18+ Conquer with Fire

(OOC: I take it its becoming night, if not, let me know and I will change my post)

Andrew stopped at the second tablet, then pulled out his bedroll. He had been naive and thought someone could share a tent, though now he knew that it was everyone for themselves and didn't have time to set up a tent. So he light a small fire with the little magic he knew.

As Andrew was getting prepared for bed, his stomach growled and he laughed "I guess I forgot to eat, their must be some food on this mountain...Hopefully" He lazily walked around for a bit till he came across some tracks,that went through a bush, he followed until the darkness and the nights snow covered the tracks.

He slowly, sadly walked back to his make-do camp. He made his way to the bedroll and climbed in.
"I wonder if this "Sons of Sword" will even be able to defeat Alduin, the dragons are becoming stronger. Also, without the dovahkiin, the dragons will just come back soon enough, I am thinking to hard about this, I better get some sleep" Andrew tossed and turned for a moment then closed his eyes.

When you hunt the predator you are bound to eventually become the prey.

The night was one of a rare few completely moonless. It was the perfect night for the hunt. The perfect night to hide hunter from prey. The thick blanket of clouds not only obscured the guiding beams of the moon but smother completely the stars. It would have been so easy to oneself amongst the murmuring trees, never to be seen again. Swallowed by the wilderness or perhaps taken by her children.

The leafs seemed to shiver, whispering amongst one another their fears as a low guttural growl floated into the crisp night air to be carried off by a gentle breeze. The animalistic noise was unquestionably predatory, the huntress was quite lucky that her prey was no beast of the wild with senses fine-tuned to survive the hunt. However it was certainly not fortune that had brought these men to her attention, nor was it by their own fortune that they stayed that way. Being stalked by a beast.

The growl came in a constant stream from between jagged pearl like teeth, showcased perfectly by the ferocious, continuous snarl that contorted her maw. The rumble was soon cut off by the seemingly loud noise of the she wolf sniffing the air, her muzzle rising and falling dramatically each time she inhaled through her nose. It seemed she could see the whole world in terms of smell. This alternate view of her surroundings told her more than the eyes of any ever could. It confirmed what her other senses had already determined, they were alone. With that final bit of information the creature slowly backed away, into the darkness of the trees. Her glowing blue eyes the last thing to fade from view.

1
The smell of the crackling fire mingled wonderfully with the smell of the inn. The Nordic woman did not often enjoy being confined within four walls, this was especially true when the building had been filled to the brim with unruly and often drunk characters yet as she leaned back in her rickety wooden chair with the fire licking her boots she couldn’t help but to let out a content sigh. Wrapped in furs and a warm cloak the woman was the perfect representation of pure unadulterated comfort. Rolling her shoulders she sunk even further into her cozy swaddles and in that moment all was good, however Brynn was to be reminded in due haste that all good things must come to an end.

From places beyond Brynn’s concern came the four man parade. If it had not been for the cold gust of air that shattered the nord’s perceived perfect atmosphere it would have been the loud swaggering that had erupted forth from them the moment they strutted through the Inn doors.

“Oy! Somebody best come and serve us!” one belligerent character began to shout, his thumbs tucked into the front of his breeches “We’ve got plenty of coin and we’re looking for somewhere to spend it!”

Brynn eyelids lifted to reveal more than slightly irritated storm clouded eyes. With a deep intake of breath she removed herself from the pure luxury of her previous situation, which had all but been destroyed by these men. Within the time it took to exact a few foggily slow blinks Brynn had once more returned to reality and brought her attention to the ragtag band of men. The first loud mouthed offender in the case of the butchering of an otherwise perfect moment was the first to be dissected.

Clearly the Alpha Brynn mused with an eyebrow raised. His obvious displays were more than duly noted as he switched from his standing position; hips forward, chest wide, shoulders back, head high, chin titled upwards to a more than confident strut. It was clear that he was attempting to make his position as obvious as possible if not only by his subtle choice of stance. Her first diagnostic of the man was further confirmed as he took his place, quite melodramatically, at the groups table. Sitting upright, his chest once again puffed out, open composition, legs spread wide, his relaxed demeanor and his choice of seat, she shook her head as she finished her list middle of the group and back to no one. It was not uncommon for Brynn to put stock in the subconscious power of body language. It was quite clear that this man, if not the leader, had the most dominant personality of the group and if there were to be an altercation it would be best to know who to aid in subduing first. The rest if her hypothesis was correct would follow in suit. She had no doubt as to this, and this fellow would be that man.

