It took very little searching before I figured out where exactly my companion had headed. A grizzled old lady selling jewelry at a stand in the middle of a cobblestone area along with a few other merchants pointed me up a small set up steps and into the mead hall known as Jorrvaskr. I padded cautiously up those steps, feet hardly making a sound on the stone. The entire building looked foreboding with its rounded, thatched roof and the myriad shields tied to the front of it just above the front doors. I held my breath as I slowly pushed one of those doors open and peeked inside, not wanting to startle any of the famed mercenaries inside and end up a pincushion.

The entire place reeked of mead, sweat and…wolves? I glanced around, looking for the source of that acrid yet not entirely unpleasant odor, but a familiar male voice caught my attention soon after. I headed toward the sound of Baragma chatting with a woman, weaving between a few armor-clad men and women with rather unwelcoming looks on their faces along the way. I found the two standing at the top of a short staircase that led to double doors and what I assumed to be some living quarters, or maybe storage.

"You look worthy enough to me, but go see the old man first. He's got a good eye for people. Can stare right into your soul and tell your worth right then and there." Her mouth was half open, like she was about to say something else when she caught sight of me. "You lost, little girl?"

I furrowed my nearly invisible eyebrows and glared at the woman. I was determined to not be scared of her or anyone else here, even though those three green stripes of paint across her face did look pretty intimidating. "No, actually. I came looking for my friend here," I nodded toward Baragma, who had stepped to the side to watch us. "And to see about joining up with your group."

She tried to conceal her amusement at the prospect of such a short, weak-looking little elf fighting at her side. I noticed she didn't try very hard, though. "All right, then. What's your name, elf?" I froze, not being entirely sure what to say at that point. I glanced around the room quickly, meeting Baragma's wide gaze for just a millisecond before replying. "Luma Cinder-Fist at your service." I smiled meekly and contained the sigh of relief I wanted to let out at her seeming acceptance of the completely made up name.

"Very well. Both of you go speak to Kodlak, he should be in his quarters at the end of the hall downstairs." She nodded sharply at Baragma as she made her way back toward the huge fire pit in the center of the room. She smelled strongly of wolves, just like the rest of the building. I wrinkled my nose.

He held the door for me and I walked at his side toward the last room at the end of the hall, just like the woman had instructed us. "I don't like her. She's too predatory. Looked like she wanted to pounce on you then and there, but not before ripping my entrails out of course." He chuckled loudly, looking at me in slight askance as if he wasn't sure if I was serious or not.

"I have that effect on women, you know, Luma." He spoke the name as if it felt odd on his tongue. I crossed my arms sulkily and stared holes in the side of his head, leaning up against a pillar next to Kodlak's door as Baragma rapped lightly on it.

"Ah, one moment!" A deep voice boomed from within. We both looked at each other nervously as a set of footsteps drew closer to the door, but the face that we saw when it was opened was not what we were expecting. A young, black-haired man with what looked like charcoal rubbed all around his eyes stared unblinkingly at us; "What have we got here? New prospective whelps?" He spoke in a tone that both sounded questioning and knowing at the same time, and I cocked my head at him.

"You're Kodlak?" I asked incredulously. His icy gaze switched to a condescending glare as he peered down at me. "No, elf. I'm Vilkas, and you'd be wise to watch your tone with me." He glanced over his shoulder as he pushed between myself and Baragma, "We can speak more later, Kodlak."

Ugh, he stinks like a damn canine too, I thought. They must have had some pet wolves somewhere around this place for the smell to permeate everything and everyone so badly.

I pushed my curiosity about those wolves to the back of my mind as we padded into the Harbinger's quarters, both staring at our feet like scolded children.

"Look me in the eye, you two. Only thieves and people with something to hide won't look a man in the eye." We both did as he asked without a peep, and I was surprised with what I saw, personally. An age-weathered burly old man with a smile on his lips and white hair clapped his hands together once and changed between looking at me and Baragma. "It's always nice to have a few new whelps around Jorrvaskr. You both look as if you've got a fire burning in your hearts, especially you, Dragonborn."

Baragma looked surprised, "You know who I am?"

"Aye, but who hasn't heard of you these days?" He punctuated that sentence with a hearty sounding 'ha!'

Looking rather flustered, Baragma simply introduced himself by his actual name and then took to keeping his trap shut.

"And who are you, girl? If you don't mind me asking another question too, what are you? Seem a bit too pale to be a Dunmer, Bosmer or Altmer." He didn't seem mocking, just genuinely curious.

I sighed inwardly, hoping he wouldn't make too much of a fuss about my race. "My name is Luma Cinder-Fist and I'm uh...a snow elf."

