This story has characters which will eventually appear in the fiction of Knights of The Nine - New Kvatch, and is part of that story's timeline, so to help, here are a couple of links to it's characters and the timeline that it follows...

Please enjoy!...


Dramatis Personnae



KOTN Timeline



11/02/13
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Original post start


Umm...I started doing some journal thing for the Khajiit character I created for Skyrim, called J'Zirlo...It does fit in with the KOTN:NK storyline, but, as with the main story, it's taken on a life of its own and is expanding rapidly into the realm of fan-fic rather than what should be in the "What you're doing" thread...

So I beg your indulgance for the less heavygoing in the Divine/Timejumping-ness journal of Sir J'Zirlo of New Kvatch...

Oh, btw...Cunningly concealed within the journal are spoilers to the entire Companions questline...If you've done it, it's fine...If you don't want to be spoiled...*Shrugs*... ...

The first bit is the original thing I posted after I created J'Zirlo...The rest is the journal as it stands so far, any new bits won't be as long...What do you mean Hooray? ..

Thank you...


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"To where are you bound, friend Shaade?" J'zirlo asked.

"Riften. J'Drell asked me to see if I can muster up anything there. You?"

"Aaah...Khajiit is headed for Winterhold. That is where my scrawny reared kitten of a brother was headed. To that college up on the hill."

"A mage?" asked the Imperial Knight. "I had no idea."

"HAH!...He wishes." The large khajiit laughed. "No, he has grand ideas...But...Ach...Khajiit does his kin a great disservice. J'zargo is a decent warrior in his own right, just...Not as good as I." J'zirlo raised an eyebrow.

"Well, khajiit goes left, you, my friend, go right."

Shaade ran her hand down the length of her ponytail to straighten it, then held her hand out to J'zirlo. They clasped forearms.

"May your bed be free from fleas." She said with a smirk.

"Hah! And may your knees be ever free of arrows!" the khajiit repied with a smile.

"J'zirlo thinks that friend Shaade should smile more often. It is a beautiful sight."

The Imperial blushed, smiled and looked down at the floor. Then she pulled the khajiit close and kissed his cheek.

"Stay safe J'zirlo. Thank you."

And they parted.

J'zirlo watched Shaade walk south-east down the road for a while.

She looked back once and smiled.

The khajiit felt something in his heart stir.

"Until next time mii-kiit..." he said quietly, turned to his road, and walked, humming to himself.


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...From the journals of General Sir J'Zirlo of New Kvatch, brother of Blademaster J'Zargo "The Magnificent".




Khajiit are not ones for journal writing. We find it tiresome. Actions speak louder than words and assorted cliches. And I know of at least one officious clerk that will attest to the pen absolutely failing to be mightier than the sword.

And yet, I find that I must write something. Events lately have been...Strange, to say the least.

Once Helgen was secured and re-settled, we - the Knights - were divided off and sent on our missions. Friends Caerellin, Dinasafon and Shaade...Ah! Shaade...Hah...Sorry, got lost musing. They were sent to do what it is they do best, and Olffson and I were sent to Whiterun to make contact with a group we were told were the "Fighters Guild of Skyrim" by the Commander.

Friend Dinas decided that he would be better off alone and left swiftly and silently. The Commander laughed and said, "Just like his father!" but then suddenly went all sullen and told us to leave. I understand not the ways of Argonians. They are a strange race.

Anyhow, the four of us left Helgen with our packs and walked merrily, joking and laughing our way down towards Riverwood. Well, I say we...Caerellin and Olfsson mostly joked, Shaade and I mostly laughed. She has a particular laugh I noticed. It is...Nice...

We made good time down from Helgen, which was a heartfelt joy, as under the late evening summer sun, Riverwood is beautiful. Fortunately, the wolves that shadowed us all the way down, kept away.

In a way that made both Shaade and I laugh, at exactly the same time, both Olfsson and Caerellin said, "Oooh!" and made for seperate directions. Olfsson to the forge he'd seen and Caerellin to the shop that some "pretty" (as far as I'm any judge!) woman had entered.

Shaade shook her head and said she would go and find friend Ralof's sister. I bade her be careful. She smiled. Aaah!..

I made my way to the forge. Olfsson was already bare chested and beating out some metal! That Nord is unstoppable I tell you! Anyways, between us, we took all of the stunned blacksmith's stock of smithing supplies and produced a small stack of weapons and armour - which would keep him in coin for many months, I say with some pride! - in a matter of small hours.

While all this was going on, friends Caerellin and Shaade appeared and declared they were leaving to do something in a barrow...Well, each to their own. Little did I know, it would be some time before I saw Shaade again, else I would have made more of a thing of her leaving. Ah well, the moons still cross the sky and other assorted cliches!

When Caerellin returned alone, and also bade us farewell, little did I know how things would change.



-------------------------------------



As the end of the daylight had been lost to helping the 'smith clear up his forge, Olfsson and I decided to accept the hospitality of friend Ralof's sister. However, we discovered that there was only one bed available. Olfsson looked at me and said, "We're not that close". The whole household erupted in laughter. Khajiit politely offered to stay at the inn, to which Gurdur said, "Only at our expense, with our apologies. But first, you dine with us." You couldn't find better peoples (or cooks, as it happens) anywhere.

Next morning, the Nord and I walked down a winding picturesque part-cobbled road. Suddenly we heard sounds of battle coming from the valley. Looking about us with life detect to check for prying eyes, we cast the speed fortifyer and rushed down to the valley floor.

Several people were fighting - with less than brilliant success - a Giant. Lest we tip our hand, we both slowed to normal speed and ran towards the battle.

Olfsson, as is his wont, charged at the Giant with his shoulder down. Knowing that at the last moment he would augment his speed and strength, I watched as he collided with the towering menace. The Giant toppled over onto a fence, the post of which skewered it through and out the stomach. He roared and tried to arch his back. I ran to the other end of the bearded aggressor, and, as he looked pleading at me, I removed his pain made of this world.

I turned to see Olfsson deep in conversation with a slight, yet obivously well able, red-headed Nord. As the party turned towards the city further into the valley, Olfsson turned back towards I and nodded. It seemed we had found the Companions.

My journey would have been quiet had it not been for the Olfsson-like Nord called Farkas that joined me, and began conversing with me about Heavy-Armour, a topic very close to my heart. A joy to finally meet someone as well able to discuss the intricacies of multi-weave metals and the despair of threading leather straps through Orichalium!!. A true master of Heavy-Armour I had found in Farkas, a Brother-in-Armour!!

And so I spent the hour of my journey to Jorvaskr - or however you spell the damned place - happy. A feeling that, sadly, was not to last.


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Loved the whole scene with J'zirlo and Shaade, but the above line made me roar, as I'm sure it will anyone who has played Skyrim, ROFL !!! Also from the same scene loved this little clip:




The middle scene was my fave, loved the continuing theme of J'zirlo's musings on Shaade - LOVED how you did that throughout, wove in and out of it like an errant train of thought - AWESOME job you did on that !!

