Maintenance for the week of December 23:
· [COMPLETE] NA megaservers for maintenance – December 23, 4:00AM EST (9:00 UTC) - 9:00AM EST (14:00 UTC)
· [COMPLETE] EU megaservers for maintenance – December 23, 9:00 UTC (4:00AM EST) - 14:00 UTC (9:00AM EST)
· [COMPLETE] NA megaservers for maintenance – December 23, 4:00AM EST (9:00 UTC) - 9:00AM EST (14:00 UTC)
· [COMPLETE] EU megaservers for maintenance – December 23, 9:00 UTC (4:00AM EST) - 14:00 UTC (9:00AM EST)
The Journey To Masser
seanvwolf
✭✭✭✭
Khajiit with two titles are often considered braggarts or idiots. Or both. It wasn't easy for Dara to accept also the title "-dar", from his recently deceased cousin. His short white fur stood on end at the thought of his cousin's fate. In a matter of confused familial pride, his cousin had also bore the same name. A living memorial to their great uncle Dara, an uncelebrated Ri'sallidad who gave his life selflessly for a quarter of the city of Senchal. He had never met the martyr and yet his future looked to lay in ruin because of it. It wasn't a matter of shame, so much. It simply was. Jo'Dara-dar tied his indigo shirt and donned a dark shawl in preparation for the meeting with the enigmatic Th'Gras. He closed the door quietly, careful not to stir the housekeep's awareness of his departure and made his way through the harbor.
Senchal was easily the largest port in all of Tamriel. A densely packed den of swarthy, unseemly aliens, cursing their fates and tying down or loosening riggings on the great ships that jockeyed threateningly against each other as the coast swayed, each large wooden vessel and their loadmasters waiting to be given approval from the authorities to position, load or embark. Impatient Khajiiti pirates and sailors yelling at each other. Disparate merchants harking their supplies filled his ears and made them twitch. The aromatic smells of fish and saltrice peppered with the unmistakably sweet smell of moon sugar. Jo'Dara-dar had no time for the pleasant and unpleasant. There was work to do.
He reached the small windowless hut, held hostage among the underbelly of a disused end of the dock. White paws tread in three inches of tide and he lifted his tail cautiously as he tapped on the heavy door. Indistinguishable from the sound of shoes being plucked from mud, Jo'Dara-dar recognized the permission to enter and pulled the door open a bit slipping into the dark building.
Senchal was easily the largest port in all of Tamriel. A densely packed den of swarthy, unseemly aliens, cursing their fates and tying down or loosening riggings on the great ships that jockeyed threateningly against each other as the coast swayed, each large wooden vessel and their loadmasters waiting to be given approval from the authorities to position, load or embark. Impatient Khajiiti pirates and sailors yelling at each other. Disparate merchants harking their supplies filled his ears and made them twitch. The aromatic smells of fish and saltrice peppered with the unmistakably sweet smell of moon sugar. Jo'Dara-dar had no time for the pleasant and unpleasant. There was work to do.
He reached the small windowless hut, held hostage among the underbelly of a disused end of the dock. White paws tread in three inches of tide and he lifted his tail cautiously as he tapped on the heavy door. Indistinguishable from the sound of shoes being plucked from mud, Jo'Dara-dar recognized the permission to enter and pulled the door open a bit slipping into the dark building.
0
