jhasis adventures in morrowind

[Yes, because sassing the guy you’re going to be working for is totally a Bright Idea, J’hasi.]

wtf blush are you talkin about m8 im covered in fur :/

[A thrilling saga: still better than Twilight]

[*cue confused, terrified, panicked crying in 3…2…*]

[Reasons I am grateful for Morrowind armor: naturally-occurring gender-neutral curiasses.]

Prompt: J’hasi’s first introduction to (and impression of) House Redoran.

“<First thing, pilgrim. You’re new. And you look it. Here’s two hundred drakes. Go get yourself a decent weapon. Or armor. Or a spell. And second…>”

The Khajiit stared at the purse, opening it and finding that there were a lot of coins in there. A lot. Nearly as many as that old Imperial back at the Census Office gave him, and without him having to kill someone for it first. Two hundred drakes…just like that… He wasn’t entirely paying attention until he realized Caius was looking at him, a brow raised.

“<Are you listening?>” J’hasi’s ears flicked back, pulling the purse closed and holding it closer to his chest.

“<Y-yes.>” The Imperial sighed.

“<Look…you’re here working for me, alright? Under orders from the Emperor himself. It’s an incredible honor to be made one of the Blades, and not a choice made lightly, understand?>” J’hasi’s ears flicked back, his lower lip pouting out a little in a frown.

“<Why did he pick me then?>”

“<That’s not a decision I’m in a place to question, he did so for his own reasons. Now…what did I just ask you?>” The Khajiit swallowed, silent for a few moments until Caius sighed, pressing his fingers into his forehead.

“<That’s what I thought… You’ll need a cover identity, alright? You can do freelance adventuring, that’s common enough around here, or if you’re interested, there’s some guilds and factions that frequently take people on. It would be good practice for you after you’re trained a bit with the Blades trainers.>” J’hasi frowned.

“” Caius gave him a long stare, patience apparently wearing a little thin.

“<Yes, but you need a cover identity. You can’t go around telling people you work for the Blades, that’s not how we operate. And you clearly need some more skills before I send you out on orders. If I were you, I’d focus on listening first.>” J’hasi’s ears flicked back, mouth opening to protest, only for the Imperial to give him a firm look.

“<You couldn’t tell me what I asked you before, so yes, listening first. Then some training. I’m going to have to send you on some missions that could be dangerous, so you need to be able to handle yourself in a fight, alright?>” J’hasi scowled, looking towards the ground.

“<…I’m not killing people…>” Caius’ expression softened a little.

“<I’m not making any promises that you won’t have to, but it’s more of a concern that you come back alive.>” The Khajiit’s tail swished low behind him, ears pressed back for a few moments before he finally looked up.

“<…does freelance work mean I have to kill people?>”

“<Sometimes, yes. Would you rather be in a guild?>” J’hasi nodded. Caius sighed, starting to tick off his fingers.

“<Groups that favor Imperial interests are, of course, the Blades, but also the Imperial Cult, the Imperial Legion, the Fighters’ Guild, the Mages’ Guild, and the Thieves’ Guild…>”

“<No.>” Caius raised a brow, giving him a look that the Khajiit realized was a silent ‘are you finished?’ look before resuming.

“<Groups that favor the native Dunmer interests are House Redoran, House Hlaalu, and House Telvanni, as well as the Temple, the Morag Tong, the Camonna Tong, and the Ashlanders. The Great Houses hold a lot of the power here in Morrowind, and are likely to accept outlanders into their ranks, while the Camonna Tong and the Ashlanders aren’t fond of them. The Te->”

“<The Houses?>” Caius paused, looking at him.

“<What do you want to know about them?>” J’hasi fidgeted.

“<D’they…d’they have slaves?>” The Imperial nodded.

“<Yes. A lot of people here have slaves. It’s protected by the Armistice.>” The Khajiit’s face twisted a little, ears flicking back, fumbling with the leather of the coinpurse in his hands.

“<…if I joined a House, would people be able to make me a slave?>” Caius’ brows hiked up a notch.

“<…they would be less likely to, knowing that you’re in a position of power, no matter what your rank.>” J’hasi’s eyes focused on the Imperial’s.

