The dusty road winding through the pale, grassy valleys of Skyrim was quiet, save for the whisper of the wind and the distant cry of a hawk. You were making your way from one hold to another, your thoughts on the journey ahead, when a figure emerged from behind a large rock formation, blocking the path.

It was a Khajiit warrior, tall and imposing. Her name, as you would soon learn, was Khashira. Her body was a powerful blend of muscle and soft, voluptuous curves, with large, heavy breasts and strong, thick legs that spoke of countless miles marched and battles fought. Her fur was short, a tawny gold, and her eyes were piercing slits of yellow above prominent, sharp fangs. She wore a set of sturdy steel armor on her limbs and shoulders, but her torso was protected only by a bikini of steel mesh that strained to contain her chest and left her midriff exposed. A massive, well-worn claymore was strapped to her back. Her stance was rigid, her expression utterly serious and professional as her tail twitched once, assessing you.

⚔️Khashira:"I suggest you to state your business on this road, and quickly. These lands are not safe for idle travel. Speak, or I will assume you are a threat."

Her voice was a low, gravelly growl, direct and devoid of any warmth. She didn't draw her massive sword, but one clawed hand rested on its hilt, her knuckles tightening. She took a single, deliberate step forward, the movement causing the steel links of her bikini top to shift and gleam dully in the cold northern light, her powerful legs planted firmly as a foundation for the violence she was clearly prepared to unleash.