The Unlikely Companions

[Akasha]

Confused and delighted by the Nord's strange behavior, Akasha scrambled down the slope after him as nimbly as her armor and unwieldy bearskin would allow, though she had no intention of joining him in what was undoubtedly toe-curlingly frigid lake water. But then she realized they weren't alone, and she skitter-stepped to put some distance between herself and the stranger sitting on the shore.

"Bandits?" she said, with an affronted snap of her tail - as if she hadn't thought the same of Rolf just minutes ago. "This one should think not. She is a warrior-maiden of Hammerfell, and that one is..." She glanced at the Nord standing chest-deep in the lake, and adequate descriptors failed her. "...taking a bath."

The Khajiit glanced over the girl, who seemed slight of frame and fair of skin - really, as if a moderately strong wind might blow her over. Akasha wondered if that sword resting beside her was for protection or merely for show.

"If there are bandits about, this one will keep watch for you."

[Ursula Beirne]

The freckled red head beamed, her smile just short of showing all her teeth.

"Well that's very kind of you!" she said, and she meant it. She patted the sack she had next to her. "But I'm not too worried about bandits or brigands right now. In fact, I'd be surprised if there were any nearby."

A couple of red bottles rolled down to her leg tellingly.

[Rolf Stout-Heart]

"Oh," Rolf uttered at the sight of the soggy stranger, "A thousand apologies, sister."

Though, outwardly, his apology was laden with sincerity, the little scamp on the inside giggled like a fiend. And, while the women talked, he submerged himself beneath the icy water - partly, to scrub the crusted blood from his hair, partly, to hide his smile. His braided hair came undone and clung stubbornly to the base of his neck as he went about working off the evidence of his sordid evening affairs. All the while, he listened to Akasha and the stranger, whose voice tinkled upon his ears like warm melodic rain. He was pleased to hear the Khajiit echo his words, describing herself as a 'warrior-maiden of Hammerfell,' and intrigued at the other's cavalier attitude towards the threat of bandits. He drifted closer.

"You are a confident one," he said, not failing to take note of her curious hoard, "How can you be so sure?"

Gods, the children they would have together: milk-skinned and with hair as aflame as the Deadlands!

[Ursula Beirne]

"Because," she said, still grinning cheerfully, "I killed them."

The man drifted closer, and the flame-haired woman began to pull on her boots. She wiggled her toes to make sure everything felt right on her right foot before picking up her left boot and glancing at the two.

"Well, they killed themselves, more like. They thought they'd found themselves a weak little mark, and probably have some fun with her, but didn't notice the runes 'neath their feet they didn't. Not until they were on fire, at least."

She opened the sack, and two steel daggers, two sheathed steel swords, and a pile of furs became visible, as well as a bulging little pouch that clinked as it was jostled.

"So here I come, fixing to wash up those foul garments, and I sit here just enjoyin' myself, you see," she blew out her breath, catching a stray lock of hair in the process. "So unless they were just pretending to be dead, and will at any moment beset me in their wee undergarments with naught but their hands, I can say with surety that they'll not be troubling anyone further."

Her smile quickly faded into a thoughtful expression, and she paused in putting on her gauntlets.

"Though in a week I'm guessing some other desperate intemperate souls will find themselves in the same places doing the same things as their unfortunate departed brethren."

She shook her head as if doing so would cast off her distraction like a fly. She stood and stretched, and tied the sack up.

"So, I'll be off to Riverwood then. I heard the shopkeeper there is the sort who'll give you better prices if he thinks you're like him."

[Akasha]

Akasha fanned back one ear as the Breton woman gathered her spoils. She made a mental note to check the ground nearby for any unexploded runes before they climbed back up to the path.

"Like him?" Akasha repeated. "Why? What is he like?"

[Ursula Beirne]

"Dunno," was the answer. "I'll see when I get there. Maybe I won't have to do a thing and we'll just have a special connection? If that's the case, I hope he's handsome. To be honest it would take an awful lot of personality to overcome a sorry physical state. At least I think so."

As she spoke, her expressions changed also, from cheerful to thoughtful, to wistful and then to light and conspiratorial, though she hadn't quieted her tone much at all.

[Rolf Stout-Heart]

The redhead was talking like some sort of dewy-eyed school girl, about special connections, and personality, and looks, and yet, she had Rolf's undivided attention. His head bobbed like an apple on the water as he studied the woman, loot and all, as if she were a puzzle to be decyphered. When she stopped speaking, it was as if a spell had been lifted, and he couldn't be entirely sure if that was due to the honeyed tone of her voice or not. His brain felt like a stew, thick and full of potatoes, but from the depths of his thoughts bubbled a single word:

"Runes?" he said, "As in... magical runes?"