His other three companions were infinitely less interesting to Brynn in any case she gave them a small amount of her attention. With her few fleeting glances another contrast was obvious. Whereas the alpha wore what appeared to be banded Iron two of the men bore simple fur while the last sported a set of scaled. This is where the blatant differences ended. In relation to their builds they were nothing noteworthy, for all their grandeur they could have been nothing more than the average collection of bandits. Brynn sighed softly knowing that it was probable that they would conduct themselves with no more class than the group they resembled.

However, they seem to think their heroes Brynn sneered as they groped at the first woman who passed by There has to be a reason. It was then that they made their first mistake. They had peaked the huntress’s curiosity.

2
The warmth of the homey inn as well as the memories that filled it could have seemed no more far away as the cool night air tousled Brynn’s fur. Nevertheless it was a no less comfortable feeling and one infinitely more powerful. Powerful in fact would have been perhaps the perfect word to describe Brynn within those moments. Crouched in the darkness she was a perfect specimen of her kind. Strong, compact muscles yearned under grey fur to send into flight the majestic beast. Ears and nose ever searching, sharp claws grating against the ground in perfect anticipation. Acute eyes piercing the night, full of fire knowing it was almost time. Time once again for glistening teeth to taste and for strong muzzle to bath in the blood of an enemy.

1
As the last of the sweet warm cider was emptied from her mug Brynn had already had more than enough of heroic bandits. She in fact wanted nothing more than to walk up to the table and give a good smack upside the head to the Alpha with her now empty mug. Yet that would have been most detrimental and so she stayed seated. After the passing of a few minutes Brynn found herself contemplating retiring to her bed. It was as she began to rise from her seat that all her previous restraint paid off.

On the lap of the leader sat a woman, a woman whom Brynn had previously had to refrain from calling a harlot already multiple times. In an obvious attempt to impress her, the man began to speak; he began speaking of the kind thing that grabbed Brynn’s attention. As he tried to impress her he spoke the words that sealed his fate.

“Do you know what we are?” He blurted out drunkenly “We’re the ones that keep you safe-afe at night. Hey you sword!”

The man wrapped his arm around the woman more tightly as he glared at his men two of which only looked on at him with discomfort written all over their faces. The third however to think about the possible consequences of bragging clumsily ripped his sword from its sheath letting it clatter down onto the table. As the man sat with his chest puffed out as far as Brynn could imagine was possible it went without saying that the woman, twirling her vixen red hair and giggling naïvely, did not understand nor recognise the sword certainly not in the way Brynn did.

To the lycanthrope the sickening gleaming silver sword represented so much more than a name. In her mind the silver sawn with blood and wreaked of death. It represented genocide of her kind. It spoke of an ignorance that ran so deep as to define a whole people by an unclear assumption. The stories that would follow the unveiling only served to fuel the fire, to make the woman sicker however the man’s next words were the final nails in his coffin. As the name was invoked, words from a dead man’s lips, a ferocious growl was supressed.

“Well My dear, we are members of the silver hand.”

It should have been simple, easy and quick. She intended to dispatch of the men as soon as they stepped foot outside of the village however complications arose inform of a caravan of refugees. It seemed out of the kindness of their hearts the silver wielding men had agreed to protect the migrants up until the point where their paths split. Ivarstead and “Somewhere in the reach”, Brynn assumed Treva’s watch being the final destination. Luckily enough for Brynn the road would split neatly between the two; still she was cutting it close.

2
What had followed was days of stalking, of sleeping during the day and hunting during the night. All of this had let up to this very moment. The men, her prey ignorantly came walking down the narrow path, bobbing torches in hand.

Every muscle in the wolvin body was tense and ready, paws tucked neatly underneath the furred powerhouse of teeth, claws, and wicked precision. Her lithe frame heaved silently, her nose pointed towards the road drinking the intoxicating smell of approaching victory. Placing one back paw forward she was wound like a spring. Almost. Yes, yes. Come to me my darling. And with one release of energy, one great propulsion it had begun.

