Murderer #4

‘When she awoke a short time later, she was back in S’thengir’s private room. The window was glowing blue. Dawn.

“You alright?” said a voice from behind her head. She looked up and saw S’thengir standing over her. She was laying on his floor-bed, clothed in similar fashion to what he wore. She noticed the restriction around her chest then. And she noticed her hair was gone from the floor.

“What happened?”

“Hell if I know. You looked at the mirror and started screaming, then fainted I guess…”

“You dressed me?”

“Obviously. It’s getting light out. The tavern doesn’t open for a couple more hours yet. But I need you to tie me up before you leave.”

Ra’Jirra thought about that for a minute. “You want an alibi.”

“Damn right I do.”

She smiled as she sat up, “I could take your money too, if you’d like!”

S’thengir took her hand and helped her up. “Thank you, no. I’ve hidden it away though. You did rob me, I’m just not giving you the money.”

“Well, a girl can try! I need to spend a few minutes the restroom… the public restroom. Then I’ll be ready to go.”

The bartender ushered her out into the common room.

“Did you have a good time strapping up my boobs and dressing me?” she asked as she crossed to the restroom.

“Delightful. In other circumstances…”

“Yes,” she agreed as she closed the door. “Other circumstances.” She pulled something out of her backpack along with her gold.

In a few minutes, she had emerged again. The bartender was sitting on a chair, lengths of rope already cut. She began to tie him up.

“You into bondage, S’thengir?”

He looked at her. “Fuck you Ra’Jirra. Tie them tight. And when you’re out there, don’t talk till you’re out of the city.”

Finally, she was ready. She was about to leave when she realized something. She went back to where she’d left S’Thengir.

“Say… do you have any weapons I could take with me? Besides that mace I mean. I don’t think I could use it very well. A spear would be awesome!”

He shook his head, not able to talk with the rag tied into his mouth. But then he signaled to behind the bar. She followed his gaze and found the knife. It wasn’t much, but with at least a foot long blade, it was better than nothing.

“Thanks,” she said, buckling the knife and it’s sheath to her belt. His belt… Well, it was her’s now. Then she headed to the side door. She saw her clothes in a corner. She considered taking it with her. Even if she couldn’t wear it anymore, it would still bring a nice price at the right shop. But no. Her life as Ra’Jirra was over, along with the beautiful high-necked outfit. It might compensate S’thengir for his trouble. She opened the door, trying to walk like a male.

She almost made it with no problems at all, but the guard at the gate recognized S’thengir.

“Tavern closed today?” he called as she passed through. She shrugged noncommittally, but he said nothing more and then she was out of Kvatch.

The road was lightly traveled at this time of morning, and the few that she did pass paid her no mind. The sun was coming up, and by its heat, it was going to be a warm day.

It was mid-morning when she arrived at the crossroad. From here she could head west towards Anvil and the coast, or travel east towards Skingrad. She hadn’t really thought this through much, she realized. She knew only that she had to leave Kvatch. But the thought of the sea beckoned her and she turned to the right towards Anvil. If things went wrong, she might be able to hop a ship out of Cyrodiil completely. She thought of Elsweyr briefly. But no, that was not her home. She had to make her own home. Somewhere.

The sun continued to beat on her and the chest wrappings were beginning to make their presence known. She looked around and saw a small copse of trees nearby that she headed towards. The shade was cooling, and she suddenly realized just how sleepy she was.

“Well,” she thought to herself as she sat down behind a large tree, facing away from the road, “There’s no need to look like a male anymore. Now I’m just another random khajiit. Off with this damned thing!”

She stripped off her vest and undershirt and began scrabbling at the bandage. He’d done a good job, it wasn’t going to be easy!

“Could you use some help there, lass?” came a voice. gruff and far far too masculine for her comfort.

She looked quickly towards the voice. A single, but very large man stood not 5 feet away from her. She scrabbled for her knife and had it out in a flash, but he turned and patted the scabbard that held a sword. Given the scars on his grizzled face and the use the sword had obviously seen, it was pointless.

“Sorry lass,” he said with a bit of a foreign accent she couldn’t quite place. “This isn’t your lucky day. If you’re any good at throwing that thing, now would be a good time to try. Otherwise, you’d best just put it away.”

She looked at the knife, then back at the highwayman. Her eyes started to water again. “Please…” she managed to squeak.

He walked over to her and sat down beside her.

“Oh now lass, I’m not so bad. I can help you get that thing off. Don’t worry, I’m not a rapist. Not into cats regardless. But I think we may need to have a look at that backpack of yours…”

“Please mister, I’ve had a hell of a day. A really, REALLY bad day,” she cried.

“I’m sure. And now you’re traveling alone. Sorry lass. But that’s a mistake you should have known. But look at the bright side. Believe you, me, there’s a lot more than old Honest John you could run into out here. Some’d as soon kill you as ask, you know? Do you mind?” he said, indicating her backpack.

