(just a silly thing I wrote. All images shamelessly stolen from Kazerad except one from Furnut, credited.)

7:00am - Wake up. This is not a trivial endeavor. Depending on prior evening's alcoholic consumption, this task alone may require up to an hour to complete successfully. Yet it is a necessary and vital task, so do not skimp. Continuing on to other steps without proper completion of this will result in less-than-optimal experiences. Toothpicks on the eyelids are not a substitute.

8:00am - Get up. Note that this is a separate task than that mentioned previously. More than likely you will find yourself in an embarrassing and muscle-aching position after hours of comatose inactivity. Stretch your muscles, crack any joints that need cracking and scratch your ass. Slither your way into the bathroom. Remember, your ancestors were reptilian. There is no need to feel embarrassed. Perambulation on only two limbs is overrated. You were given four and a tail by Nature. It is no disparagement to use them all in this time of crisis. Upon arrival in your bathroom, complete all natural and necessary functions. Then get yourself into a bath at the earliest possible opportunity. You stink. Also, recall that oral hygiene is of high importance. Brush your teeth. It is also suggested to brush your tongue. Given the size of that particular body part on you, it is perfectly acceptable to use a scrub brush rather than a tooth brush.

9:00am - You are now refreshed and ready to take on the day. However, keep in mind that you are also now naked. You may have been so before, but at that time modesty was of little importance. Now would be a good time to quietly peer about your bedroom to verify it is free of other occupants. Should you encounter any unexpected sentient beings in your room, wrapping a towel around yourself is suggested. If this does prove necessary, keep in mind that your tail will prevent proper and complete coverage. Keep that tail down. Then oust the offending interloper from your room in whatever way seems fit and find clothes. Do not wear the same clothes you wore the previous day. The reasons for this rule are many and need not be discussed here. Hopefully you can find an acceptably clean outfit.

9:30am - Breakfast time! Once again, verify your solitude first. Open a window and feel the fresh breezes of Anvil. The scents from the nearby ocean should remind you of just how close you are to the sea. Now close the window and regret the inhalation of the stench of rotting fish. But do NOT succumb to your instinct and seek to break your fast with more alcoholic beverages. Remember, fruit and nuts are available and cheap. You may even find some dairy and sweet bread. Pork products are the traditional meat breakfast for the Urban Argonian. Do try not to rip and shred your breakfast with your sharp pointy teeth. Try to chew it like the cud-eating flat-toothers do. When you have sufficiently frustrated yourself, go ahead and tear in.

10:00am - Clean up the mess you made. Now it is time to get to work. For one last time, double check your solitude, ready your work space, double check the lock on your door and the shutters on your window. If privacy is assured you may now dress for work properly. It is not necessary to remove ALL clothing. Remember, your goal here is to remove all possible distractions, not to awaken new ones.  Make yourself comfortable. Now, review all notes and your previous day's work, if any.

11:00am - Continue staring at blank piece of paper.

12:00am - LUNCH TIME! Dress yourself properly again (do not forget this step) and head out to whatever comestibles establishment you desire. Do NOT go to the bar again. Save that for later. You'll need it. If you decide to eat at the establishment, try to conform as well as possible to the norms of human society as befits a well-traveled Argonian. Be courteous and polite. However, do not attempt to smile at other humans. The expression tends to frighten them as they know you are hungry at this time of day. Should you encounter any acquaintances, do not let them know you have seen them and try to escape. If not possible, go ahead and dine with them. They are your fellow citizens after all. Do NOT offer to pick up the tab, especially before food is ordered however. Experience shows that making such a heinous mistake inevitably leads to the ordering of multiple Filet Mignons. Decline the offers of another drink after the meal is done. You have work to do!

1:00pm - Return home. Re-lock the doors, recheck for stray Khajiits, and resume your standard working attire. By this time, the blank page may have become annoying. Failing renewed inspiration, try starting by writing this:

"It was a dark and stormy night."

Cliche, sure, but it's better than staring at a blank page. Search your imagination. Surely you can come up with SOMETHING to write about! If the clock continues to click and the last word you wrote continues to be "night", you can now consider removing the rest of your apparel. SOME distraction may, in fact, be necessary.