As silent as the night herself overtaking the day the werewolf launched herself down the hill and into flight. It was a devastatingly beautiful thing, the flight, the air before her teeth closed down on fresh blood. On arterys begging to be broken. Almost as beautiful as the snapping noise of the unsuspecting neck.

Having hurled herself though the air she landed claw and teeth first onto the man, grabbing him with iron jaws, and rolling into the ditch all in one smooth motion. Brynn could already feel herself being bathed in blood. This was the moment of pure ecstasy when adrenaline pulsed through her veils and her bestial blood boiled, this was the hunt and in seconds she had risen from the ditch in search or more blood.

She returned to the path littered with the torches of her victims. She had taken them by surprise, she had no doubt and as she listed her head she could smell heir fear. The problem, and yet the blessing lays In the truth that everyone takes differently to fear. As two of the men fumbled to organize themselves in defense the previously drunken oaf ran. Oh by the Nine! I love it when they run. Brynn could feel the energy build inside her and with one tremendous howl had rocketed after the scale clad man. With her speed fueled by blood lust it was all over in a few short moments. His back was quickly torn open and part of his shoulder found dangling from Brynn’s jaws only to disappear with one smooth kick back of her bloodstained head.


The human blood seemed to fuel the beast inside of her, overwhelming even further her human element. She did not fight to regain her position however, if these men wanted a beast she would give them one and this was to be the case. As an arrow grazed Brynn’s foreleg and shoulder, her memories end, all went black and blood red.

"If it's not too much to ask," The man replied making his way closer to the two. He eyed, the woman next to him, Bjulf assumed that she had done something to aggravate him, but he worried little about it. The large nord man sat down across from the two. He was bigger than Bjulf, and only carried a long sword on his belt, giving Bjulf the impression that he was probably quite dangerous with his body rather than weapons.

"Would I be safe to assume that you both are here for the same reason I am?" The man asked, gesturing to the two's weapons. Bjulf sat up a bit, now engaging in conversation. "If that reason is to join the Sons of the Sword, then it's yes for me. I'm Bjulf by the way." He said, leaving out the Elves-Blood part of his name. Nord's often didn't appreciate his love for the snow elves, though it mattered little to him what others thought of him.

It had gotten plenty dark by now, and the cold was biting at Bjulf's face. He wanted to cast a spell to stop the wind, but doubted he would receive any kindness for it. He pulled his hood a bit more over his head and sent up a silent prayer to Auri-El for protection against the storm.

Faervel's eyes flickered open early in the morning, her legs itching slightly after sleeping on the scratchy bed. Combing her hair with her fingers, she stood up and climbed back into her clothes, slipping on her boots over the trousers.
I should probably get going. Don't want to stay any longer than necessary.

She picked up her packs and left the room, paying the innkeep for a small meal and then leaving before anyone else awoke and caused trouble. Heading northwest, she crossed the stone bridge, taking a deep breath before placing a foot on the first of the seven thousand steps. The stairs were much shallower than Faervel expected; looking at the size of the mountain, she would have expected seven thousand to be much steeper. Then again, she had never been particularly good with her numbers, and of course, the seven thousand steps led to High Hrothgar, not to the peak itself.

Faervel wrapped her arms around her waist to warm herself; Valenwood and Cyrodiil had been much warmer than Skyrim, and a snowy mountain was the extreme of cold. She was utterly freezing, but she kept going. The air was surprisingly thick, so that wasn't a problem for now.

What was a problem, however, was the frost troll blocking the trail, gnawing on the bones of whoever had come before. The moment it came into view, Faervel flipped into cover behind a rock, drawing her sacred bow and holding her breath. Nocking an arrow, she swiftly stepped back, drew the bow and released the string, loosing an arrow into the center eye of the troll. It roared loudly, clutching its face and turning to face Faervel. It smashed its fists on the ground, leaping up like one of the forest monkeys back in Silvenar, then lumbered toward her. Faervel calmly pulled back another arrow, loosing it into its neck and causing blood to spurt from the wound. By this time, the troll was too close for another arrow, so she dropped the bow carefully, drawing her sword from her back and slashing at the troll's arm. It roared again, spinning and smashing its wounded forearm into her belly.

