The dawn was heralded by the rousing call of a Rooster, it's voice echoing across the village and up into the mountains to announce the start of a new, productive day to the small hamlet. Guards were rotated with their peers, those coming off shift hungry for a warm meal and a nice comfy bed, while the early birds began to awake and set about for their day. Sunlight filtered in through the sole window within the house, the bright beam crossing the floor slowly, creeping over His stretched out legs. He had returned Hours before, and had barely moved sense, locked once more in a searching trance for the memories His consciousness produced earlier. They were becoming clearer, but not by much. At best He gained a certain color or shape, at worst He got a blur and verbal mumbling that even he could not decipher, as if it was a recording left within water. He resigned from the search and instead went about to the scrolls within the chest.

Unfortunately, those were even more confusing. The scrolls were large pieces of rolled cloth, inscribed with hundreds of ruins in a different language, unlike anything He had ever seen. They were inscribed differently on each one, leading Him to believe that the scrolls each were of a different product. To Him, they were near useless, but to the bandits, they had obviously meant something, either of material value or memoir value. A scowl crossed His features as he read through them, unable to even put a cent of intellect into unravelling the mysterious items. He was interrupted by shuffling and a yaw.

On the other side of the room, underneath the window lie the double bed of Gerdur and Hod, and he watched indifferently as the slim arm of the woman stretched up into the air as she stretched from her waking slumber. He returned the scrolls to the chest, and closed it, leaving it to the side of Him. She brought her hands down, rubbing her eyes as she rose from the bed, still dressed from the night before. She slowly moved back over to the table, and the collective unwashed dishes that sat upon it, gathering them up slowly to avoid rousing the other members of the household. He watched with slight bemusement as the woman slowly struggled to gather all the bowls and cups in her arms before making her way to the door. He got up, silent like before, and went to intercept her at the door.

She was trying to open the door with her hands full but couldn't get a grip on the knob itself. She was about to put the dishes down when a rather large hand reached around and turned the knob for her. She looked up, surprise written on her face to find Him leaning over, pushing the door open slowly. She smiled, and mouthed a quick Thank You before stepping out onto the porch, carefully balancing the stack of wares. He stepped outside with her, closing the door behind Him in mimicry of the exit He performed earlier in the morning. She was already moving towards the road, and He followed behind, slowing His pace to a measured slow stride as to not overcome her. He had some questions, but would at least give her the decency of removing her burdens before asking them.

"I could carry those for you, if you'd like." He said, His voice low, looking at the bowls and tankards that were wobbling slightly with each step in front of her face. She smiled, looking up to Him as they traversed the road down towards the mill. She shook her head.

"It would be rude of me to ask a guest to carry my dishes to be cleaned." she said, walking down the path. The slight decline however was a tad slick with morning dew, and because of it, she found her pace slowing, until, inevitably, she hit an upturned stone in the road, and started to fall forward. He reacted, His closer hand instinctively snapping out to grab her by the waist and hold her up, the other whipping out to grab the falling dishes, a miraculous display of dexterity as he not only caught them, but rebalanced the tipping objects in the motion. Gerdur barely even realized she had started falling to find that the dishes were now being carried by her guest, and where she had struggled, He held them aloft but with one hand. She regained her posture. "Well, I guess if you won't mind, I appear to be a bit clumsy this morning." she said at that, allowing Him to hold onto the dishes as they continued down the path.

The sunlight was at just the right angle rising over the mountains, and it's every presence was cascading off the currently calm waters of the river in waves of flickering golden beams. Fish eagerly broke the surface of the water in a multitude of places, jumping into the air before submerging beneath the water again. Gerdur had stopped at a small patch of land devoid of grass, gesturing for Him to put the dishes down. There wasn't enough space for Him to help, but she persisted and continued to kneel down and began to clean the dishes with the flowing water and a small scrubbing cloth that had appeared in her hands. He turned His attention to the scenery, watching with a neutral gaze of seeming disinterest. She had begun to hum slightly as she worked, her hands diligently cleansing the flecks of food out of the bowls.

"You wouldn't happen to know how to sew would you?" He asked abruptly, still watching the water. She didn't pause from work, but she did look at Him, distracted by the question.

"I do, help with patching up the ware and tear we get from life out here." she said, "It's much easier to just do it yourself then paying for it." A small amount of pride leaked in her voice, and He could understand that, relying upon yourself before others. He nodded, hands folding behind His back as He continued to watch the rising sun.