(IMAGE BY FURNUT: https://inkbunny.net/furnut5158 )

2:00pm - Stare in horror at the pornography you have just written. Scan the smut for anything even remotely imaginative, then destroy all evidence. If fire codes allow, ignite the paper in a fire-proof area and watch it burn. If not, ingestion is a viable alternative. Resume your working position and for god's sake put your clothes back on! Look at clock. It should now be at least 2:30pm and you have done absolutely nothing of worth. You need inspiration. Go find something to inspire you. Do not refer to the magazine you keep under your mattress. That is not the kind of inspiration you need now. If all else fails, go for a walk.

3:00pm - As you amble about the beautiful city of Anvil, take in the sights around you. Eavesdrop on some citizen's conversation, for inspiration OR for later blackmail fodder. All information is valuable. Stop wondering if small animals can breathe underwater. They cannot and societal norms will be transgressed if you endeavor to find out. Should you encounter a fellow Argonian in your rambling, be sure and switch to Jel before making snide and hurtful comments about the humans. Avoid any Khajiit's you may come across. One is quite enough.

4:00pm - Back to work again. Follow aforementioned procedures to secure your privacy and resume your place at your work space. If you are STILL lacking inspiration, write about what you saw in your walk. No need to be too creative here, just describe what you saw so that you are writing something. Describe the crumbling building you avoided, or perhaps the stinky Nord that you walked too close to. What was he wearing? What kind of weapon did he have? What were the stains in his beard from? Surely there's something you can write about. Keep in mind that ALL writing is helpful to your craft, even that thing you burnt in the sink earlier.

5:00pm - You made it! QUITTING TIME! You may now put away your writing materials. Spare a few minutes to celebrate (if you actually wrote anything of value) or to sulk (if not). Both can be accomplished by laying on your couch with a book covering your eyes. Make sure it's a worthy book though. Osmosis has not been conclusively proven to NOT happen this way. Banging on the book's cover to try and force some of it's author's brilliance into your head may be helpful. Remember that in nearly all medical research, some benefits are always attributable to the placebo effect.

6:00pm - Stop moping (or, on rare occasions, celebrating). Time to write to Casta. If you have followed these instructions properly, you will NOT be drunk and you will NOT write her a drunken emotional-wreck letter this time. Being both your mentor and your only significant other, it is important to maintain a loving relationship with her. It is fine to tell her how beautiful her eyes are. It is not appropriate to go into detail about other body parts, as you have been known to do when inebriated. If you have not followed these instructions, do not attempt to write to her. If you do write a letter in that state in spite of these well-intentioned instructions, be sure at least to post it via flame-and-smoke mail into the sink. Of course, the fact that it's the best writing you've done all day may be yet another reason for your 8:00pm visit to the tavern.

7:00pm - Read a book. It is important for all writers to read as well. If you feel inspired, write a critique of what you read. Try not to simply make a list of all grammatical and spelling errors, but also note both the good and bad aspects of the work you read. Find some. What did the author do that could be worth imitation or that you should be sure to steer clear of? If a work of fiction, pay attention to how he introduced new characters or situations. Did he come up with a name that fit? How did he deal with transitions and relationships? Be sure and keep tissues handy, even if it's not a tearjerker. When you realize how much better the writer is than you, you will need it.

8:00pm - Now it's officially booze-o-clock. Time to visit your second home. Try to strike up a conversation with others, if they don't know you already. For those who do, see if they might let you talk with them again anyway. Remember, it's always better to engage with absolutely anyone but the bartender. He knows you too well already. Also he has the power to cut you off. It's usually best to talk with non-attractive people too. They don't have anything better to do. Remember, you need to listen as well as talk. Yes, you'll have to listen to their sob story about some husband or daughter or son being mauled by a bear or something. But if you want them to listen to you go on at length about the woes of being a writer, you have to put up with some of their whining.

9:00pm - Probably time to switch to another target by now. Also, order some food. Once again, you are surrounded by herbivore flat-teeth types. Try and keep your awesomely sharp teeth from frightening them too much. It might be best to sit at the bar for your dining. Be careful not to use your Gaydar at the bar. The bartender knows that trick.