Faervel was thrown backwards, winded. She felt a dull ache just above her navel, but she ignored it in favour of finishing off the troll. She took no chances; as it charged again, she dodged nimbly aside, stabbing hard into its throat. The tip of the blade emerged from the opposite side of its neck, coated in blood, then vanished as Faervel gave the sword a sharp yank. The troll fell to the ground, dead, as Faervel wiped the blade on its fur before sliding it back into its scabbard.

And now she felt the true pain. It wasn't crippling, but it was certainly a problem. Judging by her lessons in medicine, she had broken a rib or two. It hurt to breathe, but she knew to let her lungs expand to their full potential. She hobbled over to her bow, picking it up and placing it back in its holster on her back, then took back her arrows from the troll and continued up the mountain.

Faervel managed to get halfway up the mountain before drawing to a stop. The air was growing thin, and her ribs were aching more and more every second.
I'll just... take a moment to recover...

She sat down on a rock, clutching her belly and breathing heavily. The problem was self-repeating; her natural breathing problem meant she was struggling to breathe at this high altitude, but breathing heavily meant that her ribs would hurt more, meaning it was harder to breathe. She sighed, failing to resist the slow closing of her eyes.

The last thing she felt as she fell sideways, dropping into unconsciousness, was a sharp pain on the side of her head as she collided with one of the sharper rocks. And so she lay unconscious on the mountain, blood dripping from her head, soaking into the quickly reddening snow.

Brynn had not intended to pass her morning halfway up the throat of the world licking her bleeding and ripped pads, hiding from harsh winds. In fact she had never planned on scaling the mountain at all. She imagined as daylight broke over the mountains that dawn would have found her sleeping soundly in Jorrvaskr or perhaps some wooded hollow however things do not often go according to plan. She did not regret her choice however quickly it had been made and if made only based on a few whispers.

The she wolf had no qualms with the harsh temperatures. Nordic blood as well as her thick fur coat was strong enough deterrents to the cold to make her quite comfortable. It was in fact the snow and the harsh terrain that slowed her down. Having ripped open a pad and in doing so created an equally bloodied hand she had spent her night in a cave. From which it was long past morning when she rose to greet the outside world. With a vigorous shaking of her coat she began to pad up the mountain. She had just begun to weave a peculiar trail in the snow when a very familiar scent found its way to Brynn. As she lifted her muzzle and drank in the smell she confirmed it was indeed blood, and very fresh at that. Being cursed with a deep rooted curiosity Brynn immediately changed course to investigate the source of the blood.

It was not long before Brynn was close enough to identify the difference in creature. The smell of frost troll was strong on the wind; clearly a home had been made here for one of the god-awful creatures. This was the strongest scent and her nose urged her to follow it. There was however another clearly humanoid scent that although faint spurred Brynn into a sprint. Turning a corner hard Brynn almost skidded in the snow, a near loss of balance. She had been afraid that she would be too late, for what she was not sure but once again regaining composure she was faced with an unforeseen situation.

Nearing the two figures with silent steps Brynn was pleasantly surprised as she realized the frost troll was dead. The news however was not all pleasant. The source of the humanoid blood was not to be found here, this gave some hope yet the smell of blood made Brynn nervous. Making haste Brynn charged up the mountain after the smell it would not be long until she came across the scents source.

Brynn had not yet come close enough to the woman to determine much more than her lack of moment and her obvious injuries. It seemed natural to imagine the worst case scenario however as the She wolf approached a short lived relief washed over her. She was clearly alive, whoever she was although she was not in the best shape. Looming over her in beast form Brynn examined without touching the girls wound. She also noted as her ears flipped forward at the inconsistency, the olive skinned women’s strange breathing. Brynn theorised as to what had happened, it was clear she had passed out but why? She looks of good health and the lycanthrope could smell no sickness on the women’s breath. Of course the air was thinner yet the average traveler would not pass out.


Nevertheless it would do her no good to stand around making guesses. The women appeared to be of bosmer decent and although not wholly Brynn understood that she was no nord and that the best course of action would be to remove her from the cold and get her somewhere warm. With the utmost care Brynn gingerly reached her clawed hands around the woman and brought her up in her arms. Ignoring the possibility of the woman waking to find herself in a beasts grip Brynn intended remain in form until she could properly care for her, which she entirely intended to do. With one last look about Brynn lifted her nose to the wind and began the treck back to the cave in which she had spent her previous night.