She knew what was in it, of course. She’d be lucky to keep anything. But she nodded. She really didn’t have any choice.

He dumped it out unceremoniously on the ground and rummaged through the small pile. Some things he stuck in his pockets, others he left behind. He didn’t leave behind her gold purse. When he was satisfied, he put the leftovers back in and sat back beside her against the tree, pouring out the coins from the purse into his hand.

“Oh!” he said, then turned to her. “Nice! How long have you been saving this up?”

“A year,” she choked out.

“A year. Well, there’s always next year, eh miss?”

Through tear-streaked eyes, she implored him, “The little doll. Could you please?”

“Mmm?” he said. Then he rummaged through his deep pocket and drew out an odd animal figure. “This thing?”

She nodded hopefully.

“Was going to give it to me niece honestly. But sure. I’m not a cruel man. It’s just a cruel world, see?”

She nodded as he put back into the backpack. Then he turned back to her.

“Cunt or Asshole?” he asked.

She stared at him, uncomprehendingly.

“Which? Cunt or Asshole?” he asked again, enunciating more clearly.

“W… what do you mean? Are you going to rape me?” she squeaked, eyes wide with fear again now.

“Fuck no! Name’s Honest John for a reason, lady. Much as you’d like it, naa. But when you’ve been doing this as long as I have, see, you learn some things. And one thing you learn real quick is that smart ladies always stuff some coin up their cunt or their asshole. You look like a smart lady. Wrapping those boobs up, you were pretending to be a guy. Another smart idea if you’re traveling on your own. So which is it?”

“Pardon?! I don’t have any…”

Suddenly his demeanor took on a truly menacing look for the first time.

“I’ll have to have a look-see then, missy. Sorry, but I don’t believe you. I’ve been honest with you, haven’t I? I even put your little doll back. I’m going to ask you one more time, and if you don’t tell me the truth, we’re gonna have a little tussle, you and me, and you might get hurt. I haven’t hurt you yet, have I? No. Do you WANT to get hurt lady? Do you LIKE to get hurt?”

She shook her head, trembling now.

“Then which is it? Cunt or Asshole?” he said very quietly.

“Asshole,” she said.

Murderer #2

She
peered through the keyhole. She saw his back within, breathing deeply.
So peaceful, he seemed. And she was about to screw up his life too.
Well, there was no help for it – short of turning herself in that is.
She thought about that for a moment before knocking. Beheading probably.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. She certainly deserved it. Justice in
Cyrodiil was harsh and swift, and there was no leniency for a crime like
hers. But was it murder?

“Idiot, you locked the young fool in
with that… thing,” Rajirra thought. “She burned her own gloves with the
fucking fire spell. Did you really think she had a chance against it?
She’s probably a charred corpse by now.”

An image of a body,
charred and black leapt into her mind. It’s eyes burned from their
sockets, the teeth ever-smiling now. Smiling at her. Grinning. It’s
fangs long and sharp. It turned it’s black and bone-colored skull
towards her. “MURDERER”

She screamed, then covered her mouth. A
sound came from within. She’d woken him. She shook her head out of her
nightmare and returned to reality, then knocked at the door.

She
heard words spoken in Ta’agra within. To anyone else in town they would
be unintelligible. She however, understood them quite well.

“Fucking
goddamn shit! At this time of night? I’ll fucking bash whoever is there
with my fucking mace and fuck their dead body and eat their head. Who
the fuck is awake at this fucking time?!”

“Who is it? Who is out there?” she heard the bartender switch to the Common language.

“It’s… Ra’Jirra,” she replied in Ta’agra as assurance that it was her.

She heard keys rattle and the bolt thrown back. The door opened just enough to see the bartender’s face beyond.

“Ra’Jirra? Do you know what time it is? What the hell do you want?”

“Please… S’thengir isn’t it? I… I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

“Hold
on a minute,” he grumbled and shut the door again. She heard something
heavy thump onto the floor inside before the door opened.

“What?”
S’thengir said impatiently, standing within the doorway. Had she not
been so distressed, the sight of the khajiit dressed in silly
blue-striped pajamas would have at least elicited a chuckle.

“Can I come in?” she asked. This was the moment of truth. He had to let her in!

“What for?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

She began to unlace her bodice.

“Wait!
Stop!” he said, and she stopped. He leaned out and looked around,
making sure no one else was around. Then he looked back at her, his eyes
still full of suspicion.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “We can’t help ourselves sometimes, S’thengir. Surely you know that. You’re a khajiit.”

He grumbled, but opened the door wide and stood aside. “Come in. Of course I do. But I control myself.”

She entered and looked around the little room as he closed and locked the door behind him.

“I’ve…
done so myself, pretty well. But tonight. I just couldn’t,” she said,
finishing the unlacing and removing the vest. She started unbuttoning
the blouse underneath.

S’thengir sat back on the rough ‘bed’ he’d
made on the floor and watched her, a touch of a smile reaching the
corners of his mouth. It was a smile few had ever seen on the gruff face
before.