"Then I may be able to save you and myself the unsavory haggling that may have to occur with a merchant for a piece of clothing large enough for one such as myself." He said, and she paused, confusion crossing her face for a second. "Of course, I would be willing to pay for such a service if you name a price." Now she was paying complete attention to Him, looking up from her kneeling position and gazing into His impassive features, confusion and inquisitiveness upon her own. He was un-used to a look such as that. People would not question that which they did not know back home.

"How? I don't have access to anything big enough to cloth you, and last time I checked, the only gold you came with was in a small pouch at your belt." A smile cracked His features, the corners of His mouth barely curling up. He broke from His inspection of the wilderness and looked down upon her.

"If only everyone was so perceptive." He said, "Come, you are finished." He did not wait for a response, reaching down and holding the tray of clean dishes within His hand. She stood up, still looking at Him, not at all understanding the dismissal of the topic but didn't speak as she brushed the grass off her dress and returned to the road. They were left to the ambience of the now awake village as they strolled quietly back up to the house.

By the time He had left the house, it was just before midday. Both Ralof and Gerdur had tried to persuade Him against going this late, but He persisted, and the single day of travel would be shaved down by at least half if He kept a good pace. They relented, eventually, and with great thanks to His host, He bade them farewell with a parting gift; a by no means small sack of gold coins. There were questions at first, revolving around the sudden appearance of the chest, but Hod was the first one to connect the dots. There was celebration at the sudden disappearance" of those bandits, and in return, He asked a favor of Gerdur of making Him something more presentable to wear before the Jarl. She agreed, and like lightning, He had unveiled the spoils of war before her, the material in question being several pelts, and a singular large belt with a buckle. The jewels and coins did not go unnoticed, however, Ralof and Fordnar were much more interested with the weapon pieces, and the axe. After a late breakfast, chest over shoulder, and a new pair of pants and boots, He was out the door, and with a heaping of instructions from Gerdur, was on the path to the greatest land trade city in Skyrim.

Whiterun.

He moved past the northern gates of Riverwood, crossing the river and began to move along the road as it twisted and turned, leaving Him alone with His thoughts. That was never a good thing. The ever present fog and near incomprehensible memories that filled His mind were far stretched and incomprehensible. It would be a long time before anything made sense, and He had already reviewed the previous memories of the night, which left Him with nearly nothing besides an undertone of hatred for the green skinned sentient, and another sense of disappointment towards the bandits for working with such a creature. It was a near instinctive reaction He felt, and while there was sure to be plenty of reason, He could not recount more than what He had mentally experienced that night. The creature within His memories was much larger, and held weapons even cruder than what it's cousin had been equipped with. It would do no good to jump to conclusions, so it would be a passive objective to study those creatures if He came across them within a civilized environment. If.

Barring that train of inspection, all that was left was the Wilderness. Nature held a near eternal and unbroken beauty in the lands of Skyrim, and for a passing second he wished that all places could be like it. A balance, and while man did not rule it, they were just as much a part of it as the creatures that dwell within the tracks of unbroken nature. As if that was our basic nature to leave good alone. Yes, as if. The road He was on bent and turned, never straying far from the river, the cobblestones smooth and featureless from the ages of natural wear. It was His second companion in His hours long travel.

And then suddenly, after a wide turn, the world dropped away from His vision, and for a split second, he felt concerned.

Banishing the feeling, letting further inspection reveal that the world was thankfully still fully there, however, the magnitude of the slope leading down from the mountains was spectacular in both size and scenery. The land opened up before Him like a gigantic jigsaw canvas of yellow and green fields, strewn with rivers that appeared thinner than His fingers from this distance but no doubt several meters wide that reached the mountains on the horizon. Farmhouses and Windmills dotted the land, intersected by stone fences and cobblestone roads, all centered around a large, roughly circular city. From here it was a spectacle, His eyes watching the masses as they moved about their day even from miles away. People passed through the districts, yet no one entered or exited through the gates. Surely not all of their business was self dependent? That didn't matter as His eyes swept to the northern side of the city, past a lone hall and several expensive looking houses, where the so-called "Jewel of Whiterun" rested in ancient stone.

Dragon's Reach.