Also LOVED the little snippit where J'zirlo talks about his brother joining the Mages Guild - that could not have been done better, that was SO perfectly done !!!

I caught a few things - political leanings by the following of Ralof, giant quest and the little foreshadowing of the Companions questline ahead - This is great stuff, McB !!! AWESOME WRITE !!!!!

Great story so far, I hope to follow this one better than I did your other. No fault of yours of course.

Okay, I hereby nickname your delightful character: J’Lo.

’I understand not the ways of Argonians. They are a strange race.’
Unlike Khajiit, of course.

’As the end of the daylight had been lost to helping the smith clear up his forge, Olfsson and I decided to accept the hospitality of friend Ralof's sister.’
I really like how you worded this.

A fun jaunt up to Skyrim. J’Lo is a good tour guide.

Yay, J’Zirlo’s journal! How fun to imagine Farkas chatting away about a subject that’s close to his heart. Also the thought of Blademaster J’Zargo “The Magnificent” makes me smile. I’m looking forward to more of this!!

Cheers all...

mALX - Thank you for all that... ...Glad you're on board for this one too...

Grits - As ever...Thank you so much...

KC - No worries mate... ...I appreciate your taking the time to read this one...*Bows*...

Acadian - Of course you did!!...However, my J'Lo is attractive, not pretentious and can actually dance... ...Cheers mate... ...



We continue...


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Whiterun. A city perched astride the only hill in the midst of a valley ringed by snow-capped mountains. Behind us looms the tallest mountain in the whole of Tamriel. The delightfully oddly named Throat of The World. Whatever that means.

The valley is littered with farms, windmills turning lazily in the breeze. We pass a meadery and have to drag a mock-protesting Olfsson away.

He has an uncanny way with people that Nord.

I am surprised to find that even though we are much beyond Bruma - which Whiterun reminds this Khajiit of so much - it is actually pleasantly warm. This pleases us no end. Tales of whiteout snows were much awry it seems!

We pass the Whiterun stables and climb uphill towards the city gate.

It is said that only mad dogs and Skingrad men go out in the midday sun. Maybe we should add Whiterun guards to that list. No sooner had the other Companions passed by, but one of them decided to stand in the way, blocking my path.

"You aren't allowed in there cat, you should know that."

"Aww c'mon Dice, he's with us." Said my newest friend Farkas.

"You know it's illegal. Khajiit aren't allowed in the cities."

Of all the idiocies! I noticed all of the Companions and Olfsson had stopped and turned around. Olfsson started back towards me, but I shook my head the smallest amount.

Addressing the idiot before me I said, "Khajiit is from Cyrodiil. Apologies, we did not know. To whom do we speak to address this unfortunate situation."

"Well, Solitude is where the..." The guard actually sighed! "Combined Government of the True Empire and Thalmor Remnant sit. Good luck with that, Cyrodiil. You'll be dead before you get three steps from the door. Feel free to use the cart at the bottom of the hill though."

Before my rising anger could cause...A scene, I counted to ten.

And then I counted some more.

Just as I was about to speak again, a surprise voice broke in.

"Jack!"

I looked towards the shouter.

"Jaaaack!! There you are, we were getting worried."

Caerellin strode towards us with a huge grin on his face.

"Come on! Farengar's been worried about you. Thought you'd gotten lost!" At this point he patted me roughly in the back.

Oh, now Khajiit was also to be called Jack! Oh joy, why am I not surprised?

"Farengar?..The wizard?" asked the guard.

"Yeah, Jacky-boy here's come all the way from Cyrodiil. Had a bit of unfortunateness with a potion. Made him look and sound exactly like a Khajiit." Caerellin sniffed. "and smell. Ew. You need a bath Jacky. Anyways, old Farengar's apparently going to turn him back into a good old Imperial. So there you go. Come on Jack. Quick as you like."

The guard stepped further into the road.

"He looks and sounds like a Khajiit. That's all that matters to me."

A growling sounded from somewhere around our knees. Caerellin's wolven familiar had decided to make an appearance.

"Yeah well." Said the Bosmer Knight. "This isn't a wolf. Looks like one. Sounds like one. Bet if it tore your throat out it would feel just like a wolf. Should I nip up and ask old Farengar to come down here to ask your opinions face to face?"

The guard turned white.

"Good man."

The familiar growled and the guard paced quickly backwards and stumbled slightly.

"Come on in Jacky boy, Whiterun's a-calling."


-------------------------

’The valley is littered with farms, windmills turning lazily in the breeze.’
A wonderful image, this! So easy to clearly imagine.

Poor J’Lo is now Jacky the cat and getting patted roughly on the back. Oh well, at least our little crew bested the unarmed guard in a battle of the wits. The things a cat has to put up with.

Despite the bad treatment of Khajiit, you are providing a delightfully fun read here!

Finally I made it, yay me, and I'm almost breathing normal again too, woohoo, still sniffly though. Well la ti da...right

I love it so far, sounds like a budding relationship there between J'z and Shaade, and a wonderful way to weave it in.

But I have to say my absolute favorite line is this:



I do so enjoy me some altered references to Noel Coward, he's my fave, hilarious....

Good job my friend, keep it up...looking forward to see how the rest plays out.

I found it kind of funny that Khajiit aren't allowed in the cities... except if you are one. I suppose that's just to keep the game from being irritating. Whatever.

I enjoyed J'zirlo's difficulties at the gates. A little name dropping can get you far, or at least inside a city.

I love how Caerellin got “Jack” into the city. That way Olfsson didn’t have to charge at the guard.

Sounds like a beautiful day in Whiterun.

"Looks like one. Sounds like one. Bet if it tore your throat out it'd feel just like a wolf."

I like that line

I know one Skingrad man that doesn't go out in the midday sun, ROFL !!

They let werewolfs in but not Khajiit, that had me rolling - as did the below two quotes !!!



I am loving this new story !!! Now if our storms can stop, and the site stay up - MORE !!!!!

Thank ye all, I'm glad you're enjoying...Much appreciation to you all... ...

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“By all the sands in the desert I thank you my friend, but that should not have worked.” I said to friend Caerellin as he, newest friend Farkas and I passed through the gateway to Whiterun.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Khajiit had already told the fool that we were, in fact, Khajiit.”

Friend Caerellin looked back and swore. “Missed that...Right, wait here, I’ll be back in a moment.”

“He seems fun.” Observed Farkas.

I nodded, the Bosmer did indeed seem so. I neglected to suggest to the Nord that had my friend wished, the entire guardary of Whiterun would now be lying in pools of their own blood; And that should my seemingly fun friend give the word, it would be likely that the three of us Knights could take control of the city.

I thought it more...Polite to not, really.

Looking about myself, I took in the delights of Whiterun that I could see. An abundance of timbered buildings gave answer to the question as to why there were few trees in the valley. Beautifully and solidly built, everything was timber, from houses to shops, workshops and Inns were to be seen even from just inside the gate. Certainly, this was perhaps the last place anyone would want to be if a dragon was about. The city would be ashen by evening!

