Trouble never comes alone Options

[jack cloudy]

Yes, so I just couldn't resist and had to get this off my chest. We'll see how long it lasts. Same deal as with redemption, I'll be using this post as a character list and the first part will be in the next one. For now the list is simple.

A question. Should I add a separate entry for Spar at the very bottom that is basically the extra-spoilers edition?

Spar: A female Imperial and the main character of this story. Is guided by 'Them'.
(Portrait)

Silent Fist: A Companion Spar hires to escort her into Bleak Falls Barrow. He doesn't speak, wear shirts or use weapons. Click here for portrait

Faendal: A wood elf who lives in a small village known as Riverwood. He works as a hunter and lumberjack.

Lucan Valerius: The shopkeeper of Riverwood.

Jarl Balgruuf: The Jarl of Whiterun, a city located in the center of Skyrim between the fronts of the Imperial and Stormcloak factions.

Hrongar: Jarl Balgruuf's brother. Looks like he walked off the set of a Conan-film.

Irileth: A Dunmer who serves as Jarl Balgruuf's bodyguard.

Proventus Avenicci: Jarl Balgruuf's steward.


Vilkas: One of the Companions, a mercenary group in Whiterun
Vignar Grey-Mane: Formerly of the Companions, now retired.

Ulfric Stormcloak: The rebel leader in Skyrim, once on of the Emperor's generals.

Arkarik: Someone Spar was supposed to meet in Cyrodiil.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Aug 1 2013, 06:34 PM

[jack cloudy]

I swear we will be back on the road soon. But first I present to you, the companions!




Chapter 1.7

"And what's in it for us?" I was not impressed. Yes, the local fighter's guild members were all impressively big and they had many large weapons hanging on the walls. But swords and muscle alone aren't what makes a warrior. It also required a certain mindset and discipline. And the last was sorely missing. The place was filthy. Plates and mugs had spilled their contents all over the longtables along with the occasional pool of vomit. Five feral looking dogs, whom a closer look revealed to be actual wolves, were gnawing on a pair of goats beneath the table. On the far end of the room two Companions, one of the few who weren't too drunk to stand, were beating each other to pieces in some odd manhood ritual while the rest hung around and cheered. Just because they were able to stand didn't mean they were sober, however. The liquor had done enough damage to make them decide the best way to fight was ramming their faces together till someone dropped.


I turned my attention back to Vilkas who at least was everything Proventius had implied. Young, the only one in the room who insisted on wearing well-made plate and sword and shield laid before him on the table. He had measured his drinking so that his faculties remained potent and tailored his image to show he meant business. He was a wily one.
"You get coin as I say. If you." I cut across an arm with my hand. "Then Jarl tell other man to make you good." Force of habit had made me ask for and greet him in Cyrodiilic. The grimy man had made it known that he only understood the Skyrim language. Them however saw something in his bodylanguage. Too fast and too smooth. Too deliberate. It was a hunch and nothing solid, but I mixed my crude Skyrim with the odd Cyrodiilic word at critical points. He didn't even notice.


"And if I die?" The man now asked me with a quick laugh as if dying was an amusing joke he'd just remembered. To our right an old man slurred some Skyrimese into his mug and then looked around as if he expected someone to agree with whatever he'd said. He'd done this for a while now, practically since I entered, and soundly been ignored each time. The only thing I could make out was Aldmeri Dominion, mostly because the Skyrims didn't seem to have a name of their own for it. It wasn't anything that concerned me anyhow. Unless he was trying to warn me of a Dominion spy, in which case I already knew. Right now I figured I should keep my attention focussed on hiring the not-drunk fellow who feigned to know only one language.
"Then I die and no coin two times for you. So you is good if you not die." I disliked negotiating in Skyrim just so that this sellsword could have his advantage, but it didn't really matter for I had an even greater advantage. I was the one with the bag of coin. Vilkas would give in, not without trying to get something more from me, but he would give in.


"Your terms are spoken boldly and agreeable apart from one thing." Here it came. "If you're searching for treasure, we want in on it."
"No. The job is protect me, not take treasure. I think you are fighter's guild." I used the Cyrodiil name for it. This time he did take notice, but not because of the language I'd used.
"We're the Companions!" The fighter shouted in a rage. "We are not some filthy sellswords from High Rock who wag their tails for a few coins!" He went on like that for a while and though most of it went over my head, I understood that he found the word fighter's guild to be insulting. As if these Companions only sold their swords because it was their tradition to do so and that somehow made them better than every other mercenary hall who didn't make pretenses about what they did. There was also this Ysgramor again. The odds of that name belonging to some old Nord hero rose considerably in my mind.


I leaned back and crossed my arms as I let him vent his anger. In due time and quicker than I'd estimated, he seemed to realize that he wasn't winning anything with his tirade. Vilkas calmed himself down and started over again with an open gesture of his hands.
"Look, missy! We are the best there are in all Tamriel. We don't cheat, we don't swindle, we don't drink while on a job and we die before our client comes to harm. I say the Companions have the right to ask for their fair due. And you need us." He said. Some loud cheering from the side of the hall and the sudden lack of wet smashing of heads told me the brawl was over. I didn't look who had won. Vilkas had more to say.
"Look at yourself. You're clean, like a pup who hasn't been weaned off its mommie's milk yet. No scars, not even the winds have cut your brow. Have you ever entered a tomb, or killed a man?"


