M'aiq The Liar.

by Enigmus

M'aiq The Liar

"What does it mean to combine magic? Magic plus magic is still magic." ~M'aiq the Liar

The land of Skyrim was as cold and inhospitable as it had always been, the people even more so than the environment. M'aiq had given his precious advice to the Dragonborn a couple of days ago, and he has yet to see gratitude. Whenever this ungrateful leech meets M'aiq, he asks the same questions over and over with no sign of any kind of 'thank you'... it's as if he doesn't take M'aiq seriously. The Khajiit sighed in frustration as he walked down the dirt road, alone to his constant thoughts of doubt and vast knowledge. The snow stung his sensitive skin, making the large cat glare down at the ground in an attempt to keep the cold skyward debris from getting into his eyes.

M'aiq couldn't remember the last time that he had entered one of the many cities and villages that were scattered across Skyrim. Mostly because everyone knew who he was and actually believed the rumors that he was a liar. Of course, M'aiq knew that he was a liar, but he hid it very well. It's not as if his harmless fun could hurt anyone of importance. M'aiq told these lies only to provide humor in an otherwise grim and hopeless world. What reason did the Dragonborn have to save the people of Tamriel? They were all maggots writhing in their own pile of hate and discrimination, and did not deserve the safety their hero provided. Though, M'aiq had seen the Dragonborn commit terrible acts of murder, thievery, and torture. The people of this land were too stupid to see that there were no real heroes in the world anymore, and the Dragonborn was evidence to this.

Ulfric had his own agenda, which was to be king, not to free the nords of Skyrim from the tyranny of the Empire. The Stormcloaks were too stupid to see that they were being conned into helping an egotistical psychopath become king. And the Empire wasn't as honorable as it had once been so many years ago... they were the Aldmeri Dominion's pet, nothing more. M'aiq knew this to be an incontrovertible fact, and anyone with half a brain would know this as well. Oh well, as a wise man once said... ignorance is bliss.

M'aiq looked around at his surroundings with an uninterested gaze, having been through this area at least a hundred times now. The city of Whiterun lay just beyond the hill in front of the Khajiit, his curiosity about to get the better of him. After all, he was essentially a cat, and curiosity just happened to be a strong characteristic of his. He sighed once again and started the climb up the semi-large hill, slipping a little on the snow. The snow was less than an inch, but it still proved to be slippery and annoying as always. He eventually reached the top of the hill, a cold breeze brushing against his fur as he did so. His eyes scanned the horizon with boredom, spotting the city after about a minute of searching. There was also a dragon off to the left of the city, attacking someone that was foolish enough to be outside of the walls at a time like this one. The small figure let loose a thunderous roar of vocal rage, a burst of light coming from said figure.

The light struck the dragon with ease, knocking the majestic beast from the sky, sending it crashing into the ground below. The figure dashed forward without hesitation, getting on top of the head of the dragon and driving his sword into the now helpless creature. The behemoth now lay still, having been defeated by the skilled warrior. M'aiq sighed a bit when a light enveloped the dragon and stripped it clean of its scales and internal organs, the soul rushing into the figure. Of course, M'aiq had to meet the Dragonborn after only a couple of days... this was really getting old.

M'aiq started to walk down the hill, his attention no longer on the murderous Dragonborn. M'aiq's right foot got caught on a small pile of snow had concealed a large and slightly buried root, making him trip and fall down the hill. His body flung down the hill in a ragdoll effect that would have been funny to anyone who happened to be watching. M'aiq didn't think this was funny at all, and tried to scream in terror as he was mercilessly bashed against the rocks. Each time he tried, he was silenced by the ground that he slammed into as he rolled down the hill. Pain seared through his leg as it snapped out of place with the sickening sound of splintering bone. He didn't have time to cry out in pain, as his head was bashed against a rock, effectively knocking him unconscious. His body was sprawled out along the rocks in an awkward position, his leg now completely useless. All he could see was darkness... and a little bit of red.