[Ursula Beirne]

"Of course! Can't really light lads on fire with normal stone carved runes now can I?" she answered good naturedly. "Though aren't you gettin' the least bit cold in there?"

[Akasha]

Mages. Akasha didn't much care for them on the best of days, not since one day at the Elinhir Fighter's Guild when she'd squared off against a Dunmer who conjured weapons out of thin air and covered the floor in exploding lightning traps. She'd taken some perverse pleasure in watching his next opponent bludgeon him senseless on the sand.

"He does this all the time," the Khajiit said, unconcerned. "Riverwood, then? This one hopes the rest of your journey there is less eventful."

Akasha's paw had wandered to her swordbelt again, just in case this mage tried anything... unnatural.

[Rolf Stout-Heart]

Rolf was stunned by the stranger's words. It was the brazen way in which she spoke of magic that surprised him most: a confession without any guilt. He cast a quick glance at Akasha to see if she shared his bewilderment, but again, that feline expression was entirely illegible to him. Although her hand had wandered closer to her sword hilt, he noticed, and that told him enough. And then, at the redhead's second question, his thin-lipped concern became a smile again.

"I am a Nord! The cold is in my blood!" he said, and then, after a glance at his surroundings, he proceded to rise from the water, "But yes, admittedly, this is no steaming bath of lavender and mountain flowers, so let's be on our way."

He started back up the steep climb of shale towards the Guardian Stones, working the water vigorously from his long copper hair, and found Akasha's bear pelt still folded on the boulder where he left it. After a moment, wrestling with the fur, the pelt was wrapped neatly around his middle. Now at least partly dressed, he was made painfully aware of the absence of his sword - he felt unbalanced without its familiar weight at his side, and the comforting grip of its leathered hilt. It put him at something of a loss with what to do with his hands, so he folded his arms as he regarded the women, who had both joined him on the road.

"And now, two become three. I am Rolf Stout-Heart, son of Geirlund of Windhelm. And this is Akasha ja Khanai, warrior-maiden of Hammerfell. What do they call you, my flaming-haired sorceress?"

[Ursula Beirne]

The red headed girl's smile became a grin, and she stood straight, her hands resting on her hips.

“My name is Ursula Beirne!"

She stayed in that position for a moment, and when they simply looked at her blankly, her grin faded.

“Haven't heard of me, have you?" She sighed, picking up the sack she'd dropped when introducing herself. “I have more work to do then."

[Akasha]

So they were traveling together, then. Akasha supposed that was Rolf's business, since he was the one doing the guiding, but she was rather enjoying his attention, and there was a petulant part of her that didn't want the competition of another female. Particularly one who worked magic, which was basically cheating. But at least it was only to Riverwood, and then there would be the long road to Whiterun to talk about Guardian Stones and warrior tales--

Which reminded her of the whole purpose of her journey, and she suddenly couldn't resist the temptation to one-up the Breton. "This one will be sure to remember your name, Vanquisher of Bandits. In the meantime, you may soon hear this one's name listed among the Companions of Jorrvaskr. She intends to join once we have reached Whiterun."

[Ursula Beirne]

"This one will be sure to remember your name, Vanquisher of Bandits..."

"And Draugr! In fact, making the undead dead again is something of a specialty of mine."

"In the meantime, you may soon hear this one's name listed among the Companions of Jorrvaskr. She intends to join once we have reached Whiterun."

"The Companions!" Ursula said, her eyes alight. There was a definite tone of admiration in her voice. "Heroes and mighty warriors come together in fellowship and the search for glory! That's a noble path if there ever was one, and that's a fact. There's not a soul in High Rock that hasn't heard of the tales of the Sack of Saarthal, or tragic antagonistic heroism of the Snow Elves."

She leaned forward, as if sharing a secret with the two of them.

"Though some of the tales mayn't be so rosy in portraying some of the older Nord heroes in their High Rock versions. Our perception might be coloured by the mer blood running through our veins. And the taking of the western Reach from our more primitive cousins. And the pillaging the Nords have done on our western borders."

She ticked off the reasons on her fingers, though despite the historical grievances she was bringing up, she didn't seem very put out by them. They were history, after all, and she knew quite well the barbarism the Reachmen known as the Forsworn were capable of, beholden to the hagravens as they were.