“” Caius nodded.

“<Well, you can only join one. They don’t allow conflicts of interest within their ranks.>”

“” Caius noticed the Khajiit’s fingers rubbing over his wrist anxiously.

“<…each of the Great Houses goes about things their own way. House Redoran is a very serious and honorable bunch. House Hlaalu are supporters of the Empire and very open-minded in religious and cultural matters, greedy and ambitious in the best Imperial tradition. House Telvanni… Well, their nobles are thousand-year-old wizards, and they’re supposed to hate politics, foreigners, and just about everything else, but the Vvardenfell Telvanni are apparently more ambitious and adventurous than most. I don’t know much about them, but they do hire Western mercenaries, and some even rise to higher ranks.>” The Khajiit’s eyes lit up at the ‘wizards’ bit, but then his expression shifted closer to nervous the longer they went on. He looked contemplative for a few moments, then…

“<…that’s all you know about them?>”

“<Yes. I wish I could tell you more.>” The Khajiit sighed through his nose.

“<…where can I join House Redoran?>” Caius’ brows rose.

“<Ald’ruhn. Their councilors are located primarily there. It’s a long way, so I would take the silt strider there if I were you.>” J’hasi nodded, taking a deep breath.

“<Okay… Um…I-I guess I’ll see you later, then.>” The Imperial nodded with a slight smile, giving a wave as the Khajiit headed for the door, picking up his spear (gods he hoped that poor kid would pick up something better) and heading outside.

J’hasi leaned against Caius’ door, resting his head back to stare at the sky for a few moments. It was a lot to take in, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for all of this, but…if it meant he didn’t have to worry about becoming a slave ever again…he’d do it. But first… The Khajiit looked down at the coinpurse, digging around in his clothes to pull out the remains of the other one he had, dumping the gold from the smaller pouch into the bigger.

He was going to get some food first.

Prompt: First time riding a silt strider.

J’hasi’s tail slowly curled at the tip behind him before trotting up the stairs, eyes wide as he looked over the silt strider churring behind a caravaner. The mer smiled, inclining their head at him a little.

“<Good day, stranger. Was there a destination you had in mind? I can take you to Ald’ruhn, Suran, Vivec, or Seyda Neen if you want to ride.>” The Khajiit’s ears pricked, marveling quietly at the sheer size of the strider. This one seemed even bigger than the one in Seyda Neen… He swallowed.

“<How much for a ride to Ald’ruhn?>” he asked, finally tearing his gaze from the silt strider back to the Dunmer who seemed faintly amused.

“<Nineteen drakes.>” J’hasi nodded, shifting a little in place before digging around in his pack, finding the slightly-depleted purse and counting out the needed amount, handing them to the Dunmer with a nervous smile. The mer smiled, stepping over onto the back of the beast.

“<Watch your step, outlander.>” The Khajiit followed, nervously fidgeting on the platform before stepping over, fur rising up on end when the massive insect shifted slightly to accommodate his weight. The Dunmer chuckled.

“<First time on a silt strider, Khajiit?>” J’hasi frowned a little, then nodded, hand briefly going to the edge of the shell to steady himself.

“<Y-yeah.>” The caravaner smiled.

“<Just have a seat and enjoy the view. Take a nap if you really want. Name’s Selvil Sareloth.>” J’hasi nodded again, quickly sitting down on one of the cushions near the rear of the hollowed-out shell. When the mer started fiddling with the sticks up front, the strider shifted, then churred as it started to walk. The Khajiit’s tail curled, shifting over to peer over the side to see movement as the enormous insect started their journey.

Over the course of the first hour of the trip, the Dunmer’s patience was tested as question after question came from the Khajiit, about how the strider knew when to move, when to stop, which way they were going. By the start of the second hour, he’d settled down, tail swishing as he moved from one side to the other, enjoying the heights and sights as they traveled.

By the third hour, Selvil finally had some peace and quiet. J’hasi was fast asleep, curled up in the cushions in the back, lulled to sleep by the gentle rock of the carapace and the calming churrs emanating from the strider.