"If it's not too much to ask," he replied
Indari relaxed and slid her hand away from her dagger, a little embarrassed at having been caught by the man who now had seated himself opposite her. She took a moment to study him. He was a large man and carried himself in a manner that suggested to Indari that he was an accomplished fighter. She tried to recover her embarrassment with a smile.

"Would I be safe to assume that you both are here for the same reason I am?" He said to them. Indari relaxed a little more when she heard him say that, and nodded, before her other companion spoke.

"If that reason is to join the Sons of the Sword, then it's yes for me. I'm Bjulf by the way." Indari turned to the man who's camp fire she had joined. His voice was deep and full of confidence. She could still sense a power in him and was even more curious to find out what, but afraid to ask such a bold question about a subject that was not generally spoken about any more. She concentrated on her hands inside her cloak again, feeling the warmth flowing through her. She figured it was time for her to speak but in all honesty, she had no idea what to say.

"Indari" she introduced herself "I am hoping to join the Sons of the Sword as well." she looked down at the fire, remembering the terrible flames that burnt her village down to the ground. "For my father" she said quietly. The cold wind whipped around the three and Indari silently cursed the weather. There would be no sleep tonight.

“5o Septims, Elf.” The carriage driver demanded loudly to me, as I hopped out of his carriage. This man was by far the most racist and biased being I have ever witnessed. The whole ride he ranted about the mer stealing his jobs, and taking his food. So entitled, was all I could help to think. If I had said anything during the journey, he may have kicked me off early. But I made it.

I pushed my hand in my pouch, and pulled out a handful of coins. I looked up at the man, my hood covering enough of my face, to hide who I was. “Here are the septims we took from you,” I called to him aggravated and sarcastically. I threw the coins at him, scattering them all over the path, “Petty fool.”

I looked up into the dark sky. To see the Aurora Borealis, illuminating the towering mountain. Gorgeous, was all that went through my head. Ivarstead was not much of a town. Not busy, not loud. Very quiet, isolated. Almost completely drowned out by the sound of the falls that separated the village from the Throat.

My feet touched the cold stone bridge that sat at the foot of the steps. A brisk, cool wind touched my exposed cheeks, and my body shivered briefly. One cold I could feel, was that of Kyne’s creation. The Throat of the World. Magnificent, beautiful, a monument. Almost totally ignored by the selfish rebels of Stormcloak, and the power hungry Imperials. Only true children of Skyrim can enjoy the sight that this mountain is. Though my body may not have been born in the province, my mind was. I remember staring at this mountain during my training, sometimes hearing the faint shouts of the Greybeards in the distant. One memory I didn’t care to forget.

The feeling of exasperation and exhaustion fueled into my legs. I wasn’t even up 500 steps yet. The combination of brisk, freezing winds filled with snow, and my restless body wasn’t doing me any favors of arriving any faster. I need to stop, I thought as my body screamed at me for rest. But out here, in the open, was not the best place to be without any source of warmth. I searched around for a bit, to find a small cave. Barely big enough for a man my size, and a small fire. One that I didn’t hesitate to start.

Faervel's eyes flickered open, her head pounding and her legs aching for some reason. Above her was a ceiling of stone, dripping with melting snow.
What happened?

She sat up quickly, clutching her head, which was still bleeding but not quite so profusely. She had obviously been moved by someone, or something, but there was no-one to be seen.
"Hello?" Faervel called out. No answer. "Is someone there?"

Brynn had done more than set the Bomser woman down and let slip her beast form when she heard a voice call out from the darkness.

"Hello, Is someone there?"

Looking over her snow coloured shoulder she held her soaking wet long brown hair in hand. Her blue eyes grew wide as she quickly wrung the water out of her curls then having tossed the golden brown mop back over shoulder she began to grope for her long linen shirt. In record time she had found what she had been looking for and more. With quick yet silent steps she approached the woman with an armful of useful things. As her face faded into view from out of the darkness she made sure a wide smile was painted across it.

With a graceful swiftness she had placed herself next to the bomser simultaneously placing down all but a blanket and a red potion. With a soothing voice she placed the potion by the woman’s side and began wrapping the blanket around her.

