Is It Wrong To Be A Khajiit In A Dungeon

The moon shone high, a creamy color as always reminded him of the Osmanthus desserts. Stars blinked far away on the horizon far and high above. A flicker of light, as the stars itself, may already perish while it's light still in a perpetual motion trying to reach earth. But that where's the similarities end.

Granted being to put in work with other great artists and authors gave him many insights to the point, when one of them offered him to go hiking trip, and teach him about constellations. At least his meager knowledge could discern some few features of the stars and its alignment. Though it was a hard thing to do nowadays, not with a giant space elevator and planetary ring constantly covered the skies.

That's where everything's end.

The stars were up there, still, but each constellation doesn't match up.

No, it's strange.

Not the stars.

But for him.

Of course.

How the hell he could discern all of those things when he jumped between rooftop to another roof. That in itself is already an absurd thing to do, he even didn't have a motor implant or the likes, yet he can perfectly run. Not only with his legs, but his hand too synonymously worked in tandem to get him out of this foray.

Arrow notched, grazing a bit of his fur.

Yes, of all things, now there's fur enveloping his body.

And another pierced the wooden wall beside him. He promptly jumped to the side, where the building had a higher floor.

Is that Ice spike that just slew past his vision, He widened his eyes in wonder. Luckily he stopped at the last moment before it breaks to thousand pieces and slamming the stone walls beside him and made another run and jump.

Evading each projectile these people throwing at him.

What a bunch of savages, can they have a civilized conversation or something.

Oh, he might be savage to these people, with him being some kind of freak or something. Hell, he would gladly throw a stone nearby to the, at least, fur-suited fag that dare approach him.

How did all of this happen?

Good question.

A long and long time ago… not so long ago, 15 minutes earlier to be exact.

He only wanted to get out of his stupor after that stupid lines. I thought it would be Ralof and the carriages, don't forget the fine weather of Skyrim and the execution block. Instead of the dim-lit alleyway somewhere, with all of its splendor befitting middle-ages or so he inferred from the overall architecture and choice of articles of the city inhabitant, namely shit, garbage, and smells. A foul smell, even his marble latrine was much better than this.

And then, the stupid person who breaks that lines, a stout bearded man reeks in alcohol. His eyes could pop out of its socket, once the man saw his figures bathed in moonlight.

A shriek of help later, know what they said, shit happened.

He rather prided himself as an adaptive person. He even traveled far to the middle-east where conflict still rife, and manage himself in possession of two Ak-47 and rocket Katyusha of all things before going home. Granted it was an accident, still, he remembered his pitiful face he made when parted with his dear Katyusha-chan and Kalashnikov Gozaru X2.

And all of the things, his supreme knowledge of how to survive in another world kicked in under the pressure. All learned from the holy scripture of Light Novel and drunk rumbling of the Author their project worked on.

"Stop it! it must not reach the Daedalus Street!"

Now that's a rather intriguing order. From the undertone, it's whether a heavily-populated areas or a place of importance. Screw it. If he wanted to live, he needed to reach this place.

It has few sequences though. If it's the first reason, then he may incur wrath from these savages. If their storm-trooper level marksman skill missed the target and may hit the inhabitant in a cross-fire.

Well, let's cross the bridge later.

Amazing, how could he think something like this. When his job is screwed before all because he's too lazy to check the clock and the date. Heck, he could check the condition of his room, or at least opened the window.

Aim hard to become a magician! F.u.c.k, he's already a grand caster at this point.

At that moment, literally, his fur stood up. He reflexively sidestepped at the incoming wind slash that missed the target and… What the, did the blade just cut through a chimney, a stone with 30cm thickness in a slash.

Poor me. If He was a simple henchman, he maybe instantly cut into mammal-sushi once his assailant flicked the blade within a centimeter of its scabbard. Just like those, Samurai and Ninja trope.

"Stop there."

Came to the very flattest tone I've ever heard. Even Vocaloid had a lively voice nowadays. I realized the assailant was actually a girl. Her armor clearly emphasized fetish, and intended to show some of her… assets and clung tightly to the most part of the body. Heck, what kind of armor that protects half of her b.r.e.a.s.t. While her swaying blond hair was the same generic palette found in typical Tsundere or Ojou-sama Trope hair albeit it was overshadowed with intricate detail couldn't be found in anime.

The color was I admit, would be beautiful if groomed well, alas it was rather lackl.u.s.ter and somewhat dirty. Might be the lack of Shampoo or the girl didn't have any interest in the first place. Going by the impression, surely, it's the latter.

I wouldn't be surprised at this point if this was a novel or shitty generic Shounen and harem fantasy.

If I had the choice, I would gladly choose the Violet Evergarden universe.

Imagine, Violet, going Sew Giwbet! at me with tears and a wonderful orc.h.e.s.trated background. That would be heaven.

I let out a growl at her. Not that, I wanted to grunt… is this another animalistic behavior I inherited. Intriguing, since I was at least Humanoid as I'm wearing leather clothes covered by a hood that overshadowed my already, perhaps, shady faces.

Nevertheless, I was not amused when another 3 figures landed on the rooftop and brandished their own weapon.

I must be a rat or something, to be cornered like this.