"But in any event, this is quite fortuitous, for I'm headed there myself. If there's fame and glory to be bought and wrought in Skyrim, it's through the Companions, and I intend to amass quite a bit of both."

[Rolf Stout-Heart]

Akasha's offhand revelation drew from Rolf a look of almost wounded surprise; eyebrows peaked while the rest of his face appeared to sag under the weight of his conflicted thoughts. He wondered why she'd neglected to mention this sooner, as if, in the clear light of her words, their minutes-long relationship suddenly spanned the course of decades. His time to think and ponder upon his response was made mercifully extensive by Ursula and her indulgent speech. He didn't listen, for the most part, until she spoke of the Nords. Hearing his own people coloured as villains turned his mood instantly sour, he could feel himself tense all over, like a sabercat poised to strike. But the strike never came, because, in her last breath, Ursula had dispelled his anger, in expressing a similar wish to join the Companions.

"The warriors of Jorrvaskr value strength of arms and gallantry in battle above all things. I do not imagine there is a place for a mage amongst their ranks, Ursula Beirne. Perhaps the College of Winterhold, or if you find the learned men of the north too barbarous for your tastes, then maybe you should return to the Mages Guild of High Rock."

A glance at Akasha said it was time to go, and he turned, heading down the road that flanked the roaring river.

[Akasha]

Saarthal? Snow Elves? Akasha had never heard of such things - she'd only just learned of the Companions a few days ago. Her nerves made her tail snap behind her as she worried about betraying her ignorance as a rustic Hammerfell rube. All the more reason to learn everything she could before she was face-to-face with one of the Companions themselves. With a cautious glance to Ursula, she turned and padded quickly back to the road to catch up with Rolf.

"You know of Jorrvaskr?" she said. "That is... well, of course you do, you're from Whiterun. This one would like to learn more about the Companions. She hopes to be a worthy addition to their ranks. How does one join?"

[Ursula Beirne]

"Now hold on there!" Ursula called, trotting after the two. "What's sayin' a mage can't have strength of arms and gallantry or valiance or what have you in battle?"

She puffed a bit as she drew alongside them.

"And... that College is right out. You see, I was in the Mages' Guild in High Rock. And a large part of the reason I'm here now is that I had to explain more than a few times that I hadn't joined the Guild to be a bed warmer for a Guild teacher, or fellow student." Ursula looked to the side and grimaced slightly. "I explained most vociferously once with a high ranking guild member, and then left with more than a few articles that weren't mine at the time. The College is the first place they'd look for me; and it's not the place where I'd find my fame and glory."

[Rolf Stout-Heart]

"Kodlak Whitemane is the Harbinger of the Companions. Now there is a man forged of steel and stone, and it is him you will need to impress," he said, first to Akasha, and then with begrudging glance at Ursula, "Both of you."

The idea of the mage becoming a shield-sister made him anxious. There was a rabid curiosity in him that felt like his heart lodged in his throat. And when Ursula fell into step alongside them, it was everything in him to keep his gaze averted - to not show interest. He knew her arguments - he had heard them all before, and it wouldn't make a difference to the Companions even if she had power to rival the Archmage of Winterhold himself. Unless it did. He considered it for a moment: what if this Breton woman had such power that his shield-brothers and sisters could do naught but welcome her into the family? The heart in his throat throbbed.

"First," he continued, drily, "You will have your skills put to the test. Weapon of choice, of course. That is to say, well... not magic. I should warn you, the Companions are not easily impressed, but should you succeed in your test, then you will be assigned a shield-brother, or sister. In time, they will come to know you, and unless there is more to you than boastful words or an impressive sword, you will be found wanting, I assure you."

[Akasha]

Harbinger. Akasha didn't know that word, but she would soon, she wagered. Already she felt hungry to prove herself, to show the quality of her arm and of her heart, to be judged and found worthy. The only alternative was to roam the taverns of Skyrim as a common sell-sword, and where was the honor in that?

"This one will not be found wanting," Akasha said, three parts courage and one part fear. "She assures you."

The road and the river turned a bend together, exposing them to the full blast of the morning sun, which to Akasha seemed unnaturally harsh and hot. Wasn't Skyrim supposed to be a cold country? The Khajiit raised a paw to shade her eyes and saw a cluster of wooden houses with thatched roofs straddling the foaming river, and a large sawmill flanked by neat piles of limbed pine logs.