Everyone had been obsessive with it, even as He was leaving, a multitude of instructions, avoidances and some underlining rules to the keep. Most of them of course were all in good respect as guest, but there was one He would not do, even for a Noble of this land. He would not bow. It is beneath one of my position, whatever it may be. He had turned His focus away from the rules and regarding nobility and their ilk, and more towards the history of the Keep. Supposedly, Dragons were natives of this land, ancient creatures that rules both land and sky even before man arrived upon Tamriel, un-matched in their power in both physical and 'magical'. Hod had informed Him that the Keep of Whiterun had been used to trap one of said creatures, a feat unheard of anywhere else in the world, and the proof hung above the throne, the skull of an ancient dragon left suspended by a plaque, untouched for centuries on end. An apt name for such a place, symbolic even, for man to reach up to such mighty beast.

The river, the road's natural guide was but a few paces beside Him, the edge leading towards a declining waterfall that bounced and frothed. He kneeled beside it, as fish pooled near the edge, and lowered the chest to His side, before using His hands to cup the flowing water within, bringing the cool river water towards His mouth, sipping some before using the remainder to cleanse His rugged face. It would not be proper to attend a place of civilization with the face of a dirty beggar. To stand tall and demand an audience required one to look something of the part, and while He was clad like no noble Himself, He knew His presence would be humbling to those around Him. Picking up the chest, He rose once more, and began His descent into the valley.

He was nearly to the first of the fields when He saw it. The slope of the mountain had led the road coming downward towards the southeast side of the walls, whereas the gate resided on the west. The road widened out as it carved it's way through the fields fenced by cobblestone and wooden stakes, and at His current pace, He would arrive at the gates within the remaining half hour. The travel had left Him without fatigue nor harm, but as he gazed into the fields beyond, His gaze caught sight of a massive humanoid creature, that even from here was several feet taller than Himself, clad in a rough loin cloth and armed with what appeared to be a tree as a weapon, it's way along the road with a rough gaint from the west, closing towards the city. He was left momentarily confused, no one had mentioned a giant as a guard, which left one thought. The creature was hostile.

He was instantly in a state of motion. Where the journey before had been slow and paced, this new bout of speed left leather boots striding more through air than on the ground, as His footsteps nearly flew Him towards the target. The gates would not be approached within the half, but rather within eight minutes if He continued as such. The chest upon His shoulder rattled and clinked as it's contents moved about within, overshadowing what little sound He made as He charged head long at the giant. The wind smacked against His flesh, and He felt more alive than ever before. Something about the way He was moving was different.

Deep within His chest, a pair of drum beats synced together in equal measure and tempo, blood pumping and breaths even. There was a slight thrill, but it subconsciously clamped down upon by a vice of unquestioning purpose and duty. There was more than just an instinctual feeling of speed and power, but rather, a knowing of oneself. He could feel it, both in mind and body. He was made for this. He was made for battle, and as He was careering towards His chosen foe, His body responded like a machine to the instantaneous change. Tme slowly blurred as His massive feet ate up ground, His sight showing Him everything as He approached, such as the field workers retreating towards houses, tools in shaking hands. Three figures had appeared from the city gates, clad in different armors of steel plate, leather bindings, and black iron. Guards along the road stopped at His passing, their cloaks fluttering in the trailing breeze, while those that faced the giant retreated back, drawing bows or swords, set about on the defensive they attacked first. The giant was unharmed by such weapons, evident as the creature simply hit an offending attacker with it's hand, sending the unfortunate soul flying several meters away to crash into a cobblestone wall at a force that left the body broken. Arrows struck it's pale flesh and it let loose a growl, swinging the makeshift club wide as it left guard either careering into the distance, or falling back towards the walls. He accelerated even faster than before.

He crossed the area in which the road led up to the gate, mere seconds behind the warriors and a few seconds more behind the battle unfolding before them. He brought the chest down from His shoulder and under His arm, watching all the while as the giant moved from the road into one of the fields, partially destroying a cobblestone fence in the process as it chased a few errant guards. He maneuvered the chest in an underhanded motion, before sending it skidding onto the road itself, where it swiftly entrenched itself against another fence line in the ground. The three warriors from the city turned with wide eyes, right before He passed them, drawing their weapons from sheaths. The hardest looking one was clad completely in a solid steel plate, and handled an impressive claymore as his weapon. The next beside him in multiple hides and furs, complemented by several inlaid studs of metal, who carried a solid shield of iron and a weighty axe. The final one was a woman who wore armor of iron and cloth that looked both ancient and new at the same time, her face covered in a series of swirling tattoos. She carried several javelin across her back, and wielded an equally ancient looking sword by her belt. He didn't even look back as He continued to race towards the giant.