10:00pm - Verify that at least the most essential clothing is still attached. The bartender will likely be making noises about having had 'enough'. (As if he has a clue how much is 'enough' for an Argonian!) If circumstances allow, you may now begin to sing your favorite three-decades-old renditions of Black Marsh anthems. Ask others to join in for the chorus. Disregard any protests as clear evidence of the crowd's interest and heighten your volume.

11:00pm - Look up at the stars circling overhead and marvel at their beauty. Disregard the pain in your rump where the bartender kicked you. Life is a pain in the rump, so roll with it. But do not try to roll home. Experience shows that it just gets you dizzy and makes people laugh at you. Besides, it's difficult to tell what direction you are heading when rolling down the street singing Black Marsh anthems. Clockwise and Counter-Clockwise are not directions. If someone offers to help you home, be appreciative and try not to vomit on them.

12:00am - Verify surroundings are indeed, YOUR home. Also verify no new Khajiits have wandered in. If any Khajiit is found in your bedroom, do not inquire further. Leave the house and return in the morning, even if it means sleeping on the ground beside your house.

-UPDATE: Do NOT sleep underneath your bedroom window in these circumstances!

If house is Khajiit-free, slither up the stairs. Your creator gave you all those extra appendages for a reason. USE them. Use the bathroom before retiring to your bed also. It's there for a reason. You may now safely remove clothing for your bedtime. Do one final check that no one is in it first before getting in.

1:00am - If you are still awake, cry yourself to sleep and remember that you can do better tomorrow. You may take this time to compose pitiable laments to your lover. No matter how heartfelt and significant they may seem to you at this time, there is no harm in them, and no need to burn them either. Do not worry, they will be completely illegible in the morning and thus can be safely ignored. In the morning, if you are running low on toilet paper, these make an excellent substitute.

In the end, it turned out Queue was a off a little bit. It wasn’t instantaneous, but it was effective. In fact, he had time to utter one world before he slumped to the floor.

“NO!”

It took another 10 minutes before Ra’Jirra managed to free herself, and another 10 before Ko’Manir came around.

“Come on,” Ra’Jirra said, rousing her. “We’ve got to get out of here. I don’t think there’s any more, but we can’t be sure. Let’s get back to the caravan and get our horses.”

She grabbed the briefcase and wrapped the rifle up in blanket before leaving the house. They hurried out of town and Ra’Jirra paid the horses’ owner in gold before they were off. She told Ko’Manir as much as she dared without revealing what she now knew about her.

They were stopped at the border, but waived on through before night fell. They kept riding - only stopping to rest the horses. Finally they arrived in the Elsweyr city of Riverhold, where they stabled the horses and retired in a relatively upscale hotel, though it couldn’t hold a candle to the Pendant. Labor wasn’t cheap enough in Elsweyr to have people manning the doors.

Ra’Jirra looked at the single bed and back to Ko’Manir.

“Want to make another mistake?”

“Only if we can take a bath first. I’m dusty and I stink of horse.”

“No private baths here, but I did see a hot tub in the back.”

Ko’Manir moaned, “Damn. I don’t have any swimwear. You got anything? That would be perfect.”

Ra’Jirra just smiled. “You’re in Elsweyr now, Ko. The bad news is you’d better stop using the first person pronoun when you’re speaking Common. Good news is you’ll find some standards are a little more relaxed here than Hammerfell. Bring a couple towels and we should be good.”

At last Ra’Jirra lowered herself into the hot tub. It was late and there was no one around, but the manager assured them it would be okay. There were certain advantages of always being at least somewhat dressed in fur.

“Oh, that feels good.” she said. “I never knew riding a horse could be so tiring!”

Ko’Manir just sighed in agreement

“Ra’Jirra… before we make another ‘mistake’, I think there’s something I have to tell you.”

Ra’Jirra shook her head. “It can wait till the morning.”

“No,” Ko’Manir insisted. “I don’t think it can.”

Ra’Jirra rose and waded over to Ko’Manir and kissed her in the khajiit manner. “Ko,” she whispered. “It can wait.”