“I’m here,” her voice was soft “Drink that and here”


She reached in the pile and dropped a warm and dry set of clothing in front of the woman. The melting snow and the wet cave had left them both soaking. Behind the independence Brynn held dear she had a deeply ingrained sense of caretaking however she was not sure how comfortable the woman would be around her.

After having a jolly good time with his lady friend and wanting to make the most out of his rested state of mind and body, he exited the Inn and started making his way to the mountain, and pulling his cloak tighter to him to trap the warmth. He was not really looking forward to the journey.

"I question my motives sometimes," He shook his head as he made his way to his destination. "Oh yeah, let's travel up the 7,000 steps for the good of everybody and make sure I have a job right after beating down a man before taking his girl. What a grand idea!" He talked loudly only to himself to keep him company. Each step in the snow sunk him deeper, and required more energy. The wind got colder and more violent the higher he got up, causing him not to feel his hands to where if he picked up a shard of glass, he wouldn't feel it cutting into his hands.

The mountain seemed more daunting than he had thought. Breathing was harder, the air made seeing in front of him hard, and the mountain was getting steeper. There wasn't a lot of life on the mountain as far as he could see, only a few ice wraiths and a dead frost troll. 'Well, looks like I'm not the only one whose braving the 7,000 steps. I wonder how many, if any, are ahead of me. They better have a fire. That's all I'm asking. I have a tent, and I'll only build a fire if need be. Better make the most and only taking a rest if I need to.'

He was getting closer to the mountain when he caught sight of an orange outline drawing near, most to his relief. "Is anyone there? Hello?" His steps got quicker, and he withdrew enough energy to get a clearer sight of a camp along with people that he assumed were there for the same reason. "Please tell me you're not going to tell me to walk down those damned steps again. Because I will-" He tried finishing his sentence in between heavy breathing. 'I'm not even sure if I have enough energy to fight or go back down.' He collapsed to his knees before falling on his back. "Just give me a few moments, yeah."

It was still grey dawn when Marek woke, with the first rays of the sun not even having crested the horizon. His back cracked in protest as he sat up from against the weathered stump he had slept against during the night, shaking off the thin layer of snow that had accumulated on his shoulders. Standing, he pressed his fists into the small of his back and leaned backwards against them, heaving out a sigh as his spine popped loudly. Marek glanced over to where the other two travelers, Indari and Bjulf, still lay, curled up on their respective bedrolls next to the fire. He had opted to sleep a little further away simply because he liked to have his back against something so that he knew no one could sneak up behind him.

Marek walked a few steps to the edge of the path and looked down the side of the mountain. He was not on the same side as he had started on anymore. Instead of seeing Ivarstead below, all he could spot were the vales, cliffs, and gullies that made up the winding southern pass between what was left of Helgan and Ivarstead. Turning around, he walked back to the stump, grabbed his satchel from on of the dry branches and slung it over his shoulders crossways. Stepping lightly he skirted the smoldering remains of their fire and began the rest of the climb.

As he passed her, Indari moved slightly and lifted her head a little but didn't otherwise respond to him leaving. Bjulf, who seemed to sleep like a rock despite the cold, didn't move a muscle. Marek just glanced at Indari and almost kept walking but a moments thought stopped him. If these two were headed to High Hrothgar to help the Blades, the same as him, then it would make sense to get better acquainted with them before he had to fight beside them. There was also the fact that he just didn't like it when he knew someone was behind him, following him. Even if they weren't his enemies.

Watching his breath puff out in front of him and be carried away by the breeze, Marek turned back to the two sleeping figures, "Alright, morning time. Rise and shine." He took few steps back and stood near the fire as he waited for Indari and Bjulf to wake up. Just then, a voice rang out from behind him causing him to whip around, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword, "Is anyone there? Hello?" Marek relaxed, but only slightly when he saw that the voice belonged to a lone man trudging through the snow towards their camp. The figure didn't seem to notice Mareks reaction and proceed to topple over and lay in the snow, breathing hard as he attempted to catch his breath, "Please tell me you're not going to tell me to walk down those damned steps again. Because I will-" He paused to take a breath, "Just give me a few moments, yeah." Marek eyed him for a few seconds more, making sure he wasn't going to spring up and attack him once he lowered his guard but it seemed that the man really was just exhausted. It must have snowed harder lower on the mountain. The path was probably much harder this morning. Makes me glad I didn't stop yesterday. Taking his hand off his sword but remaining wary, Marek just said, "Take as long as you wish. It seems we won't be going anywhere for at least a few minutes."

