He Who Walks the Way of Rawlith Khaj
A lone Khajiit sat upon a sandstone rock, the soft rocks beneath him crunched as he shifted his sitting position in his meditative stance. A cool wind blew, sand blowing slightly across the vast dunes. Light patches of tall plains-grass bent over and then rectified themselves, swaying lightly. The wind blew the Khajiits' thick black-spotted gray fur, the long warriors-braid atop his head blew as well. The sun, cresting its red-golden shape above the ridge of rocky dunes, cast a light upon the Khajiit, as well as the now alight sand around him, giving it a golden radiance that shone on the otherwise bleak surroundings. As another wind blew, shaking the sparse palms that dotted the area, the Khajiit got up and stretched. He had meditated, only as the sensei do in the teachings of Rawlith Khaj.
As he stood, the large Cathay-raht bent over to pick up his meager gear. Wrapping his trademark skirt about his waist, as well as his red sash and short scimitar with belt. The blew open the tan robe he threw about his shoulders, and the cowl atop his head. The six foot seven inches Khajiit stood with his back towards the sunlight. Slinging his cloth sack over his shoulder, his wooden staff in his right hand, the great cat began walking West, towards his temple.
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The Temple of the Two-Moons
Fires blazed, screams were heard. Men in red clothing, with ornate Daedric style armor covering their obscured bodies. They held torches and all manner of weapons, summoning hellish creatures. The monks were killing the invaders left and right, but being out numbered all they could do was fight to the death. The last monk, an old khajiit with dark black fur and gold spots, stood... surrounded. The commander of the invaders, dressed in Daedric Armor with a flowing red cape; though he was human, and wielding a hellish, sinister claymore. The man spoke, "Your order has ended," his voice raspy and dripping with malice, "the time of Dagon's Sons has come, and the Empire shall fall. My master was banished by the false god Akatosh, but he speaks to me, he tells me of plans and great destruction to come. I leave you here to give this message to all of Tamriel... War is Coming... and you will all die." The large mam made a motion and soon, all of the creatures and men were gone, the temple burning and is ruins.
The monk stood, the frightened Khajiit quickly ran to try and put fires out of some of the buildings. This was war, a war that would shake and tear the very fabric of Tamriels' people and its land. Only few could stop it.