Roleplay

[center][b]A Skyrim Reboot Roleplay[/b] [img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/2c/41/5f/2c415fa847bf1c34453b38dacbf1d796.jpg[/img] [/center] Hello, and welcome to the (second!) reboot of the Skyrim roleplay Sky Above, Voice Within! I will be leading this roleplay, and @Draconequis will be co-leading with me (and @Silif will be co-co-leading xD). Please ping us for any questions or concerns. Without further adieu, let's get started! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The (new) OOC page is right [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/rp/2058234]over here[/url], where you can place your character sheet(s), optional artwork, and just chat about Skyrim or the roleplay. :) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now here's a few basic rules, and you can always suggest changes to them if you think they aren't fair: All Flight Rising rules apply, no killing or seriously harming another character unless they agree to it, no fighting with users (though your characters of course can fight), if you are joining after it has started, please read up to the part the roleplay is at or skim through it so you won't be lost (but I may be able to provide vague summaries), keep explicit gore and romance away as much as possible (though I do love gore, not everyone does), and lastly, be kind and use common sense! Mistakes with the rules are [i]definitely[/i] okay, but multiple without reason or clarification may result in something bad befalling your character! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [center][b]The Story so Far[/b] It is the two hundred and first year of the fourth era in Skyrim, and the region is in a bloody civil war between the Stormcloaks and the Imperial Legion. Along with this, the return of the terrible dragon Alduin is at hand, but with this, the return of the Dragonborn, the one destined to destroy him. But who are you in this story? Will you become a great and powerful warrior or a soldier who fights for their land and their people? Will you find friends among thieves or gain magical allies with those who create fire from thin air? This is for you to decide, the friends and enemies, the bonds you will make and break. Go forth, and know that though the sky is above, the voice is deep within you.[/center] ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [center][b]Pinglist:[/b] (Unsubscribed) @InvaderCristi (Subscribed) @Zenikay @Scullyosis @Nethralia @Draconequis @AbyssRanger @Silif[/center]

[b]Acioco[/b] The sun was partially blocked by the apex of a looming mountain, jutting from Nirn like an extended limb. It was quite the beautiful vista, as the dawn of Morndas had just about passed, but the Imperial girl decided it would be best to head back into her cavern and complete her daily routine before starting off the day. [img]http://i.imgur.com/EP0ieWz.jpg[/img] (The waterfall is blocked by a tree) She pranced to the center, crouching near the fluid of glass and dipping her hands in. After breaking the surface and creating ripples abound, she sipped the handful of aqua before rising again, standing under the waterfall for a quick shower while clothed (this is a normal thing for her). She decided today that she would take a trek down to lake Ilinalta, to catch some Slaughterfish and possibly Mudcrabs too. But before that, walking over to her hidy-hole of valuables, tucked behind ivy covering an outlet in the cave wall, she reached in and around the vines and grasped a decent sized bag, pulling it out. Inside were some of her favorite snacks, so she removed a strip of smoked salmon and replaced the bag where she had taken it from before eating the makeshift meal. Next, Acioco gathered up all of her materials for the day, which included her satchel of supplies, her bow and ten arrows (not all in great condition, mind you), and her fishnet sack with her taproot friends. And finally, once everything had been done as she did everyday, Acioco headed out once more into the vast land of turmoil, that on this occasion seemed only to reflect an ephemeral beauty. Skyrim. (For you from the previous roleplay, I know this one is very similar to my first post there xp I basically just copied it down and changed it, but I'll [i]definitely[/i] be changing what happens with her once she encounters other characters~)

(ahh yes, well if she is headed outside the city, there is someone she can meet XD Also, note to all, i am going with the 'dragonborn is just disovering her powers route' so she is quite literally un-aware of her abilities at this point. She will discover them soon enough though. And others can be there to see her discover them. It will be much fun XD)

Nerroz

Wandering the world of Skyrim was quite fun. At times he would catch bandits in the act of stealing things, and dispatch the Bandits before trying to track down the original owners. he didn't do this as often as he used to due to the stigma against his kind for being skooma addicted thieves or assassins. It was so hard to get honest work as a Khajiit.. even though he had been born and raised in Skyrim by an old Nordic couple. They had warned him.. but he'd never really beleived how bad it was until he went out into the world for himself.

