Jul

Lucius

I was a failure.

I had been a fool, blind to the danger and painful reality of the world. It seemed that there was no one I could save, no one that I could protect. By merely coming to Skyrim I had brought about the deaths of Lydia, Paarthurnax, and countless others. I had even allowed Ulfric's eternal soul to be destroyed.

I was no hero.

But I still had my honor. Such a thing was not easy to get rid of, and I found myself looking more and more for the kind of good, heroic work that would bring me happiness. I wanted to prove to myself that I could save someone, anyone. And the best place for me to do that was with the Companions.

The Companions were a group as old as Men themselves, dating back to the first explorations of the Atmoran raiders fleeing their frozen homeland for Tamriel's shores. The group had come into conflict with the Snow Elves after the "Massacre of Saarthal," a monstrous event that set off a terrible war that would eventually end with the enslavement and devolution of the Falmer race by their Dwemer brethren. The Companions would eventually take up residence in the center of their new homeland, near a mystical monument known as the "Skyforge," famed even today for its properties regarding metals crafted upon it.

The mead hall created by the Companions, Jorvasskr, would stand since that time without ever being destroyed. Eventually, the bravery and honor of the warriors in defending the Men of Skyrim would become widely known, especially during the Dragon Wars, and a village sprung up around them for the protection the Companions brought. The village would eventually grow into a town, which would become a city, which would evolve quickly into a hold, which would become the trading hub for all of Skyrim: Whiterun.

For millennia, the Companions had defended Whiterun, and indeed Skyrim, against all manner of beasts. During the Oblivion Crisis the Companions single handedly fought back wave after wave of Daedra from the gates of many cities and saved countless lives in battles worthy of songs sung by gods. Many of the fallen had taken seats in Shor's hall, even a few of the non-Nord heroes of the crisis.

Yes, I decided, that was just the kind of group I needed to grow, to find myself with. The loss of so many because of my own failings was... I needed to fight with others, not just for them. It seemed, to me, that the Companions were warriors of honor and skill. Better yet, my... past would not matter to them.

So as I entered the basement of the mead hall, looking for Kodlak Whitemane, the Harbinger of the Companions who had aided Tullius and Rikke in planning our assault on Vignar's Whiterun so long ago, I was filled with a feeling of hope that had left me some time ago. A fight had broken out between two of the warriors near the entrance, but it was, honestly, more like the wrestling of brothers than anything truly serious. It was as if the Companions were as much a family as a unit of warriors. Just rowdy, albeit dangerous, children in a drunken, happy family. I approached the door to Kodlak's chambers. They were closed.

"...still hear the call of the blood," a deep voice, a man's, said. It was broken, sad. I froze outside of the doorway. It would be wrong to intrude on such a conversation. I began to move, but froze as a wooden panel began to creak beneath my foot.

An older, still deeper voice replied. "We all do. It is our burden to bear, but we can overcome."

The first voice sighed. "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 older man replied. A brief pause. "You can enter the room, you know."

I groaned and pushed the door open. "I am sorry, Sir. I'm looking for Kodlak," I said, bowing.

"Ah, that would be me," the older of the two said, his gray hair in a wild, well, mane around his head. His eyes twinkled as he looked at me. "What is it that you are here for?"

"I... I have been told to speak with you. About joining the Companions," I replied. I fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Were you now?" the old man asked with a smile. He walked towards me. "Here let me have a look at you. Hm... yes, perhaps. A certain... strength of spirit."

The other man scoffed. "You want to take this man? I've never even heard of this outsider!"

Kodlak laughed, a boisterous, booming nose of pure mirth. "Vilkas, this is the Dragonborn. Savior of Skyrim. If you have not heard of him, perhaps you are not listening."

The younger man's face palled. "I... I expected you to be a Nord."

Kodlak laughed again, then turned to me. "Well, I have no doubt you are more than worthy in battle, boy. We would be honored to have you join. Speak to Vilkas here, he'll introduce you to everyone. And offer you work when you need it. Till next we meet." The old man bowed slightly and left the room, leaving me with the younger man and his worried, lupine eyes.

Jul – Zuspein

Lucius

The Companions' leaders, the Circle, held a terrible secret. Skjor, Aela, Vilkas, Farkas, even Kodlak... they were werewolves, beings cursed with the lycanthropy of Hircine. Skjor and Aela had offered me that... that curse. I, of course, had refused. "We will not force you to do this, Shield-Brother," the man had said. "But you cannot join us until you share in our blood."