I noticed that most of the Companion group were heading up the road, the show outside the gate now over. I suggested to friend Farkas that he catch up with them, and that I would find my way to this Jorrvaskr soon enough.

“Oh, okay. If you’re sure...If you get lost, just ask anyone here, they’ll point you in the right direction.”

I watched as he ran to catch up with his company.

My gaze was drawn to the forge...as it ever is! Outside the smithy, two people were deep in discussion. The sight made my hackles rise. I may have hissed.

Maybe...

But anyway, talking to what was, I later found out to indeed be the Blacksmith, was a soldier of the Traitor Legion. Not so much a Legionnaire as a Leggies-out as they say in the Imperial Legion. I mean really, you escape to Skyrim, the coldest country in Tamriel and you design a uniform that is essentially, a dress? What damned fool thought that was a good idea? One decently placed frost trap and...Well...Snow balls anyone? Oh, I know, I’ll go running uphill and down dale in my dress, oh damn, my legs have snapped from the cold.

Idiot. At least the old Imperial Legion uniform had fur lining. And the proper number of pieces to it. Bare legs. Idiocy.

Ah, I sigh!

The Legionnaire was suggesting that they needed more swords and faster. The lady suggested that she was going as fast as she can. I decided to suggest that he shove what swords he had somewhere dark.

Fortunately, friend Caerellin grabbed my arm before I could get too near.

“Save it.” he said.

I sighed and nodded.

We walked up the road.


------------------------------

Well, we def know his political bent, odd choice for a Khajiit, lol. Great Write!

’likely that the three of us Knights could take control of the city. ‘
This speaks either highly of our knights or perhaps lowly of the city. Likely both I figure.

Loved J’Lo’s observations on Men in Tights Legionnaires in Dresses. Snow balls indeed.

Seriously now, with a gently effectiveness you show us the power, chivalry and restraint of your knights here. Well done!

The commentary about the legion uniform made me think of kilts. Lol.

mALX...Not sure about that, they're up against everyone in this adventure... ...

Acadian...Thank you very much...At some point you may get to see what the Knights can actually do in a fight... ...And thank you for your words at the end...I appreciate that muchly... ...

KC...Lol... ...

I would just like to add I mean no offence to Kilt wearers...It's just a personal observation about the Legion armour being like the stuff from New Vegas as opposed to what we had in Oblivion, which would make more sense in the snow...Y'know?... ...

Aaamywho....Cheers all!!...


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“Well, that was a piece of luck.” Caerellin informed me.

“You? Luck? This surprises me.” I lied.

My friend grinned and continued, “As luck would have it, the Commander of the guard chose that moment to do an inspection.”

“This is lucky?”

“It is if he happens to be one of those we’re looking for.”

I was stunned! Mere hours into our missions and here was the first result! “But wait,” said I, “how can you be sure?”

Caerellin stopped short and frowned at me. I suddenly noticed the aurora of magicks around his eyes.“Well, one, he recognised me from years ago, which is no easy feat for an Imperial. Two, he pulled me to one side and said those three little words I was longing to hear.”

I raised an eyebrow in question.

“Commander’s cousin’s Khajiit. And three, I used my blessing.”

Since Talos first bestowed his Blessing on Robert McWylde two centuries ago, there have been many of the Knights down the years who received a Divine Blessing. Powers which go beyond the “normal”. One of which, is to “see” the calling of one of the Divines in other Knights.

“Excuse me, my friend. It has only been a matter of weeks since Zenithar chose to bless J’Zirlo in this way. We find it...Difficult.”

Unlike most Bosmer, friend Caerellin was only a little shorter than your average Imperial. Leaning near to me, Caerellin said quietly. “Well, you’re going to have to get used to it if you’re going to do this.” He gestured about himself. “C’mon ‘Zirlo, J’Drell could have had the Knights Shadow do this, or just ordered a full-scale invasion. But no, he’s trying to do this with as little bloodshed as possible. And the easiest way is to find if any of the old Knights escaped the Purge and managed to stay out of Dinai’s little Stormcloak idiocy.

If we can pick up any allies along the way, like yer Companions over there, then it’s all good. But at the moment, all we’ve got is us six and our Blessings to try and find everyone. Anyways, I’m meeting the good Commander later, in the Inn. He also suggested I talk to the Bosmer in this shop and the Breton in the other one. So that’ll be me then.”

“Khajiit apologises General. We did not mean to appear afeared. J’Zirlo will do all he can.”

“Enough with the General as well, J'Drell's made us all Knight-Marshals. Noone outranks the others now.”

I raised my eyebrow again.

“Shut up.” He laughed. “But one more thing.”

“Of course.” I said.

“It’s unfortunate, but we really could have used more snoops on this. Dinas, me...Even Shaade,” Ah Shaade! “we’re all decent snoops. J’Drell used to be Investigato, but I doubt he can pull that off anymore. And Although he’s no idiot, Olfsson’s about as subtle as an avalanche, so you, are going to have to do all the snooping while Olfsson’s being...Olfsson.”

“One question my friend.”

“Yes?” he answered.

“What is...Snoop?”


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GAAAAAH! What? How is Robert McWylde living two centuries? Urk? Great Write, but you just shocked my world here with that line !!!

Ummm...McWylde died 50 years earlier (as mentioned in the other story)...His Grandfather was Altmer so he lived longer anyways...

I meant that McWylde was given the Talos power 200 years earlier...As in...The 200 years that Oblivion/KOTN was before Skyrim time, which is when this story is set...

Cheers though...

GAAAAH! I don't do well with time shifting back and forth I guess, Lol. Sorry, McB. My mind has its feeble moments, lol.

Lol... ...Sorry, it's my fault...

This story is all Skyrim...And one small section of it at that... ...Well...When I say small...This is me... ...

Loved the bit about each of the knights having a divine blessing – the origins of which date back to Bobby The WyldeOne. So, J’Lo’s blessed by Zenithar.

The ending here was so neat. Olfsson be Olfsson, leaving snoop to Khajiit.

Great fun!

So much to love in this line!!

I once travelled through Boston in February with my kilt-wearing uncle. J’Zirlo has a point about those Legion uniforms!

I love the part about the Blessings. I also had to grin at the thought of Olfsson attempting stealth and subtlety while still bare-chested and sweaty from the forge. Caerellin is wonderful! It sounds like he has his hands full with J’Zirlo.

Yes, I know...Another bit...But I think that all four parts together are only as long as one of the latest NK posts...So...Y'know... ...

mALX and Acadian, thank you, as ever for reading...I know I can be difficult to follow at times... ...And Acadian, thank you for that entirely new way of seeing my Champion of Cyrodiil... ...

Grits...Many many thanks for your ever brilliant encouragment... ...*Bows*...


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We parted with more good news, it seemed that our surprise new ally was going to see to it that I was able to come and go through the city gates as I pleased. No more to be challenged by the challenged. This is good!

What’s more, this courtesy was to be extended to the Khajiit caravans and their traders!

Ah, truly the Age of Enlightenment was about to begin.