His thick orange and black tail twitched back and forth as he scented the air, whiskers twitching as he heaved a rather heavy sigh. It was quite the lovely day today.. birds.. fresh air.. a bit of pollen on the wind.. his hackles rose slightly at the scent of dog.. but it wasn't fresh, so he had no worries. Here.. yes.. this was where he was meant to be.. not behind the walls of one of the keeps.

His eyes focused on some figure in the distance. By the scent he could tell the figure was a female.. by appearance.. Imperial.. Not wanting to be rude, he bowed his head to her with a soft nod. "Greetings." His voice was smooth and sleek, and there was scarcely a hint of the normal Khajiit accent.

To the Imperial, he might seem intimidating.. a large muscular tiger-colored Khajiit with equally furred paws which obviously had claws. A thick strong tail, and strong, heavy armor along with a battle axe on one side and a battle axe on the other. And as he smiled, it displayed his teeth, thick and strong with sharp K-9s.



____

Amarante

Amarante hummed lightly as she worked on the glass daggars she was making after accidentally lodging the last one in the eye of a sabercat, and breaking the tip off when she tried to pry it out of the creature's eyes. The blade had been so ancient she wasn't honestly shocked at all that it had broken. Delicate fingers gripped a rather large hammer as it struck the molten glass and metal, giving out a rather odd chirp-like twang. She frowned at the noise, shaking her head and trying again, each time she hit the blade, the pitch changed tune. This was a phenomenon that only happened with glass weapons, which was why Amarante preferred crafing and using them over all others.

Getting Eorlund to let her use the Skforge was a set of interesting circumstances, involving her yelling at the guards at the gate until she was hoarse, nearly punching Irileth in the face, actually punching one a companion in the face, leading her to climbing the steps to the Skyforge and answering Eorlund's years of Nordic racism with swear words and fury.

Eventually, due to her persistance, Eorlund caved. The warmth of the forge was always something she enjoyed, especially in the icy cold land of Skyrim. Though here it was far less.. cold than usual.. probably because it was sort of springtime.

Another well timed swing and the blade sang beneath her fingers. She grinned and wiped the sweat from her brow, dipping the blade in water to cool, allowing the steam to flow over her face.

Something about the smells up here, the heat.. everything.. it had always made her feel alive.. as if there was some kind of primal beast deep inside of her which could finally escape through each blade and piece of armor she crafted.

Eorlund sauntered over, plucking the now cool dagger blade from the bucket with a pair of tongs. He gave a low grumble. "This is crap."

"You just hate daggars." Amarante retorted sharply, staring him in the eyes.

"Only sneaky people use daggars." Eorlund grumbled.

"I have told you before. I don't use the, for stealth. I use them for speed. It takes longer to swing a greatsword than it will ever take for me to just stab something in the jugular with a daggar."

Eorlund grumbled under his breath, carrying the daggar over to his workbench to hone the edge while Amarante started work on the handle. "Better be glad I like your stubborn arse.."

Amarante flashed him a mischevious grin. "What was that? I'm sorry, did the great Eorlund just say he liked an elf? GASP! THE SCANDAL!"

Eorlund shot her a glare before snorting and turning to his work, grumbling something about trobulesome elves under his breath, though he seemed to be happy despite his grumbling.

Amarante started reparing a bit of leather armor.. her own again.. a few cuts from something with claws which she hadn't been quite quick enough to dodge fully. it had left some pretty hideous.. and awesome scars down her back. She smoothed the leather with oils, massaging it in her fingertips to loosen the straps so she could start repairing the holes.

Eorlund had yelled at her for the light armor, especially after she'd admitted she'd seen a dragon back in Helgen. Something about 'not having protective enough armor to defend against a dragon. She'd called him crazy because she wasn't insane enough to ever fight against one of those fire breathing monsters.

