Prologue.

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 warrior-braid atop his head blew as well, whipping about like a snake. 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 wind blew open the tan robe he threw about his shoulders, and the cowl atop his head. The six foot seven 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. It would be ones, who walk the way of Rawlith Khaj.

Chapter 1, Part 1: The Vengeance of the Sensei


Black smoke clouded the sky, for miles around the great plumes and billows could be seen. Shin'jah, a sensei of the Temple of Two Moons was running at a break-neck pace, having just finished his morning meditation. As he ran, he threw off his traditional robe, the cumbersome cloth only slowing him down. As he bounded towards the great wooden gates--now half burnt and wide open--Shin'jah saw the only surviving monk desperately trying to put out the fires, the effort was wasted and the temple surely lost.

"Qa'Zamha! The temple is lost! What happened!?" Shouted Shin'jah, normally a very mellow and peaceful warrior, now however he was in a state between shock, disbelief, and anger. The Cathay-raht grabbed the older monk by the back of his robe, quickly and literally dragging him out of the inferno.

"Qa'Zamha, what happened, who did this?" The sensei asked once more, Qa'Zamha looked up at his former student, his face covered in ash and tear-trails running down his face. The old Khajiit finally answered after a few minutes of catching his breath, "They wore armor, that of Daedric make. Their leader, he spoke of Mehrunes Dagon. They must be his worshipers, something terrible is brewing, Shin'jah."

The large Cathay-raht was stone-faced, he looked out on the horizon, catching a glimpse of another fire burning far in the distance. He looked back to Qa'Zamha, who sat on the sand. "Bring word to the neighboring temples, we must have a meeting of the sensei's." With these final words, Shin'jah began a quick paced jog in the direction of the other fire.

"Where are you going!? Shin'jah! Damn it to the hells." Qa'Zamha then did as Shin'jah asked, he too began heading in another direction, this time towards one of the neighboring temples. Meanwhile, Shin'jah was making incredible time. Drawing upon all his energy reserves and using every ounce of his physical and mental abilities, he ran towards the fires that he now saw were raging in the distance. Best of all, he saw shapes moving about, the cowards had not yet fled. After just fifteen minutes, Shin'jah was within a stones' throw from the temple. He saw a nearby man dressed in ornate armor and wielding a Daedric mace. Shin'jah got into his stance, keeping his left leg firmly planted in front of him and sliding his right leg behind him. He then put one hand forward, holding it open-palmed and vertical; then he kept his right hand in a tight fist close to his chest.

"Spawn of Dagon, I will send you to your master!" Shin'jah shouted at the man, who immediately turned around and began running towards the big Khajiit. The Daedric warrior was now only two meters away, time slowed, Shin'jah began a circular motion with his outstretched left hand. At three feet away, the Khajiit leaped towards his attacker, driving a palm into the man's masked face. The man swung his mace, only to have it batted out of the way like a simple stick, then a sharp kick to his chest drove him back several paces. Shin'jah repeatedly struck the man, every part of his armored body was hit by the deadly blows.

All of this happened in a short minute, the Daedric worshiper fell to his knees, coughing blood and falling on his face. Parts of his armor were missing, where Shin'jah had actually managed to shatter the armor with his Iron Palm. Now with a single warrior out of the way, Shin'jah walked through the front gates, killing one more man with a blow to his exposed throat. The commander stood in the center of the bricked courtyard, fires blazing around him as he leaned on his claymore. Shin'jah was only a few meters away, ready for a battle.

"Another of you... monks. It would seem as though your kind are hard to get rid of, no matter, my lord tells me you shall fall." The commander spoke, turning around to face the readied Khajiit, who now had both his staff and small scimitar drawn. Staff in left hand, sword in right, Shin'jah was that of a statue, dark and stoic against the raging fires.

"Your master? It is Dagon of which you speak... He was rid of once, and now you wish to bring him forth once more? The god's will decide who is the victor, for we are merely pawns." The Khajiit spoke in his loud, deep yet raspy voice. The commander readied his claymore, and said the final word.

"The god's will decide? ... I am god!" The two charged...

To Be Continued.

((I'm TERRIBLE at dialogue))

((Really? I'm terrible at describing scenes, but great at dialogue. We should fight crime together.

....Or better yet, I could help you edit the dialogue ))

Please, any suggestions are welcome! I think I'm pretty good as far as description goes, but I desperately need to make the dialogue not so flat and stale. It just doesn't have any real life when I read it. What do you think? How could I spice it up or make it a bit more interesting?

I'll PM you with some suggestions.