The Hunter - Jalik
Aurora's more vibrant than any torch could be on this waxing moon's night. One could easily tell the difference between shadows, clear enough to be early at night, not already way past the time of mud crab hunting time. It's around this time those that awaken are either miners, not human, or a hunter of some sort.
That would be the case of the certain individual, standing so proudly by the fresh kill of deer meat, pulling his arrow out. Cleaning the crafted metal before putting it back in the quiver, taking out his small dagger. Best to skin the dear quickly, before any wolves picked up on the scent of a fresh kill- they'd find something when he was done of course. A true hunter never wastes anything of the kill, and neither did he. He'd leave everything he couldn't and wouldn't eat; brains, eyeballs, guts. The skin would make for a good addition to the clothes he was making; perhaps even part of some armor.
A leather pouch of water is used to clean his hands and the dagger, before packing up and leaving the unwanted parts of the deer behind as he carried it back to his hut.
The hut was nothing special, crafted out of logs and different materials, close by the city where the weather wasn't too cold, but not exactly warm either. He needed those furs to stay warm in this city. Some torches up, combined with Horker fat to keep them burning better, stronger and brighter, damned wolves at least stayed away then.
It was standing on a few rocks, it actually made for a better base of the structure, inside was just one room which functioned as a bedroom, kitchen, living room and a bathroom- the bathroom was of course half inside, half outside. Washing was done inside, in the small wooden tub, with other certain business to be done outside.
He places down the fresh kill, adding a few wooden logs to the burning fire in center of the hut, with stones around it to make sure the fire didn't spread in his sleep. He prepares his meal, adding a bit of this and that for seasoning, before placing it on the fire. Ah~. Time to relax and grab a bottle of alto wine and sit back. He opens the bottle, inhaling the scent of the deer as he brings the bottle up, letting the contents flow into his mouth and swallowing it, feeling that soft burn of the alcohol inside of it. Today was a good day, then again, every day was a good day when one would catch a deer. They were becoming scarce around Greenspring Hollow, the new Jarl had issued out that Deer's were only to be hunted for his purpose alone, and anyone ever caught hunting one would be put to the block.
Well, that was all good and jolly, but what was the chance of anyone finding out about him, here, in the middle of Greenspring Hollow? There weren't any Whiterun guards here, after all. A few pokes to the deer above the fire, and several bottles of alto wine later, the deer was finally ready to be eaten.
He grabs his dagger, cleaning it first before starting to cut pieces of meat off, stuffing them into his own mouth and sighing softly in the delight of being able to eat like this. Curse that new Jarl, who did he even think he was? He was only Jarl because the Stormcloaks assigned him there, and not because he actually earned the position. He could see clearly that night, the raid on Whiterun with giant rocks of fire being fired off and destroying good buildings in the process. War, a huge waste of time if you had to ask the young hunter, why did they even? Ah, right, because of the banning of Talos, and therefor they rebelled against the Legion and any who sided with them, and they succeeded But the Legion was still around, scattered all over Skyrim here and there. He's seen patrols of them coming by, and some were even stupid enough to think he cared.
The deer was now eaten, bones picked clean and nothing but, yes, bones were left. His hand rubs over his stomach, slowly circling there as if to help his food digest, eyes cast up to the low ceiling of his wooden hut, before the grey blue colored hues slowly slid to the window he sat by. A good and quiet night, he really does enjoy the slow nights, with bright auroras and nothing but stars in the sky. His satiated face fell, when he heard the roar and took notice of the wings flapping, the majestic head- of a dragon! His eye gave a visible twitch as he was up on his feet in an instant. The dragon had still been pretty far away, but what if it decided to attack his little hut, just because it could?
But he thanked the gods softly, as he saw the majestic creature fly off again. Perhaps it had been a warning for some animals, or something simple as that? He hoped it was, he sure did. A sigh of relief finally, when he could see the dragon no more, just a little spot in the night sky as he rose from the seat by the window, walking to the small basin he keeps to clean himself with, when it was simply to cold to go outside.
He placed the metal shield against one of the low hanging shelves, now able to see his own reflection, but a bit distorted. Still, that was fine; he could see what he wanted to. He had been unlucky enough to find himself face to face with a pack of wolves- usually he'd been perfectly able to handle himself, but his bow had broken earlier, resulting in a swift trip back home, but sadly life wasn't that easy around these parts. They had attacked, and despite his fighting skills, he had gotten a pretty nasty wound on his face. Damned wolves and their sharp claws, as if their teeth weren't bad enough? But the wound was healed nicely, despite the scarring it was leaving behind, he could live with this. He never considered himself handsome, after all, there were plenty of Bosmer around Skyrim, and they all kind of looked pretty much the same to him. Even though he wore his hair a bit longer and in a ponytail, instead of the usual hairstyle that was in fashion for his race. His finger traced over the scarring tissue by his lip, seems like the hair there won't be growing back, either. He just simply let out another sigh before cupping the water in two hands, splashing his face several times.