Lyra


It was mid-afternoon, and the mild and temperate climate of the area surrounding Whiterun was at its best. She was just returning from a hunting and foraging trip, which she had opted to go solo on that day, to great success - in the burlap sack slung over her back, she carried two perfectly skinned deer pelts, three rabbits, and a collection of herbs and reagents that Aela had been looking for. Her empty quiver swung at her hip, the lack of arrows forcing her to return to the city.

As Lyra approached the gate, she saw the pair of guards standing there, as usual, grumbling to one another.

"Good day," she said, nodding to them.

"Hail, Companion," one of them replied monotonously, the classic Whiterun greeting for members of the guild. Lyra frowned at his blatant lack of respect, but let it slip - the guards looked cranky enough as it was that day, and she'd rather not engage in conflict at the time.

Lyra made her way up the steps to Jorrvaskr, listening to the clanging of metal coming from the Skyforge. Eorlund must be hard at work today, she thought to herself. While the older Companion was often disliked by others, Lyra got along with him decently, and felt that his harsh exterior was well-justified: as an elder of the community, no doubt much of the youthful naivete in Skyrim greatly frustrated the old man.

When she pushed the doors of Jorrvaskr open, she sighed at the chaos in the Great Room. Aela, Vilkas, Farkas, and Kodlak were standing by the back doors to the training area. Farkas was yelling (as he usually was) while Aela was scowling and snapping back at him. Kodlak had a hand pinching the bridge of his nose, looking like the commotion was giving him a migraine.

Vilkas noticed the sound of the heavy door closing behind her, and turned to greet his fiancée with a soft smile, reserved only for her. She half-smiled back, raising an eyebrow and nodding towards the others questioningly. Vilkas crossed the room towards her, chased by his brother's bellowing voice: "Will SOMEONE do something about this? Oh, look, it's Lyra, maybe she'll actually ACT about SOMETHING as opposed to sit here and let that elf wreak havoc?!"

"...what elf?" Lyra said with a sigh. She handed the sack to Vilkas, who took it off of her shoulders and placed it to the side, giving her shoulder a light squeeze.

"Careful, love," he murmured, "Farkas is in one of his moods."

"I HEARD THAT!" Farkas howled. "YOU WOULD BE, TOO, IF SOME RANDOM ***** ELF WALTZED IN HERE AND HOWLED AT EORLUND AND SACKED YOU IN THE FACE!!"

"Sacked you ...?" Lyra scrunched her eyebrows together disdainfully. "Farkas, you're a giant of a man, and you let some tiny elf beat you up?" Aela chuckled softly. Farkas's face turned red with anger. Before he could retort, Kodlak put a massive hand over Farkas's mouth, muffling his protests.

"Lyra," he said, "do me a favor and go up to the Skyforge, and deal with whatever's going on up there right now. I returned not too long ago as well, to all of this commotion..."

Lyra frowned. "You're the Harbinger," she pointed out, "isn't it your job to deal with 'commotion' in Whiterun?"

"You're the one with the superiority complex!" Farkas shouted, pulling Kodlak's hand off of his face. Lyra gave him a withering look, then turned to Vilkas. She unclipped her quiver, and handed it and her bow to him.

"Put these away in the quarters for me, would you? I'll go see what everyone's going on about."

---

(@Draconequis huehuehue)

(Silif i am subbed XD, also didn't expect the punchee to be Farkas, he must have said something racist to her then, weird, he was normally pretty chill in my experiences XD)

Amarante moving at the forge was like watching her fight.. that bizzare dance-like movement she consistently displayed even while walking. Every motion was delicate, smooth, deliberate. Yet there was a dangerous sharpness to it as well, as if at any moment she would whip around like some kind of deadly snake.

"You aren't wasting any of my materials, are you elf?" Eorlund asked.

"You aren't giving my blade the wrong edge, are you old man?" Amarante retorted, smoothing out the leather and finishing patching the hole with a smooth movement of her hands.

Eorlund smirked in her direction, watching her work for a moment before turning back to his bench and continuing to sharpen the blade. "I'll be done with it soon, you finish up the hilt."

