Two Tigers from Hammerfell

[Ashira]

Moving quickly, Ashira stepped forward with a swiftness as her hands went out to the donkey, fingers grazing over the tooled leather saddle on their way to the edges. While she moved with purpose, the confusion in her eyes was plain for all to see. At first rather stunned at this new turn of events, the Khajiit did her best to concentrate even as the dwarf continued to argue with the city guards.

Deft hands moved fast, feeling along the undersides of the saddle as they traveled over and under the myriad of bags and packs tied along the sides. The donkey craned its neck around to give her side a sniff, even as she rifled through the contents of each bag. Her brow furrowed as her search continued to yield no coinpurse, and as she sent her search into the bedroll that'd been fastened along the back, her eyes lit up and she let out a triumphant heh as her fingers closed around the soft, tanned hide of what could only be that which Wulthgar had asked for.

Pulling it free, Ashira held it aloft.

[Akasha]

The guard who was not holding Wulthgar like a struggling haversack snatched the coinpurse out of Ashira's outstretched paw and began rifling through the contents. "And what business do two Khajiit sellswords have with this miscreant?"

"Sellswords?" Akasha repeated, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Watch your tongue, Nordman. Khajiit come to Skyrim seeking adventure and glory."

"Oh, adventure and glory," the other guard replied. "That makes it so much better."

"This one is pleased you agree," Akasha said, lifting her chin. "Khajiit were hunting for food when they met Wulthgar. The three of us slew a bear together. Now these ones have pelts and claws to sell. This is legal in Falkreath Hold, yes?"

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

The guards didn't merit the Khajiti women with responses. The one holding the coinpurse merely weighted it in his hands, and measured out a half share roughly, and removed an arbitrary amount of wealth from Wulthgar's person. The bard made a pained expression as he saw the volume of gold the guards were deciding would purchase his free passage.

"That quantum of septims is beyond the scope of my perceived infraction! Beyond punitive means as well!"

The guard merely booted Wulthgar on the ground as he pocketed another handful of coins, pausing to pluck a ruby from the pack as well.

"Keeping miscreants like you out of prison is...expensive."

Wulthgar certainly couldn't see the man's expression behind his helm, but he was certain it carried a smirk on it. At last, the guard finished with his pilfering, and returned Wulthgar's coinpurse by tossing it at his head. Well, at least there were enough septims within to still cause it to hurt. Rubbing his smarting noggin, the bard scrambled to snatch the coinpurse from the ground before the guards could have a change of heart and take the entire thing.

"Falkreath hold is indebted to you trusted protectors, no doubt. Should some evil conjurer befall the city with the power to raise atronachs out of riches, I have no doubt you will triumph over them."

"On your way, you lot."

The guards stepped aside, allowing Wulthgar to rise to his feet and shake some of the dirt from his clothing. The little nord glanced back darkly at his two guests as they entered the city.

"Daedra take them. Were we to meet at eye level, they would not be so brazen."

Letting his ill humor ease a bit, Wulthgar sighed and shook his head.

"No matter. Always travel with enough gold to be able to afford to lose some to simple robbery. We shan't be destitute, my friends. Come. The aforepromised mead calls even more strongly. Strain your ears and you'll hear it as well."

[Ashira]

Ears switching back as the passed into Falkreath, Ashira let a scowl darken her features.

"I hear nothing but the constant hammering of the blacksmith," she grumbled out softly. A look to Wulthgar's donkey and she reached out for one of the two wineskins still tied to the saddle; Akasha had thankfully not finished the entirety of its' contents, and Ashira reached over, deftly undoing the leather cord holding it in place and pulling it away. The stopper was removed, and the Khajiit took a generous swallow, lowering the skin as they passed another of the city's guards. From her peripheral vision, she watched as the people around them paused momentarily in their daily activities to look at the newcomers.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her arm, she sent a sidelong glance to her sister.

"They are staring," she whispered darkly.

