boarchasers – Page 13 – vvardenfellcat

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3E 427, Morrowind

It’s been…I don’t even know how long it’s been. Too long, too late. I’m so cold, so, so cold and I can’t get warm even sitting right next to a foyada. I’m so scared and I don’t know what to do. I had been hiding out in a Dwemer ruin, waiting out the ashstorm so I could find my brother again, and…and then they came, so fast, so strong, so fierce and terrifying…

I had been kept in a cage with the others. Living people, but…their eyes looked so dead, like… It was like being in the slave market at Tel Aruhn all over again, except we were hardly ever fed, and we were beaten if we didn’t submit to…

It makes me feel sick remembering it. The bites on my neck and shoulder still haven’t healed yet, and I’m so thirsty and scared and even more scared that I don’t feel hungry anymore, just so thirsty. I can’t even cry anymore, and I’m shaking and cold and just so scared, I don’t know what to do or where to go. I know I’ll have to find a cave or something come sunrise, but…

My hands are shaking so much, I can hardly write. I’m terrified to do anything. If I went to the Temple, I could be killed. If I went back to those… I’ll never go back. I can’t. Clan Berne, that’s all I know about them, but they said after the attack that if I turned, they would kill me. I can’t get help anywhere. I need someone to help, but I’m afraid that if I get too close to anyone, I’ll kill them and drain them dry and I won’t be able to stop it.

If anyone finds this, I won’t blame you for killing me. But if you know of how to cure me… I would be forever grateful for your help. Please help me.

♤ : Cooking headcanon

Growing up in his tribe where the word ‘cooking’ could be translated as ‘food burning’, J’hasi didn’t often eat cooked foods as a kid, but rather ate raw plants and meats, usually with some sort of spice rubbed into it to make it a little more tasty. When he got sick (which was frequent enough) then he’d be given cooked food as it was easier on his stomach. During his enslavement, his mistress taught him the basics of cooking, but his circumstances didn’t allow for much practice.

So, predictably, he’s not the greatest of cooks. He will eat things raw if it’s fresh, though while in Skyrim, a warm meal is just as important as warm blankets. Plus…things tend to turn into popsicles in his pack, and gnawing frozen meat isn’t exactly pleasant. He’ll cook things if he intends to preserve them, or if the source is questionable health-wise. He can’t get sick anymore, but it’s more of habit than anything else. Plus, sometimes cooked foods taste better than raw.

He knows how to make basic soups, stews, and roasts, as well as many common, simple Dunmeri and Khajiiti dishes, and nearly any Argonian dish he’s ever had. Most Cyrodilic dishes he ran across was either ‘boil everything and salt it’ or ‘let’s eat the tiniest bits of animals, like rabbit tongues, smothered in gravy!’, so he doesn’t often make stuff like that. He likes how they handle cooking wild game, like deer with sweet apples and the like, but he’s under the impression that Imperials took too much of a liking for High Rock’s Bretic cuisine.

While he was in Valenwood, he learned one way they prepared human flesh for a stew, and since coming to Skyrim, will often eat the human flesh he has in that form, as it’s chopped up into little bits and looks less like he’s gnawing on a chunk of people. Otherwise if he’s settled down in one place for a time, he’ll either dry or smoke the meat and keeps it in a pouch on his belt for a snack when the cravings start to set in.

☁ Trond rubs his hands together expectantly.

J’hasi frowned, pausing in the middle of the street. Again. That same flash of yellow, the same scent. While most of the guards looked much the same due to their uniforms, there was no mistaking the scents that were very different.

The Khajiit sighed, shaking his head a little. It was that guard who seemed to have an overabundance in suspicion and dedication to their work, rather than a good lot of them who seemed to prefer appearing vigilant until they could drown themselves in drink at the end of their shift. No doubt they were watching him closely because of his fur and whiskers. He’d half a mind to ‘vanish’ from the street, only to show up right behind him and give him a good scare.

Half, since he wouldn’t put it past the Nord to wildly swing that sword of theirs at him and cause a scene.

Don’t chase the rabbit.

The clacks of wooden staves echoed across the courtyard, each strike vibrating up the Khajiit’s arms as he circled his opponent. The Argonian’s face twisted into a grimace as he was forced back a step, two, taking one forward, only to hop back quickly as a strike was directed at the stones just in front of his toes. His face twisted into a snarl before he lunged, then yelped as the Khajiit sidestepped and gave him a passing whack across the back with his stave before it was flicked to touch the end of his own. The contact put the Saxhleel’s stave in a perfect place to trip him and sent him sprawling into the dirt.