As I recounted my recent dealings with the other members of the Circle to Kodlak, the old man was quiet. Calm. He frowned sadly as I came to a close. "Hm... it would seem that Skjor and Aela wish to elevate you without consulting me or Vilkas. I am glad you came to me, Luc."

"You are wise Kodlak," I remarked. I sighed. "What do I do? I came here... to be in a family, I suppose. But now it's as if I have to do this to become part of the family. And I – I don't want to give up being human. I don't want to give up Aetherius."

"Indeed, boy, I understand," the old man replied. He placed his hand on my shoulder and sighed somberly. "Indeed, I hold the same hopes. I dream of Sovngarde's mists, to see it as you did. I fear, as you do, that Shor will not take a beast."

"What should I do, Kodlak?" I asked again, defeated.

"You must do what you believe is right, Luc," the old man said reassuringly. He took his hand from my shoulder. "Whatever you choose, there is information I would have you know."

I looked up at the old man inquisitively. "What is it?" I asked.

"I am... close... to deciphering the power of this curse. I am loathe to involve Magick in our dealings, but it seems unavoidable," the old man said.

"I... know quite a bit about Magick, Harbinger," I told the man. He frowned. "Perhaps I can help? If you know the origins of the Circle's lycanthropy, please tell it to me."

The old man sighed. "Fine," he acquiesced. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Then: "The call of the blood is... new to the Companions. A fierce, if shortsighted, Harbinger many centuries ago begged a coven of Hircine worshiping witches to strengthen us so we may fight with the ferocity of nature at our call. He did not understand what the witches truly offered. He was deceived and, in gaining the strength of the wolf, Terrfyg sold his soul. He sold all of our souls."

I thought it over for a moment. "For many spells in which Magicka is channeled from a Daedra, or even an Aedra, through the body of a mortal, there is a certain amount of that spell, that Magicka, that will remain in the body of the mortal," I explained slowly as I came to a hypothesis. "It is much the same as how the Amulet of Kings, when worn by a Dragonborn Emperor, was capable of barring the path of the Daedra into Nirn. The Magicka was infused within those who channeled the spell. et'Adic , or Divine, Magicka usually accrues in the skull, within the brain, as this organ is the one responsible for Magicka generation, absorption, and channeling. It is likely that the Magicka you are seeking is contained within the skulls of these witches, or those of their descendants who continue to maintain the spell."

The old man's eyes lit up. "Y-you are sure of this? That the skulls of these hags are the key to a cure?"

I frowned. "It's a hypothesis – a good one at that. But... still, it's only off the top of my head. There should be some information in the Jarl's personal library, or perhaps with his court wizard, Farengar. Failing that, you could probably get some books on loan from the College," I explained. The man's expression deflated. "Though, I am quite sure that my hypothesis is valid."

Kodlak sighed. "This may take some time, Luc," he said. He looked up at me. "I will be busy studying this. I... I know it is much to ask. And, if you say no, I will understand."

"I would do anything for a Shield-Brother," I replied.

The man smiled sadly. "I was afraid of that. I need you to watch Skjor and Aela. They take... vehemently to the beast blood. But to watch them..."

"I would need to join the Circle. To become a werewolf," I replied somberly. I frowned. Then I looked up at Kodlak, beaming. "Well, we'll have the cure in a few months anyways. I think I can survive that long for a friend."

Kodlak smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Shield-Brother."

Fahiil

Thera

I was rather enjoying this. It was my first contract since I had taken the lives of the Emperor and that damn fool Breton. The Brotherhood, specifically the one responsible for the Emperor's death – me – had been hired by some anti-werewolf group to kill one of the most dangerous werewolf warriors in all of Skyrim. The payment was amazing, to say the least. On top of that, I had heard whispers that he had joined the Companions, of whom the werwolf was the leader. I could never pass up another chance to demoralize him, crush him before our final battle to the death. It would make it all the more delicious and all the easier. Despite that, I desperately wanted to kill him as I saw him grinning and rushing from the moronic mead hall of the Companions.

Today was not that day, however.

I blended nicely into the shadows, my cloak wrapping around my Brotherhood armor and obscuring me even further. The twin moons glowed ominously in the sky, illuminating just enough to cast attention away from what lurked in the darkness. When I entered the brightly lit hall itself, the drunken revelry was more than enough to distract attention away from me. I slipped quietly, unnoticed down the stairs towards Kodlak's quarters. With luck, he would die screaming. Without luck, this would be easy and I could kill him in his sleep. Regardless, I had a note of blame to leave and shards of a weapon to steal.

