Dovahkiin POV:
When I wake up the storm is still raging, and I can't help letting out a small sigh. I've grown tired of being in one place. But complaining won't make the storm stop, so I get up and dress myself. I clean myself up, then head out into the main part of the inn to get some breakfast. I get some loaves of bread and a few bottles of ale. Finally, I turn around and search for Aealynn. I see her in one of the empty booths, idly scratching something into the table. I make my way over to her, sliding into the bench across from her. The Breton lazily flicks her dagger at me in a sort of greeting, then goes back to carving into the wood.
I have absolutely no idea if the owner of the inn would mind his table being scratched up, but I have no desire to tell him about it. I stop thinking about the dour innkeeper, and hand my traveling companion her bread and alcohol. At once she puts her weapon in its sheath, giving the food her pure attention. As she rips apart her meal I carefully eat mine, and allow my mind to wander this way and that. When we're done Aealynn goes back to carving into the table, but tells me, "The innkeeper assured me the storm would be over before night fell.". I begin to examine my claws as I make simple conversation with the woman across from me. "Good, I have a plan on where we should go next. The storm was the only thing holding us back.".
Aealynn nods, continuing her sketch on the wooden surface. I allow us to fall away into silence, but I'm quickly too bored to allow it to continue. "Care to tell me your opinion on Orcs? If I remember correctly, which I do, they were one of the two remaining races.". Aealynn continues sketching as she answers, "If you're willing to hear it, then I'm willing to say it.". I nod, then realize she isn't looking and say aloud, "I'm willing to hear it.". The Breton continually digs her knife into the table as she answers. "They seem to favor violence over diplomacy, have certain beliefs they refuse to waver from,". I hold back my remark of 'similar to you', and focus on hearing the rest of what the woman has to say.
"and they never seem to break from their traditions in even the slightest way. But they're absolutely amazing at being smiths, and I'm certain they can craft almost anything under the sun. Almost every single one of them seems natural in the art of fighting, and giving them a great-sword is like giving a mammoth a giant's club.". She still focuses on her sketch as she questions, "Are the Orcs still like that today?". I've only met a few Orcs in my travels, but I answer her as honestly as I can. "The women seem to have taken up almost all of the smithing, and I've met a few Orcs who prefer sword and shield to a two-handed weapon.".
"However, they've still proven useful in any battle. And, their smiths can still fashion almost anything imaginable. Quite a few are stuck in traditions and ways, but now it's more sociably acceptable to break those rules. They might not be welcomed back to their original stronghold, but no other clan shall shun them if they decide to join their ranks. You also have to remember that Orcs now have the ability to thrive on their own. And, with the new social acceptance of rule breaking, more women are finding it easier and easier to refuse the prospect of getting married. Some strongholds are even doing away with the entire 'clan chief' thing. They're rare and far between, but the number is growing with every year.".
"Malacath is still their god, and they worship him as fervently as ever. That's about all I can tell you about the Orcs. Just remember that I've only met a few on my travels, and I haven't even been to more than three strongholds.". Aealynn stopped drawing about halfway through, and now she's giving me her full attention. "So, it seems their reputation hasn't changed much. An impressive feat for any race.". I nod in agreement, but remind her, "Their culture has gone through some major changes. Although everybody's has.". She nods and the silence once again consumes us, trying to swallow the whole inn.
I decide to bite the arrow and tackle the last subject we've touched. "What about the Redguards of Hammerfell?". Aealynn was idly attempting to clean something from under her nail using the dagger, but I've once again gained her full attention. She puts the weapon off to the side, takes a small moment to think, and says her opinion of the last race we haven't touched. "They tend to be absolutely unyielding, they're all extremely bold, heedless, unnaturally confident, and tend to be conceited. But it's a well-known fact that they're by far some of the best warriors in all of Tamriel. Even the weakest Redguard can take down nearly any opponent without breaking a sweat.".
"It's like they come from the womb with a sword in one hand, and a shield in the other. It's almost mesmerizing to watch them in combat, it's almost like they're an artisan at work that's making their greatest masterpiece ever.". I take a moment to consider if the Redguards have changed much, then respond to the Breton's statement. "The Redguards are still some of the best warriors in Tamriel, but for the last hundred years or so they've been fighting with Orcs for that title. They still own it, but I wouldn't be surprised if the Orcs one day managed to snatch it away from them. Or maybe I'm being paranoid, and the Orcs aren't even close to overthrowing the Redguards.".
