyes, but because the damned thing flew by so quickly. He could barely register its shape, but had no doubts about what it was: a dragon. The serpents were long dead, or at least he had thought. Sure, there had been rumors of an attack on Helgen, but who was to actually believe they were true? The beasts had been dead for centuries, probably millennia, he didn't know the exact dates. But now that the winged beast was right in front of him, he could deny the rumors no more.

Right in front of him. It took him a half a second to realize, but quickly he dashed to the side, grabbing the cat with him. The dragon loomed over, its gaping maw and teeth snapping where they had been standing a minute ago. He unsheathed the small sword at his side, eyeing Ashiri's greatsword. It made the small steel longsword he held look like a child's toy, but he had never been a fan of two-handed weapons. They made one too slow, and in only wielding one sword, he could perform magic with his free hand. Ruairi flipped the sword in his left hand, all while flames leapt to life in his right. Although he was more than ready to fight, however one would fight a dragon, if one could even fight a dragon, he kept to the shadows, closest to the shade of the trees. If he were exposed to the sun and weakened, the dragon would win.

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Daro'Ashiri Knivett|Female Khajiit|25 years|WW & DB

The earth around them quaked as the beast landed, its large back feet landing first, followed by its front half supported on the knuckles of leathery wings. The whistle of the its jaws sounded in Ashiri's ears as Ruairi whisked her out of the way; having almost being eaten in one fell swoop forced her heart to thud quicker than it ever had. Her fingers played on the hilt of the sword as she surveyed the scales, the monster distracted with the arrow-shooting guards. The scales were like flat, smooth stones lodged in muddy green skin. Its flat, wide tail waved in the air, coming down to throw a tall guard with the gall to come around behind it. A female guard shreiked as the bear trap of a mouth closed around her waist and was lifted into the air. The beast threw its head, releasing the woman so that she slammed into a nearby farmhouse and crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Ashiri swung the heavy greatsword at the base of the dragon's neck, the steel clanging from the scales loudly, and coaxing several drops of dark crimson blood from the slash caused. [Short again! Blegh.]

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Alenin| Breton| Outskirts of Falkreath

The harsh beams of the sun right in Alenin's eyes annoyed him as he rested on the old pillar. It was leaning at a peculiar angle, but what did he care. If it fell Sai would probably cause get all angry about "ruining the research". Like anyone actually cared if certain herbs grew around ruins. "It would be funny to see Sai get mad though" Alenin contemplated the idea of "accidentally" tipping over the pillar. After the tone Sai had used last night, which made Alenin dislike him already, the dunmer could not be convinced that his "expert" source and references could be wrong. It took Alenin getting on his horse and starting to leave before the stubborn Dunmer was convinced to ask for help. They had spent all morning actually looking for the ruin, the misinformed contact Sai had used probably hadn't set foot outside the castle walls in years to actually see if any of the information he had was correct. Luckily he wasn't too far off, and as they were heading into Falkreath for directions saw the rubble of a Nordic pillar, the one where they were heading to, as Sai so expertly concluded from the carvings that made this ruin so exquisitely special. The view of Falkreath was nice though. From the little ledge they were on in the mountain he could see all the way down into the down. Alenin opened his eyes to watch the town. The little specks of village people were moving about, a couple of birds circled here and there. The brown huts weren't too interesting to Alenin, so he leaned his head back again, listening to the birdsong and the rustle of leaves.

Something was wrong. Alenin had dozed off for a bit, but suddenly something in his head woke him up with a start. Alenin looked around at the forest, everything seemed ok, Sai was marking some stuff in his notes, crouched over a boring looking plant, no beast could be heard in the leaves. Heard, that was the problem. It was too quiet, nothing stirred. The birds were silent, not much could make the forest as quiet as it was. Alenin scanned the treetops for a hawk when he saw it. A big beast gliding over the mountain. Its scales massive and terrifying. "Whoosh" It breezed right above Alenin, Sai looked up at the noise and screamed. The.. the dragon? Whatever the creature was did not seem to notice. It glided down the slope, heading in the direction of Falkreath. Alenin was paralyzed. He was simply frozen staring as Sai mumbled something incoherently. Adrenaline pumped through his veins holding him down. The rush began to subside and the situation dawned on him. Falkreath was a farming town, not a fortified city. Besides the guards here and there, there wasn't much protection besides a pitchfork and a flammable shack, because, if Alening remembered right, dragons could breathe fire. Those people were in grave danger, Alenin could fight, it was his job, and although he may never had fought a dragon, he could try.

"Sai, we need to go." He untied Skindling as fast as he could and mounted the pinto. "B-bu but what if-" "Fine stay here if you want." Alenin cut him off, no need to listen to a cowardly speech about how they shouldn't go and just sit up here in relative safety to watch a town burn. "No. I- I'm a mage. I c-c-can heal and f-fight." Resolve settled over Sai's face. "Alright, better catch up then." Alenin spurred skindling. "W-wait!" Sai grabbed his journal and untied his horse. "He'd catch up later," Alenin wasn't going to stop for someone when a whole city was in danger.