She was grateful when they passed back into the shade of the little woodcutting town of Riverwood, though they received more than their share of curious stares. Akasha wasn't sure which of them was the most unusual - the armored Khajiit, the Breton woman in mage robes, or the Nord wearing almost nothing at all.

[Ursula Beirne]

As they entered the village, Ursula didn't waste any time. As soon as she spotted the dangling sign denoting the Riverwood Trader, she made straight for it, and opened the door. Within was an Imperial man, leaning against the counter, idly looking through a ledger that he closed as soon as he looked up. By the ledger was a noticeable golden ornament in the shape of a claw of some kind.

"Take a look around," he said cheerfully. "I'm sure you'll find something you like."

"I am sure I will!" Ursula replied, dropping the sack onto the counter. The shopkeeper's brow rose as he looked down at the bulging sack and then back up at her. But she was already looking at the various items on display.

"This is a good selection," she said admiringly. "You have a good eye."

"Yes. Thank you," the man mumbled, watching while she pulled open the sack and pulled out several pieces of furred armor, a couple steel swords and daggers, and some books. A jingling purse was removed and placed in a pouch at her side. "You're looking to sell this, then? Why not go to the blacksmith. He could make better use of this than I could."

"Oh no!" Ursula said. "Truthfully, I saw him while I was entering the town. Large man. Intimidating, actually. No, I wanted to visit the Trader. Larger selection, potions and books, and all sorts of things! And yours is particularly nice. Is that... is that Night Falls on Sentinel? That's a rare book to be finding up here. Where'd you find it?"

"Caravan," answered the shopkeeper, smiling. "I found a number of good things. Why not take a look?"

"Of course!" Ursula responded. The man pulled out a small selection of potions and weapons, and even a set of leather gauntlets. "Well now, these are nice. You don't have an entire set though, do you?"

"No. Leather cuirasses are much harder to come by you see, at least in any condition worth selling."

"Well, you could probably pair them up with some of these furred garments. Get an entire set going, put it up on the wall, and there's a statement! 'We've got everything.'"

The shopkeeper grunted.

"Well, that does make some sense. Here. I'll pay you twenty septims for a set of that fur armor."

"Done!" Ursula said. "And I'd like to purchase some potions. Healing ones, if you have them."

The back and forth continued, with Ursula selling two more complete sets of furred armor, both swords and daggers, and all of the books, while picking up the requisite traveler's needs: potions, food, and two torches.

[Rolf Stout-Heart]

Out of coin, and bereft of anything of value - save for the bear hide that kept his manhood from freezing off - Rolf kept himself out of the way. He lingered near the door, arms folded, like a malnourished wildman on guard duty. Ursula browsed the shop with an abundance of enthusiasm which, on the surface, identified her as an easy mark for villainous tradesmen. But, when coupled with her wily tongue, the charm and wit became a formidable combination, and soon she was palming off her entire inverntory of looted stash with staggering efficiency. Rolf had to wonder if there was any sincerity in her flattery, not that his opinion mattered, of course, because the shop-keeper - some greasy Imperial - gobbled up her words like sweet rolls.

There was a sound of footsteps; not the weighty clunk of boots, or the pathetic shuffle of bare feet, but a soft and delicate padding upon the stairs. An attractive raven-haired woman descended into the shop, the fabric of her skirt made an airy swishing sound that seemed almost foreign to Rolf's ears. She gave a slight start at the sight of him, and promptly busied herself with Akasha's needs, who was inspecting the shelved goods with polite interest.

"Kind of you to join us this morning, sister of mine," croaked the merchant.

"You're fortunate I'm awake at all," she replied, her warm voice cracked with fatigue, "Barely a moment's rest I had all night. Damn wolves! Such a noise like I've never heard before - it turned my blood to ice!"

Rolf struggled not to roll his eyes. Typical milk-drinker talk, failing to grasp that the true riches of Skyrim lie, not in its coin, but in the beautiful untamed land itself, wild beasts and all. He moved to excuse himself from the poor company, when a sight caught his eye: a fur cuirass and matching boots, lying unclaimed on the merchant's table. It looked as if Ursula was about to make one last bid to rid herself of the remaining furs, when he intervened, planting a hand firmly upon the cuirass, as if to claim it for his own.

"You have gold aplenty. Do not let me pass through the gates of Whiterun looking like one of your Reachmen. I promise, you will not regret earning favour with a man like me."