~Eight hours later~

M'aiq's eyes slowly opened, taking in the surprisingly new surroundings... he had remembered falling down that hill. He remembered the pain that had rushed through his leg like lightning, the sickening sound of bone shattering between the weight of himself and the impregnable boulders and jagged rocks. It was his fault for not looking for a side path, and he didn't like to admit he was wrong. He was inside some kind of tent, though his blurry vision wasn't giving him much to go by. He supposed that the blow to his head was a lot more severe than a simple knockout. He really hoped that nothing had happened to his eyes... then how would he be able to spy on Khajiit women as they bathed? It was a terrible existence, being blind. He even felt bad for the Falmer, but only a little... those vermin deserved a lot of what they got. Though, M'aiq wouldn't wish blindness on anyone, not even the nasty Falmer.

M'aiq tried to get up, but the pain was too much to ignore. He fell back against the bed and let out a sob of helplessness and, yes... pain. He had no friends, and everyone knew who he was. Who in their right mind would save his life? Well, it was better to lay here and wait, so he could regain at least some of his senses instead of damaging them further by exerting unecessary energy. His vision started to clear up after about ten minutes of staring at the small ceiling of the tent, not daring to turn his head to look at the rest of the room. Soon after that, he could now see as clearly as he had before the accident, which was a relief. He sighed a bit, his curiosity already getting the best of him. With a massive amount of pain shooting through his neck and head, he was able to look to the side to properly take in his surroundings. There were various crates and barrels, and goods of some value propped up against and on top of said crates and barrels. The tent itself was very familiar to M'aiq, which was plainly obvious in what kind of person made it. The tent was of Khajiit making, and very finely-decorated at that.

M'aiq's eyes darted to the entrance to see another one of his kind, but the identity of this Khajiit was unknown to him. This particular Khajiit had darker fur than M'aiq's, and her eyes shone a certain wisdom and intelligence. The Khajiit stopped beside M'aiq's bed and looked over at his patient's wounds, not saying anything just yet. M'aiq didn't say anything, still very unsure of his savior's intentions.

The Khajiit looked up at M'aiq and offered him a kind smile, "Do not worry yourself, friend. I will not harm you in any way, or do anything to warrant any kind of distrust. You may call me Ahkari, as that is my name. I found you on a hill not too far away from here... you had barely been alive, and it was surprising that you were in the first place. That leg of yours is doing a little better with the help of healing potions and herbs, but it will still need some time to heal. As for where you are, you're in my caravan tent outside of Whiterun."

Ahkari paused for a moment, tilting her head slightly, "And may I ask what your name is?"

M'aiq cleared his throat and said, resorting to his bad habit of third-person speech, "M'aiq is the name of this Khajiit. But he wonders why you chose to save him... do you think that he is beautiful? Is this why you saved M'aiq?"

Ahkari raised an eyebrow at that, an expression of confusion on her face, "Uh, no... no that's not why I saved your life. I did it because it's the right thing to do."

M'aiq offered a small smile of gratitude, then went on to ask his next question,"M'aiq thanks you for your kindness. So, are you saying that he is not beautiful? How about sexy? Is M'aiq sexy?"

Ahkari backed off a bit towards the entrance of the tent, "Sure... yeah, sure. Alright, you just, uh... make yourself at home. I need to attend to some business."

With that, Ahkari turned on a dime and hurried out of the tent, leaving M'aiq alone yet again to his thoughts. He was glad to be in a proper bed after months and months of living out in the wild with nothing but the ground. He didn't know why he walked around Tamriel, but it felt right to him. It felt as if his duty was to spread his name throughout the land... to travel to places that not even the Dragonborn would go. But did he really have a reason to be alive? Was there a point in his existence? Deep down, he wished that he had died on that rocky hill... no one needed a lying Khajiit like himself. Except himself.

~Six days later~

With the help of herbs, various other medicines, and a bit of healing magic, M'aiq was able to walk around on his own yet again. He had wanted to stay with the other khajiit for a little while longer, but they had insisted on leaving the moment he was able to stand. M'aiq simply assumed that they were too awestruck by his majestic beauty, as all other people usually were. He was even amazed at himself at times, which was hard to believe, even for himself.