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Mha'kir || Khajiit || 32 years || Male

Mha'kir gripped his horse's reins a little tighter, tugging on them slightly in order to slow the horse down as he reached the Falkreath gates. The khajiit's moss green eyes peered up at the guards that were stationed on the boardwalk above the walls. He drew his lips back in a slight snarl of disgust, before looking back down. He gently nudged his horse's side with his heel, bringing it into a trot as they entered the hold. He slowed his horse down once they were well away from the main gates. Mha'kir looked up when he saw the sign hanging just outside of an inn. "Dead Man's Drink.." He read quietly to himself. He pulled on the reins, slowing his horse down to an almost immediate stop. He dismounted and opened up the saddle bag that was tied onto the saddle. He pulled out a halter and walked around to the front of his horse. He reached up and unbuckled the bridle, slipping it off. He then placed a halter over his horse's head, tying it on before stroking his horse's neck.

Mha'kir had another horse in the past, which was a pitch black stallion. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of tying the horse to a hitching post just outside of an abandoned shack. While he slept, a bear found their trail and attacked the horse. Unable to escape, the horse unfortunately died. Since then, he's only had one other horse, and that was the horse he currently has. He never made the mistake of tying down his horse. Instead, he would put a halter on his horse whenever he wasn't around, so that it would be harder for someone to steal his horse.

He reached for a sack that he kept in the back of his saddle, untying it. He opened the sack and poured the oats that were inside onto the ground, allowing his horse to feed. Mha'kir turned and walked inside the inn, sitting down at one of the benches. The khajiit reached for a tankard and called the innkeeper over, watching as they filled it up with mead. Mha'kir handed them a few coins, before slowly drinking down the mead. He set the tankard back down on the table. He took out a letter that he had hidden in his belt, opening it up.

The khajiit's green eyes intensified as he read over the contents of the letter. It was instructions on what to steal from a certain home. He sighed and put the letter away. After a few hours of drinking and listening to the bard's, a muffled roar echoed through the inn. Mha'kir frowned and looked up, his pupils narrowing into slits. That sounds like a sabre cat.... but it's much louder.. He thought to himself as he stood up. He looked around, noticing that everybody else around the inn was becoming anxious.

Suddenly, the inn shook as another roar rang out through the air. He leaned against one of the walls, before quickly running outside.

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Daro'Ashiri Knivett | Female Khajiit | 25 years | DB & Werewolf

Ashiri backed up, hurriedly moving away from the intense fire that now spewed from the dragon's treacherous maw. The heat made her eyes water as she swung her greatsword in a huge arc, splitting the scales and carving a formidable gash in the beast's shoulder. It snarled and roared with the pain, thrashing its tail so that the wide fan produced a gust of wind that made nearby people stagger. The khajiit steadied her balance as she prepared to strike again, bunching the muscles in her arms and shoulders. As she raised her sword, the knuckle of a gargantuan, leathery wing struck her in the stomach, taking the air from her lungs. The dragon roared once more, the frill around its head pierced with an arrow. As Ashiri righted herself and caught by her breath, she was buffeted once again by wind, though this time from the dragon's wing as the beast took flight, throwing itself into the air with every beat of its wings. The townspeople watched as it soared above the rooftops, spinning to dodge a volley of arrows.

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This is the dragon we're fighting:

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(( Writing this I was logged out. Had a mini-heart attack thinking I had lost it all. Thank the gods I didn't. ))

Falion Benoch, Bosmer | Falkreath | Werewolf, Master Archer, Hunter

Exhaling a frustrated sigh, the tiny elf narrowed her gaze toward the rather large chip of wood now sitting at her feet. The little bastard mocked her and her now ruined project she'd been working on for weeks. The Bosmer-styled bow was now misshapened, even if just slightly and very much to Falion's displeasure. Her gaze continued to narrow even more as if cursing the fleck of oak to Oblivion. "Well!" she blurted out abruptly, startling a bird within a tree near by, causing it to take off toward the clouds, "This was a damned waste of my bloody time," the small elf spat. Tossing the ruined longbow across the treehouse like a spoiled child. She slumped within her chair and huffed, cheeks puffed out, and pout present upon her features. "Let's take up woodworking! I said to myself, it'll be fun, I said to myself... HA! Waste of time more like it."

A short time had passed of Falion's silent temper tantrum, when a large object flew over her tree house. The walls shook from the wind being forced down, and a large shadow briefly darkened her room. A loud roar echoed second after that, peeling her from her seat. The elf leaned from her window, nearly falling from the tree as she stared toward the sky. Her expression gaped, mouth hanging open and eyes widening. She'd hurt rumours of dragons resurfacing, but to see it for herself...
The large flying lizard was heading up the road, straight for the town of Falkreath. As she leapt back into her tree house, the Bosmer collected her blow, looping it over her head and under one arm before sheathing her two daggers on either hip. A mixture of fear and excitement both coursing through her veins. Ohhhh~ this'll be interesting!