Aela had seen plenty of things in her life, and killed many more. Giants were nothing new, but few and far between on her listing of kills, and in all truth to her, was a wonderful and primal experience that could never be replicated by any other creature that she had crossed. Something about killing a creature, just below humanoid in sentience, that was lacking in brains but making up for it in sheer brawn, that had wandered the world before Talos himself, was more than novel, but rather an addiction to be nourished. So when the Jarl's steward, Proventus Avenicci, came knocking for a party to take such a creature out, it would be undeniable to say that she didn't nearly pounce on the man at the opportunity.

Unfortunately, she knew that it would be both unwise and rather selfish to claim such a kill all on her lonesome, so she 'offered to take', after much pestering from Kodlak, both Farkas and Ria to assist her in the competition of such a quest. They departed from Jorvasker in Whiterun within the hour, with words from the guards of the giant approaching from the west. To make matters worse, by the time they reached the outbound road, the giant was already fighting the city guard. They were left to jog towards the combat, with Farkas complaining all the while because of his heavy plate. Maybe if the idiot hadn't gone for looking like a Steel Man, then they would be actually fighting the thing by now.

She felt a pair of footsteps as they were jogging, not the heavy tread of Farkas's plate, or Ria's leather boots, not even the weighty footfalls of the giant that was stomping forward into the fields, but it wasn't that. It was paced, nearly un-hearable over the violence unfolding in the fields, a rapid tempo based upon every second, it was far off, but she felt it.

A few seconds pass, and now the other two have noticed, but the footsteps have grown much closer, enough to make them all slow to a walking pace, hands slowly reaching for weapons. An erratic jingling had joined the footfalls, the noise carrying in the air but still muffled.

Three more seconds passed, and the footsteps were definitely behind them, and the jingling was the clatter of coins slapping against each other, as if someone was throwing a bag of them at the ground repeatedly. They went about drawing their weapons as the footsteps were nearly on top of them. Steel was un sheathed and javelins were drawn.

They fully turned to get a good look at what was approaching, a chest flew through their feet on the road, and landed with a hearty slam against a fence post, they stared at it in confusion.

And then something flew past them that left pelts shuttering, hair smearing across faces, and dirt and cobble kicking into their faces. Farkas swore, but that was caught in the following wind buffer. She was the first to recover, turning to follow the rampant cloud of dust that was tearing up the road. Towards the rampaging giant in the fields. She gasped, and then began to sprint, pursuing the trail of swiftly dispersing dust. The other two had gathered their senses and were following behind her when the sky was split apart by thunder.

"You will face me, Monstrosity!"

They finally got a good view of what had created the dust cloud as it, no He, suddenly jumped forward into the field, using the cobblestone fence line as springboard to launch himself at the giant, both hands held above head in the curled forms of fist, approaching with a terminal velocity towards the giant who was recovering from a particularly vicious swing it had thrown with it's club. It turned, ignoring the guards now fleeing from it, it's ugly face scrunching as it eyed the man that was sailing towards it. With a flex of mighty back muscles that would give a grizzly a run for its money, the two collided as the man brought His fist down in a swing that connected at the center of the giant's skull. A crack like lightning to accompany the previous thunder, the giant was left stumbling, the force of the blow driving it into a half crouch. She was under the impression that the man probably broke His hands with a move like that.

Her eyes, and those of her companions widened significantly when the man not only recovered from the swing, but actually continued striking at the giant with a speed that would be all but a blur to the untrained eye. He aimed for the neck, insides of the elbows, sides of the face, and ribs. The giant was not left on the ground, despite the swift, unarmed onslaught that was being pressed against it. Roaring in anger, it began to rise up and clumsily throw retaliatory swings in a manner of wild abandon, going for the sheer force of the hits rather than aiming them. Despite the size of the club and the reach of the giant's arms, the man slid or ducked around the blows with the finesse of a dancer, returning five blows in place of every missed swing. She noticed that despite the strikes being dealt, the giant was not exactly slowing down, merely being distracted from the guards and somewhat destroying the field they were in, to kill it would require sharpened steel, something that her companions and herself had in abundance.

She readied a javelin, aiming it towards the giant's center mass, waiting for an opening so not to hit the man in combat with it. A sudden wide swing had Him rolling, moving behind the giant as the swing passed over Him at chest height. She drew back and launched the five foot spear through the air, but it was not perfectly balanced, and dived off course, missing the chest and instead embedding it within the giant's lower side, the beast giving a roar of agony as the steel head sunk in fully. That got her two companions to snap out of it, and hop over the fence with their weapons drawn, as well as give the guards ample time to ready bows and aim at the creature. The giant however ignored it's previous assailer, and turned to her, raising it's club to charge, shaking free the previously embedded spear, leaving a ragged hole in its side, trailing blood and a bit of inner gore.

