Dawn of the Companions

by gingerlyspeaking

Four months after the death of Alduin, a growing evil builds in Skyrim once again. Struggling with coin—the Dragonborn, Mimzi, joins the Companions in Whiterun. Only to discover the ranks of Jorrvaskr harbour a dark secret. When tragedy hits Whiterun, the Companions leave their hall under a vengeful calling with unlikely allies to save Tamriel from catastrophe.

3. The Trial

[AN! Welcome back! Bringing Vilkas to the stage, everyone. Our tritagonist will be deeply struggling this chapter, but his struggle will continue for further chapters but depleting severity.

This chapter subtly follows the events of the Companion quest line but layered in my own razzle dazzle, but keeping as canon to Skyrim lore as possible. Eventually leading into the Dawnguard quest line which will come soon! I thank everyone for taking time to read my stories and I do hope you enjoy and follow!]

---

Chapter 2: The Trial

Another spiced wine, Nazeem?"

Elrindir, the wood elf tavern owner of the Drunken Huntsman, asked the redguard noble.

Nazeem scowled haughtily, "Of course. When I finish my glass, you should know to fill it, unless I say otherwise."

He sat on the elegant furnishing of Whiterun's most prestigious inn. It was a tavern only for the wealthy and respected of Whiterun; to spend their buckets of coin on expensive, indulgent ale and gossip in peace amongst each other, away from the ears of commoners in the Bannered Mare. Elrindir poured more of the fragrant wine into Nazeem's chalice where he took a generous slurp and looked over to the patron at the table next to him.

"Ah. Olfrid Battle-Born. What a delight to see you. How goes the feud with the knuckle dragging Gray-Mane Clan then?" observed Nazeem to the elderly Nord man in noble robes.

Olfrid growled, "Was I talking to you? No. So shut it."

Nazeem tittered, "So not good, I take it?"

Olfrid slammed his mug to the table and furrowed his brow as he barked at Nazeem, "It's none of your business, you stiff neck. Keep talking to me and you're not going to like what comes next."

Nazeem began to guffaw as he slurped from his chalice again, "Not much different from your savage rivals, are you? Please, no one would even dare to lay a finger on me. My presence is highly valued in the court of Dragonsreach. With one word, the swarms of Whiterun's guard would have you in the dungeons you old wretch. Now what was it that would come next? Please, indulge me."

Suddenly the front doors of the Drunken Huntsman swung open, and in walked Mimzi. She wore her beryl leather armour adorned in belts and fine stitching, hugging her waist and hips. She made her way straight to the bar counter.

She growled, "Where's Nazeem?"

Elrindir uttered in a startle, "Uh. Well, hello. Haven't seen you before, always nice to see a new face. You're looking for the dignified redguard sat lonesome over there. Be cautious, he's a crass little braggart," he simpered to the armed young woman.

She slapped the counter and made her way to Nazeem's table with a steely glare. As he noticed her approach, she slammed her hands on his table, making its legs rattle, and still keeping her glare as Nazeem frightfully startled.

Nazeem squawked in panic, "Do you mind?!"

Mimzi crooned darkly, "Not really."

"Might I ask why you are bothering me?" sneered Nazeem.

Mimzi starkly replied, "You have a debt, and you were too stupid to pay it. Now I'm here. So, you'll pay in blood. Work for you? Works for me."

"Excuse me?" rattled Nazeem, Olfrid caught notice and began to observe quietly, "Do you even know who I am? I am the owner of Chillfurrow Farm! A most profitable business! I am valued in the court of…"

Mimzi interrupted, "I don't care," she then uttered with dull eyes, "… the Companions tell me to come push your face into the floor, I do it."

Nazeem stood abruptly from his chair and began to patter to the front doors, "I don't need to take this from you or anyone! I've worked hard for every septim I have, and I don't need to pay anyone! Make way! My presence is required in the Cloud District!"

Nazeem stomped in front of Mimzi, to where she grabbed the scruff of his collar and pulled back, harshly.

"Agh!"

She pushed the stunned man back behind her and violently kicked him in the stomach, causing Nazeem to yelp in pain and hunch over. She grabbed the front of his collar and flourished her left elbow into his spine; then kicked his feet out from under him, where he fell solid to the floor of the inn.

Olfrid began to loudly cackle, "Hahaha! I didn't have to do anything, Nazeem, this little lady did it for me!"

Elrindir alarmed in aghast shock, "What is happening?!"

Mimzi pressed her knee into Nazeem's back and held him down by securing his wrist behind his head. He wiggled against the floor while she straddled him; keeping him compelled to the ground. Nazeem cried and ached as he tried to wrestle the young Nord, who had him planted down by her knee, which stifled his breath.

Nazeem convulsed, "Call the guard! Someone help!! Please!"

Elrindir went out from behind his counter cautiously, scurrying to the front doors.

"Don't bother…" Mimzi panted to Elrindir, who halted when she caught his attention. She continued, "I'm with the Companions, he owes a debt. I won't kill him unless he gives me a reason to," Mimzi hunched down to Nazeem's ear and bellowed, "… isn't that right? Now stay down like a good boy."

Nazeem spattered "Agh! Impish little bitch!" he roared as he dripped in sweat and burned in rage; still trying to pry himself free of Mimzi's grip.

Elrindir stayed to the doors, gawking anxiously while Olfrid sipped contently from his chalice, observing.

Mimzi announced, "Now you know why I'm here, Nazeem. I'll let you go if you pay your debt, plain and simple. You own a profitable business of Chillburrow Farm or whatever, you can afford it."

"Chillfurrow!!" corrected Nazeem in anger, "Nev- Never! I will not give you a single coin! You'll spend the rest of your days in the dungeons for this!" threatened Nazeem in spitting rage.

Mimzi huffed, closing her eyes in grievance, she then twisted his arm back at the wrist; making it crack loudly at the shoulder. Nazeem yelped in agony; flourishing his legs. She held the arm in that position; only one movement from popping his shoulder bone out. Nazeem cried and breathed raggedly.

Mimzi growled as she gritted her teeth, "You can either pay in gold or pay in broken bones. I'm good with either, are you?"

Olfrid cheered giddily from his seat, "Go on, lass! Snap it!"

Elrindir gasped, "By the Divines!"

Nazeem began to plea, "No! No, please! I'll pay!!" he cried in a spitting blabber as sweat dripped generously off his scowl.

Mimzi asked sinisterly, "Right now? I hope so, or you going to take me home to your wife?"

"Right! Na-now!" hollered Nazeem, "Just… Mara's mercy, unhand me! Please!"

Mimzi released and pushed him off her; making his head violently thunk to the tavern floor again. She tapped her boots onto the hard wood floor and off Nazeem's back. He slowly gathered himself as he wiped the sweat discreetly from his face. Mimzi went to help him up by holding her hand out to him, where he swiftly slapped her hand away, making her chuckle in response. Nazeem began to shuffle around into his satchel, sniffling and moving achingly. He threw a purse of gold back at her chest, where she caught it quickly.

"Take your damnable gold," Nazeem scowled, "And tell your client to choke on it!"

Mimzi gleamed a grin as she looked down at the patron's gold and lightly stuffed it into her knapsack.

She chimed, "It was a pleasure! See you in the Cloud District one of these days."

Nazeem huffed angrily as he limped out the front doors of the inn. Olfrid began to cackle giddily.

"By the Eight, if I was several decades younger and not married, I'd dare say I'm in love! Who are you supposed to be, my dear?" happily inquired Olfrid, still sitting to his chair.

Mimzi looked back at him nonchalantly with a proud smile and said, "Oh me? I'm Mimzi. I'm a Companion."

---

"There's no way she's a Companion yet…" Skjor glowered to his elder, Kodlak, as they sauntered along the training yard, observing their students. Skjor continued as Kodlak admired the bright blue sky of the morning of the 29th day of Evening Star, "She hasn't proved herself, at all. Farkas sent her out for a job, and she has yet to return of her progress. She won a fight against Vilkas, big deal. With where his heads been lately, I'm not surprised a whelp thrashed him. She can't go. Farkas can take Njada or Athis, but Mimzi? Forget it. He needs a shield sibling."

Kodlak smiled up at the brisk morning skies, listening contently to the clanging of the whelps practicing melee combat behind them.

He then asked genuinely, "Lots of talk about Vignar losing his bearings in his old age, isn't there, Skjor?"

Skjor raised a brow and asked, "What does that have to do with this?"

Kodlak looked his amber eyes at his colleague, "Well, as the Rot continues within my veins, I begin to understand the rewards of getting old… and what value my wisdom carries as I waste away…"

Skjor gloomed, "You're not old, Kodlak."

The elder warrior expressed, "Maybe not for most Nords. But for men like you and I, men with our blood— my life on Nirn has racked up a debt. Now this power… it becomes a greedy leech." Kodlak confided, "I fear for my hall. I fear for the whelps as they embark on their discoveries. I fear for you, my friend… and for my boys and dear Aela. Time runs faster than only a fraction of the teachings I can give you all."

Skjor's eyes solaced as he tried to mutter a reply, "You have taught us much in your reign as Harbinger, what is there left to teach?"

Kodlak adduced, "The fortune of the burning souls behind us. We all were these eager warriors at one time. Our job is to teach them without crushing their spirit. A girl like Mimzi… hmm— young and fair. Easy to underestimate. Yet shall we let her heart falter because ours are brimmed in our own doubts?" he divulged to Skjor, "Njada and Athis have been on these missions much before in the past. The new girl, Ria; she just went and cleared a bear cave with Vilkas last week. Torvar is always knee deep in a bottle these days. What of Mimzi? We've seen she can fight. This is her chance for her to prove her honour. This shall be her trial."

Skjor released a sigh, "I can understand your drive to want to teach these whelps, Kodlak, I share it. But this isn't a bear cave. These are vampires… I feel like it's a mistake," warned Skjor, his expression daunting.

Kodlak still maintained, "Farkas can protect her. Say what you want about the boy but he's a damn good fighter. But something tells me he won't have to do much. She's got a spark in her eye. She may surprise you, Skjor," lightly crooned Kodlak as he kept his content smile to Skjor who quickly rejoined.

"Hmph, she'll have to. Right now, just feels like a rebellious, runaway farm girl trying to be something she isn't…" scowled Skjor.

Farkas came ambling up to them from the training yard, with a bright grin and called out to them, "Hey! You found out who'll be coming with me yet? It's been too long since I've crushed the skull of a vamp," Farkas cracked an excited grin, holding up his greatsword in one arm.

Kodlak beamed a grin and answered, "Mimzi. You'll leave tomorrow morning."

Farkas raised a brow and asked, "Oh… really? She's so new. Well, okay. I just hope she doesn't mind guttin some bloodsuckers."

"Really?" intervened Skjor, "You're not the slightest bit worried?" he alarmed to Farkas, who returned a dumb-struck stare.

"No not really. Should I be?" asked Farkas, genuinely concerned.

Skjor groaned aloud, "You really are an ice-brain, you know that?"