I headed in the direction I’d seen Olfsson and the Companions go. Through the colourful market, selling all sorts of wares - fresh fruit, jewellery, trinkets, odd and ends, that sort of thing. Some may call it junk, but as equally, some may call them treasures.

I ascended up a set of stairs that lead to an archway in an imposing wall, a stream passed through a second one to one side. As I reached the top, I beheld a truly impressive sight. An immense tree, not the healthiest specimen I have ever seen, but one which suggested that before whatever malady was ailing it, it was a sight to rival the Great Oak in Chorrol.

Ah Chorrol, not long had it been since we left Cyrodiil, but already a sadness for my home was growing. So much in the country is the same evil - bandits, marauders, mythical creatures, vampires - but the scale of what we were about to do...It scared us to high Aetherius sometimes.

I gazed at the tree some more, greying boughs led off a huge thick trunk, giving it a look of one from the scary tales parents often tell children in the cold nights, but somehow, I felt sad looking at it. As if, I had just missed something.

I approached the tree. I asked of the lady tending to it. “Excuse us milady, a lost Khajiit could use help?”

She jumped up, brushing soil from her hands, onto the sides of her robes. “Oh! My! Yes...Hello.”

“A truly impressive sight, milady?”

“Danica Pure-Spring.” She said.

“Er...” I answered.

“My name,” She laughed, “is Danica Pure-Spring, High-Priestess of Kynareth.”

“Oh!” said I, “Ah, yes, of course! Sir J’Zirlo of New Kvatch, at your service milady.” I bowed.

“Maybe you can be someday, Sir J’Zirlo of New Kvatch. Now, how can I help you?”

“J’Zirlo has to find the home of The Companions?...Jorrvaskr or some such name? However, Khajiit seems to have mislaid his guide.” I smiled.

The lady Danica smiled also and pointed up to an impressive wooden – well, what else? – building, that seemed to have – of all things – a giant Nordic longboat as a roof. As one does. But we are far from any rivers here. It must have been some feat to walk across the lands with that on their shoulders, even ones as big as Olfsson’s!

As I looked up to the - admittedly impressive - building, friend Farkas appeared at the door and looked about, seemingly to see if we were on our way up. He saw that I was by the mournfully beautiful tree and headed down.

“Lady Danica.” He greeted and bowed his head.

“Sir Farkas.”

“Aaah, stop teasing.” He smiled, “You know I’m no Knight.”

“Gildergreen says otherwise Sir Farkas. Trust her.”

“Gildergreen?” I asked.

“The tree.” Said friend Farkas. “Lady Danica says it’s alive.”

“She, Sir Farkas, is alive and very much aware of everything.” The Lady looked deeply into Farkas’ eyes.

For some reason, friend Farkas looked down. Ashamed? For why? We would endeavour to find out!

“One day, we will need both of your help. Please. Return when you have done what needs to be done.”

With that, the lady bade us farewell and returned to her tending.

Friend Farkas looked up at the tree, put a hand to it, almost lovingly, and then sighed, turned and walked up towards the longhouse.

“Come on,” he said, “I think your friend’s about to start a riot.”

“Sounds about right.” Said I, and followed him up.


-------------------------------------------------------

Sounds like Farkas chose the wrong tree to lift his leg on !! Great Write !!

‘No more to be challenged by the challenged.’
Very clever, this.

“My name,” She laughed, “is Danica Pure-Spring, High-Priestess of Kynareth.”
I love it! What a perfect name for a Priestess of Kynareth! As was Gildergreen for the tree. Oops, I just did some digging with my UESP shovel and sorted out that Bethesda gets credit for naming this pair. The whole bit with the poor old tree was wonderful and a nice reminder that J’Lo’s ‘roots’ are back in the same province as Chorrol.

J’Lo’s observations continue to be very fun to read, from everything being made of wood to using a boat for roofing material.

Begging many pardons for getting so far behind my friend.

Thoroughly enjoyed these additions, the imagery is quite wonderful especially for one who has no visual knowledge of Skyrim (sacrilege I know but I haven't got there yet, late bloomer hehe)

I think I see how things are coming together but I ain't sayin' cuz I don't want to look dumb if I'm wrong.

GOOD STUFF! Loving every minute of it. Keep it coming.

I love the exchange between Danica and Farkas! J’Zirlo is a pure joy to read.


mALX, you made me spit tea!!

Excellent stuff! Loved the descriptions of the area around Whiterun, the dialogue between J'Zirlo and Danicaand my favourite bit so far has to be the confrontation at the gate. Prose is excellent as always, I'm loving your characters, and J'Zirlo's asides and observations on things are a delight to read.

Good show!

mALX - ...I was going more with the ashamed and agonizing about being a werewolf meself...But thank you...*Is grinning btw...Just in case... *...

Acadian - Yeah, sorry, I will allow Bethesda some credit for those names... ...Really is a beautiful piece of design that tree...And the parent tree that's elsewhere in the game (Eldergreen? Eldergleam Grove or something.)...I can't fault the design and art people on Skyrim...Simply beautiful place...Possibly worth playing it and never doing any quests...Just exploring!... ...Er...Sorry, yes...Thank you again, I'm glad you're enjoying this...I'm having a blast writing it...Much easier on the brain... ...

Athynae - No worries m'friend... ...Always glad you enjoy whatever I provide, for to take up yer time with... ...Thank you so much...

And, as I'm sure others will attest to, it really doesn't take this long to get through the door in the game... ...But again, this is me...

Grits - Thank you, as ever, people who don't really get much to do, but I feel like they've got a lot more to say to me will be given more of a chance through this story...Probably... ...

Mustard!! - Awright maytey!!...M'thanks m'friend...Glad you checked this new one out, and like it too!!...Cheers matey!!...



-------------------------





As we walked up the steps towards the home, I turned my head to look back once more at the tree, Gildergreen. So beautiful. With so few trees to speak of, about what I’d seen of the city so far, it really did speak volumes of its power. To have avoided the axe and saw for so long, truly the power of Kynareth must be with it.

The other imposing sight contained within the park area of Whiterun was a giant statue of Tiber Septim, the Divine Talos. I found this surprising. We had been told of the Thalmor’s banning of Talos worship within the country, so the leaving of such a huge statue standing seemed almost confrontational. While we had seen no Thalmor in Whiterun so far, surely the presence of the True Empire fools in the city would have meant the removal of such a giant icon and his shrine?

A priest of Talos stood preaching his very heart out to all, and yet, to no one at all, as if just by being within earshot of the poor man might cause the doom of the Thalmor to be visited upon then and theirs.

Ah! But no matter, behind the poor man stood the Divine Septim in all his battle glory. Resplendent in his Dragon Armour, wolven pelt cape and winged helmet. Ah, the temptation to go back and pray at the shrine was almost too much! I merely nodded my head in salute and continued up the steps.

At the top, a few feet above our heads, there was a carved crossbeam, which passed over the width of the sizeable pathway. Two posts supported it, one either side. In front of each was a carved wooden representation of a Dragon head. I looked to the oft-patched against leaks, longboat roof of the building - supported by more carved oaken pillars – and saw several more of the Dragons seemingly peering about the place. I asked friend Farkas about this.