The weapon itself gave me cause for fear. I had to steal the shards and deliver them to the Silver Hand, and was glad to do so. The shards of the ax Wuuthrad, if combined, would craft a weapon that had bathed in the blood of countless Mer. The blades of the ax had become infused, legends say, with the hatred and pain of the Men who wielded it and the Mer who fell to it over the eras. It was mystically enchanted with an inherent poison, when complete, to all Mer. It was our weakness as crafted by ancient blood Magicks. Yes, I would be glad if it was no longer on the playing field to threaten my coming Empire.

I crept quietly into Kodlak's room, twin daggers drawn and ready to kill. "You did not really believe you could sneak up on a wolf, did you?" a deep voice asked from behind me. The doors to the room slammed shut and an old, but no less imposing, Nord stood with blade and shield drawn. His blonde-gray beard connected with his hair to form a lions mane around his head. He glared angrily at me and raised his blade towards me. "So you are the Listener I have heard tell of. But tell me, do you hear the anger of the gods at your actions?"

"I am still alive, am I not?" I asked. This lowly human thought to defeat me? "Does that not show the favor of the gods?"

"I have heard Lucius speak of you, Elf," Kodlak replied sadly. "What a wasted gift. A Dragonborn without conscience."

"Oh, are you going to get preachy now?" I retorted, drawing small displays of ire from the werewolf. "Or are you going to show me real power? Are you going to try and break me like the animal you are?"

"Enough!" Kodlak roared, rushing forward with his blade. The human would have been a skilled match, had he maintained a grip on his rage. As I had drawn out his considerable anger, however, his moves grew sloppier and more direct. I easily sidestepped every blow that came my way, laughing as I did.

"Why don't you turn? Make quick work of me, eh?" I asked as I danced beneath another of his blows. My dagger kissed the skin of his side, drawing blood. "Big bad wolf afraid he'll blow the house down?"

"I said enough, Milk-drinker!" The werewolf grunted in rage and brought his shield down where I stood. I moved quickly to the side and laughed. He slashed at my head. I ducked beneath and laughed again. He was tiring himself out as he swung at me, each attack growing weaker and weaker.

"I think you'll enjoy Hircine's playground, fool," I told the man as I slashed my dagger through his thumb. He grunted in pain and dropped his sword. "It's the perfect place for a lowly animal." I brought the dagger down and Kodlak was no more.

"Well... what a beautiful hunt," an ethereal voice moaned as the light left Kodlak's eyes. "Artfully done, Mortal. I applaud you and your strength in the hunt."

"Who is this?" I asked quietly.

"Ah, you may know me by many names. The Wolf. Hunter. Hircine," the voice replied. "You have gained my favor, little mortal. That is not easy to do..."

"Is there a prize for this victory then?" I asked as I sheathed my blades.

"Oh, indeed," the voice of Hircine replied. A second skin seemed to melt from Kodlak's body, a hide of fur and leather. "Take the Hide of this coward that you may hunt with glory, little mortal. And know I will always be watching, waiting for your next prey to fall." The voice receded.

I leaned down and picked up the hide, leaving the Silver Hand's note in its place. The hide was a piece of armor, crafted and blessed by the Daedric Lord himself whose favor I had just earned. Feral eyes gleamed out of the armor's chest and a barbaric wolf seemed to be found in every facet of the armor. It was hunting incarnate. I folded the garment around my hips, not knowing where else to put it at that moment. The brown skirt hid easily beneath my cloak and I quietly slunk away to claim the shards of Wuuthrad for my employers.

Jul – Ysgramor Qoth

Lucius

I had failed yet again. Those had been the first words through my mind as I saw the broken body of Kodlak and the stolen pieces of Wuuthrad. I had not been present, I had not been able to defend him against the assassin. It was just like the death of Titus II. So I had claimed some measure of justice with Vilkas, reclaiming Wuuthrad's pieces and destroying all of the Silver Hand that remained. From the fires of Kodlak's funeral pyre, Wuuthrad was reforged, more glorious than before. I had been saddened that Kodlak could not see it restored, but took a measure of comfort in the fact that his soul had been partially etched into the metal itself, forever to watch over the Companions even in their darkest hours.

And there was a way to save his soul from Hircine completely. Prior to his death, Kodlak had sent me to retrieve the heads of the Glenmoril Witches; my hypothesis regarding their Magicka had been correct. There were four, only enough to cure all of the Circle save one. Aela made it abundantly clear she had no wish to become human again, for Hircine's hunting grounds held all she desired. But she would not deny Sovngarde to Kodlak, it was his heart's greatest desire.

