Hess - an introduction
The metal piece lying on a bed of bright coals was finally heated to the proper bluish white color needed for the metal to flow under the hammer. Hess pulled the piece from the forge and used her hammer to push the metal towards the shape envisioned- that of a proper light scimitar- a blade befitting a woman from the Alik’r. The blade would be straighter, with a very sharp elongated point, and lighter than the long heavier curved blades the men preferred. Like her father’s great scimitar with gold inlay along the curved back. Hess remembered how she always knew where her father was during battle by the gold glinting from the sun as the sword was swung.
As the metal flowed under Hess’s hammer; sweat ran in rivulets under the leather armor she wore, and sparks showered her like miniature stars falling from the heavens. Hess actually felt happy, a very rare occurrence since leaving the warm sands of the Alik’r.
Returning the partially formed blade back to the forge to bring the metal back to a workable temperature, Hess wiped the sweat out of her eyes while pumping the billows. A nice dip in the stream would be in order after she was finished. It would also wash more of the stink from her clothes; a cloak taken from a Justicair when Hess had ambushed a Thalmor patrol soon after leaving Helgen, and the leather armor taken from a vampire master who attacked her as soon as Hess had stepped through the gate into Whiterun. The armor still carried the stink of rotten flesh, but was getting less offensive with each wetting and oiling.
Hours later, Hess finished wrapping the hilt of her newly forged scimitar with wet rawhide until the thickness fit her hand comfortably. It was then time to shape the blade on the wheel. Keeping the tempered blade cool by dipping it in oil, Hess spent the rest of the night grinding and polishing until the steel blade reflected the light from the torches as if it were made of silver, and the cutting edge gleamed like a thin river of fire running the length from hilt to tip then along the back side of the blade for a hands breadth. This extra edge enabled the user to rip up as well as down when properly run into a body. Giving the sword a few swings, Hess was satisfied with the balance. Coating the now dry rawhide on the hilt and the leather carrier Hess had made for the sword with heated resin from a pot the blacksmith kept next to the fire, was the finishing touches to a nights work.
The air was a little to chilled at the moment for a dip in the stream, so Hess made her way to one of the unoccupied lookout platforms which were set along the walls surrounding Whiterun and watched as the sun made its way above the peaks of the distant mountains.
Looking at the sword laying in front of her on the wall while the resin cured brought back more memories of her father, and the frustration she felt for not being with him when the raiders had attacked her father’s caravan- the only home Hess had known at the time. Hess had been away hunting in the desert during the attack, and upon returning to the caravan found everyone had been killed, except for a couple of the younger girls whose missing corpse meant they had been taken captive. Everything of use had been taken, nothing in the desert is ever wasted.
As the sun warmed the air Hess return to the stream next to the forge.
Feeling refreshed Hess entered her new house named Breezehome, only to be followed through the door by Sigurd, Belethor’s assistant.
Hess quickly turned and put her new sword through Sigurd’s head splitting it from top to neck like a melon. Wiping the blood from the sword with a corner of Sigurd’s shirt, Hess sheathed the blade feeling satisfied the night’s work was well spent.
About this time Lydia entered, tripped over the body, and exclaimed, “What can I do for you my Thane?” Hess turned and walked into the alchemy lab. As much as she would like to, she wouldn’t slit Lydia’s throat…just yet. Hess had a good scheme going in Whiterun and insulting the Jarl would not be a wise move.
A little Background;
Hess’s mother kept having daughters, so in the absence of a son Hess’s father taught his daughters the bow and the blade, a task usually belonging to the mother since fighting styles and weapons were different for men and women. Though Hess’s blade skills never reached her father’s expectations, (average would be generous), her skills with a bow were exceptional, and the results of her talent kept the caravan fed on a regular basis.
Anyone looking for Hess had only to check her tent for her bow, if gone she was hunting, otherwise check the blacksmiths tent. Hess loved learning how to create things- she had built her own horned bow before she was a dozen summers, and by the time she was a young woman could repair or build weapons as good as and sometimes better than most of the blacksmiths she had met. Her swords created for women were sold and traded for a premium in gold and goods by her father, who in turn doted on his talented daughter, creating a little jealousy amongst her sisters, not that they would dare say anything around Hess.
After the massacre of her family and her father’s caravan, Hess wandered south through Hammerfell until ending up in a small village just northeast of Rjhad. They needed a blacksmith and Hess wanted to create again.
Everything was fine until one of the local priests paid Hess for her labors by teaching her how to read. Hess was insatiable in her lust for knowledge. She read everything she could find, and it was from books she discovered how to use magic. At first it was alright with the village because Hess used her new found talent to heal and make medicinal potions. Then a drought hit the area and a lot of livestock died and the village looking for something or someone to blame, singled out Hess. “The witch” was a muttering behind her back Hess tried unsuccessfully to ignore. Then one night Hess was awakened by crashes and yelling. Looking outside it seemed the whole village had turned out to destroy everything Hess had, and when finished turned on Hess and chased her away.
Hess ended up in the Imperial city only having to flee Cyrodiil after roasting a young noble with her new found magic right in the market place for insulting her. Running into an ambush when entering Skyrim, then fleeing from a dragon and beheading in Helgen, and the absurd idea of the locals that she was someone called Dragonborn, landed her in Whiterun as a Thane…With a house. Hess is not fooled by the good luck that has befallen her of late, it has to be a trick by the Gods to get her to lower her guard and then they would…
For whatever reason Hess won’t reveal her full name, instead she uses her nickname from childhood received for her habit of blowing air through clinched teeth when upset. The sound was compared to the hiss of a snake and was cute as a toddler, but those who knew her took the sound as a warning in later years and kept their distance.
Eventually you should start hearing some new dialog from those guards, I'm almost certain this is so. 
Since she never served her sentence, or paid a fine, she had to do so when re-entering Markath. Spent only 7 days in jail. 
She can be every bit as stubborn as the Nord. I’m using a mod that takes climate and weather into account for exposure (Frostfall), and it was windy and snowy the whole time they were on the north coast. Most of their fights there occurred because they had to find shelter. Jerric is delighted that Buffy’s toe ring brings her some comfort in the cold! 
He’s always on the lookout for a refreshing waterfall. 
(Jerric’s note to Buffy: Butterflies! 
Lil will be happy to eventually get that Banish perk. It would seem that spirit animals enjoy lying down across doorways and in front of the fire.