“You know, I’m starting to get the feeling you’re just playing with me.” he said grumpily, his spines flattening as he stared across the remaining courtyard towards the mountains beyond. J’hasi grinned, walking around his fallen sparring partner before leaning over, tail curling up high behind him in amusement.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” he teased before the Argonian turned and lifted his head just enough to look him with a slight scowl. A moment later it softened and he chuckled quietly.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” J’hasi grinned before offering a hand up.

“You are getting better Baht, despite what you may think.” Baht rolled over before he took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“There’s a reason you’re not allowed to train new recruits. You’re relentless.” J’hasi chuckled and gently bumped the Argonian with his elbow.

“Look at it this way: by the time you can beat me, anything else will be easy.” Baht huffed out a laugh before brushing himself off as J’hasi flicked the dropped stave up with his foot to catch it midair.

“You ready for another round?” The Saxhleel let out a small exasperated laugh.

“I’ve barely gotten back up on my feet and you’re asking me that now?” The Khajiit laughed, grinning as he rested the hafts of the staves on the ground.

J’hasi’s ears pricked, head perking up at the sound of rapid hoofbeats in the distance. Moments later, the gate was pulled open, allowing an out-of-breath Blade on horseback inside the walls of Cloudruler. The clatter of hooves over the cobblestone of the courtyard brought everyone’s attention to the center as a Dunmer walked forward, grasping the reins of the winded horse to steady her as he looked up at the Breton in confusion.

“What’s wrong? Where are the others?” The man’s hands shook as he gripped the horn of the saddle, panting.

“D-dead… Th-there was too many… I-I…” J’hasi’s gaze turned from one of unease to steely.

“What. Happened.” he asked firmly. A quick swallow and the Blade looked down, shoulders hunching, his voice hollow.

“The Aldmeri Dominion has declared war with the Empire.” J’hasi’s eyes widened, a heavy silence settling over the courtyard as snowflakes started to drift down from the sky.

∯

“Y’know, I used to feel horrible for what I did to you. I used to have nightmares about it… It wasn’t until much later that I realized you deserved what you got. I shouldn’t’ve even given you the dignity of a godsdamned grave, you fucking selfish bastard. If the thought of touching you didn’t make my bile rise, I’d dig you up just to scatter your bones for the scavengers to pick over just to spite you, if there was even anything left of your rotten fucking corpse. I hope the worms ate your eyes out first.”

🍻

J’hasi seemed to burst into a small fit of giggling after he finished off the bottle the guardsman had given him. He had briefly wondered if the nord remembered him back when he and Rhen had been in town, but had quickly dismissed it in favor of wheezing quietly, his forehead clunking to the table.

“<Where’sh yer bucket, bucket-head? Did th’ dragon take it? Tha’ bashtard…always shnatchin’ th’ bucketsh… Er…wash it th’ guardshmen…?>” he was quiet, stuck in a moment of contemplative thinking through the heavy haze of alcohol weighing him down. The Khajiit apparently seemed to have forgotten what he had been thinking about before he smiled at the guard, offering him the seat he had already taken.

“<Sho wash th’ occashion?>” he asked, leaning his elbow on empty air and falling out of his chair onto the floor with a crash, a slew of Dunmeri curses flying out of his mouth.

((❧ and ✭?))

❧ describe their usual sleeping position

It sorta depends. If J’hasi’s found an inn or feels safe in the place he’s picked to sleep for the night, he’ll lay on his stomach, a hand under his pillow (not so much as for support, but to hold onto the dagger hidden under it). He’ll usually have his blanket laying over him so only his nose is sticking out from underneath it, since he doesn’t like the feeling of breathing hot air.

If he’s sleeping out on the road or feels a little uneasy about sleeping, he’ll usually sleep up in a tree or at the base of one, sitting upright with his hand holding onto his dagger under his blanket. Either way, if he’s woken up suddenly, he’s ready to bury a blade in the gut of whatever attacked/startled him.

My advice? Don’t wake him unless you’ve got a shield up or you’re poking him from 20 feet away.

✭ what is one of their favorite items?

An item in specific would definitely be his necklace. It was a gift from his guardian Sees-In-Mist, and for years it was the only thing he had from home. Stealing that from him would end badly for the thief.