Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20150724223316/@comment-5583506-20150728030128

Shakti secluded herself from the rest of the group with a tankard of the ale from the broken keg. It didn't look particularly healthy and it tasted like mud mixed with water. It even had chunks in it. Or perhaps she was just imagining that it had chunks in it. She sat herself on a rock overlooking the landscape and started to drink.

Her thoughts wandered to where her sisters could be. Where they in hiding? Where they looking for her? Were they captured or even worse... dead? Last time she had seen them had been shortly after the rebellion in the Imperial City. They had rallied disgruntled peasants and commoners from all over the Waterfront District to inform them of the injustices done to the public by the higher authorities. The Imperial Watch had named Shakti and her troublemaking sisters "the Gutter Cats". A title they had taken with pride, as it literally explained where society had gone wrong. If anyone had been born and raised in the gutter and forced to live under those standards, something was terribly wrong. The moment when their mother had been evicted and thrown out on the streets, only to starve to death, had been devastating; but it had also been an enlightenment. If a common citizen was treated that unjustly it just went to show how broken society's system was. Shakti and her sisters had grabbed their weapons and made the life miserable for the City Watch, something which had come to an abrupt ending during the rebellion in the Waterfront District. Shakti was captured and all the protestants were beaten senseless, forced back to their homes, incarcerated, or killed... The remaining Gutter Cats fled back into the city streets, into hiding, and ever since then Shakti had no idea of where they had gone off to.

And now she was here. Together with these people. She couldn't help but wonder what their stories were? All she knew and from what she could tell of her own impression of them, was that she was inferior to their own experiences and private lives. None of them knew her. Hell, sometimes she didn't even know herself. Who was she really? She was a Khajiit with a spear and all she knew what to do was how to fight with it. Her life story...

She remembered how she had grown up in the Waterfront District. Umbaja, her father, had been so proud the moment she had been born. He was a man who didn't really care whether his firstborn was a boy or a girl. He was just happy to have a child if anything. On her first birthday he had given her a toy spear. It had a padded tip so that she wouldn't be a danger to either herself or to others. She had taken such pleasure in her toy that she had carried it with her, even as she became a teenager. After that she kept it lying on a shelf in her room for good luck and measure. And now that home was taken by some Imperial guard.

''Probably has claimed that spear for himself. Given it to one of his own children... Or had it destroyed...''

From as far back as she could remember she had always been seen with a spear in her hand. It was both disturbing and sad at the same time. Because fighting was really all she ever knew. While the other girls learned how to sew dresses, how to paint or tend to gardens, or how to influence people on the local market, she only trained herself with spears. And to what purpose? If there was anything history had taught her it was that people who didn't carry or use weapons had contributed alot more to the world than those who were carrying arms. Of course her skills with the weapon had come to use a couple of times. She remembered with warmth how she, as a small girl, had beaten up a couple of boys in alleyway who were bullying her younger sister Suri. But was that really everything she knew?

She took a swig of the tankard's dubious contents.

She looked at the people below her again. They would never know how much she envied them and their lives. She could imagine them having all sorts of interests, hobbies, works and family lives, while she... remained empty... and full at the same time. Full of the skill on how to fight with a spear, but empty with purpose and meaning... Sometimes while sitting at a tavern or an inn she liked to imagine what sort of interesting lives the people around here were living, just by looking at them.

''Ragnar... That mead-swelling Nord. Probably has a chubby wife back in Skyrim, who is making him so darn miserable. Or at least he has had one...''

''Gabriel... With a pair of perky lips like his it wouldn't surprise this one if he is getting chased by dumb skirts who are constantly trying to place a kiss on those.''

''Zaydate... A mad Argonian. Not the first, not the last... At least she is enjoying her lifestyle...''

''Scire... This one doesn't know anything about him... Probably for the best...''

''Diana... That pretty girl probably has one of those lives Khajiit would be willing to kill a hundred thousand men for, if that's what it takes for her to become happy.''

''Talin... He may be an Imperial, but at least he is being an honest one. He is both loyal and hard-working. Khajiit would envy the woman who ends up in a bridal dress next to him...''

All of them were everything she could never be. She was Shakti, daughter of Umbaja the Sellsword. That was everything her headstone would say, if anyone was there to raise it. If anyone was there to carve the inscription. But even then, it wouldn't have made any difference. It was just a grave in which another Khajiiti woman was buried. And that was all there was to it... She didn't want to be that "nameless" person before she died. But sadly she knew that it was her fate. She knew nothing except for fighting. She had no home, no education, no gold, no job, no hobbies, no interests and no skills, save for knowing how to kill men with a spear... and how to drink after killing men with a spear. But these other people around her had entirely different lives. They had something or someone waiting for them at home, to which Shakti found herself envying them.