((€, because why would I ask for happy thoughts when I can watch the little bastard get tormented?))

€ for a bad memory that still haunts them

J’hasi waited anxiously, swallowing when the scent of the Dunmer started making his mouth itch and drool. Her brow cocked, regarding him coolly.

“<…My lord Molag Bal may be able to cure you of your affliction, but I am not privy to my lord’s whims. Speak with the great Molag Bal yourself, blood fiend.>” The Khajiit grimaced, reminded again just how dry his throat felt, and the tempting smell of blood on his spearhead, similar to the scent coming off of the Dunmer who continued to give him a level stare. J’hasi frowned, looking up at the massive statue behind them, an almost-reptilian form with hands gesturing at the dim and warmth of the cavern it was housed in. His ears flicked back a little.

“<Um… How do I know if…? …do I just…?>” he looked at the Dunmer, gesturing vaguely to the carved rock. Their brows furrowed.

“<Speak. If he deems you worth his time, he will answer.>” The Khajiit nodded, swallowing again and grimacing at the dry pull in his throat.

“<Uh…Molag Bal?>” Only silence for a few moments, then…

“<Hello?>” His tail tip twitched, then suddenly the sensation of something slick coiled in his throat, his mouth, making him feel like he was choking. He coughed, then gagged, eyes wide with shock as he stepped back and fell down on a knee, clutching his throat. His eyes widened even more when he felt his mouth and lips move of their own accord, and an unearthly voice growled its way out of his throat.

“<So, you do not enjoy the blood hunger, little leech?>” The Khajiit only had time to suck in a short breath before he gagged again, a quiet whimper coming out of his throat as his ears flicked back, feeling like he was on the brink of suffocating. The sensation of an overbearing presence loomed over him, cowing him to the ground, very much afraid. The next words felt as if they were hissed into his ear.

“<Do you miss the warmth of the sun?>” J’hasi shivered, cringing at what felt like a hand grasping his shoulder, something that could’ve felt comforting in every situation other than this one. He whimpered again, squeezing his eyes shut as they started to tear up at more foreign and unwanted touches over his body.

“” J’hasi’s ears pricked a little, still trembling, still barely able to breathe through the mass in his mouth and throat.

“<You will find my daughter, Molag Grunda, in the dungeon Dubdilla below Mt. Assarnibibi. There she hides with her consort, the lowly atronach Nomeg Gwai. She believes hiding in a sorcerer’s cave will shield her from my eyes.>” A dark chuckle reverberated in his ear, his bones, the Khajiit shivering in response.

“<Foolish girl…>” The voice shifted in tone, but not for the better.

“” The anger made J’hasi’s head hurt, whimpering again as he feared a blow from the Daedric Prince that held him captive, pinning him in place. The anger was still there, but calmed for the moment, dark satisfaction overshadowing it.

“<I cannot have this. Find her, mortal. Kill her and the atronach, so I may deal with them in the Outer Realms. When this is done, return to me, and I will rid you of your unlife. Take care, mortal, for she is powerful. She is still a daughter of Molag Bal.>”

Then, just like that, he was gone. J’hasi sucked in a deep breath, finally able to breathe, still feeling sick and shaky from what had just happened. An awful taste lingered in his mouth, and he felt like he was going to throw up. His hand pressed on the ground, looking up at the Dunmer watching him and the statue looming behind them.

“<You know what you must do. Now go.>” J’hasi shivered, nodding slowly, shakily getting up and grabbing his spear from the floor, uneasy on the thin strip of rock that lead up to the shrine. It was when he reached the stretch of floor at the bottom that he threw up, dropping to his knees and heaving onto the stone, thin acid and spit the only thing coming up from his empty stomach.

It was for a while longer the Khajiit lingered there, shivering and coughing and panting with eyes squeezed shut. When he finally gathered enough strength in his legs to stand, he swiped the back of his hand over his eyes and left, his breath hitching in a sob as he made his way down the fire and magma-lit hallway.

