Author's Note: So this is a little bit different for me. This story was birthed by the combined minds of a good friend and mine. This is a romance/adventure/possibly some humor revolving around our characters from ESO. This story will have switching POVs, which is another element I am experimenting with. Each POV switch will be shown with the initial of the character whose POV we are reading from. We spent a lot of time on their backstories and character traits; but I'm droning on. Into the meeting of our heroines!
M
Leaves crunched under light leather boots as the sun cast dreary rays through the thick foliage of the Glenumbra forest. The Breton looked about with cold blue eyes, scowling at her surroundings; she was lost, again. Something howled in the distance and she gripped her woven wooden staff closely. Wandering was something she was familiar to, but getting lost was a constant. She didn't like to stay in one place for too long, but her fear kept her from wandering too far from her past.
A howl sounded over her left shoulder, where the forest got a little bit thicker. She shifted her staff from her left hand to her right, preparing herself for a battle. The small woman set her jaw, and stalked forward towards the howling.
Rushing forward over fallen branches and gnarled roots the mage came upon a large figure sprawled out in the dirt. Exactly three wolves surrounded the body, one of them was pawing at the body, sharp teeth heading for the tender flesh. Not knowing if this stranger was dead or alive, she thrust forward through the brush, taking the wolves by surprise with her staff. She made quick work of the starving things, draining their lives easily with her magicka.
The Breton blew a long piece of her dark brown hair out of her face, it seemed to almost always separate from her braid that circulated her head, looking almost similar to a crown. She approached the figure cautiously, stooping down and laying her staff close within reach. Reaching out hesitantly with her left hand she felt for the figure's face, and as she did so she summoned a small ball of fire in her right hand as to see better in the encroaching darkness.
Sharp cheekbones met tentative fingers as she turned the figure's face towards herself. The Breton recoiled slightly in disgust; it was an Orc. The Orc was female, her skin was a light pale grey and strange piercings protruded from her lower lip. In the middle of her lower lip was an almost fang shaped piece of jewelry that hung down nearly to her chin; on the sides of her lip closer to the corners of her mouth where dual studs. The Breton scowled, wondering why someone would disfigure their mouth in such a way. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, her jaw strong. Her features were quite attractive...for an Orc, the Breton tacked on with a roll of her eyes. The woman's hair was shaved on the sides, and a single strip of hair black as ebony was left in the middle of her head. It was about five inches long and lay partially in her face, seemingly stuck to her skin with blood.
The Breton retrieved her staff and stood, looking down at the woman with a strange mixture of pity and disgust. The Orc seemed to have been robbed or otherwise assaulted, as she had been completely stripped of her belongings. No weapons lay nearby, and she had been shamefully stripped down to her under garments. Intricate tribal tattoos traced the entire expanse of her lightly muscled pale skin, occasional scars nicking her skin. The Orc was obviously a warrior, and the Breton's inquisitive nature made her curious as to why this woman was lying in the middle of the Glenumbra forest bleeding out.
The Orc looked weakly up at the Breton, her jaw moving as if she was struggling to speak but the words would not come to her. A wet cough broke her chest, trailing off into hacking and wheezing, a thin stream of blood trickled down her chin and out of the corner of her mouth. She reached out, trying to look about and coughing as her fingertips grazed the Breton's boot.
Scowling, the Breton fought the urge to kick her hand away. "Filthy Orc...what happened to you?"
The Orc struggled to speak, only wheezing sounds coming from her lungs; the look on her face was clear, help.
The Breton crossed her arms, warring with herself. She couldn't figure out why she wanted to help this pathetic creature. Tamriel was survival of the fittest after all, and clearly this woman had failed in that aspect. But at the same time she prided herself on being a healer, and curiosity about this strange woman was definitely a factor.
Hesitantly she brought her hands together as she summoned a healing spell with her magicka, "You better be grateful for this, filthy Orc…"
…
R
Warmth, the first thing that struck Rodana was that she was surrounded by warmth. The second thing that occurred to her was that her head felt as if it had been smashed by a warhammer. Hesitantly cracking open her eyes, she looked about with a groan.
A thick plain quilt had been thrown almost carelessly over her body, and a fire roared between her and a rather disgusted looking Breton woman. Her brown hair was tied in a braid that wrapped about her head like a crown, her pale blue eyes were cold as they bore into Rodana's; she wore simple green and light brown mage robes with golden accents. Her features were youthful and girlish, she was quite beautiful. A large woven wooden staff was propped against the log she sat on, and in her hands she held a small dagger that she was sharpening.
Rodana sat up a little, making her head spin and her stomach ache. She groaned, putting her head in her hands before quickly pulling up the blanket to cover herself when she realized that her armor was gone and only her simple dark cloth underthings remained. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes snapped up to glare daggers into the Breton's. "Who in Oblivion are you?"
The Breton calmly set her sharpening stone aside, holding the dagger firmly in her right hand. She came off as cool and confident, but Rodana swore she could see the woman's hands shaking slightly. "Look savage, I saved you from nearly being eaten alive by a pack of wolves. I think you ought to show a little less hostility and a little more gratitude."
Rodana acquiesced with a scowl, attempting to relax slightly, although not out of fear. Surely if this woman meant her harm, she had already missed her most opportune moment. Even unarmed, she was positive she could take this tiny Breton.
The Breton smirked, something akin to superiority showing mockingly in those even white teeth. She spoke quietly in a gentle, smooth, accented voice; it matched her appearance in every way. "May I ask why you were lying in the forest, battered, bloodsoaked and nearly nude?"
Rodana cast her eyes down into the fire, clenching her jaw tight; shame filled her body. "I'd rather not say. I don't know you from a hole in the ground, why should I tell you?"