So there we stood, Aela and I, in the presence of Kodlak – and, he said, countless other Harbingers of the Companions – ready to defy the will of a god. All I had to do to save Kodlak was to throw one of the heads upon the fire. "Aela, go get Farkas and Vilkas. I don't care how much they complain, just bring them here. They deserve to bring peace to the man that raised them."

Aela froze, unsure if she should take orders from me. I had only been in the Companions for a few short months, after all. In the Circle, I was the whelp. She glanced towards Kodlak, who nodded graciously. The woman's body language calmed and she ran off to fulfill my request. "So here we are," I told the ghost of the man before me.

"Indeed."

It was silent for a moment. "I'm so sorry I failed you, Kodlak," I sobbed. "Forgive me."

"For what, Shield-Brother?" he inquired, honestly confused.

"I was not there to protect you. I failed in my duties," I told him.

Kodlak considered this for a moment, then laughed boisterously. "Nay, you failed no one, Lucius," he said, causing my violent sobs to stop. "And, from your stories of the deaths of Lydia and Paarthurnax, you did not fail them either. They were felled only by the one who felled me, who failed the gods. They died with honor because they believed in you. As did I."

I sighed and looked at my feet as my fears were confirmed. "It was Thera, wasn't it?"

Kodlak nodded somberly. "Aye. But worry not. The Harbingers, even here, hear the whispers of Shor on occasion. Man and Mer approach war once more, Dragonborn Harbinger, and you may hold the key to ending that war. For which side, I do not know. Shor's prophecies elude us, friend."

I sighed, then looked up in surprise. "You called me Harbinger..."

Kodlak nodded, eyes closed. "Aye. I rarely had dreams in life, Lucius, so I know that the ones I receive hold great meaning. You – I saw you long before I met you. You were always destined for this. For the post of guiding the Companions back to glory."

"Aye, that I agree, Kodlak," Vilkas said as he entered, his brother and Aela close by. He smiled sadly. "I thought to never see you again, old friend."

Kodlak smiled back fondly. "I feared as much, as well, my sons," Kodlak replied. The spirit seemed ready to cry. "I always knew you would be present at this moment, though. You honor me."

"And you us, Kodlak," Farkas replied gruffly, but softer than his usual tone. I thought I even glanced a single tear stain drifting down his cheek, but it could have been my imagination.

I smiled, appreciating that I was present for such a moment. "Are we all ready?" I asked.

"Aye. I'm ready to go home, Dragonborn," Kodlak replied. I tossed one of the witch heads tied to my ebony belt into the Flame of the Harbingers. Magicka exploded outward, the purple, mystical flames in the center of the room suddenly shifting color and shape into a pillar of green. The room itself seemed to shake with apprehension. Kodlak was suddenly screaming on the ground, the shape of a wolf slowly dragging itself from his soul. I drew my blade, followed quickly by the rest of the circle.

"As one!" I screamed as the wolf finally tore itself free from Kodlak. We rushed forwards, our blades dancing around and through the ghostly creature. It whined and growled, its huge teeth snapping at our throats, its claws tearing at our skin. But we pressed on for Kodlak. We were there to save him from a deal that should never have been made.

So we did. Valor, for once, was enough to save another. Finally, I had succeeded in fulfilling the oaths sworn in the shadow of honor itself. Kodlak's wolf spirit breathed its last, and was banished back to Hircine's Hunting Grounds. The Circle, as one, sheathed their blades. "And so slain the beast inside of me. I thank you for this gift," Kodlak told us. He smiled most broadly upon the men he had raised from boys. "The other Harbingers remain trapped by Hircine, though. Perhaps from Sovngarde, the heroes of old can join me in their rescue. The Harrowing of the Hunting Grounds. It would be a battle of such triumph. And perhaps some day, you'll join us in that battle. But for today, return to Jorrvaskr. Triumph in your victory. And lead the Companions to further glory." With that, the spirit of Kodlak finally reached Sovngarde.

Soon, the rest of the Circle began to explore the rest of the ruins, studying the ancient histories of our order and the Men we had followed. Heroes, past and future, that adorned the walls. I, however, turned my attention back to the pillar of fire at the center of the room. I became eerily aware of the ghostly eyes whose attention was fixed upon me, unblinking from across the planes of Oblivion. The Fire of the Harbingers, my predecessors, blazed brilliantly before me. I could be human again, truly human.

There was nothing I would rather be. I tore another head from my belt and tossed it into the indigo flame.