[Akasha]

Akasha slowly moved her paw away from her sword when the guards dropped Wulthgar - he had hired them as bodyguards, after all - and drew closer to Ashira as they moved into the muddy streets of the strange Nordic town.The people were staring - hunters burdened with their kills, a farmer pushing a cart full of sickly-looking produce, and several more guards, inscrutable under their visored helms. Who would ever choose to wear such a thing, to hide one's face and fill one's nose with the smell of iron all day? Alkosh's mane, she couldn't even tell the men from the women.

The young Khajiit grinned and clapped an arm around her sister's shoulder. "Of course they are staring," she whispered back. "We are shieldmaidens of Hammerfell, like the bard sang. You did not think Khajiit would blend in, did you?"

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

Walking with something of a swagger in his diminuitive gait, Wulthgar paused at the threshold of the Dead Man's Drink, his confident poise diminished only when he had to put his back into the motion of opening the heavy oaken door, which parted with a wailing creak to herald their arrival. Within the lodge, a dozen faces illuminated by a handful of flickering candles and the fire pit that dominated the common area turned in unison at the din. Some met the appearance of the visitors with indifference, but some held a far darker countenance. Pretending not to notice, the bard glanced back to his shieldmaidens and flashed a conspiratorial smile.

"A warm hearth fire as promised. Let's make ourselves comfortable."

Finding a nearby table empty, Wulthgar made for a seat, catching the eye of Narri, one of the tavern wenches. Setting aside her broom at the bar, she approached the table and teased at a ringlet of her hair with a twirling finger.

"Shor's bones, I didn't think I'd soon see Wulthgar Milk-Drinker in this mead hall any time soon."

Narri's green eyes turned to Ashira and Akasha, the curiosity evident in their expression.

"And with the most interesting of company."

The two felines didn't look like whores. Or if they were, she'd never seen whores so well-armed. Wulthgar, for his part, maintained a reserved smile, doing his best to look stately when seated in a chair that barely brought the table up to casual height.

"You have the quality of my company exact, for they are the most interesting sort indeed. Might I introduce to you Akasha and Ashira, shieldmaidens and sister adventurers from Hammerfell."

The two pair of Khajiti ears seemed to perk at the introduction. Perhaps Wulthgar was becoming accustomed to detecting their otherwise-inscrutable moods. Ah, but his introductions were half complete. He again returned his attention to the bar wench, who offered a most interesting view from chair height.

"And sisters Khajit, I shall make your acquaintance with Narri, a, ahem, very talented woman."

The sisters exchanged glances, and Wulthgar plied them with an explanation.

"Talented bar maiden, I should say."

Narri leaned over, whispering something into Wulthgar's ear that had the effect of bringing a smile to his face.

"She has never spilled a drop..."

More whispering, and the diminuitive Nord ran a tongue between his parched lips.

"...of ale."

Narri parted from earshot, but not before nipping a near miss at Wulthgar's earlobe before standing up fully.

"And speaking of ale, I'm absolutely parched. And you, ladies?"

[Ashira]

The thought of distracting hersdelf from the stares of those that they'd passed on their way through the street, Ashira gave a slow nod in answer.

"Ale sounds... good."

She watched the barmaid move away, her mind beginning to put together the myriad of scattered puzzle pieces that seemed to make up the dwarven bard. He was clever with word, and had a way of saying with twenty words what could easily enough be said with two. Not really perplexing, and the Khajiit could honestly say that it did not bother her, but it was an interesting conundrum regardless. The city guards saw him in one light, and the woman who'd just left saw him in another.

"Drink and women," she rumbled good-naturedly, and half-turned to her sister to give Akasha a sideways look and a knowing upturn of the corners of her lips.

"We have certainly found ourselves a catch, Sister."

[Akasha]

Akasha watched the exchange between the diminutive bard and the amply endowed barmaid with flickering eyes and ears. Much of Wulthgar's oratory ornamentation was over her head, and she had little more than an inkling of the carnal undertones, but she didn't wish to advertise her ignorance. Especially not in front of Ashira.

"No doubt," she replied. "We must only hope there is not too much competition for his attention."