It charged forward, quickly gaining speed, the club rising above it's head in preparation to strike. The ground rumbled, the world shook, and her vision narrowed solely upon the giant. It rampaged past Ria, her iron mace merely bouncing off of the toughened skin of the monster, leaving her to recoil away in shock. Aela drew another javelin, the world seemingly moving at a snail's pace as she readied it, drawing back her arm in preparation for a second throw. Farkas readied his sword for swing as the giant approached the fence line, the enlarged steel sword rearing back, only to be sent roaring forth, the metal singing as it was swung with mighty force towards the giant's leg, looking to sever the limb. Alea smiled, surly such a blow would stop a creature, even of that size, in its tracks.

Unfortunately, Farkas had mistimed the swing, leaving the blade, while still cutting through the skin and muscle, did not sever the creature's leg, but rather just made it stumble, roaring out. A giant hand retaliated, and with a mighty clang of calloused flesh hitting steel, sent Farkas scattering, his grip upon the blade faltering as he spun away, hitting the ground and collapsing in a heap. The giant snarled, and turned its attention back onto her. She snarled in anger as the inner wolf roared within. It was midafternoon and she was surrounded by countless guards and civilians, so she definitely couldn't shape shift here, even though it would make this fight much easier on them all, it would leave her, and possibly the Companions' honor and wellbeing up for political and physical retaliation. She would just have to do this with man made steel and wit, instead of claw and tooth.

With a scream of her own, she charged forward, shifting the javelin as if it were a spear as her feet ate up the ground, the Giant eagerly closing the distance. Arrows rain upon its weathered form like metal hail, but do no obvious damage or discomfort to earn much more than a low rumble of a growl. From behind it's massive frame she saw the man's form, with the fallen javelin in hand, trailing behind the giant as He closed the distance much faster than herself. No sound was made as He neared the giant from behind, and as the Giant brought its club in full overhead, he slung the javelin at the same leg Farkus had struck, aiming it perfectly at the joint. her eyes widened at such a throw, seeing as how he had perfectly judged the imbalance of the weapon, and pinpointed it at the back of the giant's knee in the span of mere seconds on the move. The giant let out a roar at the attack, sharp with pain as the javelin severed tendons and held itself firmly within the rear of the joint. It stumbled forwards, tripping upon the now useless limb, its club going errant in its panicked journey to somehow stabilize itself, leaving her free to lunge forward, jumping as she thrusted her javelin into the thing's neck.

The air is rent with a fresher scream turned to a hacking choke as the javelin burrows into the soft flesh of the giants throat, the creature nearly falling face first on top of her as it lets of it's club to grab at the comically thin weapon sticking out of it's jugular. The giant's eyes bulge as it snaps the shaft off the weapon, leaving the metal head within, fresh crimson blood trickling from around the wound and onto its hands. The gurgling continues as the giant gasps for breath, before it falls completely over, leaving her to scramble out of the way as it lands with enough force to shake the ground a final time. She inspects the body, which had sustained such punishment, counting the arrows sticking out of it as Ria and Farkas come to her side, giving little thought as the gaze towards the other combatant in the field. He walks up to the corpse, and puts His hand upon the javelin before ever so slightly pushing it further into the joint, before twisting it, and removing it. He brushes it against the giant's form to brush off the stray sinew and small amount of actual blood, before approaching them, twirling the spear backwards in hand. Up close He is bigger than she gave Him credit for, standing a full head and a half above her, with a shoulder length the width of a doorway, she discreetly sniffed the air, turning to a different sense, only to find that He smelt nothing of the sweat or natural air of Skyrim like she expected, and definitely nothing she could have identified easily. A traveler from far away lands, perhaps that was the best way to describe Him.

She looked up at Him as He came to a stop, and offered the javelin back to her silently, but raised an eyebrow as she noticed a small twitch of the man's nose on His otherwise unreadable face. He just replicated what she was doing, was it that visible, or was he able to also... She didn't want to think about that. She took back the offered weapon, and as soon as it left His hand, He turned and walked away, headed back towards the road without a sound. She looked back at her companions in surprise, they had definitely noticed it too with their heightened senses. Without a word she could see that they were thinking along the same lines as she was.

"Just who was that Man?"