Vilkas came marching up passed the the three men from Whiterun streets, returning from a job out in the plains. He was drenched in his own sweat and pallor in tone as he panted and scowled up towards the doors.

Kodlak called aloud gladly, "Vilkas! My boy, you look like you've been to Oblivion and back. How was the trek?"

Kodlak beckoned towards Vilkas who aloofly approached, keeping his distraught gaze distant from theirs.

"Vilkas?" asked Farkas as his eyes followed him and shifted into worry, "You alright?"

He shoved his way passed them and straight towards the doors inside before mumbling irately, "Fine."

Vilkas slammed the doors behind him, leaving Skjor, Kodlak and Farkas deeply troubled at the sudden departure.

Skjor grumbled, "He's looking worse every day."

Farkas muttered in pensive worry, "What do we do, Kodlak? I mean— how do we help him?"

Kodlak advised, "We are here to offer help and support when he needs it, of course. But for now, I think Vilkas just wants to be on his own and deal with it himself, his own way. Give it time, Farkas. Time will help him."

Skjor huffed in a scowl, "I know what he needs, and it ain't time…" he grumbled under his breath, yet still catching the attention of Kodlak, who rejoined a scowl.

"For you, perhaps. Not for Vilkas. You'll do right in preventing yourself from sullying his efforts, Skjor. You and Aela- you both need to stop. If not, leave myself and the boys out of it. Understand?"

Skjor breathed out and returned a resentful glare, "You're not going to piss away this gift, Kodlak. I'll keep my mouth shut out of respect for you, but don't you dare tell me what I can do with it when I'm beyond the gates," he angrily marched off down towards the Wind District, leaving Farkas and Kodlak alone. Farkas looked on in troubled worry, where Kodlak rested his hand to his shoulder to comfort him.

Farkas returned a soft smile, "I don't need it, I can take it or leave it, personally. But Vilkas is in pain. I don't like seeing my brother in pain," muttered Farkas, his eyes swelling.

Kodlak rejoined in a comforting voice, "You won't have to for much longer, son. I may have a plan; I just pray my twilight years grant me the time to figure it out before it's too late…"

Inside the hall, Vilkas breathed haggardly as he stumbled down to the living quarters. The blood thrusting in his head was amplified. His back were cold in the pooling sweat, and his heart thrashed wildly in his chest. His pallor face drooped in a scowl. Vilkas could feel the oncoming nausea erupt into his stomach as he bolted inside his room. He slammed the doors behind him and lunged towards a stray bucket at the end of his bed. He collapsed to the floor as he retched into the bottom of the pail, clutching at his stomach through his thick armour. He thudded his back against his bookshelf and stayed down as he focused on his breath. Every nerve inside his body ached. Vilkas struggled deeply within the confines of his body as a roaring, unrelenting urge flooded him into a frantic episode. Vilkas strained grievously then rubbed his hand up his face and breathed through the aching pain once more. He closed his eyes and could hear the patter of light feet out in the hall. It was the small steps of Tilma, cleaning the floors in the living quarters.

Vilkas gawked his red eyes at the door crack, observing her shadow. His heart began to thrash louder and louder into his ears. He could not only hear his own blood pump in his veins, and the calling raged. Vilkas stayed himself down to the floor and squinted his eyes shut to ignore the calling. The smell was overpowering. He then peered his eyes open to see Tilma was just outside his door sweeping the floors. The pain raged into a powerful yearning. Sweat erupted from his brow as he compelled the urge. It was famishing. It was hunger.

Vilkas growled and barked out to the elderly lady outside his door, "Move on, Tilma! Go away!"

She startled and lightly crooned, "Oh… alright, dear. Sorry to disturb you…"

Vilkas ached onto the bed and sat up straight, cradling his head into his hands. He ripped off the buckles of his armour and threw his cuirass, gauntlets and boots across the room. He remained in a sweated tunic and pressed himself into the covers of his bed, shaking feverishly, trying with every bit of his will to ignore that calling that burned within his blood.

---

Meanwhile, up in Dragonsreach, the Jarl was beckoned by armed men. They wore thick scaled cuirasses in burgundy and brown, and crossbows equipped to their backs. The first man approached the court with a steeled scowl. He was Redguard, in his late fifties and had piercing grey eyes. He had a long, black beard and a bald head. His bushy, reaching eyebrows furrowed over his eyes as he approached Balgruuf, who sat puzzled in his throne. Irileth drew her sword and stood to the front of the Jarl, scowling at the armed men.

She demanded, "Who in Azura's star are you lot? What business do you have before the Jarl?"

The first man stood a few feet before her and growled in a grisly tone, "Balgruuf, call off your guard dog, would you? I'm here to deliver an offer."

"Why are you here, Isran? I have no business with you or any of the Vigilants," glowered Jarl Balgruuf.

Isran looked passed Irileth and replied, "I'm not here with the Vigilants. The Vigilants are dead. You'll want to talk to me before this pearly city of yours is next."

Irileth barked, "Excuse me?! Your threats will land you in the dungeons as you hang by your toes over embers!"

Isran kept his genuine and steely gaze to Balgruuf, who returned a worrisome glare.

"Um, what is happening and who are these men?" asked Proventus cautiously, "Are they the Vigilants of Stendarr?"

"No…" Balgruuf muttered sternly, "They're not. What brings you to my city, Isran?"

Isran approached the throne, stepping passed the armed dunmer undaunted, he explained, "I'm assembling the Dawnguard. Skyrim needs it now more than ever. Whiterun is in danger, Jarl. I fear it to be the next target of a full-scale vampire attack."

Laughter mocked along the court to those who heard Isran, making him scowl. Irileth rolled her eyes, as Proventus and Hrongar erupted in cackles. The Jarl stayed observant.

"The Dawnguard? Vampires? I haven't seen or heard of any vampires… what does this have to do with Whiterun?" indulged Jarl Balgruuf.

Isran rejoined, "You haven't been paying attention then. The vampires have been skirmishing all over Skyrim, and it's only getting worse. They destroyed the Hall of Vigilants and Carcette, herself. Their numbers are increasing. You venture Skyrim at night you run the high risk of being a meal. They are becoming out of control, and that only means one thing, Balgruuf. They are planning something," Isran warned cautiously as he was met with doubtful stares.

Balgruuf sat back in his throne and pondered, "That sounds like a stretch. Do you have any proof to further this claim?"

"What?" condescendingly snarled Isran, "You want me to drag a vampire in here and get him to tell you myself? Of course I don't, me being here should be enough."

Jarl Balgruuf asked, "What is it you want from me and my city?"

Isran pleaded, "Give me access to your city, for one. I'll need to train your city guard for the attack against the damn vampires. My men and I can help turn this city into a fortress. No vampire gets in, and no vampire gets out. Give me the go ahead and your city will stay protected."

A silence overcame the court as Jarl Balgruuf baffled at the request, "You mean to say you want me to hand over my forces to you? So, you can train them for this 'vampire attack' you can't even prove is going to happen?! You want to scare my people with the threat of war when nothing has been indicated?"

"My lord…" Proventus chimed in, "Don't forget the New Life Festival in a few days! The people are excited to celebrate…"

"I'm aware of that, Proventus!" glowered Jarl Balgruuf, then shot his scowl back to Isran, "You must be a damn fool to think I'd agree to any of this. We just survived the threat of dragons, and now you want to frighten my people with this nonsense?"

Isran hissed, "It's not nonsense…"

Irileth spoke with a crass scowl, "Hmph, seems to me he wants a free job as the captain of the guard."

Isran shook his head and growled, "Don't be ridiculous."

The Orc warrior next to him spoke up in a roar, "You think we came all the way here so we could hold some power over your lazy rabble? Walking the streets up to this place was depressing! Guards sitting on their asses, drinking or lollygagging into the skies. None of them are going to stand a chance against one vampire, let alone a swarm!"

Isran bellowed at his colleague, "Durak! Enough."

Jarl Balgruuf announced in an angered tone, "Your Orc claims to know so much of Whiterun, Isran, yet you forget it is the home of the Companions! If this vampire threat is true, the monsters will be eviscerated in moments by my men and Ysgramor's chosen. Do not come here claiming to know of our plight when our walls still stand tall, and our warriors heart's burning! Don't you dare skulk here and insult my men. Get out of my city! Do not return or I'll show you what power my guardsmen hold! Be gone! All of you!"

Isran huffed in response, his lip curled as he stubbornly stayed to the Jarl, who lost his patience briefly.

"Now!!" the mighty voice of Jarl Balgruuf echoed through the vast walls of Dragonsreach.

Isran scowled and grunted as he stomped back from the throne and towards the entrance of the palace; with his comrades in tow.

He grunted under his breath, "Damn stubborn fool…"

The third comrade, Celann, raised cautiously, "What do we do now, Isran? It's only a matter of time…"

Isran replied, "We raised our offer. The Jarl can reject it if he so chooses. I just hope he can back up those words with steel… all we can do is pray for Stendarr's mercy on Whiterun," he grumbled low as they made their way out the palace and down to the Wind District. He muttered, "The faces we see today may be thralls, tomorrow."

The steely men paced passed the Gildergreen as Durak questioned, "But what of the vampire's confession? 'The suns' death begins on a hill of white horses.' Jarl Balgruuf should have been informed…"

Isran growled a response, "Would he have believed it? I ain't wasting my breath when a warning of a vampire attack should be enough."

As Celann and Isran walked on to the Plains District, Durak was struck in the side by a running young Nord bumping against him on her way to Jorrvaskr.

"Hey! Watch it!" barked Durak at the fresh-faced young woman. She gawked up at him with surprised blue eyes.

Mimzi gasped, "Oh, sorry! Wow… an orc. I didn't think I'd see one in Whiterun."

Durak huffed, "Hmph, most would be wise not to offend one, either."

Mimzi observed, "Oh, sorry… for bumping into you and offending you, for whatever it's worth. Something tells me apologies mean nothing to you, though."

Durak smirked a response, "True. You want to make it right, think about becoming a vampire slayer with myself and my comrades with the Dawnguard. Our fortress is in the deep southeast corner of the Rift. You'll do fine. You look tough for an itty-bitty Nord," he offered crassly.

Mimzi stuck her nose up and lip curled, "Dawnguard? You're a vampire slayer? What brings you to Whiterun?"

Durak advised, "That's right, Dawnguard are vampire slayers; some of the best in Tamriel. If I were you, I'd keep watch of travellers. Watch their eyes, and while you're at it; watch your neck. There's a storm nearin Whiterun, pup. Don't let the bloodsuckers catch you off guard."

The Orc continued down to the Plains District, pursuing his comrades. Mimzi stood by the Gildergreen with a baffled glare; unsure what to make of the interaction. Thinking little of it; she kept on to Jorrvaskr to inform Farkas of her success with Nazeem.

She ambled inside the mead hall where Vignar Gray-Mane and Kodlak sat at the table conversing.

Kodlak announced, "Mimzi! Come, join these seasoned warriors. We are revelling in our old stories! There is much to be learned among elders. Isn't there, Vignar?"

Kodlak grinned to his old friend. Vignar was layered in wrinkles and his hair shined silver against the roasting fire before their table. Mimzi trotted up to them with a pleasant smile.

