Hey Brood, Falcon here with a new story! I've been playing a new character, Quinn of Nightfall, a Dunmer obviously, and she's a stealthy spellsword, so I joined was able to join all factions in the category of role playing. Well my two favorite characters are Jenassa and Sapphire, number one being Sapphire. Well I didn't think a neutral evil and a chaotic evil would be a good story for competing for Quinn's heart, so I took another one of my favorites, Aela the Huntress, and used her. I present to you Two Sides Of The Same Coin!

Dovahkiin, Dragonborn, is a sacred thing among the Nordic people, the blood of dragons being gifted to a child by Akatosh, giving them the ability to harness the Thu'um, or shout with just the soul of one of his children, the Dov. Nords say it should only be blessed upon them, some of the less xenophobic Nords would say Redguard, Imperial, or Breton should be allowed to wield the dragon's power, but no Mer or Beast race should be allowed as it's a blessing on Man. They can keep it, I say. If I could sacrifice the power to some Human who was more honest, more noble and humble, I would.

But, alas, I can not pass it to another. I must carry the burden of shouting and being seen as a hero for all my life, and possible in the future as a legend, the Vanquisher of Alduin. But that isn't me, I'm nothing more than a thief and a woman willing to kill if it comes down to such.

Hi, my name is Quinn of Nightfall, and this is what happened after the defeat of Alduin the World-Eater.

"I should be noble," I mumbled to myself, as I walked up the stairs to the Wind District. "I'll join the Companions of Jorrvaskr, become an honorable warrior, no more thieving. I'm good with a bow and a sword, even know some conjuration and destruction, I could be a useful member, bring some diversity. I know the have another Dunmer, like me, but none know any spellcraft and I'm sure it could be a little useful." I finished talking to myself as I stood infront of the doors of Jorrvaskr, made of the ship and the shields from Ysgramor and the original 500 companions.

I straightened the thick chitin corset and the red clothing underneath it, pulling the mask a little higher on the bridge of my nose, adjusting the small orange circular goggles and running my hands through my jet black hair. I took the shell helmet of the top, because one: It looked dumb. Two: I had to force my back-blade length hair into it and it gave me throbbing headaches, so I just removed it. The sides of my hair was braided, starting at my bangs all the way to the bottom, tucked behind my ears, keeping it out of my face when in a fight. I personally think I looked great in my Chitin Light Armor I got on Solstheim.

I had done three good thing in my life: Slain Alduin. Slain Harkon. Slain Miraak.

Besides those three things, I hadn't done anything good or remarkable. I used to have to scrounge and steal my meals, sometimes killed, and I was a little ashamed to say that it thrilled me when I stole or murdered. That was why I was here. I owned Breezehome, even a house in Raven Rock, and I never have to steal or kill for my meals, I always have plenty of Septims, and some places just give me the food for free. But I'll admit, I do still have temptations to steal, and I do, just for the fun of it. You can't take a single step in either of my houses without seeing flawless gems scattered all over the place, glittering beautifully in the fire light. The sight just fuels my need to steal even more, making it worse, I have a special weak spot for sapphires.

With a deep breathe, I push the doors open, taking my first step in.

The first thing I notice is how warm is compared to everywhere else in Skyrim. Second thing is a fight is going on. The Dunmer man and some woman, probably a Nord, are having a fist fight. Both of them are wearing hide armor and the Nord woman seems to be destroying the Dark Elf with little problem, not surprising that such a barbaric race is beating down a race of high class, diverse people. But I'm sure he did something to deserve it. A group of people are swarming around, watching. Another Nord woman, an Imperial woman, and four Nordic men. Before any of them notice me, I turn, moving toward a staircase leading deeper into the hall, on the way I pass an elderly Nord woman who just nods and gives me a warm smile as I descend the stairs.

The downstairs section isn't quite as hot, but still warm. It has a fine rug leading towards the back of the underground living area, where I can see two men, one gray-haired, the others hair is almost as black as mine and they're wearing matching steel and wolf skin armor. As I draw closer, I hear some of their conversation.

"But I still hear the call of the blood." The dark-haired one says grimly.

"We all do. It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome." The older one replies, sounding wise.

"You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily."

"Leave that to me." The the gray-haired man's gaze falls upon me. "A stranger comes to our hall."

"I seek to join the Companions."

"Do you now? Yes, let me look at you, remove your mask." I push my goggles up so they're resting on my forehead and pull the clothe covering two-thirds of my face down so it hangs around my neck. "Dragonborn! I did not realize it was you. Why do you want to join the Companions? You've already brought yourself great glory with three huge accomplishments."

"This is not about glory, but about honor and nobility."

"Ah, yes. Though, I have not heard of your combat prowess. How do you fair in battle?"

"Well, I excel with my bow," I state, tapping the Elven Bow on my back. "and I know my way around a blade. Now I will admit, I do tamper lightly in spellcraft."

"Hmmm…" He thought, stroking his beard.

"Master, you are not seriously considering letting a spellsword join our ranks, are you?" The other man said spellsword like it was poison that was slowly corroding him.

"I am nobodies Master, Vilkas. And, yes, I am. I doubt that none of the 500 used magic, even just a little. Take the Dragonborn, Quinn was it?" I give him a nod and he continues. "Take Quinn out back and test her arm."

