"Ziss'vo! Is this even the right place!?" The black-furred khajiit gave a little snarl as she tried to make sense of the glyphics in the tome she had uncovered. The leads had pointed here, but the flow of the magicka did not match any of what the translations suggested. Looking up, she gazed at the area again through her magesight, but no matter what angle she used, it all just made no sense.

With a sigh, she rose, sliding the tome into the holder hidden in her hipguards, then swung her battleaxe onto her shoulder with practiced ease. While the artifact she sought may not be here, there was certainly something unusual going on, but by Azurah, she did not intend to leave empty-handed.

Zhakarii might be termed a scholar of the dark arts. While once a necromancer, she had also studied psijiic magic, which is the only thing that saved her life and soul when she nearly fell to Lorkhaj's drums. In a near-panic, she wove threads of both necromantic magic to anchor her soul and psijiic magic to ward it against further influence of the Great Darkness, etching protective runes directly into her fur and flesh. They halted the change, but could not fully reverse what had already been done. Though she remained herself, she was still left with the physical changes already wrought upon her form.

Studying these, she expanded her repertoire, studying the magics of the dro-m'athra as well as the shadowy spells of Namiira, and fusing them with her necromantic techniques into a magical discipline all her own. Now, more cautious than before, she began to venture forth once more, seeking things both hidden and obscure. At least until she encountered another khajiit of azure eyes and necromantic skill, who had also been transformed in more ways than one by his experiences...

...but that is a story for another day.

Art is by  Howlite!