Though perhaps less adventurous than their night at the hotel, nonetheless Ra’Jirra enjoyed every minute of it - even if their thighs were exhausted by the heavy riding through the day. They fell to sleep in each other’s arms, and Ra’Jirra made sure there was no talk of assassins, politics or allegiances that night. All that could wait for the morning.

Ra’Jirra awoke to a knock at the door. She turned to Ko’Manir who cracked a single eye. “You order anything?”

“Not me.”

Ra’Jirra got up and draped a towel around herself. “Who is it?”

“Breakfast,” came a voice from the other side and she peered out the little hole to see a khajiit in a maid’s outfit with a covered dish.

She opened the door and the maid set the dish on the table, revealing a fine breakfast of eggs and ham.

“Complementary,” she said and turned to go. Ko’Manir looked at the food as if she was ravished.

“Wait,” Ra’Jirra said as the maid reached the door. Don’t I know you?”

“I doubt it,” the maid said, and immediately Ra’Jirra shouted, “First person singular! Ko’Manir! She’s an agent!”

The maid spun around and slammed the door closed with her tail, brandishing a knife made of Dwemer metal from a special holder in her belt. The poison practically smoked from it as she attacked Ra’Jirra with full and unexpected fury.

Ra’Jirra caught her hand with both of her own, but the agent switched the knife to the other hand quickly and continued her attack.  Ra’ Jirra managed to shove it aside at the last second, but it was quickly coming around again.  Ra’Jirra lashed out with her legs and sent the maid flying, the pale face coming into full view as her maids cap flew off.

“La’Dasha!” Ra’Jirra said, remembering where she’d seen her before, but the khajiit was readying the poison blade to throw it and Ra’Jirra realized that unless she managed to duck it completely, she was likely dead. But there was no room. They were too close.

The thunder came and La’Dasha fell back, the knife stabbing her leg as if for a coup-de-grace. The shot had been wide and only left a graze on her shoulder, but the khajiit stared at the knife upended into her thigh.

She looked at Ra’Jirra as the life left her quickly. “You.”

“You’re a dead woman, La’Dasha. Ra’Jirra said, taking the gun from Ko’Manir. “Is there anything you want to tell me before you go?”

The khajiit smiled weakly. “I failed,” she said, breathing out slowly. “But I’m still prettier than you.”

And then her eyes closed and she didn’t inhale again.

The manager and two other employees came rushing into the room, shoving the lifeless body away from the door in their haste. Ra’Jirra explained as best she could, but they insisted on calling in the local police. They arrived a short time later, but the the evidence of the poison knife, along with its ichor-laden belt holder was too convincing for any argument and they were released before the day had gotten late.

They sat outside the hotel on a little patio in rocking chairs side-by-side, while their horses were rounded up from the stable after they were released.

“So,” Ko’Manir said, turning to Ra’JIrra. “On to Torval?”

“For me, yes. But I don’t think so for you. Unless you really have parents in Corinthe.”

“Of course…”

“Sorry, Ko, but it’s time to cut the shit. That guy back in Kvatch told me a lot more than I let on… about you.”

“Did he?” Ko’Manir asked. Ra’Jirra could practically see the gears turning in her head. “Can I salvage anothing from this? How much does she know?”

“Relax Ko. You’re free to go back to Hammerfell. Hell, you can take your damned device with you for all I care. I know it’s worthless now. You’d planned this well in advance and already have all your agents using new codes.”

Ko’Manir looked as if she was about to protest, but then thought better of it.

“Wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s got a failsafe. A crucial part will have melted by now. You know? And you’re letting me go?!”

“How much was true, Ko?”, Ra’Jirra asked, ignoring the question.

“Not much,” she admitted. “Though I have been following your adventures. I do admire you as much as I said. The rest… Sorry.”

“That first night…”

“I spiked your drink. It’s quite effective on khajiits. Makes us horny as hell.”

“Dammit Ko. What about last night? Was that for real?”

“That was for real. Actually, the first night was too. I didn’t need any spiked drink.”

“I suppose I should take that as a complement?”

“Take it any way you want. But i guess in the end, nothing good came out of this whole affair.”

“I don’t know,” said the grate.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You were supposed to follow her!”