"Follow me." Vilkas mumbles, rising to his feet and leading me back through the long hall, up the stairs, and out a backdoor, and into an open area, one side has training dummies, the other is an outside dining patio. "Kodlak said to have a look at you, so let's do this. And none of the magicka, either." He draws his steel sword, raising a banded iron shield and I draw my finely crafted Elven Shortsword.

Being a spellsword, I didn't have much in the category of defense, so it was all offense for me. I charged forward, raising my blade over head, as I brought it down, he blocked it with his shield and smacked me in the side with the flat of his blade. I jumped back, before charging again. This time he goes for the first swing, which I narrowly dodge, and use the momentum from his attack to spin him around. When he comes back around, he goes for another wide swing, but I was ready for that and brought the butt of my hilt down hard on his wrist. He was momentarily stunned, so I took the opening. I dropped back a step, turning so my sword arm was away and then took a side step forward, lashing out with my plated boot. The top of my boot connects with the side of his head and he crumbles, falling to one knee and using his shield as his only support. I press the tip against the back of his neck.

"Just because I'm a spellsword, doesn't mean I can't handle my blade as well as my spells."

After a long moment, I sheathe my sword and he rises to his feet. "Take my sword up to Eorlund to have it sharpened, whelp." He growls, shoving the blade into my arms and storming off, but not before I could the thin trail of crimson blood running down the side of his head.

I snicker as I move up towards the Skyforge, where another gray-haired man covered in soot is working at the forge. "Eorlund?"

"Hm? Yes, what is it?" He says without looking.

"Vilkas sent me with his sword. Said you'd sharpen it."

"Sent it down over there." He nods to a little stone platform with an iron helmet, iron shield, iron waraxe, iron battleaxe, a steel shield, and a book sit. "Also, could you take that shield to Aela? The steel one."

"Why not?" I shrug, grabbing the shield, and heading towards the stairs again.

"Thank you. What is your name, newcomer?"

"Quinn of Nightfall." It was then I realized I still didn't have my face covered, but I didn't care if I was going to have to introduce myself to more people. I made it inside about a half-an-hour before dark and found the nearest person, the woman who was giving the Dunmer fellow a pounding. I could tell she did win by the smug look on her face. "Hello?"

"What do you want?" She said harshly, putting her tankard down.

"Could you tell me where Aela is?"

"Downstairs somewhere. Just look for the red-headed Nord."

I didn't bother giving her a thanks, seeing as she was such a bitch. I checked only one room with eight beds in it before finding her and a man talking in one of the rooms. The Nord man was ugly, to say the least. One blind eye, a wisp of a beard, and balding on the top, but the rest of his greasy gray hair was pulled into a ponytail, his hair longer than mine.

But Aela… She was a different story entirely…

Her hair was like a deep coppery color that reached halfway down her back in long, wavy locks that shimmered in the candlelight. Her eyes were a molten golden color, that seem to catch me in her gaze and never let go. She had full, pink lips that were plump and so juicy, they were like begging me to kiss them. Her face had three green slash mark warpaint on it going from the top right of her forehead to the bottom left jaw. Her skin was as white as the snow that just made every thing pop! The worn reddish-brown leathers of her armor were like a glorified mini-skirt, with thick steel plating on each hip, her forearms, and her shoulders. A the string that was supposed to keep her breast tucked away was stretched to the limits, her large assets pushing against the armor, making my knees weak, and let's not even get started on her rump, but her whole milky white back was exposed, too.

Then I realized they were both staring at me expectantly. "I-I… I h-have-" I stopped, shaking my head. "I have your shield, Aela."

"Ah, thank you." She smiled a breathe-taking smile as she took the shield, her fingers brushing mine making my heart skip a beat.

"The new whelp." The greasy-haired man stated. "I saw her out in the yard training with Vilkas."

"Oh! He's in a bandages, now. You really knocked him down a few notches." She lets out a beautiful laugh that makes my stomach flutter. "Here, let me show you where you'll be resting your head here, Dovahkiin." She smiles at me knowingly.

"Dragonborn? That is you? I hadn't realized." The greasy-haired man looked surprised. "Aela, why not let Farkas show her?"

"Because, Skjor, I was heading that way to go eat, anyways." She places her hand on my back, navigating back the way I came. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dragonborn."

"Please, my name is Quinn of Nightfall. But you can just call me Quinn."

"I'm Aela the Huntress. But you can just call me Aela." Then we stop outside the eight-bed room. If you do not wish to walk back to Breezehome, you may rest here. Just pick an empty bed, drop your stuff and fall asleep."

"Thank you, Aela."

"Would you like to join me for dinner?"

Hell yeah! "Sure." I smile, following her to the dining hall. We seat beside each other on the end, although we are the only people in the room, everyone is else is off doing something, I presume.

"Where are you from, Quinn?"

"Blacklight back in Morrowind. I'm presuming you're from Skyrim?"

"Yes, the women of my family have a long tradition of joining the Companions. What brought you to Skyrim?"

"It's a long story I don't want to get into, at least right now. But I do miss home. The closest I've gotten was Solstheim about two months ago. I was there for six months, helping a Skaal village and Raven Rock." I took a large bite of a horker loaf that the elderly maid placed infront of me, then watched Aela throw her head back and take a long swig of mead, watching eat drink going down her elegant, pale neck. When she stopped, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

"Do you want to go hunting with me?" She asked, rising to her feet.

"Huh?"

"I want to see if you're Elf marksmanship is as good as my Nordic archery."

"Alright then! You're on!" I grinned, pulling my mask back up and goggles back down.