"Elindrin," the tall half-Dremora shot back, glaring at Keivaani again before turning back and making his way further into the belly of the mines.

Very friendly.

It was all Keivaani could do to try to get some social contact. People here seemed to lose their minds very quickly, and he wasn't planning on becoming one of Sheogorath's chosen any time soon. The crack of metal on bone filled the air suddenly, and he glanced round to catch sight of a marsh-brother crumpling to the ground from a blow of one of the guards' Daedric maces. His eyes followed his fellow Argonian as his unconscious form was dragged away by a Dremora. Evidently, a gladiator. Unusual for the Dremora to take one to the Pit so early in the day, but Keivaani supposed that it split up the routine and unsettled the slaves; they want us to know that they can cart us off any time they like, not just at the line-up. He followed Elindrin into the mines. Eventually, the two of them came to a vein in the dark tunnel, in a quieter section of the mine out of the way of the main tunnel, and Elindrin cracked his pick against the surface of the rock once before looking up and scanning the area.

"Give me your pick, and stand out the door," he said. "Alert me if you see Daedra coming."

Keivaani was a little surprised. Whatever Elindrin was planning to do now, it sure as hell was against the camp rules, and they would probably be killed on the spot if they were found out. At this stage, drawing attention to himself was not something he wanted to do. But this guy probably won't be pleased if I refuse. Besides, whatever he's doing, he's chosen a quieter part of the mine to do it in, and it could bring us a little way closer to getting out of here. Keivaani considered his options for a moment, before carefully handing his pick over.

"What are you up to, then?"

Judging by the half-Dremora's previous demeanour, Keivaani didn't expect a response, or at least one that explained very much. But it was worth a shot.

OOC: Mannimarcoo, we both know how you acted when i tried PMing you.

Gerich soon found himself following the Dunmer into the mines, passing the heavily worked upper areas, and going deeper and deeper into the tunnels. Gerich did not talk nor did he look for conversation with the Dunmer, for he cared little about companionship in the hell-hole that was this camp.

The pick-axe was resting on his shoulder casually, as his other hand swayed at his side, his thumb twisting the ring on his finger mindlessly as they went further and further in. It was quiet down here, because the air was so thick and stale down here, and after a days work one would spend a week coughing it all out of his lungs. But not Gerich. He had learned to endure the deeps of the mines long ago, though he would still pay the price the rest of the night.

The slavers never seemed to come down this far, or least not as frequently as near the surface, and so a man would have to choose between the dirty air of the mines or the stinging whips of the Dremora. Gerich never understood why they would choose the whips, then again many were new here, and few had been around long enough to learn to at least endure the whippings.

He merely sighed lightly, and followed closely behind the Dunmer, letting the mer choose were they wanted to dig.

Name: Ahdanjha Argaas Kemplessa
Nicknames: Ahnjhie
Gender: Female
Race: Khajiit (Assumed Ohmes-raht variety)
Age: 45
Birthdate: Undocumented date in mid-late 3E 398
Birthplace: An underground slave pen in Vvardenfell

Eyes: A bright, piercing yellow.
Hair: Black, usually ponytailed. Falls messily to her waist.
Height: 5' 2"
General Appearance: Ahdanjha is, if you can ignore the stench of body odor and the griminess of her hair and fur, an attractive Khajiiti female. Not that it matters in the mines; being pretty is about as useful in a Dremora's eyes and being able to whistle. She used to be athletic and healthy, lithe and beautiful, but slavery has a tendency to take beauty and bury it under scars and bitterness, a fact Ahdanjha knows better than most of the other Daedric slaves. Nowadays, her bones have skin stretched tight against them, ribs visible, fingers bony, hips poking at the flesh as if wanting to break free and the only substantial meat on her is the muscles attained from mining labor.