"Yes, quite," Vignar said in a croaked tone, "Have you ever seen the inside of a Dwemer ruin, young one? Imagine reaching towers that once carried heaps of civilization. All left in shambled stone, deep in earth. Only the horrifying dwarven metal toys left waking."

Mimzi replied, "Yes, I've seen one."

Vignar began to heartily laugh as Kodlak went observant and silent. Vignar chortled, "Oh yes, I'm sure you have, dear! But Markarth doesn't count! Hahaha."

Mimzi corrected, "I've never been to Markarth, actually. But I've been to Alftand and Blackreach. The machines nearly killed me a dozen over, especially the big one."

Kodlak asked, "By big, you mean the centurion?"

"Yes!" enthusiastically chirped Mimzi, "… Thrashed my back with its' arm blade thing…" she pulled up her hair from the back of her neck and revealed a red, swollen scar going down her shoulder, under her cuirass. Mimzi laid her hair down as Kodlak and Vignar glared in silence, and continued, "I nearly bled out. But overall, if I had to pick a reason for never going back to one it'd have to be the falmer. They stunk… really bad."

Kodlak smirked as Vignar held his mouth open. He uttered, "By the gods, girl. Why ever did you go to one in the first place?"

Mimzi replied aloofly, "An Elder Scroll…"

Kodlak and Vignar shared stunned looks. Kodlak muttered, "An elder scroll…"

"Yup!" she chirped, "Wasn't fun. But I'll let you two revel stories, I've gotta find Farkas. See you around!" she waved farewell with a perky demeanour and walked off towards the living quarters.

Vignar growled deeply to Kodlak as Mimzi pattered away, "What kind of whelps you are letting in here these days?"

Mimzi ambled down the hall and took a right down the hallway with Vilkas and Farkas's bedrooms. Both doors were shut but she knocked eagerly to Farkas's.

"Farkas! I got that job done!" said aloud Mimzi as she knocked, "I've got his gold for the client!"

Suddenly the doors behind her shot open, slapping against the wall. Mimzi turned abruptly at Vilkas seeping in sweat, the rims of his eyes dark and face pale as ice. He leaned against the door frame in fatigue but had a scornful glare to his face.

"Oh. Hey… where's Farkas?" she muttered— slightly unnerved.

Vilkas seethed angrily, "Did he answer? No? He's not in his room, you idiot. Now piss off."

Mimzi balked at the abrupt hostility from the man without provocation, then turned her body to face him while crossing her arms, "What's your problem?"

He replied through a shuddering growl, "My problem? At this very moment, it's you. You're loud, you're… ignorant, and think you can walk around here like it's your right. You have no place being here. Run back to the barracks, whelp," angrily snarled Vilkas, his brows furrowed.

Mimzi snarled back, her eyes steely, "Kodlak is the Harbinger, not you. You may have had me take your sword to Eorland, but you are not the boss of me, and my name is Mimzi."

Vilkas lifted himself from the door frame with his fists clenched and stepped over her. Mimzi stood tall and uttered a threat, "You wanna hit the ground again, snowback?"

He cautioned a curdling threat back, "You have no grasp of what I'm capable of."

The two glared at each other as she nearly readied herself to defend whatever Vilkas had planned. He towered over her; she was certain any minute he'd swing a fist.

"Hey, what's going on here?"

Aela said aloud to the two as she peered from the hallway. She stepped forward cautiously. Vilkas and Mimzi took notice of her, and he scoffed before slamming the doors behind him and back into his room.

Aela asked to her, "You alright?"

"Fine," she replied rattly, "Where's Farkas?"

"The yard," replied Aela before Mimzi walked past her, still seething from anger while she stomped back out the hallway. Aela slowly approached Vilkas's door and knocked gingerly.

He bellowed irately from behind the doors, "Leave me be, Aela!" she backed away from the doors and ambled out the hall; shaking her head in frustration.

Farkas stood onlooking the training that commenced between Ria, Torvar, Njada and Athis. He crossed his arms as he observed their styles and rooms for improvement.

Mimzi approached him as she entered the patio and announced, "Hey! I did the job!"

Farkas looked back and grinned brightly with a proud stance, "Well done! You got his gold?"

She beamed, "Here you are!" and tossed him the purse of coin.

Farkas said, "Nice work. Here, you keep it," he handed the purse back to her.

She baffled, "What? Why?"

He informed kindly, "Your pay is equal to the clients, so keep it. I'll deal with it."

"Thanks!" she brimmed a surprised grin and took the purse of coin.

Farkas added, "I hope it wasn't too hard for you."

"Pfft, no way," Mimzi chuckled, "He was the definition of a milk-drinker."

"Good," said Farkas, "Because you're going on another job with me tomorrow morning."

Mimzi's eyes dilated, and she fervently smiled in excitement, "Really? What is it?"

He added stoically, "Your trial. Time for you to prove yourself as a true Companion, you ready?"

She blurted with zeal, "Does a deer piss in the woods?! Of course, I am!" she giggled excitingly where her infectious grin grew one to Farkas.

He smiled, "That's what I'm talking about! You and me, we're gonna butcher some vampires. You ever been to Morthal?"

Mimzi's joyous smile turned worrisome and muttered, "Vampires?"

Farkas nodded, "Oh yeah. They are some of the worst creatures you can face in Skyrim. Don't worry we'll take some disease curing potions with us, just so the little bastards don't make us join the legion of the dead, you know how it goes."

She professed in discreet dismay, "I've never faced a vampire."

"Don't worry, we'll do great," Farkas reassured, "They never expect threats in their nests," he patted her arm and continued, "It'll be fun! I love killing vampires. You will, too!"

Mimzi feigned a smile, "Yeah! You're damn right, I can't wait!"

Farkas patted her against the arm with an eager grin, while Mimzi walked back inside the hall with a worried jaunt. She pondered the danger that wait for her in tomorrow's dawn. Vampires were but a far-off threat she had never fretted the thought of fighting. Now she was destined to enter a den full of them tomorrow. Dragons were one thing; but vampires were shrouded in ominous mystery. She resented the idea of turning the mission down; worried she'd be seen as a coward and shunned from the Companions as a result. Instead, Mimzi made her way back inside— eager to find a tome on vampires to prepare for her mission.

---

Vilkas writhed in his bed. The pain and fever began to cease slowly as he'd drift in and out of sleep. The heartbeat in his ears began to hush and the colours of his room lit by candlelight slowly dimmed. He stayed awake and alert in bed, staring up at the ceiling. A knock thunked at his door which startled him from semi-consciousness.

Vilkas groaned, "Ugh, what does a man have to do to get some peace and quiet, huh?!"

Kodlak beckoned from behind the doors, "In this hall? Good luck with that."

Hearing his Harbinger's voice; Vilkas shot up from bed, wiping away the relinquished sweat off his forehead. He groaned as he crawled up from bed and stumbled to the doors. Kodlak smiled lightly as Vilkas opened the doors for him to come in, his face still pallor. Vilkas went and thudded onto his bed, cradling his face into his hands. Kodlak slowly walked in, closing the doors behind them and rested neatly to his desk chair.

After a moment of silence, Kodlak observed, "It reeks in here, you know that?"

Vilkas muttered through his hands, "Yeah, yeah…"

Kodlak stayed paused for a moment before stating, "Aela came to me just a moment ago. She was scared you were going to slash a whelp to shreds."

Vilkas looked up from his hands and curled a scowl before alarming, "Yeah, she was right to be afraid. I'm tired of them walking around the Circle's quarters. That new one, she's asking for it, you know."

Kodlak remarked, "Mimzi. Yes, well, she may be naive, but she deserves respect in this hall, we all do. Perhaps your plight is affecting your judgement."

Vilkas's face went forlorn but disdainful. He muttered dishearteningly, "You told me we could overcome. I don't see you or Farkas suffering as I do. Why me?"

"You have always been a fiery boy, Vilkas," mentioned Kodlak, "This disease gets worse the longer we ignore it. Eventually, Hircine observes our disregard for his 'gift' and he interferes with our capabilities to resist," he explained as his eyes softened, "I saw your pain today, and I know exactly the threshold it took over you. Yet, you didn't succumb. I can't begin to explain to you how proud that makes me. You are a good man, Vilkas."

He glowered to the floor and replied, "No, I'm not. I'm broken. There isn't a shred of man left in me, I saw proof of it today."

Kodlak began to lightly chuckle as Vilkas raised his head in offence, then commended, "You have astounding willpower. You forget these episodes will not last forever. Remember the day you embark to freedom, my boy. We are not defined by our diseases."

Vilkas raised darkly, "Then what are we defined by?"

"Our deeds," Kodlak assured in a kind tone, "You are a man trailed by great deeds. The people we help, and life's we save; you are defined as a noble Companion. Your deeds will lead to further glory tomorrow morning on your way to Karthwastern."

Vilkas asked, "Karthwastern? What's for me there? I can't do missions right now, master. My mind is clouded. I can't trust myself around others."

"That's why you'll be going with Aela and Skjor, they will keep you on the mission at hand," instructed Kodlak, "That town is plagued with conjurers. They are at the mercy of the foul warlocks while they rape their mines. Your mission will be to go and eradicate them before they harm the civilians."

Vilkas dreaded and his brows furrowed, "Aela and Skjor? Those two are the worst kind I can be around right now. They care nothing for our plight. I'd rather go with my brother, honestly."

Kodlak stated, "Farkas is taking Mimzi for her trial tomorrow. You told me you can't be around others, but Skjor and Aela can't flourish your hunger. In your struggles, I think you need to remember who you are, rather than what you are. You are a good man, remember that."

Kodlak pressed upwards and slowly ambled out Vilkas's room, leaving the young man to stew alone. He brushed his hair back and walked up from his bed. He pulled off his tunic for a set of new ones as his olds were putrid of dried sweat. He grabbed the bucket of vomit he had spewed earlier in the day and walked out to the hall and up to the main level. He made his way quickly out the back doors of Jorrvaskr and dumped the bucket over the city wall. He set the bucket down and sauntered back inside the hall as the twilight began to set. His jet-black hair was greased and dangled loosely to his face and dark painted circles shadowed his eyes, yet he felt better now than he had felt all day. The episode was over. Somehow his discussion with Kodlak eased his pain, granting a clear sense of mind.

Vilkas opened the doors of the living quarters downstairs where he was met with Mimzi; who startled at the sight of him again.

She gasped, "Oh!"

Vilkas growled to her, "Watch it," and walked passed her, but stopped a few feet away as he remembered Kodlak's recent teaching, then turned back to her as she was opening the door to the main hall. He uttered, "I wanted to make it clear that I wish no ill will towards you. It was wrong of me to speak to you that way, before. So I apologize."

Mimzi heeded what he said and stayed silently stunned for a while before replying, "Me too. We may have gotten off on the wrong foot, huh?"

He stayed his scornful scowl and warned, "Just don't loiter around our rooms when you want to find us. Have some respect for our privacy, at least."