“Uh, I don’t really know why. Vilkas might know, my brother. He’s the one with the smarts.”

“Ah, you do not credit yourself highly enough my friend. What you have already spoken of on the subject of armours would be beyond many, I suspect even your brother with the smarts.”

“Friend?” Farkas frowned and looked questioningly at I.

“Well, if you so wish. J’Zirlo would be honoured to call Farkas, friend.”

“Oh. Well...Friend it is.” He smiled and nodded and held out his forearm to me. We clasped, as brothers in arms do, and then he continued, “As for the Dragon heads, I honestly have no real idea, it may have something to do with that place up there,” he pointed his thumb up over his shoulder, up towards a truly massive, imposing palace that Olfsson and I had seen dominating the valley, atop the only hill on the valley floor, “it’s called Dragonsreach. Why? That really is a question for Vilkas.” He smiled. “That’s where the Jarl is, if you ever need to see him.”

I resolved to go and look closer at the palace of Dragonsreach as soon as a free moment should happen to me. From where I stood, it seemed as if the obsession with wood had run into some sort of wall. Literally. For one half of the giant, many layered palace - which must have taken half the trees in Skyrim to build - was timber, that much was obvious, even from where we stood, and the other half was a truly immense, stone block Keep. At least half as tall again as some of the castles in Cyrodiil. Yet this was no castle. It seemed dark, foreboding. This was simply a giant block of blocks, built for a purpose.

And yet, looking at it provided no clue as to what.

Ah! Perhaps this brother of Farkas’ would provide answers. Perhaps not. We shall see.

Friend Farkas followed my gaze, “Aye. Scares the cr@p out of me too.” He patted me on the shoulder, then walked to the longhouse’s door and pulled it open. The Nord then gestured for me to follow.

I took one more look about myself, then walked into Jorrvaskr.



----------------------

Well, not tons to say, seeing as not tons happened, but agood part nonetheless and I'm enjoying the little hints as to the nature of your AU Skyrim you dropped here, which were interesting. I'm intrigued to see exactly what this means for the story later on.

(Wolf howl) Farkas found a friend !! I like Farkas, haven't had a lot of contact with Vilkas yet other than the initial boxing match, lol. Great Write !!!

My advantage here is the same as my disadvantage: I’ve never been north of Pale Pass. So I don’t exactly know where the lines are between the Brothers ‘B’ (Badgere and Bethesda). I’m really fine with that as long as you are. I like how J’Lo is telling us about this place, from the statue and worship of the banned Septim named Tiber, to the patched long boatian roof to the giant stone keep of Dragonsreach.

I really liked your description of Talos’ statue and how J’Lo nodded his head in salute.

challenged by the challenged


Interesting with the tree and Farkas.

I like the role Farkas is playing so far. Whiterun is built in the middle of a huge plane without a tree in sight, so the tree in the middle of the town is quite remarkable. I never really thought about it until your story though. Good job.

Wonderful again, the visual of the entrance and the inside of the palace was quite the image. The conversation between Farkas and J'Z was comfortable and I liked it very much. You did a wonderful job with the dialog making it realistic for the time I think.

Ok, let's get on with it now, I'm ready for more.

My many thankses to all of you...*Bows head in gratitude*...

Though a note to Acadian, the long-boat on the roof of the Companions' home is just awesome to look at...When I did the...Research...Not playing...No it wasn't...I was - yet again - stunned by the idea of turning the boat over and using it as a roof...Mad those Bethesda people are... ...

Where we were - J'Zirlo had been taking in the sights of the city of Whiterun in Skyrim, and now - finally - he'd reached the home of the Companions, Jorrvaskr and headed inside...



----------------



As I walked forward of the doors, I heard what I would call, more traditional Nordic sounds – Cheering, clapping, banging tankards on tables and above all else, the sound of one person striking another repeatedly about the head with something.

Olfsson had decided to engage himself in a fist-fight - as he does – with a small Dark-Elf and a fellow Nord lady. Well, I say lady. Her impressive knowledge of curses suggested maybe too many trips to the docks...Maybe...J’Zirlo has no idea, he is only saying, is all.

I watched as they attempted to take Olfsson at once from both sides of what appeared to be a cleared practice area in an otherwise furniture-full room.

The lopsided grin on Olfsson’s face told me he was really enjoying this. There really was no way they could hurt him, so he was just play acting with them.

The Dunmer punched low at the same time the Nord girl went high, friend Olfsson took the punch to the stomach with an “Oof!” but that was all, he was concentrating on not having his head removed by the right hook that seemed determined to do so. His head snapped backwards to avoid the punch just as his hands shot up to catch the extended arm of the girl, he pulled her arm forward and around her so that it made the girl twirl, then he pushed her away and kicked her in the behind so that she sprawled into the chairs and a couple of onlookers. Much laughing! And cursing...Much cursing. How did one discover so many variations? Even Khajiit didn’t know some of them. Anyways, even as Olfsson’s foot connected with Nordic rear, he used the twist back to catch the Dunmer under his guard and cause him to fly through the air into other chairs. More cheering! Olfsson looked over to me and grinned broadly, Ah! My brother! I bowed my head to him, just as a particularly vicious stream of curses barrelled into Olfsson’s midriff and carried him backwards into other chairs. Needless to say, more cheering!

My viewing pleasure was interrupted when friend Farkas approached I, with an older, bearded man at his side.

“J’Zirlo, this is Kodlak Whitemane, he in charge of keeping us honest.” Farkas grinned.

The other grinned and looked at Farkas as he said, “No easy task, I assure you.” He turned to me and walked forwards with his hand extended. I shook it as he said, “My name was not always Kodlak, but when you become the Companion’s Harbinger or spiritual guide, that’s what happens. Whitemane has followed me for a goodly few years, thanks to my mother.” He grinned.

“J’Zirlo of New Kvatch,” I said as I shook his hand, “also thanks to my mother.” And grinned.

The Kodlak’s eyebrows raised and there seemed to be a question on his lips, but then his eyes looked right and his head turned fractionally towards Farkas, who was watching the fight anyway. Whitemane said, “Wolfshead over there, which is, by the way, possibly the most ironic name of anyone who’s ever wanted to be here, said you were both ex-Legion.”

“Wolfshead?” said I.

“Yes, your friend Olff Wolfshead?” The Kodlak was frowning.

Olff Wolfshead? What on Nirn was the man talk-

Oooohhhh.

The name Olfsson was likely as famous in Cyrodiil as McWylde’s, and probably figured to change his name up here, should needs be. Shame “Wolfshead” couldn’t have said something to Khajiit earlier no? It seems as though even Olfsson was better at this “snooping” than I. Khajiit hadn’t even changed where we were from.

I may have flattened my ears in shock and embarrassment.

