Chapter 1: What Happens in RIverwood Stays in Riverwood
Life was good for Izeera. She had good friends, good ale, and the world was full of bright, shiny things that explode when you touch them. Oh, wait- that wasn't a fire rune. It was just the sun. The bright, bright, painfully bright sun. With a groan, the hung-over Khajiit flung a forearm over her face, blocking the sun from her eyes. "Not so much mead next time." Izeera grumbled to herself as she slowly moved her arm away from her face- and promptly scrunched her eyes shut at the bright light.
She was not clad in her armor- just the simple tunic and breeches that she wore underneath them. Through the tunic, she could feel something hard, rugged, and oddly cylindrical supporting her body. Both feet dangled freely on either side. Steeling herself, the Khajiit opened her eyes ever so slightly to ascertain her surroundings. Leaves, twigs, a branch leading up to...
Izeera's copper eyes snapped open when she remembered where she was. She was just outside of the tiny little village of Riverwood, and she had fallen asleep in a tree. Again. Slowly and carefully, the Khajiit climbed down the tree, and was quite relieved when she finally reached the ground. After donning her orcish armor and her mage's hood, she strapped her trusty dwarven war axe to her belt and turned to look at the half-constructed tent and the half-naked occupants inside- a tall, blond Nord woman and an even taller Altmer male with white-blond hair and three jagged scars running paralel along the right side of his face. Both were sound asleep. Figures. Even after a night of self-induced inebriation, she was still the first one to wake up. That was something she intended to remedy quite quickly. Izeera walked over to her slumbering companions... and kicked the High Elf in the side. "Hey! Wake up! If Izeera has to deal with the bright sun and headache, then so do you!"
It wasn't enough to injure him, but it would certainly be painful enough to wake him from even a deep sleep. The High Elf let out a grunt of pain and rolled out of bed in nothing but his underthing, making a quick scramble for his trousers. The grunt of pain and the movement of the High Elf was quick to also wake the Nord woman, who also made a dash for her clothes. The two were desperatly trying not to look at each other, Izeera noted with a smirk. The High Elf, whom Izeera had taken to calling Shame, was quite the paradox. He was a High Elf, a race known for their arrogance, yet he had incredibly low-self esteem, despite Izeera's repeated attempts over the past year or so they had known each other of breaking him out of the cycle of self-loathing he found himself in. But still, she would try transform him from a drunk, depressed sack of horse excrement into the confident, self-assured adventurer that he should truly be. That's what a best friend was for, no?
The newest member of their little group, the Nord woman called Hildegard, had a hot head and a really big hammer. She was also, as Izeera had observed numerous times (and experienced once, thanks to her own silver tongue), very free with her affections. She had on several occasions made comment on how she kind of pitied the depressed Altmer, and with the influence of an ungodly amount of mead, the Nord woman had finally acted upon that pity.
Izeera had a hunch that things would be awkward in the group for a day or two, but would not cause the group to break up. With that in mind, she turned around and gave her fellow adventurers some privacy to change. When she turned around, Hildegard was in her full iron armor, with her warhammer strapped to her back. Shame, of course, was clad in his mage robes- special mage robes, which allowed him to regenerate magicka faster and made it easier for him to cast the restoration spells which he so favored. As the group turned around to face the road, Shame suddenly turned around and rushed to the bushes. The sound of vomiting could be heard. As Hildegard was preoccupied holding the elf's white-blond hair out of his face while he vomited, and said elf was preoccupied vomiting, Izeera was the only one to see two people- a Nord man and an Imperial girl- wearing somewhat singed-looking Imperial armor running down the road and into Riverwood. "What are they in such a big hurry for?" Izeera wondered out loud.
After another hour or so spent gathering their belongings and cleaning up their campsite, the group made their way into Riverwood with Shame at the rear. The elf certainly looked like he had been to Oblivion and back, which was suiting, since the night before he had chugged down enough mead to topple a Daedric prince. Well, Izeera doubted it was literally that much, but Shame had still consumed the most alcohol out of the three of them.
The Khajiit spellsword's train of thought was derailed by the sound of some old woman insisting that she had seen a dragon. Hmm. "Izeera thinks we were not the only ones who dipped too deeply into the mead barrel." The Khajiit commented wryly, resulting in a stern glare from the old woman.
A glare which Izeera promptly ignored. If she had paid any mind to the glares and heckling from old, hidebound Nords, she wouldn't be the cool, collected, self-assured adventurer that she was today. "So," Hildegard asked the group's unofficial leader, "Where is the next job?"
"Bandits in the Valtheim Towers." Izeera replied, "Very easy money. After this, we go to Whiterun to collect reward, then we will go to Windhelm- and no, Izeera will not join sides. Izeera does not get involved in Nord problems."
The group of adventurers then headed to where their horses where stabled. Hildegard's and Shame's were a pair of stout, heavy Skyrim horses. Izeera's was a lovely, pewter grey warmblood- a swift but strong horse that was the happy accident resulting from the unintentional breeding of a large, sturdy Skyrim mare and a lighter but faster Cyrodillic stallion. The group mounted their horses and were off. They travelled until nightfall, quickly setting up camp before the sun went all the way down.
