Short unfinished story I wrote one night.

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There weren't many thieves in this part of town. This was the middle class neighbourhood; people were getting along just well enough to hold down their houses, but not enough to get any attention from any of the upper class. I made my living here as a regular at the local pub. No one would suspect me. A redguard in these parts was normal enough, if you knew what was happening back in our own land. It was a good neighbourhood to be a thief in.

Some big Thalamor agent was hosting an event one night. It seemed like an easy enough job. All I had to do was sneak in through the cellars, make my way to his bedchambers, and loot whatever looked like it wouldn't be missed. I had just arrived when the trouble began. Redguards aren't the smallest of people, I can tell you. I was slipping through the window on the wine cellar when my leg got caught on a wall hanging. When I dropped, I fell with a rather embarrassing crash. Nevermind the dreaded feeling that I had when I realized I was about to fall sword-first, but instead of impaling me like I had expected, it slipped from its sheath and rattled as it skipped across the floor. My entire body froze rigid as I listened for anyone who would come running to the scene. After a minute when I realized no one was coming I let out a great sigh. I composed myself, gathered my sword and carried on silently.

When I passed the underground kitchen, my mouth was watering. I hadn't had a decent meal in many a night. My most recent good find had lasted me about a month, but that was only due to Grechen's kindness. The young lady had a thing for me. I reminded myself to visit her once I had left this horrible building. She could always be found at the inn serving her lovely Cyrodillic brandy. I heard a noise from the kitchen, and pressed my back against the wall. When no guard was forthcoming, I hurriedly snuck past the kitchen door and towards the stairwell. From here the coast was clear; they weren't expecting anyone to crash their party. I climbed three sets of stairs in the winding staircase and found the upper hallway.

When I got to the Thalamor's chamber, I tried the doorhandle and cursed under my breath. Lockpicks! How stupid must I have been to forget them at the inn? Grechen would have my head if someone found them in her chambers. I looked all around me and found only some twigs in a vase for help. Constructing a lockpick in desperate times is a lot harder than it sounds. To this day I'm not quite sure how I did it, but sure enough I had a viable pick made, and unlocked the door in under five minutes. Just then, I heard someone climbing the spiral steps behind me so I opened the door and ducked into the room.

My eyes widened at the sight. These Thalamor were insane! There was a Khajiit rug on the floor in front of the fireplace. A stuffed Argonian head adorned the mantlepiece. The hand of a werewolf was propped on the bedside table clutching a nearly depleted candle, wax clumping the fur together at some parts. I felt sick to the stomach but managed to calm myself down. These people were more horrible than even the stories that were spread about them! I had to do something about this. I heard the doorknob click behind me, and the Thalamor's mage assistant walked into the room, jumping at the sight of me. I quickly drew my sword, but he spoke quickly under his breath and the weapon flew right out of my hands, knocking over the bedside dresser. "What are you doing here?" he asked angrily. "I… I got lost, I was just looking for the washing chambers." I lied badly. He sensed it. "You are a thief! I have heard rumours about you. Things go missing right before you show up at that inn every night. No one knows where you are when you're not there. No one's ever seen you out and about. You're a mystery in this town, and a valuable one at that. Let me see you…" he walked closer to me, and I raised my fists in defense. He whispered something to me, and I lost all urge to fight. I stood there, docile, as he circled me, sizing me up with his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure he'll find a perfect place for you. He could always use more entertainment." he stated. As he was behind me, I heard him rustle his robes and pull something out of them. There was a click, and he placed cool metal against my neck. Another click, and it locked. I looked back and he was holding me by a chain; a collar on my neck. The anger in me started to rise again, and it must have shown on my face for he look startled for a second. He regained composure quickly and mumbled his calming Thu'um once more, and I was again rendered calm. I knew that none of this was right, but I couldn't bring myself to change any of it. He led me by the chain to the dungeons.