Aealynn nods and continues scribbling into the table. My curiosity gets the better of me and I stand up, then walk around the table. The woman doesn't mind when I stand beside her, looking over her shoulder. The symbol of The Daggerfall Covenant is etched into the wood, and it's so deep the poor innkeeper's lost the entire table to it. Aealynn brushes away some wood shavings, and I see she's added some extreme lengths to add detail to the wood. Swooping patterns, depth where it's needed, and slight contrast in parts of it (how she managed to add contrast to a wood carving I'll never know). She must have been doing this well before I woke up, and she's obviously put some extreme heart into it.
I'm jolted out of my admiring gaze by the Breton turning her head slightly and looking over her shoulder. For a moment I think she's offended, then she tells me, "The storm has stopped.". I perk up ears up and listen. Sure enough, the raging wind outside has stopped howling for blood. I nod and question the woman. "Do you wish to leave?". She nods and rises, following me back to our room. We gather our supplies and go back out into the main inn. As an afterthought I buy some food for the road, and hand over a decent portion to Aealynn. The woman nods and we both go out the door, the slight wind already chilling us.
The path to Winterhold is a long and treacherous one. It's filled with monsters, brigands, and occasional holes in the ground that could shatter our legs or trap us completely. However, there is one thing that's working in our favor. The weather. The storm raged on throughout the night, and now the entire area seems to be out of breath. There's still a tremendous amount of snow and ice covering the entire path, but at least we don't have to worry about another storm rearing its head and blowing us away. We occasionally have to go around a particularly risky block in the road, but that's about the only trouble. In fact, it's almost peaceful out here.
The entire world is an off white, and the harsh ground is turned into a collage of gentle slopes. I've stopped to admire the view, and Aealynn is by my side. She couldn't seem to care less, but at least she isn't complaining about going faster like Serana occasionally would. The Breton beside me takes out her rusted iron sword, idly swinging it through the air. Her filthy and rusted armor jangles as she moves, and the noise is amplified by the stillness of the entire world around us. When Aealynn gets bored she puts her sword back up. She allows me to enjoy the view for as long as I want, but eventually I decide enough is enough and it's time to go. I turn and begin walking, the Breton following me.
We've barely gone more than a few feet when I hear the click of horse hooves against ice, and I unfortunately know what's coming next. I raise both of my hands, fire crackling in one and frost snapping in the other. Aealynn apparently didn't hear the sound of approaching bandits because she suddenly fumbles for her sword, and it takes it a moment for her to get it out. But once it's out the Breton is ready to fight, and begins looking everywhere for her opponents. However, that's where the problem lies. The canyons around here amplify sound, and cause thunderous echoes to ring throughout the entire area. And, the world is nothing more than a gigantic sheet of white at the moment.
I swivel my ears around, but it's fruitless. Eventually I sigh and begin doing what I feel is the stupidest solution. I begin walking in a circle, looking everywhere. Almost instantly Aealynn criticizes, "What are you doing? Stop that, you look like a fool!". I see the bandits off in the distance and stop, pointed in their direction. I smirk and tell her, "A fool who just found the bandits!". Aealynn follows my gaze, and freezes when she finally sees the brigands charging us. Three mounted warriors are charging across the white plane at us, and even from here I can see they're heavily armored and most likely armed to the teeth. It doesn't matter how fast we run, we'll still have to fight.
As the brigands draw near I feel Aealynn brush my side, and spare a glance over. Her rusted armor and sword are like something a young adventurer would have. And, the skeletons of young adventurers fill the graves of Skyrim because of positions like this. I pour a little more magicka into my palms. I'll need it to defend myself, and Aealynn. The bandits are closer, and I can see them clearly now. Two lanky males and a solid looking female, all of them wearing steel plate armor.
On their backs are strapped their weapons. The woman carries a hammer, one man carries a bow, and the other carries a sword and shield. All of their horses are gigantic snorting beast, and I can already tell they'll try to help their masters win the fight. The woman's horse is even armored. The metal he's encased in is rusty, but it makes him extremely tougher to kill. I might be able to hit them all with a shock spell, but their armor is probably treated to reflect such easy tactics. Damn. I get a little closer to the Breton and ask, "Ready?". She nods and confirms, "Ready?". The bandits slap their horses one more time, and they're upon us.