Ahdanjha's face bears the structure of an Ohmes or Ohmes-raht, even down to the pointed ears. Were it not for her fur and slitted yellow eyes, her head could be mistaken for that of an elf. She has high cheekbones, full lips and a soft, rounded nose that are contrasted by the hard, angry looking yellow eyes above and the grimace she wears on said lips.
Unique Appearance: Ahdanjha's upper left arm bears a branding from the slavers she once belonged to in Morrowind. She wears it as a badge of honor, though, and isn't at all sensitive about people asking about it, especially now that she's found herself in shackles a second time. She also bears a number of scars, the most notable of which is a large slash across her torso that goes over her lower chest and stomach at a downward angle from left to right, marked by the fact that her fur regrew white along the scar tissue rather than black.

For piercings, her elven ears bear between both of them one gold ring and five steel ones. The gold stands for a decade and the steel ones a year each, together representing the fifteen years she spent with her mate, Va'Rahkshi, before she was captured by the Dremora. Lower down she also wears one black iron one in the flesh of her collar, signifying that she she had a mate that died. She rarely explains the significance of her piercings to anyone, though, so most just write them off as odd Khajiiti ritualism.

Her only tattoo is a saying in Ta'agra that translates roughly to 'Fear not death, for it is both an end and a beginning' inked in white on her left wrist.

Mental Status/Personality: To the casual observer, Ahdanjha is promiscuous, violent, arrogant and self-absorbed. Although these are parts of her personality, they are not the only traits she holds.

In truth, Ahdanjha is a very paranoid, introverted person who hates dealing much with other people for fear they'll stab her in the back; before her capture, the only people she trusted were within the Dark Brotherhood. She is blunt, abrasive and often even hostile in speech and mannerism so that she can keep people at a distance and make sure they know not to try taking advantage of her. Over the years that she's been enslaved by Daedra, she has become even more short-tempered and cynical than she ever was before.

Weapons: Claws, teeth. (Nothing that can hurt a Daedra much)

Armor: Nothing.
Clothes: Most of Ahdanjha's clothing is merely sewn together bits of clothing salvaged from corpses, and most of it never leaves her body. She has a pair of cloth gloves she made from strips of leather clothing stitched together with a sinew thread disturbingly made from human flesh, a shirt that is ripped in several places that used to be a piece of finery years ago and a simple pair of sack cloth pants, patched and restitched multiple times but still tattered and falling apart. She occasionally wears a simple pair of calf-high leather boots she won from a pit match, but usually opts to go barefoot.

Equipment: Pickaxe, water canteen, stolen bottle of ale stuck down her shirt.

Good at: As a former member of the Dark Brotherhood, Ahdanjha is skilled in the art of moving and killing unseen. In regular combat, she still retains much of her skill with a dagger or short blade and can move quickly in light or no armor. Her years in the service of Sithis also taught her to be silver-tongued when she needs to and her mate showed her a few basics of Illusion, Restoration and Destruction, though she knows only the basics the latter two.

Bad at: Any kind of heavier armor weighs Ahdanjha's small frame down too much for her to be of any use in combat and she finds anything longer than a shortsword too unwieldy to be used at all. Most arcane arts are also of no use to her and in her starving and exhausted state, her temper flares up rather easily, and since she cannot do much to get back at her captors, she tends to lash out at her fellow slaves a lot, making her rather unpopular amongst the enslaved population (though a subject of amusemant to some Dremora). Also, despite being a former assassin, she has little or no skill with a marksman weapon and cannot engage a foe from afar.

Short Bio: Ahdanjha remembers little of her early childhood except that she had an older brother that sold her into slavery as a little girl in exchange for a large supply of skooma. She was raised by a pair of women, an Argonian and a Khajiit, who treated her as their own child up until they died when she was a teenager. She was rescued from slavery by a member of the Dark Brotherhood, a Khajiit by the name of Va'Rahkshi, and served beside him for years both as comrade and mate.

When the Daedra came, they fought back as best they could using guerrilla tactics, but eventually both were captured and dragged off to different camps. Ahdanjha has earned some respect and fear within her new 'community,' but despite occasionally being able to threaten another slave into doing her work for her when the Dremora aren't looking, suffers greatly both from abuse -mostly because of her sharp tongue- and loneliness from being removed from her mate.

OOC: Krimsin, there is no way the Dremora would stop anybody from working in order to have a fight. The fights are for later in the evening after the work is done and we are exhausted.

OOC: oh jeez i forgot about this >_<