Amarante shifted slightly towards the edge of the Skyforge, slipping her armor back on over her linen undergarments. Bending and stretching to get a feel for the newly patched armor.. this was good enough for her.. for now. She was really considering taking up Eorlunds offer and making herself a heavier set of armor eventually.

A light brush of her hand as she grasped the hilt she had made earlier, walking it over to Eorlund, watching him intently as she made sure her fire engine red hair stayed out of the fires of the Skyforge.

This was the part of forging she struggled with most. Watching Eorlund work was.. enchanting. Every movement was strong, calculated, sturdy. A bit of heat from the forge and the blade was one, cooled in the bucket, a hand wrapped something around a handle and the glass dagger was finished, gleaming green in the light.

Amarante took her other dagger, raising them above her head and clanging them together to hear the sweet peal of the glass.

Normally she would pour the left over glass into molds and use them to craft arrow tips, but she was well stocked, and she'd only needed to come back here again to finish her blade.

"Don't suppose i could get you to make me one of these out of Skyforge Steel?" She teased.

"Not on your life woman. I appreciate your guts, and I admire your tenacity.. but all of Elseweyr would have to freeze over before i would ever make you a blade from Skyforge Steel."

"I guess i have to find a way to freeze a desert then?" Amarante teased, sliding on her quiver with arrows, and her bow right over her chest with a resounding twang.

Eorlund grunted as he shook his head at her. "Return quicker this time. The Companions might not bar you from entry if they actually recognized you."

Eorlund gave her the once over, nodding as she sheathed her daggars smoothly, his eyebrows raised as he saw a familair face rising up the steps to the Skyforge. Lyra. Vilkas' lady. She was nice enough he supposed, though she'd never shown much interest in the forge other than asking him to make her weapons now and again. He gave her a small nod before turning back to the forge and melting down the remainder of the glass bits, starting to fashion arrowheads. Honestly, he wasn't a fan of her enchanted sword. Magic on weapons tended to make them brittle and the blade less sharp.. at least in his experience.

Amarante glanced over at the lady, probably pretty for her species, with a circlet on her head and smooth, dark hair that cascaded down her back. Her armor was.. flashy and ostentatious, and her sword was glass like the daggars Amarante herself carried.. though the glass was a darker shade of blue rather than green. Probably because the sword contained some kind of enchantment. She might not be able to use any magic herself, besides shooting some sparks when she was mad, but she was able to sense magic.

Amarante raised an eyebrow at the newcomer, not really impressed. "Not seen you around here before. I'm guessing that the Nord i punched down there was upset and sent you up here to fight his battles? Very masculine of him." Her voice was sharp and cutting like a knife, and her eyes seemed to be lit with the very fire which burned behind her.

Lyra


"I could say the same to you." Lyra looked the elf up and down. Farkas let this twig punch him in the face...? She could tell by the elf's hostile tone that she was being evaluated: she felt the elf's burning gaze trailing over her from head to toe, clearly disapproving in (at the very least) one way or another.

"Who exactly are you, to think that it's alright to waltz in here, cause all that commotion, use the forge, and carry along your merry way?" She shot Eorlund a disapproving look. "And what torture did you put this man through to make him cave...?"

The elf snorted at Lyra, and a laugh which sounded oddly like a dolphin's call escaped from her mouth.

"Amarante. Wood Elf. And I have the right to be at this forge just like the rest of you Nords do." She folded her arms over her chest, leering over at the girl with a slightly sinister grin. "I punched that hulking Nord guy because he called me a milk drinker. Serves him right and I hope he gets a black eye from it."

In the meantime, Eorlund heaved a heavy sigh, glancing back at Lyra with aging eyes. "She did nothing to me... other than give me a tongue lashing I won't ever forget." He let out a low chuckle. "I have my own reasons for taking her on as my apprentice."

Lyra and Amarante both looked at him, taken aback.

"Wait.. what?" Amarante balked. "You are going to do what?"

Eorlund just turned back to his work without answering her, leaving the elf staring at him in confusion. "I want you here two times a week, at dawn." He stated simply, continuing to hone a blade.