He ambled back to his quarters. Mimzi stayed a bit taken back by the abrupt amicable exchange with Vilkas and left upstairs for some food. Around the dining table sat the fellow whelps, Ria, Torvar, Njada and Athis all engaged in excited banter as they talked through mouth's full of food. Farkas, Aela, Skjor and Kodlak spoke in subtle tones amongst each other amicably. Vignar sat at a far-off table with his caretaker, Brill. Mimzi felt like a horse lost in a herd of elk, without belonging. She was the outsider that timidly spied for a place to sit on her own, without any of the Companions paying her a second thought. She sat uneasily by herself at the edge of the table, and away from the others as their conversations ensued. Tilma served her without muttering a word, and in the discomfort of her place now, she was put off her meal. She stabbed and dragged her fork through her food in solemn thought.

As she did so, Kodlak strayed his eyes from the conversations to Mimzi sitting lonesome by herself as the other whelps revelled without her. His stare eased into empathy at the young Nord, who kept her head up with her hand tucked under her chin and playing with her food. She was one of the first to leave the table after eating a few bites. She left outside promptly leaving the others behind her in a dour amble.

After eating and washing herself clean in the yard, Mimzi went back down to the barracks where she unequipped her armour and weapons and donned a tunic. She read from her book on vampires that she had found in bookshelves lining the halls. As she read from its contents she stayed in bed where her shield siblings came barging in from the main hall and into the barracks.

Athis announced, "Well look who it is! Heard you have your trial tomorrow morning? Congratulations."

Ria exclaimed excitedly as she came and sat to her bed, eagerly awaiting Mimzi's news, "You have your trial?! What is it?"

Mimzi uttered hesitatingly, "Vampires…"

Athis planted himself to his bed with his arms up under his head and legs crossed, "Vampires? Why in Sheogorath's beard they have you killing vampires your first trial?"

Njada spat as she rolled into her bed, "Great. First vampire job we get in months, and they give it to the dud. Typical."

"Torvar! Did you hear?" called Athis, "Mimzi's going and killing vampires tomorrow."

Torvar sottishly ambled into the room. He slurred with a dopy expression, "What? Sorry, I'm too drunk to remember what a vampire is right now. Just give me a minute…." he toppled into his bed while gripping a half full bottle of mead that lightly spilled as he collapsed into his cot. Mimzi snickered at him as she was pressed with more questions.

Ria fervently pried, "Where are you going tomorrow? Who is your shield sibling?"

Mimzi replied aloofly, "Farkas. He said we were going to Morthal…"

Athis sneered in disgust, "Ugh, Morthal. I hate that dump. Smells like feces over dirt and more feces packed on top. Vampires love that place, so doesn't surprise me," he stated still looking up to the ceiling, comfortable in bed.

Ria happily rejoined, "Farkas! You're lucky. He's a big softie. He let me kill an ice wraith all by myself, my second trip! His brother on the other hand? He was my shield brother for my trial. He scares me."

Athis glowered, "Vilkas… that fetcher. We all get shield siblings on our missions. Aela is good if you don't mind a quick paced hunt with no chatter, Farkas is amicable, but he's got saw dust for brains, and Skjor can be harsh but fair. Vilkas, however, there's nothing more miserable than a day trailing beside Vilkas. He's a mean, bitter grump."

Torvar began to guffaw, "I swear, all he needs is a stiff drink and a woman to bed, he might lighten up a bit."

Njada mocked from her bed in a sneer, "Remember when he pinned you down for drinking while training, Torvar? And you cried like a little girl?"

Athis began to chuckle, "Oh, this is good."

Ria asked in curiosity, "Wait, what happened?"

Torvar blurted, "Shut up, Njada!"

Njada carried on, "Vilkas told you to stop drinking during training hours and you said 'Yes master! I promise I will! Last drink, I swear!'. Well not even a few minutes later, Vilkas notices good ole Torvar taking a swig from a stashed flask he had under his chest plate. Needless to say, Torvar ate the dust of the yard pretty quick when Vilkas planted his knee to his back. It was hilarious!" cackled Njada, "He's a bastard, sure, but he doesn't take any slack. You lot of laggard milk-drinkers don't get that."

Ria asked in concern, "Has anyone else noticed he's been getting worse? Like even meaner, if that's possible?"

Njada proclaimed, "Of course, now he's so terrible he stays in his room and avoids us. He hasn't even been coming out for training. Maybe because he knows he won't be able to resist killing us if we piss him off…"

Athis jested, "Mimzi thrashed him on the training yard so my bet, she gets killed first."

"Can you all shut up?" spoke up Mimzi, making the room turn silent, "Just… shut up. If you can't say these words to his face don't say them at all."

The three huffed and changed the subject to training techniques, while Ria went back to her reading. Mimzi closed her book and rolled over in bed to sleep. She was reminded of her latest interaction with Vilkas, and that he tried to apologize even without a reason to. She couldn't help but feel as if he was deeply troubled from inside, and mocking him behind his back wouldn't provide comfort, just a feeling of dishonour.

She slowly drifted to sleep among the rabble. Mimzi always struggled with nightmares as she'd sleep in the deafening silence of the woods. Surrounded by laughter, chatter and just the presence of others was comfort. She fell asleep faster than she had in months as Torvar and Athis chuckled loudly as they jested and made merry in the late hours of the evening. Maybe too early, but she knew she was going to be put to the test tomorrow and needed her rest.

Despite the calming of her falling to sleep, as soon as the hall fell silent, Mimzi's nightmares took hold once more. She looked up at the skies above Dawnstar which were blanketed in clouds of smoke from Whiffet Hall. She was the only soul that remained in that town, which was smouldering in ruin. Among the clouds of smoke were the gaping wings of dragons flying above. Alduin flapped over Whiffet Hall, and across from Mimzi's tearing eyes. Intense fear turned to dread as Alduin parted his jaw and flourished more fire down to Whiffet Hall. As the building incinerated the wooden walls, beckoning within the flames was the looming shadow of a young girl. She was engulfed in flames but didn't scream in pain. She only walked slowly to the doors— to Mimzi. As she watched on in horror, the girls braided pigtails and dress were more apparent. The shadow spoke, "I thought you were in here, Mimzi. I thought you were in here. All I wanted to do was save you. Why couldn't you save me?" Mimzi's dread brought her to her knees as the dragons pulsed more fire down to Whiffet Hall. Mimzi tried to Shout Dragonrend, or any other Shout she knew at the beasts, but her voice fell silent with every attempt. She sat still and frozen to the floor of Dawnstar as Luna burned away before her again. Alduin's voice rattled so vividly it felt real.

"But what of my soul, Dovahkiin? You really thought you defeated me? Fool. I will outlast you, mortal."

She jolted awake to deafening silence in the small hours of the morning. The light breaths of the others resting in the barracks was all that were heard. She closed her eyes in hopes to fall asleep again, but her mind was brimming. As she lay awake in bed, she wrestled with intruding thoughts. Mimzi's nerves were rattled at the suspense of tomorrow's venture. She knew she needed sleep, but lingering fear kept her alert in that moment. She slowly sat up in bed— looking around at her sleeping peers. She kept her movements as stifled as possible trying to stand from her cot. With bare feet, Mimzi pattered out to the hall of the living quarters. Not a chirp from a mouse were heard, the silence was eerie. She carefully opened the doors to the main hall; trying not to awaken any of the others.

Upstairs was as lively as the living quarters, only the smouldering embers of the toasting fireplace cracked noise. She plucked a bottle of mead from a nearby crate by the stairwell and uncorked it. As she sipped, she noticed the holding place for their fragments of Wuuthrad. Mimzi held a quiet adoration for the hall now that it lay empty— allowing her the chance to fully appreciate it. Besides the stories she was told as a child, she didn't know much of the Companions and their history. She knew they were formed by the greatest Nord hero of all time— a man of conquest; Ysgramor. A Nord man that hailed 4000 years ago from Atmora, and brought over 200 warriors from the arctic continent. They avenged the genocide of their people at the hands of the elves, and following their victory made reign in Skyrim. The warriors went on to become the Companions, and through centuries became the band of coin-seeking mercenaries they are today.

It was the pivotal event that led to Nord's claiming Skyrim as their land. It was a story embedded in her own racial history, and a story told too often in the reaching, cold land. Wuuthrad was the weapon Ysgramor used as he waged in battle against the snow elves. Mimzi gawked at the remnants of the legendary weapon. There were only a few pieces in the holding, but even seeing the fragments of the axe was mythic. She amazed at the sight of it and stopped herself from touching them out of respect.

She stole her attention to the doors towards the yard— still drinking from her mead. Eager for some fresh air, she sauntered outside. The air was stagnant and chilled, and skies a rich indigo. As soon as she stepped out to the patio, she saw a man sitting by the steps whilst gazing up at the stars. Before Mimzi could scurry back inside, Kodlak turned back to her and beamed a warm smile.

"Mimzi… restless dreams, I take it?" he spoke with a weary stare. She halted for a moment as she startled at his presence outside.

She stammered and replied, "Seems to be that way…" Mimzi came over to Kodlak, slowly stepping out of the shadows and into the light from the clear, starry night. She sat herself down next to him on the steps. He was welcoming to her joining of his company and seemed to appear comforted by it. Mimzi gazed up at the stars along with him and they stayed in silence for a moment.

Mimzi glanced over to the elderly man (whom still stayed his gaze to the night sky) and pondered, "Why are you out here?"

Kodlak smiled to himself while still looking up and replied, "Being outside on a still night such as this, clears a troubled mind. Don't you agree?"

She slowly rejoined, "Yeah, that's actually why I came out."

"I figured as much," Kodlak observed soft-spoken, "What troubles you?"

Mimzi gloomed sarcastically, "Hah… where to start?"

He made a gruff chuckle, "Wherever you want."

She smiled and muttered, "Just my mind reliving my worst moments again… nothing new there. When it's quiet I find it hard to sleep. It's weird but… it's a niche of mine."

Kodlak shared, "I struggle from the same burden, all haunted warriors do. The misery of our pasts will always endure despite the good memories we make. When I first saw you, I knew we had this in common."

Mimzi raised, "What haunts you?"

Kodlak began to huskily laugh and asked, "If I told you my haunts, would you tell me yours?"

Mimzi relented, "Right… you're the Harbinger, though. A man with a traumatic past, how did you end up here?"

Kodlak spoke, "Well I'm sure like you, and like most of our band, I found this family after losing my own. Believe it or not, you're not alone in your trauma here. Especially within the Circle, we all share demons," he looked from the stars and to Mimzi who met his gaze. He continued, "I've had the heart for battle since I was a boy. Grew up within these colliding mountains. Were a bodyguard for some of my youth, serving some weak-necked lord in Hammerfell. I was found by our latest predecessor, and he brought me back here, he brought me home. Now I serve to honour my parents, my forebears and all the shield-siblings who once walked these very halls. To be a Companion, family and honour are all that is needed from us."

Mimzi asked, "This… is a family?"

He nodded kindly and stated, "Yes, my dear, we are a family. You don't see it yet, but the more time you spend here the more you'll understand. This band is an oath that lasts a lifetime. The bonds you make here will heal that troubled heart of yours."