The small elf scurried out her door and leapt from the balcony of her tree house. Her hands gripping branches as she quickly lowered herself toward the ground and took off up the road as fast as her legs would carry her. A grin was present upon her face, her more sadistic side she supposed. She loved conflict, and was often amused by deaths of others. Especially when those deaths were stupid and avoidable. Rounding the corner of the road, the gate to the city came into view. The guards usually posted outside gone, most likely to aid in the fight... or dead. Regardless, the corner of her mouth twitched up into a smirk as she darted from behind the tree and into the city. She wasn't allowed in before, for reasons she wasn't sure. By the time she reached the dragon's location, the bulk of the fight was already taking place. Two Khajiit and a Breton so far appeared to be fighting the fire puking hell monster. If others were present, she was unable to see them immediately.

The beast soared over roof tops, landing occasionally, only to take to the skies again. Falion's gaze had locked into the monster the moment she came into the warfield. She readied her bow and shot, her arrow flying through the air toward the target. Her arrow pierced a wing, only to continue skyward toward some obscure location.

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Allycat|Nord|Thief|Riften

Ally watched things from her perch on one of the walls behind her friend Modasi. He was great, never asking where she found him such rare and shiny Jewels so frequently. Even if he did get that chastising look of 'Really? Again?' She was looking for her friends in the guild, she was finally old enough and with Mercer gone if rumors were correct she could get back in now. She had been hoping they would remember her and question seeing as she was exiled for the claim of stealing from the guild by mercer, who was recently murdured for much the same thing would they not find that a bit odd. With as loyal as she had been, often even giving the guild things free? Why would she steal from them, it didn't make sense...

She remembered it like it was just yesterday, standing before her family the dank air ripe with the smell of mildew and someones failed alchemy test. They glared at her with cold eyes full of hurt and betrayal, Brynjolf was the worst and looked like hew as going to murder her. They had blades drawn and Vex came up behind her pressing a knife to her throat, she hadn't fought them a look of resegnation on her face even if the betrayal was like a dagger to the heart while Mercer, a man she looked up to, had read off her fabricated charges and had her exiled.

All because she refused to steal a bust from one of the families who were under Maven's protection the Snow-Shod family for his personal collection, said they had something he'd been promised and refused, worried she was being tested or set up to be the fall guy. She had seen his pilfering when she woke up to use the loo, only to see him use some kind of key or something on the vault, she was too young at the time to realize he wasn't allowed to do that, but to him it made her threat.

If nothing else they would notice that she had broken her exile and come find her, if they would not let her back in she wasn't sure what she was going to do. She didn't know anything else and just wanted to be back with her family, if they turned her out again. She shook her head as a dark look crossed her face. "I missed you Modasi, but I don't know how long I will be here in Riften, it all depends on what 'they' do."

"It is okay marsh-friend, Modasi understands. And is just glad you visit and gift with such shinies, despite much risk to you." he said fondly.

"No, I am going to let them catch me this time, no more running if they want me dead I'll take it, its better than this numbing loneliness. But I hope it will not go that way, the one who accused me has been caught doing the very crime I was accused of I now hope to clear my name and return home."

"Modasi would be sad if his only friend was no more, Wujeeta too I suspect yes. You are good friend to us, not like other Nords you are our Sister-Without-Scales."

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Daro'Ashiri Knivett|Female Khajiit|25 years|WW & DB|Current Location: Falkreath

A deceased guard nearby clutched a small green potion in his gloved hand, though he'd been too slow in drinking it. Daro'Ashiri rolled to the side, dodging another jet of fire from the dragon. She had no clue as to why it was targeting her primarily, maybe it was racist like the Nords or Imperials. Or maybe it was just coincidence. Whatever was true, she would still slay it. The small khajiit watched an arrow sail through the sky and peirced the beast's wings, causing it to emit a pained screech. It was weakening now, flying lower, beating its wings more desperately. Another two arrows lodged in its head and chest and it was brought down to the ground, losing stamina with the blood loss. The two guards that shot the arrows whooped in momentary celebration as the flying, serpentine monster crashed to the road, taking a section of the roof with it. Ashiri snatched the little green potion and brought it to her 'lips,' wrenching the cork out with her teeth and chugging the liquid. The oddly bitter juice spilled down her throat, immediately rejuvenating the Khajiit with newfound energy. She hissed and charged forward, slicing the dragon's wing as it struggled to get up. Her greatsword broke through the wing's leathery webbing and she ran on towards its posterior end, making a long incision through the wing, cutting off the dragon's way of flying.

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