Lyra gaped at them both. "Eorlund, how can you trust her with the Skyforge like this? None of the others seem to know her very well, how can we know that she's not some sort of--"

Amarante whipped around, and Lyra could feel the fire from the elf's soul reaching out to burn her. The cold, unadulterated fury of some kind of wild animal lived behind those elven eyes.

"What?" Amarante hissed. "Some kind of agent for the Thalmor?" She circled the woman, her eyes lighting with hatred. "I want nothing to do with those vindictive, milk-drinking ********." She clenched her hands into fists as she approached Lyra, who didn't flinch as the wood elf brought her face right up to her own.

Eorlund watched the two with interest, not really caring enough to intercede. It might be interesting to watch the two fight, anyways. In his experience, Amarante had this need to dominate others with displays of violence.

"And who instead would take her place and become my apprentice?" He asked, eyebrows raised as he addressed Lyra. "You've never showed interest... nor have any of the other Companions. " He shook his head. "I would rather take on someone who has a foundation I can build on. Someone who takes initiative and proves themself, like this Elf did." Eorlund hefted something into his hand, and finger by finger, slid it towards Lyra to glance at. Lyra noted that it was a sword made by a hand other than Eorlund's; not nearly as refined as his blades were, but there was something oddly beautiful and deadly about this blade... and from looking at it, one could see the elf who had forged it. "I see potential here." Eorlund declared.

Lyra sighed, turning the blade over in her hand. "The other Companions are warriors and defenders of the people. None of them are fit to be smiths, let alone apprentice under one as masterful as you. I trust your judgement in your choices." She narrowed her eyes at the wood elf. "Forgive me if I care for the safety of this city and its people. It's always better to be more cautious than to let danger in through your front door." She spoke evenly, passively mocking the elf's apparent lack of ability to be diplomatic in public.

Placing the blade back down on the workbench, she glanced back over her shoulder towards the hall. "Look, she said, "I don't know what kind of place you grew up in, but in Whiterun, we respect one another physically, at the very least. I doubt Farkas said anything to you without good reason--" Amarante bristled and opened her mouth to retort, but Lyra continued, "--not that it justifies him returning the gesture. Just... keep your hands to yourself, if you're going to be around here often." She turned to leave, and let Amarante's furious retorts ring empty across the stone walls of the Skyforge. As she descended the steps, a tattered courier bustled past her.


(Collabed my Silif and Draconequis)

A furious tirade of swear words and insults had spilled out of her mouth after Lyra had so casually dismissed her. Her silver tongue slicing through the air like a furious blade. How dare this woman treat her as if what she said didn't matter.

Before she could say anything more, however, a tattered courier intercepted Amarante, out of breath. His face looked pinched as if he was in some kind of pain.

“Thank the Divines.” He stated. “The Jarl wants to see you in Dragonsreach at once!”

Amarante stared at the guard, wide-eyed. “For what?” She asked. She had hoped the Jarl would forget her existence after that whole mess with Helgen.

"He wouldn't say.. only kept telling me it was urgent that you come immediately."

Amarante scowled. “I'm not going to be his little errand girl so he can ******* forget about it!” She stormed after the Courier who looked positively petrified about her behind him, shrinking back and making a strangled squeaking noise.

Amarante slammed the doors to Dragonsreach open.. there was something about this place that didn't settle well with her. Something that set the embers in her soul on fire. She strode up the stairs, staring Jarl Balgruff dead in the eye, earning a disaproving look. A sharp fury lining her body Amarante spoke. "What do you want?" It was a simple question, yet the connotation behind the question was ferocious and hateful.

Irileth hissed at the sound of the voice, reaching for her sword, but Jarl Balgruff remained calm, raising his hand to stop Irileth. “Amarante…” The Jarl blinked slowly as he surveyed the status of her weapons and armor. “Clearly you have some form of talent if you were able to flee from the dragon and my guards upon entering this place with news from Helgen.” He paused. “I have need of a person with your particular talents. If I may...”

“I do not wish to be a messenger or delivery girl... save those tasks for the couriers... I’m certain you have plenty of those.” Amarante snapped curtly. “I have some of my own matters to take care of.” Mainly returing to Riften...