M'aiq was now walking up the path that led to the gate of Whiterun, a limp in his leg very apparent to anyone who looked at him. Unfortunately, no one seemed to be paying much attention to him. He walked up to a guard that was in front of the gate and offered a smile in hopes of entry. Dragons were being seen about the land, so security had gotten exceptionally tight.

The guard held a hand up and said, "Halt. By order of the Jarl, anyone that wishes to enter Whiterun must pay a fee of twenty-five gold. If you can't afford the fee... then get out of here, cat."

M'aiq simply chuckled and said, "Money is of no issue for M'aiq. M'aiq is willing to pay you in full."

M'aiq got into his coin bag and withdrew twenty-five gold, handing it to the guard. He was well aware that the jarl would never let something like this happen, but it was better to just pay up. He didn't feel like becoming a rug for a mindless nord. The guard accepted the coins and simply grunted in response. With that, the other guard that had been standing to the side opened the gate, revealing the city within. It was truly a sight to behold! A blacksmith could be seen slouching against a wooden pillar in front of her shop, scratching her ass when no one was looking. Children could be seen running about unsupervised and unbridled, just ripe for the picking for a pedophile. It was strange to call this place a city since its population probably didn't even surpass one-hundred.

M'aiq walked into the city and headed down the road, which allowed for a better view. There seemed to be a lot of commotion in the market district. In fact, there were quite a lot of flashes and screams of terror. Curiosity winning over common sense, the khajiit took off at a jog towards the flashing lights that were just around the corner. He couldn't quite see the origin of the lights, but it was clearly scaring everyone around them. As he was about to get a good view of the lights, a woman ran into him in blind terror. She had been carrying a multitude of potions, which had been thrown into the air on accident. The woman cried out in surprise, falling to the ground before she had the chance to react. M'aiq, being the chivalrous person he was, tried to catch the potions for the lady. M'aiq reached out and attempted to grab one of the air bound potions. Just as he was about to wrap his fingers around it, another potion came down faster than he could react. With the sound of shattering glass, the potion landed on his face, cutting said face up quite badly.

M'aiq dropped the other potion he had managed to catch, covering his face with both hands, "Agh! Son of a bitch! M'aiq's perfect face has been marred by glass! The potion smells terrible, too!"

The woman scrambled to her feet, an entirely new fear now on her face, "Oh no... I am so sorry, cat! I... I have to go! Stay away from me!"

The woman ran away from M'aiq, her face portraying the expression of fear, but not of the mini light show just around the corner. She actually seemed afraid of him now. His face had only minor cuts, and it wasn't as if it was her fault in the first place. Though, the potion was tickling his face quite a bit. He turned his attention back towards where the lights had been, but was met with the source of those lights merely two feet away from him. The dragonborn, one of the ones M'aiq hated most, and a mage were locked in a magical battle. Flames, lighting, and other types of magic were being thrown about not only at each other, but at their surroundings as well. M'aiq was only now realizing the trouble he was in, and it was far too late. A stray shot of some type of purple magic filled his vision before he could react in time. All he could do was close his eyes and scream as he was struck with the magic. He was thrown four feet away from the battle, sliding along the ground, tearing up his skin. He came to a stop in front of the blacksmith lady who was, strangely enough, still scratching her ass as if nothing was going on.

She looked down and asked in a nonchalant tone, "Are you going to buy something or not?"

The dragonborn and the mage stopped fighting and looked over at M'aiq, the mage in particular looking a bit worried. M'aiq looked across his body, which felt as if it was on fire. A purple flame-like light was traveling from the impact point, which was on his stomach, outwards across the rest of his body. He found himself unable to utter a scream in time, as the purple flames raced across his skin faster than he could form thoughts. In a brilliant flash of light, a summoning portal ripped open inside of his chest, yanking him inside of it. He expected to be ripped to shreds, but he felt no more pain after that. Only the cold grip of darkness.