“Ah yes, Wolfshead. Khajiit apologizes, we spent too long in the tavern last night. Khajiit mistakenly believed we could out-drink him.” I pointed to where Olfsson currently had the girl off the floor and held aloft with one hand, until she twisted and with a kick to his face, freed herself and sent Olfsson backwards into a third set of chairs. Surprisingly enough, more cheering.

Whitemane laughed and applauded. “Brave lad you. We Nords could out-drink anything. I may tell you one day of the time my father outdrank a Giant out at his wateringhole on the plain out there.

“But that is for another day, and should you pass this first test.

"I need to see if you can genuinely handle yourselves. Although, granted, there’s not many who could take those two on and still stand,” Whitemane gestured over to the fight, “but I also need to know whether you can handle your swords in a steel fight.”

“We are very well trained.” I assured the man.

“That’s as maybe, but we’ll have Vilkas check how the Cyrodillian standards could have fallen down the years.” Whitemane grinned and called out to those watching the fight.

Ah! Friend Vilkas, he looked a lot like his brother – the same black hair – but he was taller than Farkas, of a slighter build. He had dark circles tattooed around his eyes, and several scars which suggested many fights.

He approached the three of us.

“Could you take young J’Zirlo here and Wolfshead out and test their...Ahem...Metal?”

“Of course.” He paused, about to say something.

Whitemane sighed. “Go on.”

“Is it wise to let these two in, we already have a full compliment. We have no idea who these two actually are.”

“Maybe not, but we do not have anything like a full compliment of Companions, as well you know. We do not, either, turn away those who ask to join without first finding out whether they can help us, Vilkas. And it’s not your place to question.”

“But I-”

“Enough Vilkas, test them...Please.”

I looked between the two men, some sort of unspoken fight was going on here, I could feel it.

Vilkas looked at me and asked to see my sword. I drew it. A long ebony blade that I had wrought myself after Zenithar had blessed me. Its dark length inlaid with gold tracing. The crosspiece had more tracing on.

Vilkas’ jaw dropped.

Whitemane frowned again and looked at me. “I know a man who’d be very interested to speak to you.”

Olfsson had stopped fighting when he heard my sword leave its scabbard and looked over. Unfortunately, this was the point when the two Companions were in front of him, and a punch from the girl’s right hand hit friend Olfsson at the same time as the Dunmer’s left, and Olfsson went down hard. And as a change, more cheering and clapping.

“Uh...Okay.” said Vilkas. “Come on then, outside.”

I looked to where I had deposited my pack.

“Oh, don’t worry about thieves in here...We’re paid too much to need to steal stuff.” Said friend Farkas, “Unless you play cards with Torvar, then your money will disappear.”

With a shrug, I walked around the long, three-sided table in the centre of the room, and followed friend Vilkas out the back of Jorrvaskr.



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Well, according to various bits and pieces we've dug up, the Vikings used to do that in real life. Made sense, too, seeing as your longship's big, waterproof and pretty sturdy. Just stick a good log underneath each corner and you've already got the makings of a first class mead hall.

Again, great stuff, and the fight between 'Wolfshead' and the companions was a fun read. Not to mention you managed to slip in a few good one-liners in here too; '“J’Zirlo of New Kvatch,” I said as I shook his hand, “also thanks to my mother.” And grinned'

All in all, great stuff!

Traditional Nordic sounds.

Wolfshead. I agree with Kodlak. Love it.

Poor Vilkas, having to test the knights.

This was a fun and rowdy romp through the mead hall! The ongoing backdrop of the threesome fight was nicely done. Hmm, seems to be a sip of tension betwixt Whitemane and Vilkas.

I had to laugh when J’Lo drawing steel distracted Olfie into the double whammy which coaxed him to the floor.

Neat observation about Dragonsreach, all those times charging up the steps and I have never looked at how it is built. I love how you’re writing Farkas. I’m going to expect to hear your dialog when I’m in Jorrvaskr now!

Ah! Perhaps this brother of Farkas’ would provide answers. Perhaps not. We shall see.

J’Zirlo is such a treat! He had me laughing again in the next part with his description of the friendly brawl, or rather of Njada’s cursing. Nice that it was J’Z’s sword that got Olfsson's attention over the two Companions he was fighting.

I’m really enjoying this!

Oh look, Robert is posting something...Well, it's been at least some hours since I did that... ...

Thank you all so very much...I'm really enjoying doing this...And it's massively encouraging...Always...

Oh, and Mein Colonel, after you said that, I kinda slapped my expansive slap and realised I had actually known that fact...Just kinda slipped the old Noggin(thenog ...OOoh!!! Kinda appropriate joke there...Inadvertant funny alert!!! )...

Cheers all...You rock!!... ... ...



-------------------------------




As we left the warmth of the mead hall, it seemed that Vilkas and I had become infinitely more interesting than the repeated punching of Olfsson. Everyone filed out of Jorrvaskr after us, to watch Vilkas’ testings. A sentence I hope to never have to read again.

Urgh.

Anyways.

I sighed. This was not going to go well for the man.

We walked down a few steps to the training yard, with all the things one needed to train with weapons – Archery targets and the like. Well, all except anything moving at least.

We reached the place where friend Vilkas decided we were to do our sporting.

“Prepare to defend yourself.” The Nord said, and levelled the Greatsword he had collected on the way out through the door.

“You remember that J’Zirlo is ex-Legion, no?” I said to Vilkas.

“I care not, my little Khajiit.” He said quietly so that only we two could hear him. “It is best that you do not stay, I’m sorry.”

Little? I bowed my head to the Nord, and turned it slightly to see Olfsson standing at the top of the stone steps, watching. The Dunmer that he’d been fighting stood with him, saying something. Olfsson saw me looking and nodded, just a small amount.

“Then Khajiit too is sorry for what is about to happen, my friend.”

Friend Vilkas snarled and swung the Steel Greatsword. I turned it away with the flat of my sword. Again and again, every attack was parried.

“Fight back, damn you!” Vilkas said.

A few more combinations of attacks turned without any trouble and Vilkas held a hand up to ask leave to pause for breath.

I shrugged. I looked up at the crowd, who were all talking amongst themselves. I saw the Dunmer say something to Kodlak Whitemane with a shake of his head. The Kodlak frowned and stepped forward.

“Master J’Zirlo,” he started, “It would seem that you’re holding back; my friend here assures me that you must have some skill. Please show it.”

Oh dear.

I bowed to Whitemane and apologised. Then I apologised to Vilkas and shrugged again; And launched an attack of my own. I believe he was unprepared to defend himself. So, when presently he was on his behind on the dressed stone of the yard, his Greatsword some way over towards the walls that surrounded the compound, I raised my eyebrow at him. Then put my arm out to help him stand. Vilkas snarled and pushed himself up, then he retrieved his Greatsword and we tried again. When this time, we were left with me holding his Greatsword in one hand, the tip at his throat, Whitemane laughed, clapped and declared that it was now Olfsson’s turn. I tossed the Greatsword up and caught the other end with one hand and passed it back to Vilkas. He seemed disturbed by this.

I looked up to Olfsson and lip read as he said, “Thing is, I’m better than him.”