Izeera heard the 'clink' of glass touching stone and turned around to see that a bottle of some sort of alcohol had fallen from Shame's pack and he was now reaching for it. That wouldn't do. He wasn't allowed to drink on a job. So, Izeera called upon her magicka, reaching into herself and siezing that power. A small ball of cold energy formed in her open hand, and she thrust it in the direction of the bottle. It hit the bottle from the side, shattering it but harmlessly leaving Shame with nothing but shock and a shiver. Izeera frowned and said, "No drinking on the job."
"But Izeera-" Shame protested.
"No buts," Izeera interrupted the Altmer. "If Izeera cannot drink, then neither can you!"
Just before the sun went down, Hildegard returned with a couple of rabbits slung over her shoulder. Izeera knew that the Nord was no expert archer, but she could shoot well enough to hunt a couple of rabbits. And so, the team had their supper and washed it down with clean, fresh, non-alcoholic water. Izeera did not care what the Nords said. A dry job was a successful job. They could drink to their hearts' content after they had the gold for it. So after dinner, they shared some stories and took turns keeping watch while the others slept. One could never be too careful, especially in Skyrim.
In the morning, they readied their gear and left again. Izeera and Shame both carefully selected their spells. Izeera elected to prepare a fireball spell, keeping one hand free to wield her axe. She figured that Shame would select a stone-skin spell and either reserve his other hand for a healing spell or use it to wield his mace. So they headed to the towers.
When the towers were in sight, Izeera hushed the others as she spotted the first bandit. Lifting her hand, she formed a ball of flames in her free hand and flung a ball of flames at the bandit. The bandit let out a cry as the fireball flew straight into his face, quickly rendering him as dead as can be. Next came the rain of arrows. The three sell-swords charged into the first tower, ignoring the chest- Izeera made sure to snag the two healing potions on the shelf- and headed upstairs. When they came to the bridge, Izeera held the bandits off with her fireballs as Hildegard went upstairs. It seemed that she was successful, as a dead bandit fell from above, slipping off the bridge and into the river below. One of the bandits was able to get past Izeera's fireballs. The Khajiit swore and drew her axe, parrying the bandit's strike, dodging with the skill of one highly used to moving in heavy armor. Finally, Izeera swung her axe, cleaving through the bandit's skull like a pudding. She kicked the bandit off the bridge before charging ahead once again. With a combination of Izeera's fireballs and Hildegard's arrows, they finished off most of the bandits. It was then that the toughest looking bandit, no doubt the leader, charged across the bridge. Izeera charged at the big man, but he bashed her back with his shield. The Khajiit cried out as she flew back into the tower and hit her back against the wall. She sat, dazed, as the bandit leader approached her, sword drawn. It seemed that this was the end for Izeera. The bandit chief even said so. "This is the end for you, cat!"
He brought his sword at her. The world seemed to slow as the sword swung at her, and Izeera rolled out of the way before bringing her axe up to block his second swing. A shadow dropped down from above, and something hard and metal collided with the back of the bandit's head. The weapon was brought down once again, ending the surprised bandit's life once and for all. When the bandit dropped at her feet, Izeera finally saw who it was that had saved her life. "Shame." Izeera said softly. The Khajiit's tone then changed dramatically as she snapped, "What took you so long to save Izeera?"
When the group arrived at Whiterun, they quickly retrieved the bounty. They then headed to the inn to buy some drinks. Izeera decided to head outside to see what the merchants were selling. As she turned to face the road, she saw the same Imperial girl that she had seen heading for Riverwood. She appeared to be leaving Whiterun in a hurry. With a shrug, Izeera headed back into the city. When she arrived, people were still gossiping about something that had happened before Izeera and her friends had arrived. The local Nords were gossipping about the Greybeards, but the spellsword paid it no mind. This was Nord business, not Izeera's business. If it was important, Hildegard would probably say something about it. Of course, Izeera took this with a grain of salt. There was a chance that Hildegard might say something about it even if it wasn't important. In Izeera's eyes, Nords were busy-bodies. Just as Altmer were prone to arrogance, Nords were prone to gossip. That was just how Nords were. Hildegard was less prone to gossip than many other Nords, but she was hardly an exception. She was still true to her gossip-prone heritage. Of course, complaining about Nords would accomplish nothing. All Nords were stubborn. Some were too stubborn to admit that they were wrong. This was especially true for Nords who practiced a certain extent of racial hatred for anyone who wasn't a Nord. Dwelling on the subject would also accomplish nothing, Izeera decided. Not all Nords were bad. There were many perfectly nice Nords in Skyrim. Hildegard was one fine, if a bit extreme, example. She was what was known in scholarly circles as a 'hugger'. Hugs were fine. Compressed lungs were not.
By the time Izeera was done with her musing, her feet had carried her to the Bannered Mare, where her friends were no doubt drowning themselves in alcohol. She hoped that there would be no drunken brawling, but she wouldn't count on it. This was a Nord city, after all. Brawl or not, the Khajiit doubted that her friends would be involved. Not unless some idiot prone to racial hatred said something cruel about the drunk-to-numbness Shame. Then she would come in and beat them herself. Fortunately, her worries were unfounded. Those who were drunk were not making more trouble than usual. Shame was, as expected, completely and utterly smashed. Hildegard was tipsy, but then again she had clearly not consumed nearly the amount that the Altmer had. Izeera held back a sigh. It seemed that her plans for visiting Windhelm would have to wait.