“Do you want to become pregnant?” he asked her. “I’m not prepared to father a litter.”

“No, khajiit. I have potions. I just need you. I am leaving town in the morning. Before I go, I need this.”

“I
see. Yes, I know the need too. But you must have more self-control,
khajiit-woman. We must not be seen as animals here among the other
races.”

“That is why I come at night,” she answered. She stood now
with her blouse open, her breasts not fully revealed, knowing they
would have their natural effect.“

“That was wise,” he said, watching her in the flickering candlelight, his eyes focused somewhat lower than her face.

“Will
you not join me, khajiit-man?” she asked, her hands ready to remove the
blouse and reveal herself to him. “You make me feel… wanton.”

He laughed a short, somehow angry laugh.

“You are wanton, are you not? No, thank you Ra’Jirra. I prefer to watch you undress. It arouses me.”

“I
see,” she said, and let the blouse slip from her shoulders. Then, with
as much grace as she could muster, she lowered her skirt slowly. She
stood naked in front of the bartender, awkward and embarrassed. Her hair
covered her breasts after she had bent to step out of the skirt now,
but he was looking farther down than that now. She felt the familiar
heat rising within her, and it shamed her. She did like this, and she
didn’t want to.

“Turn around,” he said, and she did so, bending to rest her hands on a chair. Behind her she heard him removing his pajamas.“

"Will you not… ”

“Foreplay? Of course. I am no rapist. I do not enjoy an unprepared woman. But, turn back around Ra’Jirra.” he replied.

She turned back to see him fully dressed.

“What?? I don’t understand! I need…”

“You
need nothing. Thank you for the show. Your body is excellent. But now,
put your clothes on and tell me why you wake me this late at night,” he
demanded.

“I… I wanted…”

“Ra’Jirra. Do you know what a
bartender does? It is my trade to know my customers. And you are a
khajiit. I can read you better than these humans, and I read them well.
Your eyes are red. You have been crying. Your hair is brushed, but until
recently it was disheveled. I do attract you, and perhaps sometime we
may mate, but that is not why you have come. Tell me or leave.”

Rajirra turned around and sat on the chair heavily.

“You see much, S’thengir,” she said. “More than with your eyes.”

“And
more than with my cock,” S’thengir smiled. “But you had a disadvantage
in your scheme, whatever it was, Ra’Jirra. You see, I’m already in a
relationship. A serious relationship. Your body, as tempting as it is,
will not move me to compromise my love.”

She smirked. “You were none to quick to stop me undressing, I noticed.”

S’Thengir
stood and walked slowly over to her and bent to put his mouth beside
her ear. She could feel his warm breath inside it.

“She never said I couldn’t look,” he whispered, tickling the sensitive fur inside.

She turned to him, but he backed away.

“Now now, foul temptress. Hands off the merchandise. Wait here a moment. I’ll be right back,” he said, and left the room.

Ra’Jirra
thought desperately. Seduction was out. Still, she had managed to
secure a refuge, at least for a little while. She tried to think of
something else. Something that might convince him to help her escape the
city in the morning. But he returned with two glasses of strong
khajiiti drink and she’d not come up with anything yet.

“Still naked? I guess you didn’t understand me,” he said, handing her one glass.

She shrugged. Being naked didn’t bother her.

“Drink. I call it Eye of the Tiger. My own mix. Try it! I’m rather proud of it,” he said, taking a sip of his own.

It tasted like cold fire on her tongue. She had thought of nothing. She was running out of time.

“It’s good,” she said. “Very good.”

“So,
now. Ra’Jirra. Why are you here? And please tell the truth. My patience
is growing thin, and my vow to my love hangs by a thread. I will kick
you out instantly and call the guards if I sense any lie. And I’m very,
very good at sensing lies.”

She looked at him. She looked at the
drink. She looked back at him, and the expression on her face was no
longer contrived. It was one of sincere desperation. She downed the
drink and felt it begin to do it’s work.

“I killed someone tonight. I need to get out of town.”

S’thengir’s drink hit the floor.

S’thengir keeps the beat!

Got another one! Here’s the original drawing by Kaz:

So I took that and converted to line art, using the new skillz Kaz taught me sorta…

And then removed the sketchwork and added flat colors. Well, I did do a gradient on the drums.

And finally the shading and highlighting. (I must say I do love the eye technique that I learned on a tutorial!) I could honestly have spent more time on shading in the chesticle area, but got tired of it so I’m calling this finished.

So now it’s time to introduce the drummer for the Not-Yet-Ready-For-Clothing Players band. Yes, it’s that surly bartender you all know and love. Somehow the girls have roped him into playing for them, though he seems none too happy about it. But then, he never seems too happy about anything.

Personally, I don’t think he would ever have joined the band until he realized what the view would be like from the back of the band. He does have a thing for Weedum-Ja after all. And the others provide great scenery too. Though, of course, he would NEVER admit it. He just says Weedum-Ja talked him into it.