Indari stirred slightly on her bedroll. Marek? she thought drowsily. He was already up and about. He glanced down at her and seem to be torn as to whether he was coming or going. She drifted back to sleep again.

Suddenly, Indari was startled awake for two reasons. One being that she was surprised that she had actually fallen asleep on the mountain, and the other reason had just unceremoniously flopped down into the snow right beside her. She wiped a splash of snow off her face. By the nine!

"Just give me a few moments, yeah." The newcomer breathed. She looked up to find that Marek really WAS already awake, studying the young man, his eyes alert.

"Take as long as you wish. It seems we won't be going anywhere for at least a few minutes." Indari propped herself up on her elbow and peered down at the man. He had black hair and a light beard and appeared to be around her age, if a little older. Finally, someone my own age. She smiled in amusement as he lay there breathing heavily, and she leaned over him, prodding him with a finger.

“Are you all right?” she asked him as his eyes blinked open. He peered back up at her.

Andrew pulled his hands over his eyes as he looked out of the tent.
"Finally, sunrise. I should make it by today, I hope" Andrew climbed out of his tent. Then noticed how hungry he was. "I really should have ate last night...." He whispered as he clenched his stomach with his hand.

He looked around, but there was nobody in sight. He slowly stumbled a few more feet before tripping on a rock and falling face first into the snow, he carefully climbed back up to his feet and kept pushing forward.

After almost a minute he fell into the snow again. "This snow is relentless, I wouldn't be suprised if someone would have died" He got back up and walked over the edge of the mountain then looked down. "That is pretty far, How far am I up?" once he got up he saw another one of the tablets. that dot the mountain. "Which one is this?" He whimpered as he walked over to read it "Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied man;Together they taught men how to use the Voice; Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against tounge"

Bjulf's eyes opened and peered out at the world after the nord man being awoken by a young man, about Indari's age falling down rather close to him. Bjulf's helmet and spear were just within grasp should something go wrong. He sat up a bit in his bedroll. Indari was still near him, and Marek was standing up, prepared to leave. Bjulf grabbed his helmet, placing it on his head and pulling his hood up over him.

Bjulf looked around, the storm had died down quite a bit, but it obviously must have moved on down lower by the look of this man. Eventually, the man, whom Bjulf had decided was only a year or two younger than himself began to get up. He moved around, talking, making quite a display until he came to sit on a rock, out of breath, sucking in air. "Okay, maybe I shouldn't hurt myself before we actually do anything. I'm not used to the air around this place." He said.

Bjulf smiled and let out a small chuckle. The man seemed quite confident in the way he carried himself, but was obviously out of his element. Bjulf was now waking up a bit more, he rotated his head to crack his neck and moved his lower jaw a bit to loosen it up.

A cold gust of wind blew by. Bjulf took it in. He had adjusted to the winds and was now beginning to somewhat enjoy the cold, it fueled his power, making him feel strong. Bjulf turned his attention the man. Bjulf decided that he was the fourth nord in this group. He decided to be somewhat kind to him. "Just take deep breaths. Your body will adjust." Bjulf said, his semi-deep voice speaking out.

Indari watched Mance with amusement as he stumbled around the camp before finally settling himself down on a rock. During that time Bjulf had woken and was also watching the newcomer.

"Just take deep breaths. Your body will adjust." He said in a kindly manner. Indari climbed out of her bedroll and dropped her cloak on top of it. The morning air was brisk and cool and she stretched as the cold wind whipped through her long blonde hair. She loved cold mornings and was enjoying this morning in particular, one of the reasons being the new arrival to their camp.

"My name's Indari and I haven't seen any others except for these two" she indicated to Bjulf and Marek. "But there is evidence that more have passed this way" she peered at the path that was now swept clean from last nights storm.

"Well there was" she corrected herself. She picked up her beloved crossbow and settled it across her back, along with the leather pouch of bolts. She then strapped her fathers Ebony sword to her belt, noticing how the men eyed off her weapons. They are most likely wondering how a girl like me could end up with weapons like this. Indari stood there and brushed her hair out of her face, wondering if she wanted to continue up the mountain alone or walk with one of more of her male companions. It would definitely be a nicer climb with company. She thought to herself.