Mimzi muttered sadly, "Doesn't seem likely… I don't know the first thing about family."

Kodlak replied softly, "You will come to soon. When you came to us, I didn't just see an orphan, I saw a woman with a gleaming heart and pure mind. There are many comforts of family here."

She balked, "How did you know I'm an orphan?"

He said, "It's hard to explain… I just knew. You'll come to learn you share this with all of us. Skjor's family were wicked cowards, Aela's parents passed when she came of age, and the twins were orphans from the day they were born. Except none of us are, anymore. An orphan is one without family, but we have found that among each other. Call it a band of once wayward children who yearned for home but crafted it ourselves. We all share an inseparable bond. Much like the warriors who sailed the Jorrvaskr along the White River and discovered the Skyforge and this bountiful land. They turned it into a home for themselves. This home that would later house generations of valiant fighters. They set sail to find home, and they did. Much like all of us— including you. The rest of the whelps don't understand this, as they didn't grow up like us. But as soon as I saw you, I knew you were different. You'll come to accept this in time, but you are now an orphan with a home, and can leave that branding behind you."

Mimzi's eyes softened and asked, "I thought I wasn't a Companion, yet?"

Kodlak scoffed, "The rest of the Circle say that, they are cold to most newcomers, and you'll have to prove yourself to them. But I know you have what it takes. The matter remains if you will accept that call of family or shrink at the commitment of honing it. A lone wolf can't survive in the wild, little one, we all need a pack. And you've found one."

Mimzi muttered tepidly, "I feel like I've been looking for home all my life…" her eyes glazed to the stars again.

Kodlak gently rested his hand to her shoulder, "And your search is over. Welcome home."

Mimzi looked up to Kodlak with a warm smile and glossy eyes. She didn't respond, but a comforting feeling washed over her. She relished in it as she enjoyed Kodlak's company. She handed her bottle of mead to Kodlak, who happily accepted and shared a swig. He handed it back to her, where she drank from it, as well. They stayed each other's company for a while.

An hour of idle chatter went by between the two. They departed and went back to their quarters to sleep at the worry of dawn soon approaching. After her solace with Kodlak, Mimzi fell back to sleep swiftly. Her mind was clear, and any doubts or fears that gripped her were dormant. The cold air had chilled her skin. The animal furs of her bed quickly brought her back to warmth. When she drifted back to sleep, no relinquished nightmares crept back to haunt her. Mimzi slept soundly in the knowledge she may have found what her heart yearned for more than anything. Something she thought she had found time and time again but only ripped away from her in the end. This time in Jorrvaskr's hall felt different. She comforted in the thought she may have finally found 'home'.

In the next few hours, violent clanging rang loudly through the hall startling Mimzi, Ria, Torvar, Athis and Njada out of sleep and up in bed. Torvar startled and spooked so ruggedly he flopped his behind on the floor.

Skjor was peddling a cast iron pot with a ladle as he slowly made his entrance into the barracks and bellowed, "Mooooorning!!! Rise and shine whelps!! Up and at em!"

Ria covered her ears and blurted, "What time is it?!"

Skjor stopped pedalling his pot, "Before dawn. Mimzi get your ass up and ready for your trial, Farkas is waiting. The rest of you— breakfast than training. The Circle will be gone today so you lot better be on top of your game and leave Kodlak alone while he's in his study, you get me?!" Skjor announced like thunder rattling in the skies.

Mimzi went scurrying out of bed with unkempt, red curly hair and sleepy eyes, but her body went pacing fast as she grabbed at her belongings and quickly equipped her armour, boots and gauntlets.

Torvar blathered as he pried his rump off the floor, "Where you all going? Who's gonna train us?"

Skjor groaned back at him, "Torvar… you mean to tell me after all this time you've been here, you don't know what moves you'd like to see yourself improve? Shut up."

Athis asked again, "Where are you going?" as he sat on the side of his bed and fitted his boots back on.

Skjor explained, "Aela, Vilkas and myself are heading to The Reach, we've got a job; warlocks in question keeping a mining town hostage. Farkas is taking the newest whelp on her trial, as I'm sure you knew. I expect the four of you to keep up with training while we are gone. If a job comes in, leave it with Kodlak till we get back and can distribute it. Clean up after yourselves! Tilma doesn't need a workload increase because you lot think you can run the place into the ground with us gone. Above all, don't make me regret trusting you rabble. Understand?!"

Mimzi belted out the door passed Skjor while Athis, Torvar, Njada and Ria said in unison, "Yes, sir!"

At the dining table where Mimzi approached, Aela, Farkas and Vilkas sat eating breakfast. Through the windows it was still dark and dim, the hint of light from the sun had not yet sprouted off the hills. It looked to be five in the morning at the latest.

Farkas asked to his twin brother, "Anything else I should be ready for?"

Vilkas informed, "They use a spell, I don't know what it's called, but it can drain the life from you slowly. It can give you the virus just as a scratch or bite can, Sanguinare Vampiris. Your shield can help to deflect it. Don't let the whelp get infected."

Aela chimed in, "Vampires are lords of the darkness. Never expect safety in the shadows while in Movarth's Lair, always be ready."

Mimzi walked up to the trio armed and equipped in her beryl leather armour and a traveller's hood over her head.

Farkas stated to her in a grisly tone, "I hope you've readied yourself."

"I'm ready. When do we head out?" asked Mimzi.

Farkas stood up from his chair, equipped his bag and gulped down the remaining of his mead then declared, "Now," he turned to his brother and patted him on the shoulder, "I'll see you when I get back, brother."

"Gods be with you, Farkas," Vilkas slanted a smile, and gripped his hand back.

Aela made a warm smile and said, "Make it home safe, Ice-brain," she patted his arm then looked to Mimzi and growled, "You listen to everything Farkas says, and don't leave him behind."

Mimzi replied, "Understood."

Vilkas looked up at her with a scowl as Farkas waved his hand for her to follow and the two left out the doors. They were greeted with the brisk air and the cold dark skies flooded with bright stars. The streets of Whiterun were empty and quiet. Only guards sauntered through the streets and passed them as the two made their way to the front gates out the city. Mimzi followed Farkas closely out the doors.

Farkas broke the silence and asked, "You've got a horse? You don't, you can ride with me."

Mimzi replied, "No, I've got one. So, we're riding then?"

Farkas scoffed, "Of course, it's the 30th today, I'm not missing the New Life Festival. It's been years since we've even celebrated in Whiterun. Let's just get this over with, huh? Quick, easy, dirty and fun. All my favourite things."

Mimzi nodded and smirked, "Alright, sounds good."

They made it to the stables where Farkas mounted his stallion, and Mimzi got Sunshine ready with her saddle before mounting her. They rode off into the plains of Whiterun on their way to Hjaalmarch. Soon after, Skjor, Aela and Vilkas made their way to the stables and got their horses ready.

While Vilkas equipped his saddle to his midnight black stallion, Aela grumbled, "Feels like a waste with these horses. Knowing we could get there a lot faster without them…"

Vilkas furrowed his brows and Skjor scornfully claimed, "You know we can't, Aela. The old man wouldn't like it. Why'd you think he sent Vilkas?"

Aela groaned, "Skjor…"

Skjor continued, "Can't hone our gift when we have pa's little boy ready to sell us out, all because he's too brainwashed to see its potential."

Aela groaned loudly and Vilkas snarled and threw his head back from his horse and to Skjor, "Shut up already. I'm not listening to your preaching again. You do what you want if you need to. All that matters is the job gets done, remember?"

Skjor mounted his horse and snidely replied, "The sooner you give in, the better you'll feel. There is nothing shameful about what we are, Vilkas. It doesn't make you any less of a Nord."

Aela intervened between the two hot-headed men and affirmed, "Skjor, can we stop with this? He gets it, but he's following the old man's teaching. Let him hold his decision in peace."

"What kind of teaching prohibits the following of true prowess?" asked aloud Skjor to the two.

"It's a curse," Vilkas remained hateful and rode his horse ahead of the two before muttering, "Plain and simple."

He then rode ahead far enough to avoid their chatter. Aela and Skjor gawked up at him in disdain.

Skjor growled, "This new teaching of Kodlak's is the true curse. It's dividing us. Vilkas won't admit it, but if he doesn't give in to the calling of his blood, he'll die, or he'll lash out and hurt an innocent. Honestly don't know what's worse."

Aela replied as they rode their horses through the plains, "It's not our place, Skjor. Just drop it and try not to air it for Vilkas."

Skjor lamented, "I miss the days we'd go out and hunt in the plains at night, all five of us. Back when we were all on the same page, remember? Now all this talk of Sovngarde and Ysgramor, and what makes a true Nord; suddenly we're not a family anymore. We're no different than those Gray-Mane and Battle-Borns."

Aela explained, "Eventually things work themselves out. Just give it time, Skjor. They'll realize the thrill of the hunt is all they need."

---

Mimzi and Farkas had ridden their horses through the early morning, where high noon was creeping over the harbouring clouds that blanketed Hjaalmarch. The weather gloomed and fog lifted over the marshes. They slowed their pace as they approached the confines of the swampy muskeg; their horses trotting through the tall grass.

Farkas asked amicably, "So what brought you to the Companions?"

Mimzi pondered and replied, "Money, mostly. A bed to sleep in and food to eat. I'm good at fighting… not really anything else. So, I joined up."

Farkas smiled as he remarked, "Well you're not one of us yet. After today we'll know if you are worthy, but I've got a good feeling about you. I've lived in Jorrvaskr pretty much my whole life, so I know a warrior when I see one."

Mimzi rejoined, "When did you come to Jorrvaskr?"

He recalled, "Can't remember, so I think I was too young to remember. Vilkas and I crawled along the floors of the hall until we took our first steps. Our father brought us to the Companions and raised us… but he left for the Great War when we were no older than five winters. Never saw him again after that."

She sighed, "I'm sorry."

Farkas beamed a grin, "Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago. My brother and I took care of each other. Vignar took it upon himself to help raise us, and Kodlak soon after. Tilma was always there to give a mother's love. You know the saying 'It takes a village?'. Well for two little pups; it sure did."

Mimzi smiled lightly, "Haha, I'm sure you two got up to all kinds of double trouble."

Farkas chuckled, "Ha! Oh, yeah. Usually, me getting into something I shouldn't have, and my brother coming to my rescue."

Mimzi and Farkas shared a chuckle as they continued on through the marsh. Farkas continued, "He's always looked out for me. Some people think I'm not smart, and sometimes I think they're right. He's taught me that no matter what others think, I'm worth more than most of them. So, I don't care anyway… or they get my fist. Depends on who you ask."

She affirmed, "Good. To Oblivion with what others think. I know a little bit on dealing with people who think I'm not smart, and you're handling it a lot better than I do. Trust me, there's a whole lot of stupid people in this world, and you're the last that comes to mind," she smiled sweetly at Farkas who returned a grin.

He boldly stated, "I like you. Not just because you're nice and pretty. But you are easy to talk to. I like that."