“Dammit, I’m not one of your agents. I have a very specific skill. It’s my specialty and I’m good at it. But I’m not a spook. I’m not good at trailing people all over the damn city! And while we’re at it, we need to talk about my pay. My typical job is a quick hit and gone. This is taking a lot of my time.”

“Oh no,” La’Dasha thought. “I’m losing him.”

“How much do you need?”

“Depends. How long does this need to go on?”

“You know the plan. Once they’ve met it should be over quickly.”

“I want my normal pay, multiplied by the number of days this takes.”

La’Dasha made a quick calculation.

“I’ll have to go back to my employer. I don’t have that kind of money.”

“You do that.”

“But you think she got the device last night?”

“I think so. I didn’t see her come back last night, but she’s in her room.”

“I know that. Do you know where he is?”

“Yes. I trailed him last night to a small hotel. He’s there.”

“Stay on him. I’ll watch her.”

“Will do.”

“And Failian? I know this isn’t what you do. I’ll make sure it’s worth your while, okay?”

“Hmm. Next time, get a spook to do your legwork. Or do it yourself.”

**************************

The day was overcast. She had begun to wonder if it ever rained here. But even if the clouds didn’t produce, at least they would block the damn sun. She took a taxi to the restaurant they’d first visited and ordered breakfast. Sarosh showed up a few minutes later and ordered the same. The restaurant wasn’t completely empty, but there were few enough that no one was within earshot.

“And?” he asked over his dark chocolate.

She smiled. “Everything checks out.”

The Redguard’s face relaxed. “Told you so. I’m going to meet her today in person. There’s a caravan leaving for Cyrodil tomorrow morning, just west of town.”

“That should be perfect. Khajiits?”

“Mostly, but there’s plenty of other races too. Everyone prefers to travel in a group across the border. Raids aren’t common, but they still happen sometimes.”

She nodded. The ancient tradition of trading by caravan had still not completely died out for the khajiits, but it was fading. However, traveling in large groups still had obvious advantages. It wasn’t the fastest mode of travel, but it was the safest.

“One thing. Before we go, do you mind going back to that alley with me? I’d like to have one more look around.”

“Sure,” Sarosh said, downing the last of his morning drink. “Lead on.”

They got to the alley where the fight had been. It was deserted now of course. She saw the bloodstains at the back of the alley, pretty much just as she’d expected. Then she looked up towards the building on the left. Three stories. A pretty far distance.

“Hold these,” she said to Sarosh and took off her shoes and handed him her gun from where she’d kept it concealed, strapped around her thigh under her skirt. Her outfit wasn’t really made for climbing, but it would have to do. She hiked the skirt up over her hips and began to climb.

“Nice,” came the expected response. “But pink?”

“Shut it, soldier. You’re lucky I’m not going commando.”

“Am I?” Sarosh said.

She scaled the wall with ease, then stepped over the ridge at the top.

The roof was nearly flat - only a slight angle allowed the water to run off to the edge where it drained out. Pretty standard. It wasn’t yet too hot and the tar wasn’t sticky yet. She looked around and over the edge until she felt she was fairly sure she stood near where the gunman must have been. Then she looked around. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for. The footprints in the tar could have been from anyone, but they didn’t look very old. The tread was deep. New shoes. Probably human, though that was hard to be sure of.

And then something caught her eye. A small bit of metal shining a few feet to one side. She dropped to look at it before picking it up.

It looked like dwemer metal. Just a small cylinder, empty. She recognized what it must be instantly though. She pocketed it and climbed back down the wall.

She handed it to Sarosh.

“Dwemer metal for sure, but reworked,” he said definitively. “I used to do metalwork. This is impressively done though.:

“Do you know what it is?” Ra’Jirra asked as she put her shoes back on.

“Not a clue. Hollow. Looks like it used to hold something.”

“It did. It’s a shell casing for a bullet.”

“So it was a gun.”

“I don’t think there was ever any doubt of that,” Ra’Jirra said as they walked out of the alley. “But it’s not an Elsweyr design. We use steel.”

“Everyone does. Dwemer metal is getting hard as hell to find anymore.”

“It’s a sure bet Hammerfell wouldn’t use it. But everyone?”