She would never have a "real" life. She would never have a lover, or a husband... or a wife... She wasn't even entirely sure of her disposition on that matter. She would never have children of her own. She would never have a place to call her own, because even if she did it would serve her little purpose. She was indeed a "no one" with a sword. That was even what her name meant. According to her father shakti was some sort of word from an old Khajiiti language he had learned during his travels in Elsweyr. It literally meant "no one" or "unknown". Since neither her father nor her mother had known whether their firstborn would be a boy or a girl they had named the child Shakti, therefore it would be of little matter what the child's gender would be.

She took yet another swig of the ale, watching how the contents disappeared with each chug.

''This one wishes she was like them... Sadly, she is not... And neither will she ever be one of them... She may fight beside them, but she will never have what they have... a life worthy of calling a life...''

She took a last sip from the tankard before noticing how she could see the bottom of it. She leaned against her spear and dropped the tankard to the ground with a tired groan.

Why was this life meant for this one?

Another blow cracked the side of her cheekbones, dislocating her lower jaw. It hurt, but the pain from the previous beatings had numbed the sensations in her body by now.

"Where are your sisters, Khajiit?" asked the guard captain sternly.

"You... you fucking pigs", she blubbered. Her face was so badly beaten and swollen that her sentence was almost incoherent.

But the guards could very well hear her, and so she was repayed with another blow to her face, rupturing the insides of her mouth. She spat out a spray of blood against the marble wall. The Imperial City's prison was neither comfortable nor pleasant. But at least it was well-lit with the torches along the walls. Even with bruised eyes she could distinguish the reddish hue of her own blood all around the wooden chair she was strapped to.

"End your suffering now, Shakti. Where are the other Gutter Cats?"

Shakti coughed blood. It felt like her throat was hollow and her breathing came out as mere wheezings. "This one... doesn't know..."

"Doesn't know or doesn't tell?" retorted the captain.

Shakti tried to smile in a mockery to his question, but with the broken cheekbones her smile was twisted into a grimace of pain. "Kiss Khajiit's... ass, Imperial scum", she chuckled, more blood seeping out of the corner of her mouth as she said it.

The captain slammed his ironfist into the table and signaled for his torturer to continue. A punch to the stomach caused Shakti to fold and groan. Tears streaming from her eyes. It burned in her wounds as the salty tears mixed with her blood. The healer by the captain's side seemed concerned for the prisoner's well-being.

"Captain, I must implore you that you stop this now so that I can heal her. If you continue like this she will end up dead and..."

"I know what I am doing", replied the captain dryly. "I have been interrogating prisoners and rebels for years. I know when they are close to breaking. She can take it. Again!"

The torturer gave his commanding officer a firm nod and struck his fist sideways, sending the bound Khajiit flying with chair and everything across the floor before landing with her face in a pool of her own making.

"Disgusting", commented a nearby guard, holding a torch.

The urine stung in her wounds, yet she tried to remain strong and keep her tears back. She didn't want to show these people that in reality she was scared to death. She needed to keep the appearance that she was Umbaja the Sellsword's daughter. She would break before she bent. But the treatment made it harder for her to keep that facade for much longer. In truth, she was ready to cry and confess to whatever crimes they wanted her to confess to. Just as long as the pain stopped. But she was even tired of opening her own mouth...

"Get her up", sighed the captain.

The torturer grabbed Shakti by the skin on her neck and pulled her up. "Get ready for your next bashing, cat", he whispered in her ear.

''Thanks for getting my face out of my own pee... ''she reflected.

"Captain, please", said the healer. "If she dies before she tells..."

"She won't", stated the captain coldly. "I won't allow it. Proceed!"

After several more beatings Shakti's burst lips trembled with restrained fear and pain. Her restrained hands and limbs were shaking and her eyes were focused on some distant and unknown point of interest in the ceiling. She couldn't even move, and every breath she took was strenuous and sounded more like a death rattle than a healthy breathtake.

"Captain", pleaded the healer. "I... I don't think she is capable of receiving any more damage... One more beating may be enough to send her to the grave."

The captain looked at the healer with an expression of disappointment, but eventually nodded in agreement. "I think you are right. Stand back, men, I think she is ready to tell us everything."

"I doubt she even knows where she is", said the healer.