She noted, "I like you, too. I think we'll be fast friends."

They treaded on through the marsh where Farkas pulled off to the side of the grove, with Mimzi following suit. They were approaching a burrowed cave almost hidden in fog. Farkas hopped off his horse.

She shuddered at the ominous cave and muttered, "…Is this it?"

Farkas nodded stoically and confirmed, "This is it. Let's do this."

As Mimzi went to tie her horse's reins to a nearby tree, Farkas refuted, "Don't do that. If they are discovered by bloodsuckers, they should at least have the chance to escape, right?"

Mimzi stopped as she heeded his words and nodded, "Right. Sorry."

Sunshine and Farkas's horse were half a league away from the cave where the two continued their trek on foot to Movarth's Lair. They entered cautiously into the lair where stained blood and riddled corpses cluttered the entrance.

As she breathed in the musk of death, she uttered, "Blood is fresh…" Farkas warily looked down at the refuge of remains with a glare.

He replied pensively, "Something's been here recently, let's tread lightly."

The two slowly crept inside to the cave system which revealed a tunnel leading to a lit chamber and a wooden platform overhead. They stepped over top the platform which reclined down log steps to the bottom of the system where another entrance led further into the cave. Thick layers of spider webbing began to sprawl down deeper against the stone walls. Cluttering and rasping against the webbing was heard and figures began to emerge through. Mimzi drew Dragonbane as Farkas drew his greatsword.

Mimzi gawked and screamed out as she saw three frostbite spiders sprawling down from the ceiling, "Look out!"

Farkas's eyes went aghast as he gawked in horror at their chomping pinchers and thin, spiky legs waggling towards him. Two more spiders crawled from their nesting in the webs on ground level. Mimzi threw her sword at the front legs of the first that approached, severing them off. The monster squealed in agony where Mimzi lunged her sword up and protruded it into the top of the spider's head. She ripped the blade from its thick skeleton and thrashed again at the other one's eyes, Farkas finished it off by slicing it clean in half with his greatsword.

Farkas shuddered and barked, "Three more!"

The large spiders came scuttling at the two warriors. One spider lunged at his feet, stumbling him to the floor while Mimzi fought off the remaining two. It tried to bite through his thick steel but was only kicked back with brunt force by the strength of Farkas. He threw his sword like a spear, and it sliced through the spider's abdomen; keeping it stuck to the ground as it painfully squealed. He shot up and finished it off by planting his boot into its head, which convulsed its gray, thick blood up to his knee.

Mimzi was cornered by the remaining two spiders that had her against the wall as she thrashed at the heads. They jumped back with every swipe of her blade but persisted at her. Farkas ripped his blade from the deceased spider and swiped his sword left through another, which flew into the wall, colliding with a sack of eggs. Mimzi lunged with her sword up at the remaining spider and pierced her sword through its head. The spider that had collided with its egg sack broke the fibres of the nest, which quickly emerged with offspring; the size of mice and sprawling chaotically at the two.

Mimzi shrilled aloud, where Farkas's face went white. He stared on in horror and slowly backed up against the wall. Mimzi began stomping her feet over them madly, panting and screaming as she did so. They tried to crawl onto her legs where she frantically kicked the swarm off with horrified shrieks. Farkas was too mortified to move, and as the swarm began to flood his feet, he could feel the sharp pinch of their teeth dig into his skin. He abruptly snapped out of his state and began to scream. He kicked the swarm off, but they persisted up his legs.

Mimzi growled and shrieked, "To Oblivion with this!" she shot her hand up and flames convulsed from her fingertips, sending the swarm of spiders alight and shrilling. Farkas kicked the remaining spiders over his armour into the flames. Mimzi swept off the teaming spiders that crawled to her arms and in her hair. She shook chillingly at the disgust and continued throwing flames at the few stragglers that scuttled along the cave floor. Mimzi ran to Farkas who sat pallor and shaking, with his knees up to his chest as he gawked at the fire.

Mimzi called out, "Farkas! You okay? Hey!" then knelt to his level, but he uttered no response. His black painted eyes just gawked into the flames. Mimzi shook his frame and belted out, "Farkas!"

He startled and jolted from her hands, "What?!"

She asked, "Are you okay?"

Farkas stayed quiet, he gulped with effort and twitched at the fright of another spider on him, but nothing was there. They remained scorched to the floor, hiding or dead.

"I… I don't like those things." Farkas croaked in a rattling frame and deflated voice.

She stated, "Me neither, you going to be okay? Here, let me help you up," she gripped his hand as Farkas slowly pushed up from the floor, panting heavily.

He said again, "I really don't like those things."

She shrugged light-heartedly, "I mean who could? They are gross and ugly. Let's just move on. It stinks like cooked spider in here."

Farkas smiled a nod then stated; a little more composed, "Vampires love having frostbite spiders around. Don't ask me why. I should have known we'd have to tangle with the creepy little bastards."

Mimzi claimed in a jesting titter, "Looked like ya nearly pissed yourself."

He wearily chuckled, "Everyone has their weakness, right? I don't like spiders. Not even the normal sized ones. But those babies all over the place, that was a little too much for me. Just needed to catch my bearings. You being here helps. Thank you."

Mimzi smiled, "Of course, anytime. I don't like skeevers… Some people keep them as pets, but if I see one my skin shifts, so I get it."

"Ha. I had one as a kid, too," he laughed, still unsettled.

Mimzi smirked and shook her head, "Of course you did. Let's move on. You sure you're okay?"

He replied wearily, "Yeah, I think so. By the way, that was pretty neat with those flames. But I wouldn't do that again around the others. We kind of have a strict 'no magic, no sneaking' motto. Companions use traditional fighting, it's the right way for us," he advised, beginning to resolve from his fright.

Mimzi promptly assured, "Oh, I only know that one, and I don't know it very well. So don't worry, that'll be the last time."

"Good," replied Farkas, "Glad we got that squared away. We have to kill their leader before we make it back to Whiterun."

They treaded deeper into the caves. Mimzi followed closely. They turned left down a tunnel into another open cave system. An orc in hide skins sat to the table, unaware as they progressed deeper.

Farkas barked abruptly at the man, "Hey!"

The orc shot up from his table and growled as he came running up to the pair with a battleaxe raised.

"Grrrraaaagh!!!" roared Farkas then lunged to the orc and thrusted his blade against the hilt of the orc's axe, causing it to fly to the other direction; stumbling the raged orc. Farkas swiped his sword again with strength that sliced the head of the orc off his shoulders. The body fell hard. Mimzi stayed behind and gawked in surprise. She pressed her lips together and nodded.

"That was handled quickly," she imparted, "Who was that guy?"

He explained, "Thrall. A vampire pet… pretty much. Some morons think they can benefit off being a blood cow for the vampires, while the other poor bastards are brainwashed or possessed with a spell. A vampire needs their thralls for protection. By themselves, they ain't good for much. Most are weak and only have magic to keep themselves safe."

Mimzi sighed and raised, "So these thralls, they can be innocent?"

Farkas gloomed and explained, "Yeah, but if we knew how to break the spell of those possessed, we would. Doesn't mean we can let them live to help their vampire masters in hurting others. I hope you can understand."

Mimzi glared at the orc's beheaded remains and muttered, "I do… I just don't like it."

He snarled as he looked down to the body, "Just more reason to hate these blood sucking fiends. Makes killing them that more fun. Come on, through this way," Farkas turned another left down a tunnel.

Mimzi kept up closely where they entered another chamber and could hear the faint voice of someone speaking. Farkas turned to her and hushed with his finger at his lips, then carried on through the tunnel, discreetly. The voice rambled like a weasel.

"Let me just take this coin purse of yours. Oh, and those nice boots you have there… Now, you just stay here with all your friends while I go find a shovel."

A voice echoed into the cave, and they could see a mound with a redguard man standing inside it. The man trudged up the mound.

Farkas whispered to Mimzi, "Your turn. I dealt with the last guy. He's all yours."

She smirked and replied, "Alrighty."

She marched up to the thrall as he grasped in a wheelbarrow for a shovel. Mimzi's bold footsteps alerted the thrall who stumbled out of the barrow and unsheathed his axe.

Her voice blurted suddenly, "Now you just stay right there while I shove my sword up your ass."

The man roared and threw his axe at Mimzi, who deflected it with her shield and kicked the man back by the knee. She thrashed her sword where he deflected it with his axe, she threw again, and he blocked once more. She went to strike again, but feigned and sliced the other way and cut through his arm. The man yelped and grasped it tightly, dropping his axe. Mimzi stabbed her sword forward and through his gut. The man gasped and gurgled in pain. She ripped her sword out from his flesh and kicked him into the mound. He laid writhing with fallen victims of innocents the man had planned to rob and bury in the mound. Mimzi wiped away her sweat and stared at the mound. Farkas crept from the shadows and approached her.

"Bastard…" she snarled as she stared down at the dead women and man that laid in the pit. Farkas sighed as he came up next to her.

"It's awful seeing good people pay the price for these filth…" he glowered, "But sometimes you have to block it out so you can continue another day. You fought well, and you're whip fast with that sword. I can't wait to see how you handle some vampires; soon enough. Let's go, they've gotta be in here somewhere."

Mimzi and Farkas walked around the mound and straight to another tunnel adjacent to them. They followed straight next to a bridging higher level that overlooked the next chamber. Mimzi and Farkas entered an empty chamber lit dimly, almost engulfed in darkness. To its centre was a lengthy dining table smothered in blood and bone remains. The chairs along the table were empty.

They shuffled into the darkness with their weapons drawn. Mimzi hushed to Farkas, "Where are they?"

Farkas hushed back, "Shh. They're here."

Mimzi gasped, "How do you know?"

Farkas looked along the darkness, his hands tightening to his hilt and snarled, "… I can smell them."

Mimzi suddenly shrieked as a metal clang crunched and her ankle seared in hot pain. Mimzi collapsed to the ground and ached. She pried at her ankle that was carved into a bear trap which was chained into the ground. Farkas bolted to her and tried to release the mechanism, but the shrouded darkness blinded his ability to find a fair grasp. Footsteps began to echo closer and heavy breathing alarmed the pair. Farkas shot up from Mimzi, who winced in pain— and pried her eyes at the shapes emerging from the darkness. Their eyes glowed red among the shadows and huddled together— surrounding Farkas. The croaky, deep voice of a vampire growled as he emerged from the shadows.

"What a delightful surprise. We were just starting to get hungry…"

His nose was layered in thick, monstrous wrinkles and lines off his mouth revealed as he beamed a malicious grin— beckoning his sharp fangs. Seven more figures emerged, all were vampires adorned in black attire of robes and tunics. Their lips were stained in old blood and their skin was as pale as the snow. They all smirked and excitedly surrounded the pair.

Mimzi's leg burned like fire as she snatched at her ankle. Terror riddled her face at the sight of eight vampires surrounding them and soon to attack Farkas, who stood his ground vigilantly.

The vampire croaked to Farkas, "What's wrong, young man? Are you from Morthal? Did a sister go missing? A lover, perhaps?" the fiend seemed to be the leader of their nest.