The Breton stabbed the dagger into the log she was sitting on, reclining slightly on her hands. Her expression was smug, as if she had the upper hand in this situation. "I saved your life after all. Can't say why, but anywho, I believe you owe me for my act of selflessness. I am Madetiene; now that we are a bit more acquainted, I implore you to share this story with me."
The Orc nodded slowly, questioning the motives of Madetiene, but finding herself intrigued by the strange Breton; something was almost hypnotizing about the woman. Her blue eyes were icy and condescending, but Rodana caught herself getting lost in them. She mulled the name over slowly, it sounded like the name of a Queen.
She licked at her lower lip, a nervous habit. "I suppose you've earned it. I assume you know of Orcish strongholds?"
Madetiene nodded, eyeing the Orc with curiosity.
Rodana sighed and stared into the fire with intensity. "I'm Rodana, I fled one of those strongholds. My father was a very powerful chieftain, and I had to keep up to very high standards due to that. I had to be physically superior than other women in the stronghold in every way. I had to hunt more, had to kill more, had to earn more tattoos and more trophies. All of this was to assure that I would have the most superior children in order to carry on my father's legacy. Marrying the daughter of a chieftain is one of the highest honors in a stronghold. It's the closest that we come to royalty."
The Orc paused for a moment, her tongue fiddling with one of her lip piercings, she looked troubled. "Due to that, the chieftain is often the one who chooses that his daughter will marry when she comes of age."
Madetiene scowled. "Forced marriages? That's quite barbaric, even for Orcs."
Rodana gave her a look. "Anyway, the daughter is forced to marry a man and have children; It's considered a great honor," she scoffed, disgust evident in her tone as she spoke, "Let's say that this chieftain's daughter has no interest in men or little brats, so she attempts to run away the night before the ceremony. Then she is hunted down after a few weeks as this is considered dishonorable; she is no longer worthy of the stronghold or of the title of even being an Orc. She is stripped of their armor and weapons, beaten within an inch of her life, and left to die."
A silence fell between the two, only the sounds of the crackling fire and crickets chirping filling the night.
The Breton broke the silence as she took in the Orc's somber expression. "That is most unfortunate. Sometimes a fresh start is much needed; perhaps you are better off without them," she paused for a second, looking about with those icy blue eyes before gathering her staff and her dagger, "Speaking of, I should go."
Tucking the dagger into her boot and propping her staff against her shoulder, the smaller woman started off into the dark forest, leaving Rodana sitting by a roaring fire with shock on her face.
The Orc stood quickly in shock, becoming lightheaded from standing up so quickly. She rushed into the forest after the other woman, dead leaves crunching under her bare feet. "Now wait, what about your blanket?" What about me? Not knowing what else to do, she rushed to keep up with the woman, catching up with her surprisingly quickly. She wasn't quite sure why she pursued the Breton; the feeling of loss that took her as soon as she was alone was unsettling. Rodana had no one and nothing; no friends, no home, she didn't even have adequate clothing.
The Breton looked over her shoulder, giving the Orc a look a distasteful look, but she continued walking. "You can have it. Clearly you need it more than I do," Madetiene gave a smug smirk.
Rodana felt some sort of strange panic come over herself. This strange mage was the only somewhat friendly person she knew in the outside world, and she had already saved the Orc's life despite not knowing her. The need to not let this woman walk away was consuming.
"Yes, but we can help each other. You said it yourself, I owe you; let me pay you back."
"How could you possibly-" The Breton was cut off by the Orc suddenly pushing her roughly to the side of her path, the sharp wood of a tree cutting into her back.
...
M
Panic pulsed through Madetiene's blood as she cried out in pain and fear; she should have known better than to trust this savage. The Orc's body was pressed flush against her own, emitting heat and smelling of the forest and blood, she had pinned Madetiene's hands to the tree. Her staff fell somewhere in the leaves by her feet.
"I already saved you, foolish Breton." Rodana smirked widely, pointing down to the sharp rusted edges of the bear trap that Madetiene had nearly stepped in.
The Breton huffed, putting on her best 'I knew that' face and trying to ignore the pounding of her heart and the embarrassment blooming in her cheeks from the terrified yawp she had emitted a moment ago. "Of course, now get off of me!" Her voice came out strained as she shoved the laughing Orc away. She brushed at her robes and tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear, blushing furiously and glaring into the Orc's soul.
Rodana's grin was like a Cheshire cat.
Madetiene's glare should have killed her by this point. "Do not say a word."
The Orc's toothy grin became wider. "You're scared of me."
The Breton huffed and threw her arms in the air. "Yes! Okay! Yes! You are scary, because you are a damn savage! Do you feel accomplished?" Exasperation was heavy in her tone, and it only served to make Rodana grin even wider.
"There you go, there's why I should travel with you. I'm a savage and I can terrify anyone who dares threaten you."
Madetiene rolled her eyes and looked about, suddenly noting that the blanket had fallen to the ground in the confusion. Rodana stood before her in her thin underthings; smirking widely as Madetiene blushed harder as she took in the sight of her femininely muscled arms crossed over a full chest, her curvaceous hip cocked out slightly as she rested her weight on one foot. The tattoos that traced her body covered all of her flesh, save for her hands, feet, neck, and head. They were taboo things, some strange part of Madetiene wanted to trace them with her fingertips. "You are a strange savage; cover yourself and let us be gone from this atrocious forest." She grabbed her staff angrily from the dirt.
The Breton started walking in a random direction before Rodana's voice interrupted her. "Town is back the other way."
Madetiene turned around with a growl, shouldering past the smirking Orc. "Shut up, savage."