"Oh, I think she does." The captain leaned closer to the Khajiit, still strapped to the chair. "Khajiit, can you hear me?"

There's a pretty spider in the ceiling...

"Khajiit?" The captain gave her a clap on the cheek. "If you can hear me nod. If you understand, you will nod now, unless you want to get another beating?"

Shakti swallowed. It hurt. She moved her head around as carefully as she possibly could.

"Good", said the captain and smiled at her. "Now, are you ready to tell me where the remaining Gutter Cats are?"

She nodded again, or at least what looked like a nod. Her limbs were still shaking uncontrollably and the captain had to hold her arms down to stop her from causing the chair from vibrating against the marble floor. It produced, according to him, a very "unpleasant" sound...

"Tell me then", he said calmly. "Take your time, but you will tell me."

Her eyes eventually managed to wander all the way down from the ceiling to meet his stare of anticipation, providing direct eye contact. She swallowed hard.

"Yes?" he said, even more eagerly than before and moving slightly closer to her.

Her lips moved as if she was ready to say something.

"Tell me", he whispered.

In a grimace of pure hatred Shakti forced out her own blood from her mouth, mixed with vomit, spitting it straight into the face of the captain. She smiled afterwards and would have laughed if she could. It had all been worth it just to see the look on his face.

The captain withheld his anger as usual, while the guards, the torturer and the healer all looked upon the pair in shock and awe.

"C-captain?" asked the healer curiously, and handed his officer some tissue for him.

The captain wiped his face off and glared at the Khajiit who was still smiling at him. This had been her triumph, not his. "Heal her up", he commanded. "Hang her in the morning. I don't want her to be numb when she feels her life strangled from her body."

Shakti was still smiling. For what reason she didn't know. She had heard what the captain had said, but it took a longer while for her mind to process the whole order, before she understood that this was indeed the end of the line. At least for her part. She had been alive, but she had never truly lived.

Her smile faded as the guards loosened her straps and dragger her under each arm back to her damp cell. She was shackled to the wall and the healer came to visit her later that evening. At first she had tried to shy back from him, fearing that he was another torturer, but upon feeling his gentle touch against her wounds she didn't resist. The healer was an elderly Breton with grey tufts for hair. Whatever he was doing with such an abusive force as the Imperial City Watch she could never tell. He seemed to be far too good for this place.

"May the Divines have mercy on your sould, child", he said when his healing was completed and placed a comforting hand on her head, and if Shakti hadn't been so tired, she could tell that he had been crying for her.

When she awoke from her slumber she found the captain standing before her in her cell. Still shackled to the wall, a reflex made her flinch as she tried to crawl back.

The captain smiled. "A resistant little fighter, are we?"

Shakti breathed heavily, but would not indulge him with a reply.

"I have no wish to hang you, Khajiit. That would be a waste..."

A waste of what?

He kneeled before her, still smiling. One of his hands found their way to the rags they had given her, firmly grasping one of her breasts.

"A waste of a beautiful woman..." he said quietly. "I do not kill beautiful women."

''He finds this one beautiful? Even though he is the first one to call Khajiit that, Shakti finds him revolting...''

She tried to pull herself back, almost trying to enter the wall behind her, but to no avail. She couldn't get much further...

"I am a man of my word, Khajiit", he continued as he started to grope her other breast. "I promise not to kill you, nor any of your sisters once we capture them. But at a cost."

What cost?

With one forceful tug of her prisoner garbs, the captain ripped them off from her body, exposing her completely. "What do you say?" he said with a smirk and a stare which was glimmering with unconditional desire. "You do me a small favor, and in return I will let you live. And once you tell me where to find the remaining Gutter Cats I will let your sisters live. It is a fair offer, don't you think?"

She tried to hide the fact that her nipples hardened underneath his touch, but soon it wouldn't be a secret any longer. This man was a monster, yet she knew that he was not a lying monster. She had seen it in his eyes. He had been telling her the truth. If she did him this... favor... He would be merciful. And in the end, wasn't that all she wanted.

"What say you?" he asked, almost desperately now.

Shakti wanted to kill herself on the spot there and now, but she knew in her heart that if she were to refuse him, he would not only hang her; but he would hang her sisters' corpses alongside her own.

Reluctantly she nodded, which caused his smile to widen. "Perfect", he said and stood up, looking over his shoulder as if to ensure himself that no one had overheard there conversation. After that he began to undo his trousers, walking towards her face. "Just remember", he said and took a deep breath. "No biting..."