Farkas said back, "You're Movarth."

Movarth laughed, "You have it right. Now tell me, what brings you? I like to know where my meals come from."

One of the female vampires spoke up, her nose wrinkled at Farkas, "Ugh, what is that smell? He reeks! The little Nord girl smells much better."

"Oh, yes…" Movarth said, "She smells incredible. Succulent."

Mimzi ached and shivered at the famished, red eyes gawking to her. Farkas backed up to shield Mimzi as the vampires stayed their glares to her.

Farkas snarled, "We're from Whiterun. You have a bounty over your head, Movarth. You've been so busy; it reached the Companions. Guess you'll have to pay for your sloppiness."

Movarth chuckled loudly, "The Companions! Of course! Some say you lot are nearly indestructible. Your Skyforge steel cuts through your enemies like butter. Yet, the tide turns here. We will feed on your riddled bodies and your Skyforge steel will be ours for the keeping! And then soon— all of Skyrim!"

Farkas snarled and chucked his blade to their feet, startling them. Mimzi snapped, "What are you doing?!"

Farkas grumbled to Movarth, "Take it. It's not going to save you."

The vampires erupted in chortles at the Nord man. Mimzi winced in fear and her body began to shiver at the confusion of what was to come. Farkas then turned to her aloofly and muttered, "Don't freak out, okay?" he turned his back to her as he slowly approached the gaggle of fiendish vampires.

Mimzi squawked, "Freak out?! What? What are you doing?! Farkas!"

He clenched his fists as his eyes began to glow white. His teeth edged in sharp fangs and an animalistic roar thundered from his maw. Mimzi stared on in horror as Farkas's armour was ripped off, revealing growths of black hair and muscles. Slowly his skin turned mud brown. His head shifted into a muzzle with large talons for teeth, and pointed ears curled up over his head. He grew 8 feet tall, and his frame resembled the likeness of a large, hulking wolf. He roared at the vampires that sullied into fear at the sight of the beast before them. Movarth cowered behind his underlings, frantically grasping for his sword.

He yelped out, "He's… he's a werewolf!!"

Farkas lunged at the crowd of vampires, thrashing them with his gaping claws. The power of the strike sent their slashed bodies deep into the darkness. Mimzi gawked on in shock at the sheer strength of Farkas in his current form. She gripped both sides of the bear trap and peeled it back on both sides with as much strength as she could muster. She clenched her teeth and screamed in pain as she pried her leg out from the trap.

He pounced on another vampire and punctured his teeth into the monsters neck; ripping it from their shoulders and throwing into the abyss. A female, dunmer vampire flung bolts of lightening at Farkas, who only flinched and roared in anger in response. He lunged at the spell-flinger who shrilled as Farkas buried his teeth into her neck and thrashed her around in his mouth as she screamed agonizingly. An altmer vampire used a red, gleaming spell on Farkas, where he winced and growled in response. He clenched down on the blathering vampire still inside his maw; glaring at the one using the spell. He chucked the vampire out of his mouth and lunged at the one before him. He thrashed his claws over the vampire's face, slashing his skin into shreds.

Movarth cowered to a dark corner of the cave, hunched down to the floor. Farkas sniffed him out and stood on his hind legs, snarling with generous blood dripping from his fangs. Movarth whimpered as he rattled his arms up to his face and hollered a blood-curdling shrill as Farkas lingered over him with his claw in the air; ready to strike. He ravaged his claws into Movarth's gullet, where his ear-splitting screams turned to gurgles then nothing. Mimzi crawled away from the bear trap. She could not withstand the pain within her ankle to get up. She breathed raggedly as the aches intensified.

Farkas's animal breathing ceased within the shadows as Mimzi looked into the darkness. Silent footsteps were heard as a human figure emerged from the abyss.

"Farkas…?" she spoke weakly.

His husky voice was heard, "I hope I didn't scare ya," he approached through darkness, seemingly to have reverted to his human form.

Mimzi breathed out, "Scare me? That's what you're worried about?! How did you— AH!!"

Mimzi abruptly screamed as she snatched up at her eyes, keeping them closed from view. Farkas beckoned in the light, he went baffled at Mimzi.

"What's wrong?" he glared, "Why you covering your— oh."

Farkas looked down to his nude body and chuckled lightly, "I forget that happens, sometimes. Let me find some clothes, I'll be right back."

"Good idea," Mimzi winced through her hands, still keeping her eyes pinched closed after what she had just seen.

Farkas shuffled among the drawers and cupboards kept in the shelves along the main hall of the vampires. He grabbed out some greased, mining clothes and put them on. He grabbed a chair and ripped the wooden leg off, then shredded a piece of his mining tunic off and wrapped it over the top of the leg. He let it take light on a looming candle; which provided him with a torch.

Farkas approached Mimzi and spoke gently, "Alright, you can open your eyes. Let's take a look at that ankle," he knelt down to her level where she continued to wince and ache as he laid his hands to the blood spurting wound.

"Hmm…" Farkas pondered, "One second…" he got up and shuffled around the fallen bodies of the vampires. He grabbed for his bag which had a broken strap from his transformation but was still intact. He picked a potion from his bag and ambled over to Mimzi, kneeling down again.

"Drink this," he insisted as he gave her the red coloured potion.

She gulped it down quickly. Farkas ripped another piece from his shirt by the sleeve and grabbed a bottle of wine from his bag and poured it over her wound. She cried lightly as he began to wrap it.

Farkas said sympathetically, "I'm sorry, I know it hurts."

Mimzi pressed her lips and closed her eyes; trying to breathe through the pain. He tied a secured knot over the wrapping and helped Mimzi up gently off the floor. She limped and grimaced as she tried to keep her weight on the ankle.

He asked to her, "You able to walk?"

Mimzi shook her head, "I don't know…" she breathed, "… not well."

He nodded and muttered, "Okay," he then turned his back to her and knelt down, facing away from the confused Nord. He set his lit torch down.

She gritted her teeth in pain before asking, "What are you doing?"

"Get on my back," Farkas instructed, "I don't have all day to watch you hop around. No offence."

Mimzi stammered, "Uhh… I don't know," she replied cautiously.

He demanded, "Hurry up."

Mimzi limped to Farkas's back, and gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He pulled up suddenly, startling her as she lifted off the ground. He wrapped his hands to the back of her thighs and pulled them up against the sides of his waist.

Farkas couldn't help but impulsively ask as they trudged up the incline, "You're so light. Do you have any muscle or fat on you?"

Mimzi growled, "Of course, I do! I've got muscle. Lots of muscle! Ow!" she winced as her ankle bopped against his hips.

Farkas snickered teasingly, "Alright, settle down…"

They emerged through a tunnel that cut off to a shallow fall towards the tunnel out. Farkas bent his knees and jumped off the incline. Mimzi squealed in pain at the sudden jolt, and they carried on out of the cave.

---

Vilkas, Aela and Skjor trotted up the incline of Karthwastern's borders. It was a small town along the banks of the Karth River, and a prosperous mining community. Clouds of smoke drifted up behind the shoals of rocks that hid the town from their view.

Skjor took notice and demanded, "Dismount your horses," he hopped off his steed. Aela and Vilkas quickly followed suit.

Aela balked, "Please tell me that's not smoke."

The three exchanged worrisome glares and then bolted up the hill to the small town. They could see rising flames throwing from the tops of the buildings.

Vilkas barked out as his armour clanged with every sprint, "Damn it!"

They reached the town to find it was raging in flames. A few villagers went scurrying towards the Companions with terrified eyes.

An Orc woman in miner rags came sprinting and hollering, "Help us! Please!" a Breton woman ran alongside her, and in her arm were a fear-stricken little girl.

"Please!" the Breton frantically cried, "They summoned monsters! They are burning everything!" the little girl wailed into her hip.

Skjor ordered to the civilians "Stay here!" and unsheathed his blade. Vilkas drew his greatsword and Aela equipped her bow. Skjor continued to the women, "How many are there?"

The Orc woman pleaded, "Four! A woman and three men! I don't know how many creatures they conjured but please! Our people are still in there!"

Vilkas and Aela ran ahead into the burning town. The pathways were littered in mutilated guardsmen and mercenaries. A Breton man came running out behind a building where he was struck with a lightning bolt, stunning him to the ground. The conjurer that used the spell walked up behind him. Aela drew her bow at the conjurer as he gripped the back of the Breton man's tunic and held a dagger to his neck. Aela released her arrow that struck the conjurer through the ear. The Breton man shot up, mortified.

Aela blurted to the man, "Go! Now!" he startled and went bolting to the outskirts of town with the other survivors.

Skjor raced into a kindling home, and quickly came out with two survivors. A man hacking from the smoke and covered in debris, and an unconscious wood elf woman onto Skjor's shoulder. A conjurer came out after Skjor, to where Vilkas lunged to her and flourished his sword into the back of the high elf woman. She thudded to the floor.

Skjor commended to Vilkas, "Good job! There's two more! Find survivors and gut the warlocks!" and ran to the outskirts of town with the two villagers. Vilkas noticed a Nord man come running from the flaming mines adjacent to town. Behind the man was a conjurer throwing lightning bolts out his finger tips to the running Nord. The lightning bolts flecked off the ground, missing the Nord by mere inches. Vilkas sheathed his sword and pulled out his hunting bow. He gripped the handle of the bow and pulled out an arrow before drawing it. He spaced his legs barely, slowly breathed, then inhaled and held it. He moved his bow a few inches following the conjurer, pulled in tighter, released his breath then released the arrow. It flew straight into the conjurer's eye; throwing his head back and body to the floor of Karthwastern. The man sped passed Vilkas and to the crowd of survivors.

Vilkas yelled to Aela, "One left!"

The three coughed through the building smoke as the fires raged the infrastructure of town. A conjurer emerged from the smoke and summoned a spell. A portal to Oblivion formed allowing through a Flame Atronach. It hovered over the ground throwing fire bolts at the Companions, who quickly dodged and ran from the shots of fire. Aela ran back with her bow drawn, shooting arrows at the daedra. The conjurer caught notice of her, but before he could unleash a spell from his hands again, he was shot to the heart by Aela's arrow. She rolled over the ground and shot the arrows with speed and precision, without alarming the atronach of her position.

However, the atronach's sights were set on Vilkas, who thrashed his sword against the embers of the fast, agile daedra. The swipes of the blade did not seem to wither the monster. Aela's arrow flew into its chest causing it to collapse to the floor in swirls of flame.

Aela shrieked at Vilkas, running towards him, "GET AWAY! Get away from it! NOW!!"

Vilkas ran the opposite direction of the monster, throwing himself away from the explosion that imploded from the remains of the atronach. Skjor came bolting up to his comrades and held a stunned look at the blast of fire to the centre of town. Vilkas breathed out haggardly, "They explode?"

"Yes…" Aela panted to Vilkas, "They explode. Their weak spot is water or ice, but a strike in the chest always works, too."

"Damn daedra…" Skjor growled, "That should be all the survivors. The conjurers are dead. I don't know what we can do for their town, now. But at least we've given them their lives to live."