“Do not speak in such a matter to the Jarl you impertinent little…” Irileth begun.

“Irileth...” Jarl Balgruff waved his hand. "I think i can handle one small elf on my own. You may leave."

Irileth opened her eyes wide. "But sir, I-"

Jarl Balgruff gazed at her with a calm expression and she narrowed her eyes. “Yes, Jarl Balgruff.” Irileth grumbled, continuously sending dark glances back towards Amarante on her way out.

“The task I ask of you is not one to be brushed off so simply." Jarl Balgruuf frowned.

Amarante narrowed her eyes. “No offense to you or anything, I just dislike politics, did enough of that in Valenwood. Not to mention I have a life to get back to in Riften.”

Jarl Balgruff tugged at his beard, looking slightly irritated. “Do not refuse the task before I have even explained what it entitles. You will not be a messenger; you will be helping with something far more important.” He turned his head slightly and shouted. “Farengar!”

A man cloaked in a black mage’s robe suddenly appeared. “Yes, Jarl Balgruuf?” He asked.

“I believe I have found someone who can help you with your research. If you would please explain to her what you need.” The Jarl waved at him.

Amarante snorted. Research? Digging through a bunch of old musty books? she huffed to herself, annoyed as she rolled her eyes and stared at the overly intricate designs on the column beside her

“Ah. I am, at the moment, researching the Dragons.” Farengar stated. “I would need help gathering information, if all goes well this information will shed some light on the Dragon’s sudden return to Skyrim.”

This drew Amarante’s focus to a point, and her eyes directed towards the mage. The fire in her soul lit the moment she heard the word dragon and she felt some sort of nervous fluttering deep within her chest.

“The particular type of information gathering I would have you do would be fetching a stone tablet from Bleak Falls Barrow. This particular stone is known as the Dragonstone. And by fetching I mean you would be delving into an ancient crypt, most likely filled with Draugr. In the end I am not certain if the stone does exist. Even if not, the runes themselves were carved in the days of the dragons, some say by dragon claw. If you could bring some rubbings of the runes… I could perhaps glean why the dragons are suddenly returning.”

Amarante’s blood chilled slightly at the sudden mention of Draugr. She had faced the horrid creatures which dwelled in the bowels of Skyrim. They were notariously hard to kill, and honestly disgusting monstrosities. She gave the idea a thought and finally nodded. "This will be the last time though. I'm not going to stay in Whiterun any longer than i have to. This isn't my home."

Farengar looked positively thrilled. “Yes yes, wonderful! I would be going myself, except my presence is sorely needed in Dragonsreach. Just head back toward Riverwood, there will be a mountain on the hill with ruins to the north of the city. If you can’t find it, some of the locals of Riverwood will point it out to you. Now go on, the sooner you retrieve the Dragonstone, the sooner I can get to studying.”

"Oh.. and Amarante. Go retreive a Companion for the task to aid you. You might not like the idea of working with someone, but going deep into a place like that might require you to actually fight beside someone."

Amarante glared at Jarl Balgruff, furious that his idea was actually a good one. Even though the only two companions she'd met were an irritating set of nords.. it wouldn't hurt if she had someone's sword to back her up. At least.. they could be her sheild if nothing else.

_____

A surge of irritation and a few set of slammed doors later, Amarante was with Kodlak, who was staring at Amarante with a raised eyebrow. "So.. you are the one Eorlund has chosen."

"Yeah.. what of it?" Amarante snapped defensively.

Kodlak laughed. "I can see why. That fire.. He was like you when he was a young man."

Amarante just raised an eyebrow and stared at him for a moment before talking. "I guess i need an extra hand or something. I'm going into Bleak Falls Barrow because Balgruff said i had to. I guess i would rather take someone with me so i don't get completely assaulted by Dragur. And i guess Dragons and stuff."