Khajiit will allow this to be true. There are few that are better than Olfsson. Fortunately all that are, are on our side.

Anyways, Whitemane and the Dunmer looked shocked. Olfsson then said something Khajiit could not work out. The Kodlak nodded and the Dunmer disappeared, only to return with Olfsson’s sword from in the mead hall. Olfsson nodded his thanks and drew his blade. The brother to the one I carried.

The Dark Elf’s eyes widened and begged leave to examine said sword, which Olfsson allowed. Whitemane frowned, shook his head and then looked left, up a hill that ran from the courtyard to something I could not see properly from where we stood. A giant wall of un-worked rock, taller than a Whiterun house, stood between me and whatever the pathway that curved around the side and up the hill, led to.

Presently, Olfsson walked down the steps and grinned at me; I grinned back and hefted my sword, bouncing its weight as I waited with a degree of excitement. We knew each other’s moves, and I could tell Olfsson was in a mischievous mood.

“Vilkas! Come!” Whitemane smiled and gestured.

The Nord looked confused.

“Vilkas,” the Kodlak sighed, “they are beyond you.”

There was a murmur from the watchers as they looked at each other. One, a short, square-ish man with little hair, but many scars, stared at me. Khajiit will admit, we were made uncomfortable by this...There was a desire to...Flee. It was only later that I understood why, but for now, we just looked away and I shook my head to clear it.

I looked at Olfsson and smiled; he looked back, and grinned.

Swords were levelled. Arms were lifted for balance.

We moved.

This was most enjoyable to read. Some nice insight into J’Lo that was quite naturally presented. He is a very likeable combination of humility and awesomeness – just a wonderful character!

I second Acadian's comment absolutely.


These posts weren't overly long and there is much to see in the little stuff. I liked the back drop of the brawl, reminds me of some of the 'duck in/ waddle out' places back in the day, .

I as enjoying this one for what it is, a lovely story to follow. I am enjoying every word of it.

Thankee both so much...There's usually so much in the KOTN ones that this genuinely is fun for me... ...


Newness!!....



------------------------





We started with the obvious – Khajiit drives Olfsson backward for a brief while, Nord counters Khajiit for a time; Getting ever and ever faster.

That was the point when we both called upon our speed fortify.

To each other, our spells cancelling the other’s out, there was no change to our sparring. Our swords to the watchers seemed blurred, the noise of their clashing almost painful, it appeared. Several of the Companions put their hands to their ears. The eyes of our audience widened and there were several “Ooohs” as we came very close to the point of showing off.

Then like a tap on my shoulder, a feeling came to me. I twirled around, intending to carry on into an ever more elaborate sequence to our dance, only to catch - as I spun – sight of the Kodlak, his eyes shining with magicks.

What on Nirn?!

Oh Mother. We were about to give the game away. Caerellin would be...Disappointed.

Olfsson had obviously not been keeping up and he tried to counter the move he thought we were making. Sadly, Khajiit had changed his mind moments earlier, and the exhibition stopped with my sword under Olfsson’s chin. Olfsson frowned, with a look that asked a very good question, however if voiced it would probably have been accompanied by several curses, loudly.

I winked at him and narrowed my eyebrows in what we hoped was a “Trust me.” way.

The crowd erupted into applause; all except for Vilkas - who stormed back into Jorrvaskr - and the one who had given me pause earlier. He stood, stared at us both and slowly walked around the side of the building towards Whiterun.

Had we done too much? Was our game given away already? Should we call the whole thing off now?

Any decision we could make would have to wait. Suddenly we found ourselves surrounded by the other Companions, asking questions, shaking hands, giving names.

Rather predictably, Olfsson managed to turn all the attention on himself, and over the top of his band of admirers, he winked and walked his way towards the Companions’ longhouse.

I was left alone in the courtyard with Whitemane, friend Farkas and a young Imperial woman, who was sat on a chair, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and holding one hand in the other. We noticed she was staring emptily at the floor.

I asked Farkas as to her name, “She’s called Ria,” he answered, “she’s a good girl. Works hard.” He frowned and shook his head. “Aw heck...That’s all I know about her really.” He actually looked slightly ashamed. “I’ll go talk to her, she looks sad.”

“Don’t worry about Ria, Farkas. I will attend to her. Master J’Zirlo, it would be safe to say we can take both you and your friend Wolfshead. So long as you see to all duties required of you, during your tenure here, there may be the help I suspect you are seeking.”

Farkas frowned in confusion.

I frowned at the foolishness that I had goaded Olfsson into as the fight went on.

The Kodlak knew.

“Anyway, your first duty for me is to acquaint yourself with our blacksmith, Eorlund Grey-Mane. He is up at the end of that path yonder.”

“I’ll take him if you like?” said Farkas.

Whitemane nodded. “Very well. Fear not young Khajiit.” The Kodlak winked and walked off. I watched as he crouched down, took hold of this Ria’s hands and led her back up to the longhouse.

“What the hells was that all about? What help do you need?”

We sighed. “Only training in my deficiencies my friend! Come, let us find this ‘smith and see what we can teach him.” I smiled outwardly, my insides squirming.

“Uh-huh. Suuure.” Said an unconvinced Farkas. “Come on then, it’s this way.”



-----------------------------

Everyone filed out of Jorrvaskr after us, to watch Vilkas’ testings. A sentence I hope to never have to read again.

Perhaps just once more.

Such fun, I love it!!

A fortify speed spell, the blurred clatter of katanas and now J’Lo and Olfie are Companions! Nicely written and great fun to read. Whitemane and now Gray-Mane. Must mean they are getting closer to Graybeards? I’m imagining that we haven’t seen the last of Ria?

Oopsie...fun has a way sometimes of catching us, especially if we aren't playing fair...

I did like this one, J'Z and Olfsson are quite the complement to each other, good stuff.

More still...

I had some catching up to do. I'll admit, I just had to come here and read it. Anything revolving around the Companions, or more specifically, The Circle, deserves my personal attention! ALthough I am confident your anti-Lycanthropy and pro-human, but to the story, shall we?

First Chapter:

"Khajiit are not ones for journal writing. We find it tiresome. Actions speak louder than words and assorted cliches. And I know of at least one officious clerk that will attest to the pen absolutely failing to be mightier than the sword."

I can picture the Khajiit accent in my head as I read this. They have a memorable accent! Haha. Although I did imagine that Nords were not ones for writing much, since "actions speak louder than words". But I guess the talking felines fit the bill too!

"Several people were fighting - with less than brilliant success - a Giant. Lest we tip our hand, we both slowed to normal speed and ran towards the battle."

As soon as I read "Giant", I already knew whom you were talking about. The first meeting with these several people! Brings back memories of being level 1 in Skyrim. Overall, good chapter and very good intro, with likeable characters!