Had I? The answer was yes of course, but should I mention that to him? It felt personal though, the way he thought of me as some harmless floorpolisher with delusions of valour. Certainly, I wanted to come across as relatively helpless, but not that helpless.
"I know what it is like." I told him.
"Wrong. You've heard what it's like. But you can't know unless you've done it. And things like exploring a Barrow don't come with second chances. I have killed more men than have ever courted you." His analogy was badly chosen, but his point was one that fit the image he had of me. And I would be the last to rely on second chances. "I have been in the tombs and fought the Draugr, I have howled in the face of their undying hate. I know what it's like and it's not for unsoiled virgins! Now, reconsider your terms or choose death. It matters not to me which you choose."


In the end we came back to the place we started. I'd made my offer and he'd made his counteroffer. I'd offered a bag of coin, taken from the treasury at the order of the Jarl's steward, and a second payment upon completion of the contract. He had demanded the opportunity of looting the barrow. If that was everything he wanted, then I saw no reason to deny it. I only needed a seemingly useless brick and a random trinket or two. As long as Vilkas didn't let greed cloud his eyes, he was free to take all he could carry.
"Take all you need. Sword, plow, saw, cup, lamp. All that is not heavy and does not bring dead men. When I have my item. Not when I have not. That is my 'reconsider'. Take it, or I take man that is not you."





The man contemplated it and I gave him all the time he needed to do so. One of the half-tamed wolves came up to lick his hand. Vilkas patted it on the head. It looked at me, put its ears back and shied away back to the goat carcass. The old man began about the Dominion again. This time however, he did it in rough Cyrodiilic.
"When the Empire lay down to the Aldmeri Dominion, they shamed us all!" That was what it was all about. I turned to him and looked him directly in the eye.
"Unless you have something relevant to add to this conversation, shut up." I told him and gave an aside to Vilkas.
"Well? Are you going to do something with your life or are you going to sit under a leaky roof and listen to old fools relive their past glories?"


I was furious. Furious at this ancient decrepit has-been who had been railing against me, as the 'face' of the empire, for no reason. As if the empire was bad because it sought peace. Because it ended a war it couldn't sustain! Was this what we'd fought for? So that old grumblers could drink themselves into a stupor and dismiss the deaths of the thousands of better men and women who had made their peace possible? He knew nothing about shame and had no right to judge others on it.


Vilkas threw a glance at the old bastard and shrugged.
"The Companions will fight the foes off your back, missy. We are yours." He said in the same crude but definitely understandable Cyrodiilic. A corner of his mouth tugged upward, acknowledging his deception and dropping the mask now that it wasn't needed anymore. But though he agreed to the contract, the older one with his soggy whiskers did not.
"Vilkas! This woman mocks our honour!" He shouted. It set the young man off again. Again I leaned back and crossed my arms as I watched the fighter explode. At least this time his anger wasn't directed at me. What was left to be seen was how much power the guy wielded. If he was the leader of the Companions, the deal was off and I'd have to change plans.


"Dammit Vignar! We've waited for you. We've stayed out of this war for you. More than that, we haven't done anything since! Day after day you complain about how the Companions have become less than they were in the day you held the sword, yet in the same breath you order us to stay here like whipped sheep. And we have bent the knee at your word and waited. But look around! See Jorrvaskr. See the great hall of Ysgramor's fivehundred! Look at it, and look at us!" He shouted back at the man, this Vignar. Was he one of those Gray-Manes Proventius had told me about? It seemed possible. Vilkas wasn't finished though and I had to admit I enjoyed him put Vignar in his place.
"She's right. The milkdrinking dragonwoman is right. We're sitting here eating the scraps of the scraps of last feast, drinking piss that's more water than mead. Our last job was bullying the local junkdealer into lowering his prices! The Companions, who bravely broke the nose of Belethor. Is that what our songs shall be about? And the roof is leaking! Is this what Ysgramor's legacy is supposed to be? Is this what true warriors are meant to be? Is the truth only the truth when it comes from you, but an insult when it comes from the tongue of a stranger? I say we take the job. I say we stop running from ourselves in mead, dogfood and empty brawls. I say we go out to seek valiant battle and glorious deeds. I say we make our honour worth defending."


He stopped, out of breath.
"She's Imperial, Vilkas." Vignar said, but the fight seemed to have left him and it lacked the fire he must have hoped for. The younger warrior shook his head and turned to me now.
"Missy. Just tell me one thing. This thing you're looking for. It won't help anyone in the liberation war, will it?" He asked me. Interesting to note that he didn't speak of the rebellion, but of the liberation. I was reminded of some less well known sayings of Shinji Gaiden. The name of the battle betrays the speaker's side.
"You tell me how a crummy old necklace for a little brat is going to harm General Stormcloak, or aid his foes." I answered him. "The best it will do is look pretty around her neck. If she doesn't toss it on the floor."


He looked at me long and hard. But there was no way for him to detect a lie, even if I'd tried one. The Jarlsdotter would have her necklace, even if she had never asked for it. Everything else I picked up in the barrow, such as a certain stone, was a personal souvenir, not worth mentioning.
"We'll see, Missy. We'll see about that. But for now, the Companions will fight your enemies for you. And I have a carpenter to see."



OOC: The Companions at the time of Skyrim have fallen down from their glorious heydays. I may have taken it a bit further than that, but I felt like this fall should have been more obvious than just some moping over a lost axe, no matter how awesome said axe is.


As for Vignar, I regret nothing. I've never heard him say anything else than his 'empire surrenders' greeting and how the current batch of Companions isn't as good as his was.