Vilkas protested, "So we're just supposed to let their homes burn to the ground? Save them and abandon them? Where will they go?"

Skjor growled back, "To Markarth, or any other of the brimming settlements in Skyrim. We've done all we can now. Could have done a whole lot more if we were able to harness our gift, but hey, Kodlak insisted you come along."

Aela groaned, "Oh, not this again."

Vilkas stepped forward to Skjor and raised angrily, "You want to do this right now?"

Skjor stepped to him and maintained, "Oh I do. There were three villagers who died in this invasion. We could have been here a lot sooner had we used our wolf to get here. Aela and I were going to leave last night, but Kodlak, and all his wise judgement, deemed we bring you. The spy."

Aela barked, "Skjor!"

Vilkas pushed him back in rage; his teeth clenched, he roared at Skjor, "Aye, that's always your solution! When in doubt, wolf-out, right? You're pathetic! You don't hone your gift, you survive on it. You depend on it! I used to think you were invincible. Well, turns out the indestructible Skjor is a Daedra Prince's bitch!"

Skjor snatched Vilkas by the collar of his armour and pulled him in, Vilkas remained undaunted but hesitant.

Aela cried, "Enough! Both of you!"

Skjor bellowed at Vilkas with his eyes wide in fury, "What did you just say to me?!"

Vilkas kept his lips shut and raised a disgusted scowl. Suddenly the ripples of shrieks came bolting towards them. The three gawked to see the wood elf woman who had come to and was now bellowing in horror towards the home slowly burning behind them. She was quickly followed by the Breton and Orc woman.

"Myriel! No!" the Breton woman screamed, trying to clutch at the wood elf woman's arms, preventing her from running into the building.

Skjor went racing at the crying woman, snatching her from the entrance.

"NO! Let me go!" the woman begged and sobbed, "My baby! She's still in there! Please! Please, my baby!!"

Vilkas looked to the burning home, he made a determined glare and bolted towards it— without hesitation.

Aela yelped, "Vilkas! No!"

Skjor chased after him but he lunged behind the fires, keeping Skjor at bay, "VILKAS!" he hollered into the reaching flames of the home.

"Save my baby!" the wood elf woman shrilled to Vilkas as he plunged inside the home, "Please! Mara's mercy! Save my child!"

Vilkas was surrounded in the raising, arid heat of the scorching home. The stairs to the upper level of the house came crumbling down. He could hear faint cries from within the second floor. He leapt up and snatched the ledge of the floor; crawling over it, while being lightly singed by flames. He gritted his teeth and pursued the cries. Vilkas became disoriented within the smouldering building. The smoke in his lungs numbed his senses. He gripped the inside of his elbow over his mouth and pressed on through the next room. The floor beneath his feet began to creak and echo; fixing to collapse. He made haste as he kicked the door down to the room. It went flying into flames, feeding the blazes. The cries became louder. As the room was engulfed in a blaze, Vilkas persisted and jumped into the room. There was a wardrobe— untouched by fire but soon to be engulfed by it— that lingered to the side of the room. Vilkas ran to the door of the wardrobe and swung it open. A small elf child, no older than a few years, cradled into the side of the wardrobe. Her large dark brown eyes were bubbling in tears and fright at the sight of the Nord man coated in ash, and the throwing fires that engulfed her home. He swept the child into his arms and grabbed a dress from the closet; covering it over the child's head which he kept to his shoulder.

Vilkas went the way he came in, only to find it blocked completely with flames. The little girl continued to wail into his shoulder as the roof began to cave in on them. He panicked and aimlessly looked around for another escape route. He felt like his skin were boiling under his armour. Vilkas then noticed the faint frame of a window across the room but beginning to be barricaded by flames. The floors began to crumble under their feet and roof over their head; Vilkas bolted to the window and crashed through the glass— back first, with the child wrapped into his arms.

The onlookers from outside the town watched in horror. Aela and Skjor waited with bated breath to the building. Suddenly, the building began to cave. Wood shifted into rubble and the four walls fell into the home itself. The destruction left behind only the pillars among the building fire. Aela and Skjor gasped in horror, as their hearts fell to their stomachs.

"Vilkas!!" wailed Skjor at the collapsed building, his voice breaking into sheer devastation.

Aela's green eyes wilted at the destruction. The wood elf woman shrilled in agony and fell to her knees with a heart wrenching sob. The Breton woman embraced the wood elf as she frantically wailed into the ground. Aela could see a figure emerging from the pillowing clouds of smoke lingering to the building. The figure revealed an ash painted Vilkas, with a child engulfed in his arms. His face was red and dirty, and his armour black from the flames. He trodded to the people and his comrades, Aela and Skjor— who attained baffled, glad smiles to their faces.

The wood elf woman gasped aloud, her eyes as big as the two moons, and bolted to Vilkas's arms that kept her child. Tears streamed from her face as Vilkas handed the child back to her mother.

The little girl squeaked, "Mama?" and began to whimper as she embraced her mother.

The woman wailed as she fell to the ground with her daughter's arms wrapped along her neck. "Oh my baby! Mama is here! I love you so much! Gods! My baby, you're okay!!" the wood elf woman looked up at Vilkas with a gratefully relieved smile as tears streamed from her eyes, she snatched his hand fervently and cried, "Mara's mercy! Bless you, Companion! Thank you! Oh, bless you!"

Vilkas smiled lightly as he gripped his hand to hers and released. He walked back to Aela and Skjor, still shocked to see he had survived the burning building's collapse. Aela smirked, "Cutting it pretty close, don't you think?" she held her hands to her hips.

Vilkas's eyes were steely and face aloof as he stated to the two, "You two can think whatever you want of me. I'm done arguing with you. My blood is my own and I don't need the boons of beastblood to be a Companion."

Skjor lamented humbly, "Vilkas, I'm not trying to…"

"Enough," Vilkas interrupted, "You've made your point, so I get to make mine. I'm not a puppet. I'm not yours and I'm not Kodlak's. I choose not to give in to my beastblood because it's what I want. That choice doesn't make me a fool, it makes me a Nord. It makes me a true Companion."

Aela remarked, "We honour Kodlak's teachings, Vilkas. This isn't about him, despite what Skjor says."

Vilkas explained earnestly, "You think it's Kodlak's teaching? It's Ysgramor's. You shame me because I choose to remember his legacy. Don't you dare shame me for my stance on the blood. I fight to be clean! I won't let this curse consume me, no matter how it suits you," he turned his back to the two and made his way out the scorching town.

"Vilkas!" called out Skjor. Aela grabbed his arm.

She gloomed, "Let him be."

---

Farkas carried Mimzi onto his back out the cave of the vampire lair. He waddled through the thick marsh and fog which wafted as they passed through.

"How you doing?" he asked to Mimzi, who clung to his shoulders.

She breathed out hoarsely, "Okay…"

As Farkas marched on towards the horses he could see figures begin to emerge through the fog.

He breathed shallowly, "Son of a bitch…"

Mimzi looked up and shivered at the sight of the figures approaching them. Farkas halted and pushed Mimzi up his back. He alarmed to her, "Might have to drop you here."

The figures revealed men in burgundy red armour and crossbows at the ready. Mimzi recognized the armour and one of the armed Orc men from Whiterun's streets.

A redguard man growled as he drew his crossbow at the pair, "Explain yourselves. Now."

Farkas stammered at the mortal faces that glared at them with weapons at the ready. Mimzi hushed from his shoulder, "Dawnguard."

Isran cackled menacingly, "Ha. Nice try. If you were Dawnguard you'd be in our armour, wouldn't you?"

"Wow, wait a minute… it's you," Durak stated to Mimzi as he eased his bow, "You're the one from Whiterun— heading to Jorrvaskr."

Farkas chimed in, "We're Companions. Who are you?"

Isran eased his bow and signalled for the others to do the same, "Vampire slayers. Dawnguard. This lair was one of their hubs of operation. We got here just in time to find the bodies ripped into shreds. Looked like a bear attack…"

Farkas scoffed, "I take that as a compliment. I'm Farkas, we were sent here by Morthal. My whelp, here, didn't fare too well, but we got em all. Easy day for you, huh?"

Isran pondered and asked, suspiciously, "You killed all those vamps… by yourself?"

Farkas chuckled, "Me? Oh, no. You're looking at two Companions, here. My whelp got injured in the scuffle. Isn't that right, Mimzi?"

Mimzi paused then blurted, "Oh yeah! Stepped in a bear trap… rookie mistake."

Farkas nodded and continued, "But I got it taken care of. Movarth and his lackeys won't be preying on Morthal, anymore."

Isran explained, "It was Movarth's intention to turn the town into cattle for feeding, but he wasn't working on his own merit. He's taking orders from somewhere up the bloodsucker chain of command. You two wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Farkas shook his head and remarked, "No, sir. We were just here to do a job, but feel free to scour around their lair for answers. We just butchered and got out. Made it nice and quiet for you."

Isran glared suspiciously at the two for a few moments. The pair's anxiety flourished as Isran's steely gaze pondered their claims.

"Hmm," Isran croaked, "Not every day an entire vampire nest is wiped out by the likes of two."

Farkas nodded, hiding his nerves to the best he could as Mimzi stayed still and clutched tightly to Farkas. Isran stayed his glare before he set his crossbow to rest at his side.

He spoke clearly, "Nice work. Thanks for the hand. I hope you made them suffer."

Farkas affirmed, "They bled like stuck pigs. We oughta get back. Be safe out there."

He saluted and passed the armed vampire slayers; whom cautiously watched the two as they approached their horses. Farkas's heart thudded in his chest. He let Mimzi off his back.

He hushed, "You able to ride your horse?"

Mimzi breathed, "Yes."

"Okay…" Farkas murmured and helped Mimzi onto Sunshine. She ached and thudded on the saddle, breathing deeply through her nose.

"That was too close…" Farkas's voice shook, "Now let's get out of here before they notice my armour in there."

"They kill vampires…" Mimzi claimed, "I think you're safe. They should be grateful."

He warned with a jittery tone, "Anyone who hates vampires, hates werewolves. Vigilant of Stendarr taught me that. Let's not wait around to find out."

Farkas thrashed the reins of his horse as Mimzi did the same. The two sped on horseback through the marshes; fervently making their way back to Whiterun's plains.

"So what happens now?" she bellowed from her horse to Farkas, "You're a werewolf, so what? To make me a Companion, I have to be one, too? There's no way I'm agreeing to that."

Farkas yelled, "What?! No. Only the Circle have beast blood. Myself, my brother, Aela, Skjor and Kodlak. You're one of the few people who know our secret. Not even the other whelps know! So, it's pretty important you keep it to yourself, understand?"

Mimzi's brows furrowed and nodded, contemplating the moral good of the band she was joining.

He added, "You can talk to Kodlak about it after your initiation."

Mimzi asked intently, "Initiation?"

Farkas beamed a large grin as his black hair threw in the wind, "Your ceremony! Didn't you hear me back there? You're one of us, now. Welcome to the Companions, shield-sister!"pe