When I awoke, the lead Thalamor was standing behind bars. No, I quickly realized; I was the one behind bars. I looked around me and sure enough, I was in his dungeon. I had passed it earlier and not thought much of it. I clambered to the door and stood up. "So, you were sent by the guild to steal MY scroll?" he stared at me accusingly, his whiny voice not hindering his frightening demeanour in the slightest. "Scroll?" I asked weakly, feeling absolutely wretched. What did they do; beat me while I was asleep? I felt sore all over. "I guess you're still not ready to talk. I will come back. By then, I expect you to explain your presence in my house… if you wish to remain alive, that is. You would make a nice rug." He laughed, and turned to leave. A rug? That taunt was usually reserved for Khajiit bandits. No elf would dare use that on a redguard. I sat back and winced as pain shot up my spine. I had sat on something sharp! I looked back, but nothing was on the ground. I tried again, but surely enough my spine had a very unpleasant feeling shoot through it. I felt behind me with my hands. There was a lump of skin forming from the end of my spine, only two inches long and maybe an inch wide. "What strange magic is this?" I asked no one in particular, and lay down sideways to avoid pain.

As I lay there, I felt up my neck. The collar the damn mage put on me had no lock mechanism. It was a single piece of metal all the way through, an obvious sign of magic use. There was no way I would be able to take it off. I felt around the collar on my skin, and quickly withdrew my hands. I felt what appeared to be hair growing just beneath and around the collar on my neck. I gingerly put one hand to it, and stroked it. It felt pleasant, but should not be on my body. "The damn collar must be cursed." I sighed. The mage, apparently standing just outside my view, came to the door. "Took you long enough to figure it out. How is that working out for you? I think I've finally improved the enchantment. It's… morally troubling if an elf were to kill a redguard. But a beast race… they're generally up to no good. People here have no qualms about killing them, as you'll soon figure out." He smiled, and grabbed a plate of food from the table beyond my cell. I hissed at him and bared my teeth as he came close to the door; an automatic response that worried me heavily when I thought about it moments later. He chuckled and left the room. I felt my teeth. They had changed too, the canines becoming much more pronounced and my other teeth sharpening. Soon I would be a Khajiit? This didn't seem right at all. I had to find a way to escape.

A day passed, and I was slowly losing my Redguard definition. My nails slowly turned black and narrowed until they finally sunk back into my fingertips. I had retractable claws, just like a Khajiit. The fur on my neck had spread to my chin and stomach. My arms had a light coat as well as my hands. The nub on my back was growing out, looking more like a tail by the hour. I kept telling myself that I would not become a Khajiit. There was no way the mage's magic could be so strong as to override the very meaning of a person. I was born Redguard, and I would die a Redguard. There was no room for a beast inside of me. I paced the room, flicking my short tail in annoyance. This couldn't be my end.

By the end of the week, I was losing hope. I realized I was actually becoming a Khajiit. My tail touched the floor when I did not think about curling it. I had to remove my boots for my lengthened feet. I could no longer walk on my heels; their new shape forced me on my toes, or paws. I dismally flexed their claws. The fur covered my entire body and my face had pushed out, whiskers growing from the sides of my muzzle. My nose broadened and became flat, my upper lip splitting to accommodate the new shape of my mouth. I tested facial expressions in the bowl of water they gave me to drink. When I growled, the sides of my muzzle bunched up threateningly. I had natural weapons now, my claws and my teeth… if only they came inside my cage for a moment. I paced the room like an animal, stopping momentarily only to lap up water. The ability to drink like a normal race was taken from me. They would come soon to collect me… they had to. I was a complete Khajiit.

The mage finally showed up to check on me. "And how are you doing, pet?" he asked, amused. I looked up with my fresh amber eyes with a look of pure hatred. "Ah, the kitty's in a bad mood? Not ready to talk, then?" he fake pouted. "I know nothing of this scroll!" I roared at him, and lunged towards the bars, snapping my jaw. He jumped back. "For that, I will make your life harder!" he shouted angrily. He raised his glowing hands and shot something at my collar. It sent burning pain through my body, and I collapsed writing in a heap. He stalked away silently as I mewled in agony.

When I woke up the next day, I immediately felt wrong. I thought the change had stopped! I looked down at my hands, and sure enough there was something very wrong with me. My thumbs and fingers had shortened considerably while my hands themselves lengthened. My hands were turning to paws too! I could no longer grip with them. I stood up from my bed, but teetered and fell forward on my front paws. The bastard had changed me further! My teeth even felt longer, and sure enough, I was having trouble closing my mouth. I felt around with my tongue to see the damage he had done. I was turning into a sabre cat! My canine teeth were massive; it was no wonder I had trouble closing my lips around them.