He was a calm young Bosmer, preferring to live out on his own with as little happening as possible. The greatness of solitude~. He returns to his bed, bow and the quiver full of arrows close by, it was rarely safe enough to sleep without an eye open here.
Darkness took over rather quickly, his belly full of alto wine and deer, his bed warm as was his body now, with the only sounds to accompany him were that of the soft crackling fire and passive animals outside the hut.
Morning came too quickly, awakening with a start at the sound of a loud howl. Wolves, this close to home? He's up on his feet in an instant, his boots on and his weapons strapped to his body as he peers out of the window. The sun was only just rising, but through the rays of red and orange and yellow, he could still make out the large creature that was so close to his porch. His bow is grabbed, the arrow readied- what in the hell was that thing?- he pulls it back, reading it to fire, and he almost releases it, stopping only because he was awed by what was happening right there. The creature started to shrink, the black fur started to revert to human skin. And now, he saw no beast, but a man, knelt down by his porch, butt naked with arrows and wounds all over his body. Now was not the time for impulsive thinking, but ever cautious he slowly exited the hut, bow and arrow still ready for firing. 'Who are you?' Like his personality, his voice had something gentle and calm to it, despite the adrenaline already rushing through his body. `
The werewolf - Aenar
The aurora would be vibrant tonight, he could tell from the colors of the sky, and how clear it was this night. He'd been having a rough day, but that wasn't anything new. And he expected them to be, enjoyed them to be. Loved the thrill of it every day as he hunted vampires, it was the reason he joined the Dawnguard after all. He adjusted the straps on the sadly on his horse, before making sure his own Dawnguard uniform was on right and nothing had come loose. 'Make sure to heal yourself, you might get Sanguinare Vampirisor something, oh, and thank you for the help. Me and my wife will sleep better tonight.' This is what he did it for; he nodded to the couple, holding each other close, bit bloody but all in all fine. He had been tracking down this vampire, finding it close by this home of the couple that were being fed off without even knowing it.
His hand brushed down his beard for a few seconds, 'Sanguinare Vampiris?' Oh right, the disease one could get from vampires, and after a few days you'd turn into one. 'Ah, I'll be fine!' He said with laughter in his words, finally climbing onto the horse as he gave them a nod. 'Stay safe.' And he'd ride his horse off towards the sunset.
He'd be lying if he didn't feel like a truly amazing hero at that point, after all, he saved people and got to kill one of those vampires. He doesn't hate them as badly as Isran does, though. Ah, Isran, the fearless leader of the Dawnguard. Good man, bit black and white on his view of the world though, Aenar always wondered what exactly happened to him to make him hate vampires so much. But Aenar was just in it for the fighting, it's the only thing he's really good at. He'd been at the companions for a long time, but when it was clear that his enjoyment for fighting was a bit to much high spirited for them, he left, only to be contacted by Isran.
The werewolf - Aenar
The wind was blowing, a bit crisp but nothing to cold he couldn't handle, his armor was heavy but it kept him nice and warm as well. He ran a gloved hand through his short blond hair, sighing softly as he noticed he could see his own breath. He'd been riding for a while now, and the air around was getting colder, he could see some snow around in the trees as well.
But as there are vampire hunters who kill vampires, there are other kinds of hunters, and they hunt other sort of monsters. 'There he is!' And he was barely able to evade the arrow that came flying past him, sadly his horse wasn't as lucky, hit right in the throat as it fell, taking its rider with it. He tumbled down, rolling on before he's up again, drawing his crossbow. And there they were a group of Silver Hand warriors, their weapons ready and arrows pointed at him. 'Ah..' Aenar started as he scratched the back of his head. 'Can we not do this now, I was having such a good d-'. But his sentence couldn't be finished as he dodged another arrow.
Some people are just better fighters than others, but still, taking on a group of seven hunters wasn't something he'd be able to do barehanded. His crossbow was dropped and his roar was as fearsome as the form he was beginning to take on. The load roar that came from him was nothing like that of a man, dark hair growing all over his body as now a wolf, a werewolf stood in front of the seven hunters.
The battle had been gruesome, scratches here and there, some arrows sticking out of the hide from his fur covered body as he stammered along the way, trying to find someplace he could be safe for the next day, the sun was already rising and he felt oddly warm in the glow of the rising sun as he let out another low growl, before falling to his knees. His body started to revert, and once again he was a man, no longer a beast as he panted heavily, 'Who are you?' Was the sudden voice he heard, quickly turning around to be facing another man.