"Just take deep breaths. Your body will adjust." Mance nodded at the hooded nord's advice, and began doing so until he got used to the weather, "My thanks." He swept his hair out of his face and turned to the blonde woman as she began to talk, "My name's Indari and I haven't seen any others except for these two" she pointed to the two men that join her, "But there is evidence that more have passed this way." Indari gave the tracks a point of her finger to clarify her words."Well there was" Both looked at the lack of tracks behind them. "'Well there was' indeed. I'm going farther up, myself. Anyone care to join me?" As he got up, he glanced at the woman's weapons to take note, 'Those are interesting weapons. Every warrior has their weapons, and their stories. Common thinking. at least to me, anyways. I also hope that I won't have to march alone. It get's mundane when one is by themselves.' He moved his travel coat over his dagger sheathed behind his back and finally got up once he was confident that he wouldn't collapse again.

"Anyone coming? I promise I won't stab you in the back." He looked over the group, then looked up at the way ahead of them.

"Anyone coming? I promise I won't stab you in the back." The man asked. To be honest, Bjulf wasn't to fond of the three others, but that would have to change if he was going to fight along side them. Mance seemed a bit to confident for his own good, but Bjulf decided that he might as well get to know him and the others a bit more.

"Alright Mance, I'll join you. Bjulf, my names Bjulf." The large nord said. He reached down and grabbed his spear. He sheathed it on his back. The trip onward wouldn't be to difficult for Bjulf. The night in the cold refilled his mana pool, and he felt even more powerful than yesterday. Auri-El Preserve me. Bjulf silently prayed.

"Farnir, take care of the newcomers, I need to practice." Jason commanded with authority, to one of the few Blade agents lucky enough to have been out on mission during the siege of Sky Haven Temple. Farnir simply looked at Jason with his one still functional brown eye, and nodded slightly, as he did so his long beard struck his old and dusty armour.

Jason left the monastery, out into the cold of High Hrothgar, the courtyard drenched in snow.
But the cold did not affect him, it had been his friend for all his life, in the glaciers of Solstheim, and in Windhelm and Eastmarch.
Fire though, was an enemy to be reckoned with. Fire had slaughtered his companions, fire engulfed all, destroying all in it's wake.

These thoughts flew through his mind as he walked over the courtyard to the small tower, and up the staircase to the top, where he prepared his mind for the task ahead.

He braced his body, contracting all of his muscles, and just as his body begun trembling. He let the word out.

"FUS!"

The shout echoed down the mountain, and the massive force formed and shaped by the Thu'um pushed Jason back, even with his entire body prepared for the blow. He felt his head strike the hard ice-layered stone below, and after mere seconds his body slipped over the side of the tower.
Jason exhaled in exhaustion and grasped for air, as he with his final strength slammed his hand to the floor now above him, stopping him from eminent death. He spoke as Dovahs, but he did not fly as one.
He slowly pushed himself up again, he seemed to hear a voice on the wind, coming from the peak of the mountain, forcing the winds back, but he neglected it, probably just his mind playing tricks.

Once he got up again, he sat himself down, leaning to one of the pillars, and he sighed.

"Damn the Dovahs and their Thu'um..." and He chuckled, the echoes of his laughter sweeping down with the reappearing wind.

Andrew crawled back to his tent, "I must have....packed food....somewhere...anywhere" He went through his items to find nothing. "Is this how I die?" He asked slowly coming out of his tent and into the cold "There must be someone here....Maybe down the mountain" He grabbed his sword from the side of the tent and made his way down the mountain stumbling and tripping like a drunk man.

After a couple of minutes of walking he saw a tracks, "Are...this fresh?" With a sudden burst of energy he walked slowly to not make noise, he looked around to see a wolf. "Finally, a meal!" He shouted, which made the wolf lung at him. "Give it your best shot!" He said reaching for his sword.

He took down the wolf with ease. then skinned it "This isn't the most healthy thing I could eat, but its sufficient" He walked to his camp, now out of his rush. He lit a fire with the small bit of magic he knew. Then cooked the meat, after what seemed like a eternity he tasted the meat. "This tastes terrible, but food's food" He said talking another bite. after he was full he started making his way back up the mountain.