“No! Not everyone. The Dominion.”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“What the hell does the Dominion have to do with this?”

“I don’t know, but…”

Suddenly something hit her in the jaw. Hard. Very, very hard. She went down, stunned.

Vaguely she was aware of shouting and a struggle, but everything was blurry. She tried to clear her head, but it was slow.

She saw a shape in front of her. It resolved into a face. One she recognized.

“Detective Royan,” she said, on the ground and still trying to shake it off.

“Ra’Jirra,” he said with spite. “How’s that jaw feel?”

It was more her cheek, but she wasn’t going to argue. She glanced to where Sarosh was laying on the pavement. She looked up and down the street. No one was around. The detective pulled her back into the alley, out of sight.

“You cost me my job, bitch. Killed my partner and got me fired. Feeling proud of yourself?”

“Listen, you gotta know I didn’t....”

He kicked her in the thigh. She let out a scream. No one answered, but the man looked around. He wasn’t sure. But then he pulled a blade out of his pocket.

“No one’s gonna help you now, cat. Looks like it’s just you, me, and my little cat skinner.”

The smile on his face scared her. But she still couldn’t get her body to work properly. She was helpless.

“I want to hurt you first, cat, but I haven’t the time.”

“I didn’t kill him, dammit!”

“Sure you did, cat. I was there. Remember?” he said and knelt on her chest. She tried beating at him, tearing at him with her claws, but it had no effect. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her throat.

It wasn’t the first time in her life she was scared to death. But it never got any easier. She struggled with all the energy she had, but he was too heavy and too strong. She spat at him, but he didn’t even stop to wipe it off. She saw the blade approach and she screamed as loud as she could. It didn’t even slow.

For the second time in as many days, a sound like thunder exploded in her ears. Unlike the last time though, she felt the hot blood cover her as the body thumped atop her, the knife clattering away.

She pushed him off with her hands, though they felt like clubs, but she was breathing hard and it wasn’t just due to the effort. She had expected to die, and she was literally shivering with fear. Her eyes were wild as she looked around. She saw Sarosh, struggling to stand, her gun in his hand.

“Come on, Raj. We’ve got to move!”

He got to his feet and managed to help her up. Her body was beginning to work again, but she was still trembling. She looked at Sarosh and then back to the body of Royan, then down at herself. She was a red mess.

They looked up and down the street. There were some people looking around a few blocks away, but no one nearby. Saroush helped Ra’Jirra take off her shirt and skirt, then put his own shirt around her. She fumbled at the buttons but couldn’t get her fingers to work right. Sarosh helped her button it up, then wrapped her old clothes inside-out so the blood wouldn’t show and they walked as calmly as they could back towards his hotel. Just a shirtless man and a khajiit in pink panties.

There was no one at the desk, so they went back to his room.

“S..same room?” Ra’Jirra asked.

He nodded. “Lay down Raj. You’ve had a tough morning.”

She did as he suggested, and he lay down beside her.

“N… no f..funny business,” she managed.

“No Raj. No funny business.”

She looked at his eyes. They were normal eyes. Not dark, not handsome. His face wasn’t chiselled and his hair wasn’t shoulder length. He didn’t even have any fur, unless you counted that fuzz on his chest. But right now, he struck her as the most handsome man she had ever seen. She kissed him, but he pulled away.

“Stow it, soldier,” he said.

“Sorry. I’m… a little overcome.”

“Yes, you are. Just relax, okay?”

“Thank you, Sarosh.”

“You’d have done the same for me, I’m sure.”

“The Inspector’s going to be pissed.”

“Yeah. Probably,” he said, but he put his arm around her neck and pulled her to him. His chest was hairy and he was still sweating from the fight. And yet, she did feel better.

“Ra’Jirra, I can’t stay in the city any longer. Once you’re better, I’ve got to go.”

She nodded. She had at least some immunity here as an unofficial representative of Elsweyr. He was a nobody. And now he was a murderer. Of an ex-secret police member. He did have to leave.

“The caravan?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ll meet you there. I’ll get the message to Romanov before I leave.”

Suddenly she relaxed, as if something in her head had finally relented from being tensed up for too long. Her eyes drooped and she stared blankly at his chest.