Kodlak was surprised at her lack of formalities, but did not bring attention to it, knowing she would probably want that. "I was about to go on a run with Skjor.. but perhaps someone else is available..." he brushed a hand through greying hair. "Farkas isn't too keen on you right now.. and i would guess the same at Vilkas... the two are twins you see. ah.. i suppose.. LYRA." A call across the warmly lit hall. "She won't be keen either, seeing how you punched her fiancee's brother.. and considering your.. earlier interactions..."

Amarante's lip curled in disgust at the word fiancee.. why did people ever bind themselves to each other in that horrid ceremony she would never guess. Why people gave up who they were to blend in with societal norms. That was just one more thing she could hate about that woman she had met before this... her willingness to settle down and give up her life to stand barefoot in front of the fire with a swollen belly. Amarante folded her arms and waited for the irritating female Nord to show up, fire burning in her eyes. This day was just getting better and better.

(Sorry I've been inactive on here guys ^^' Hopefully I'll have a post up tomorrow but I can't say for sure since I'm flying all the way down to Arizona to visit family for the holidays~ But over my winter break I can definitely say I will keep up to date on here, don't fret~)

Also great job so far! Keep it up :)

@InvaderCristi @Hydria
(I'll throw this in here ^^ I am also subbed now so no need to ping me.)

The chilly winds made Aelwin feel delighted that he had already had his meal, even if it had been in a cave like some sort of feral savage... but he had been desperate and really needed to feed to stay in control. It had been a traveler, an older man on a quest to find out more about the Nordic ruins in the area - a scholar, of some sort. Aelwin had gone through the research he had kept in a diary before he decided it was only rabble and tossed it aside. Mortals were so... frail. So curious to find out more about the past and the future and why instead of living in the moment. Aelwin didn't really care much for mortal beings but he did enjoy watching their drama - which was one of the reasons he traveled among humans, visiting their villages and their cities.

This time the pale, short man had decided to sit down on a ledge next to the road leading west towards Whiterun, while a few snowflakes fell around him, landing on the fur on his cloak only to glimmer and glitter in the daylight. The waterfall crashed in the background and above, the Valtheim Towers stood proudly, like two guardians of the river. Aelwin watched the deep woods towards Eastmarch in search of movement, but he only noticed a few birds among the branches, dancing and singing. He felt unusually light-hearted today, like he could accomplish anything. If nothing interesting would show up soon, he would depart from his spot on the cliff and follow the road either to Windhelm or Whiterun - only time could decide. He put his hands on the edge of the cliff to lean forward a bit, getting a better view of the road.

Lyra


She placed her comb on her bedside table, and laced up the last bit of her leather jerkin, which she wore under her armor. A relaxing bath and some warm bread had taken the edge off of her frustrating encounter with the wood elf earlier, and her entire being felt more at ease. She sat down on the edge of her bed, and was just swinging her legs up when there was a soft knock on the door, and it opened a crack.

"Love, are you awake?" Vilkas's blue eyes peeped through the door.

"I was about to not be," Lyra sighed.

"Kodlak is looking for you," he said, entering the room. He reached for her hand. "I know you're tired, but he seems most insistent in his... howling."

Lyra laughed obligingly, rolling her eyes with a smile. "Har, har. I suppose today shouldn't be the day that I ignore the Harbinger for the sake of a nap." Taking his hand, she pulled herself to her feet, stretching. Giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek, she took her belt and pouch off of the hook by the door, and made her way upstairs.

At the front of the hall, she saw Kodlak seated in his usual chair, and a slim, red-haired figure standing by him, her back to Lyra. As Lyra crossed the room, the sound of her footsteps on the hardwood floor caused the figure to turn, and she found herself staring into Amarante's sour, fierce gaze for the second time that day. She sighed inwardly.

"Ah, there you are," Kodlak said, giving her a smile. "Your service is requested."

Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"

Kodlak continued, "The Jarl is sending Amarante here on an errand for Farengar, and requested that she take a Companion with her. I would not deny such a request to Eorlund's new apprentice."

So, that's official, then... Lyra looked at Amarante, who was giving her a withering look of distaste. "Very well," she said. "But in order to work together I need to ask you for - at the very least - an EFFORT at cooperation. I know our first meeting didn't really end on a pleasant note, but our lives may depend on one another out there."