Second Chapter: Short update, but still, better than nothing. I loved the whole "Oh, this is not a khajiit, he's just a victim of some arcane magic gone wrong" scenario. Very funny, haha. Farengar is a smart-boat jerk though, I hate that guy -_-

Third Chapter:

"Legion. Not so much a Legionnaire as a Leggies-out as they say in the Imperial Legion. I mean really, you escape to Skyrim, the coldest country in Tamriel and you design a uniform that is essentially, a dress? What damned fool thought that was a good idea? One decently placed frost trap and...Well...Snow balls anyone? Oh, I know, I’ll go running uphill and down dale in my dress, oh damn, my legs have snapped from the cold.

Idiot. At least the old Imperial Legion uniform had fur lining. And the proper number of pieces to it. Bare legs. Idiocy."

Hey, hey, hey! Be nice! At least their name isn't "The Stormcloaks". Sounds like name from a group of baddies from the Fridas morning cartoon.

“What is...Snoop?”
A dog?

Fifth Chapter:Enter Danica, one of the nicest ladies in Whiterun. And did I catch a little semi-flirt between Farkas and Danica? Nice chapter. I laughed at a user's comment about a leg being lifted up, haha. Good progress so far.

And Cr@p is censored? What the H3LL?

The fight between Vilkas and J'Zirlo was great! I love the effort you put into it. But you are missing something in this story! Aela the Huntress and Skjor! Best Companions out there! Get to it, dude! Get to it!

Ah, poor Vilkas. He’s not going to like the little khajiit very from here on out. Maybe a few mugs of ale will smooth things over, if little khajiit decides he cares.

Thankee all... ...

Acadian...Indeed, Ria will turn up again...

DE...Cheers for all that...Much appreciated...Yes, of course Skjor and Aela will turn up...But they have more to do with the off-screen Olfsson than J'Zirlo...Except for the major sections of course...

Everyone else...

Many many cheerses!!...Or cheeses...Nah, cheerses!!... ...



NOTE!!...Due to a problem with the idea of an older dude working up on a completely exposed plateau whilst wearing not much, the top of the hill where the Skyforge is will now have some supply store/break huts...And the forge itself will be more covered...

Oh, and I changed the Gray-Mane to Grey...Only a small thing, but we tend to spell it Grey here and that's how this boy rolls...You dig?... ...Yes, Gray is his name...But I'm Multiversing...So...Y'know?... ...




----------------------------




We had been here just over an hour and already, not only had we given the game away, but we had – seemingly – accomplished our mission.

In a sense.

Due to repeated mistakes by myself, Kodlak Whitemane had seen us for what we were, Knights of The Nine. And although he had given a veiled yes to an unasked-in-any-way question, which was, by no means, an easy thing to do, it would seem that the help would come at the price of Olfsson and I working for the Companions for a while.

No matter, we had been committed to being here for however long it was to have taken to get said already-almost-said yes, that it had already come was simply a confusing wrinkle to the plan.

Perhaps we could get to know the help a little better.

I realised that friend Farkas had been talking as we walked the slowly climbing and turning path.

“...Don’t mind Skjor,” Oh yes, the man we had seen leaving, a few minutes before, “he’s just a bit intense, y’know? Him and the Kodlak go way back. He’s older than he looks.”

“By the twin moons! Is that possible?” I asked.

Farkas laughed, “Hah! Yeah, good one!...He’s a proper Companion hero though, a true Nord...Was never cruel to Vilkas and me when we were growing up here. So don’t mind the gruff hardman bit of him, Skjor only wants things done right.”

We reached a set of stone steps and that was the point when I looked up. Beyond the top of the stairs, on the left, atop the plateau behind Jorrvaskr, a giant stone eagle had been carved out of the rock. It appeared to be about to take flight; its wings as if unfurling, it’s body leaning forwards, like in those first moments before the mighty wings then beat to ascend. It was lit from below by the glow of the mighty forge beneath, any smoke that was caught under the eaves of the roof that covered the eagle and forge, simply wafted out through the open sides.

I couldn’t take my eyes of the statue as I walked up the steps to the plateau.

For a short while, we had heard the banging of the ‘smith’s hammer, and it was now, at the top of the stairs that I got my first look at the arm behind the swing. It was muscular. Very muscular. Said arm was attached to a man possessed of a mass of hair that was as suited to his name as Whitemane’s.

Eorlund Grey-Mane was a man headed towards old age, but it was obvious he was not going without a fight. His massive barrel chest and well muscled shoulders told of a man with a lifetime’s worth of blacksmithing under his belt. Well, between his belt and rock-hard abdomen at any rate! His stout legs, a testament to the miles spent walking back and to, either between his ‘smithing stations, or from forge to supply sheds and back with all manner of components, metals and what have you; from Leather, Iron and Steel to Glass and Ebony.

Currently, he appeared to be finishing off a steel shield.

As we walked forward from the top step, his head turned quickly to watch us, the hammer paused atop the shield.

I could see his appraising me, my armour and scabbard with the sword hilt atop it.

“Gods be praised! A Khajiit in the city!” he shook his head, seemingly in wonderment. Loosing the hammer, Grey-Mane walked towards me with hand outstretched. “I declared the Idiot’s Empire to have all the idiocies in the universe, the day they banned Khajiit from the cities. Their own Legion were bigger thieves than I’ve ever seen a Khajiit to be!” he said with a grin.

“I thank you!” I said with genuine surprise and warmth, bowing my head in gratitude.

“No need to thank me, lad, it’s the truth!”

I had great affection for this man from that moment on.

“Farkas, my lad!” Grey-Mane said with a smile and patted the other Nord on his steel armoured shoulder. There was the slightest tightening around the eyes, as if friend Farkas was hiding how much the pat had actually hurt.

“Your lad?” I asked.

Farkas shook his head.

“Hah! No-no,” Grey-Mane began, still smiling, “I cannot claim praise for such a good lad, no. Mine are...Well, one of mine is...” the smile faltered, “Ach, it’s complicated. Anyway,” the smile returned, although not around the eyes, “you wouldn’t be here with Farkas if Whitemane hadn’t sent you. I take it you’re one of them now then?”

“One of them?” I asked. “Are you not a Companion too?”

The ‘smith shook his head, “No lad, I’m Master of the Skyforge here, not a true Companion. I don’t go in for all that tales-of-daring-do stuff. Besides not being one proper suits me,” a mischievous look came to his eyes, “Whitemane has to ask for stuff instead of ordering.” He winked. “Besides, as the finding of the Skyforge here was the reason the Companions chose to stay right there,” he pointed over the edge of the plateau, “It stands to reason that the one in charge here, should actually be above and beyond them, no?” Grey-Mane smiled, and I sensed an age old half-joke being played out here.

We were interrupted by the arrival of Olfsson. Grey-Mane frowned and I quickly introduced my friend. The ‘smith replied with an “Uhh”, a nod and a shake of hand.

“The Kodlak wants you.” Olfsson said to friend Farkas.

Farkas looked to the old Nord with a question, and the ‘smith replied with a frowning nod and a waving away gesture.

“Well, see you later then.” Farkas said to both Olfsson and I.

“Indeed you will my friend. Thank you Farkas.” I bowed my head.

He shook hands with Olfsson, nodded to Grey-Mane and myself, and then walked quickly down the steps back to Jorrvaskr.



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