Kodlak's bright eyes widened and he seemed a little dumbfounded at first, but quickly composed himself and began to grin widely at me. "A real, non-feral Falmer huh? Well, it'd be rather interesting to have one of your kind in our halls. Please, both of you go upstairs and talk to Farkas. He's the big one that looks like Vilkas, who you just met. Tell him I want him to test the both of you for mettle."

We nodded and spun to go back up to Jorrvaskr's top floor when Kodlak spoke again. "One more thing, neither of you have silver weapons on you, do you?" Neither of us did, and he sent us back on our way. I couldn't help but think how odd it was that silver was forbidden around here.

With a giggle, Baragma poked me in the side; "No silver allowed, eh? Maybe they're all werewolves!"

Farkas was certainly as big as a werewolf, but his musky haven't-bathed-in-years smell overpowered any sort of wolfy smell he might have had about him. Both of us followed the hulking man out into the back yard, where he told us the sparring would take place. I began to get antsy, eager for my turn to show myself. It'd been ages since I had a real good fight, and even then it was just against a few wild dogs. I damned Baragma for never sharing the glory of a battle with one of his dragons, or for letting me tag along when he went to the Throat of the World. He'd said a real, live talking dragon lived up there, and he actually got to speak to him. What an honor, I thought as images of a mighty winged beast perched upon a mountain flashed through my mind.

Farkas drew his greatsword and the slightly smaller Dragonborn did the same with his double wielded, razor sharp scimitars. They circled each other like predators over a kill, but not two seconds afterward Farkas raised the sword in his grasp over his head and brought it down upon Baragma with a grunt, who just barely managed to skip out of its grasp and take a swipe at his opponent's steel-clad chest in the process. It didn't even faze the bigger man. Adjusting his grip on the sword's hilt slightly, Farkas raised his shield to block a hard blow from Baragma's scimitar. He stepped back a few feet, shook his head as if to clear his mind and leapt forward with a loud snarl, bowling an unsuspecting Farkas over and throwing the both of them into the dust, apparently deciding that there was no way he could get through the other man's defenses in any conventional way. I sat on a rock nearby and wondered what'd happen if Baragma used one of his Shouts on him. Probably nothing good.

"Dirty trick!" The greatsword-wielding man bellowed as he grasped desperately for his weapon that lay nearby. Baragma visibly tensed his jaw and put one knee on Farkas' back, digging it in between his shoulder blades and forcing him back to the ground. "Doesn't matter. Real enemies don't fight clean." Just to prove his point, the man rested the cutting edge of his scimitar on the back of his victim's neck gently. "You give up?"

After a short bout of squirming and cursing, Farkas decided he was had. "Get the fuck off me!" He growled, eyes flashing. Baragma did so with a snort and then strode toward me, chest puffed out like a strutting rooster. The sweaty, stinking fellow clapped me on the shoulder and pushed me none too gently off the rock I was perched on. I balled up my little fist and punched him directly on the inner thigh, his face being too far out of reach. "Rude!"

I tottered over toward my sparring partner, taking care to look as nervous and helpless as possible as I drew the rather puny looking elvish dagger I carried from the belt of my trousers and tossed it between my two hands a few times experimentally. My gaze shifted to Farkas' sword, and I made my eyes grow wide and doe-like. "This doesn't exactly make for a fair fight does it?" He shrugged wordlessly and readied himself anyway. I smirked and began circling him, spinning my blade in my fingers leisurely as I did so. My senses became keener as I focused in harder on my opponent, every tiny movement he made becoming as apparent as a storm cloud in a clear sky, and slowly I managed to tune out my environment almost completely. "No dirty tricks like your friend over there or I'll cut your head off myself, elf."

I snorted at him, and considered telling him I had no need for such trickery. Before I could speak, though he raised his sword and swung it at me hard with a forceful yell that told me he meant business. Well so did I. Dodging the blow with only minimal difficulty, I swirled around and brought the hard little knob on the end of my dagger down onto the back of his neck where his armor stopped and the sensitive, thin skin began. He let out a cry of pain, his knees buckling slightly, and then of anger as he brought his elbow around swiftly to collide with my face. With a squeal, I fell back and clapped a hand to my broken and bleeding nose. The searing pain throughout my face served only to anger me, though, and I clutched my dagger harder with white knuckles and summoned what I knew of destruction magic into my other palm. Farkas' eyes widened as I rushed him, blade raised and screaming. He raised his sword to block the blow and received a knife in the wrist joint for his efforts. He dropped his weapon and clutched the wound tight, dropping to one knee. "I-" he began to speak, but was cut short after being kicked violently in the teeth. He fell to his back with the force of it and I stood over him, my empty hand hovering over his face and a growing ball of fire spinning between my fingers. Just as I was about to turn this poor man into kindling, I was brought to the ground by a man that looked very similar to Farkas and very angry. He pinned my shoulders, rendering me helpless, and bellowed a single word in my face: "LEAVE."

I did as he asked.