{ 6, 8, 10 :3 )

8. Is the muse merciful or *cruel?

J’hasi’s usually a very merciful person. There’s only a few cases that he’s been cruel. Thalmor are the biggest case, obviously, if he’s allowed the time he’ll draw out the injuries and deaths unnecessarily. Same story with a few bandits and other such folks that were cruel to innocents in a way that conflicts deeply with how J’hasi feels others should treat each other.

An example can be found here. Warning: implied rape

—

10. Is my muse honourable?

Depends. If his assailant is Thalmor, or is very clearly trying to kill him or harm others in any way, there is no honorable fighting. Survival takes precedence. Any fight J’hasi isn’t interested in taking part in and someone pushes him, also no honor, he’ll end it as quickly as he can with whatever’s at his disposal (following the mentality that ‘if you start a fight without regard for me, I’ll finish it without regard for you’).

Good-natured brawls/duels/sparring he’ll be honorable, as that’s something he’s agreed to, and is usually a learning experience, practice, and/or for funsies.

TL;DR J’hasi’s honorable unless you’re threatening survival/wellbeing of himself or others and/or being a dick. Show respect, get respect and all that.

—

6. A drabble about the first time the muse killed someone.

The Khajiit shivered a little, surprised at the angry confession from the Dunmer, seeming to show no regret for what they’d done. Murdering someone, even a tax collector, and just…not caring… It scared him a little, but also made him angry. Did they not care about the Dunmer in the lighthouse? Thavere hadn’t even known their friend was dead until he’d said something. And the look on their face when he’d told them… J’hasi’s ears flicked back, brows furrowed.

“<That’s not excuse for murder.>” Foryn’s eyes narrowed on him.

“<You’re one of them, huh? Come to kill me? Well, give it your best shot, Khajiit. I’ve no problem spilling more of the blood of the Emperor’s lackeys!>” Before he could protest about the ‘lackey’ bit (or the killing bit for that matter), he was tackled into the wall behind him, yelping as a basket was crushed under him, head striking the wood at his back with a hiss. The Dunmer’s fingers groped for his neck, J’hasi’s tail puffing as he tried to shove them away, get them away from his neck, but the haft of his spear wasn’t much use in such close quarters, not when he was also trying to keep from being strangled.

“<W-wait!>” he yelped, only for the mer to grab the collar of his armor, lifting him up and slamming him into the wall, knocking him silly, letting him go only to grip around his throat and squeeze. The Khajiit started to panic, squirming, eyes wide, shocked and not knowing what to do, he had to get away, he had to breathe. It wasn’t until the edges of his vision started to darken that it hit him.

He was going to die here.

It was when the reality of that set in that J’hasi started to wriggle, teeth bared, biting at the air, hands grabbing the mer’s wrists and sinking his claws in, drawing his legs up, the claws on his toes tearing into fabric and skin as he kicked, clawing, biting, trying to get away. The Dunmer let out a long, loud stream of curses, letting go and backing away, blood staining their front and skin as the Khajiit gasped for breath like a beached fish.

“<You n’wah!>” Foryn rushed him again, but this time panic and adrenaline fueled the young Khajiit’s body like shock magic, darting underneath the arms reaching for his throat again, tackling them and knocking them over onto the ground. The mer let out a huff of air, hands reaching for his throat again, J’hasi’s tail puffing behind him before he grabbed the sides of the Dunmer’s head, bringing it up, and slamming it down.

Over.

And over.

And over…

The Khajiit was shaking, not realizing he’d been crying, eyes wide and cheeks damp, hands trembling as he realized that the dampness at his fingertips couldn’t be from tears.

Red. Red on the floor, under the mer’s head…

J’hasi’s breathing hitched sharply in his throat, scrambling back, kicking frantically to get away from a body he realized was dead, his back hitting the door with a thump. He looked at his hands, finding that his fingertips were darker, the scent of iron and salt biting at his nose. He hurriedly wiped it away on the dirt floor, his hands and…everything trembling uncontrollably. The glassy stare of the mer was still locked on the ceiling, where his face had been only…only moments before… The same look of shock and realization frozen in place… The Khajiit’s own face screwed up, closing his eyes, grabbing at the sides of his head as he started sobbing.

He just killed someone.