The throat of the world, said to be the highest mountain in all of Tamriel, was a fantastic and terrifying sight; fantastic in the sense that it could be so high and not pierce the heavens above, and terrifying in the fact that you would have to climb it to reach the temple at its summit. High Hrothgar, the home of the Greybeards, was as renowned as it was unknown. There wasn’t a soul in all of Skyrim that didn’t know of it, but few had ever actually seen it for themselves. It was hard to imagine, impossible almost, how they had built the temple in the first place. Had the Nords carried each stone up the mountainside, or had they cut it from the very rock of the mountain itself? Yet there it stood in all of its majestic mystery as it had been standing since before anyone could remember.

The party of adventurers that had only recently left Ivarstead now stood in the shadow of the mountain, looking up at the behemoth before them, contemplating the quest they had set out to complete. It was not going to be easy; in truth only this, the first obstacle on their path, seemed like an adventure in itself. Who knew what dangers lay in wait for them up there in the storms and the snow? What hardships, what sorrows, and what trials would they have to go through to reach their goal? Only the gods knew, but they weren’t telling. They were a motley band of individuals, these adventurers. Hailing from all across Tamriel, they all had different reasons for being there, but were united in one single purpose: to stop the dragons, once and for all. The Greybeards waited at the top of the mountain, keepers of the one secret that could help the adventurers in their strife: the secret of the Voice, the Thu’um.

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Ulemi stood amidst her fellow would-be dragon slayers and took in the scene before her. She could feel it now, more than ever: the calling of her blood, of her destiny. This was right. This was where she was meant to go, what she was meant to do. Up there, in the dark halls of High Hrothgar her fate awaited her. She would once again bring pride and greatness to her people. She would lead these brave few to victory against all odds and cast down the evil of the dragons from the sky. All would know of her accomplishment, and songs would be sung about her in the once and future homeland of Morrowind for generations to come. All she had to do to fulfill the unwritten prophecy was to climb this mountain and convince the monks at its peak to teach her to use the Voice. The rest would be history.

She took a few steps forward and turned to face the rest of the group. When she was sure she had their attention, she spoke.

“I hope you are all ready for this. There is no point in standing around waiting any longer. We go now to meet the Greybeards. Once we reach their home on the top there is no turning back. May the gods, old and new, watch over us.”

She let the words sink in for a bit before turning her back on the band.

“Let’s go.”

With that she began the climb.

Surani stood at the base of High Hrothgar, and marveled at its height as she craned her neck upwards to see the impossibly high peak. It was a sight to behold, and it wasn't a sight that many outside of Skyrim would be able to see. She wondered if her mother had come here during her travels? Surely a place as well known as High Hrothgar would be a stop on her journeys? It was a possibility, but there was also the possibility that her mother didn't want to visit such well known places. Still, there was the chance she had come here, and she would love to retrace her mothers footsteps and walk to the summit, if her mother had.

She sighed, however, and returned her eyes to the ground. She had more important things to do right now, like make sure her little secrets weren't found out. She instinctively pulled her hood tighter around her head, and made sure her cloak was wrapped snugly around her body. The sunlight wasn't going to make this journey easy on her, but she was determined to do it. She may not want to be a legendary 'dragon slayer' like the others, but the draw to learn something about these remarkable creatures trumped all of her concerns about this venture.

She looked at the group of people that had decided that slaying dragons was the best way to spend their free time. They were a mixed bunch to be sure. She could see quite a few of the races gathered here, if not all of them. She supposed that meant that was a good thing. Having someone from all races meant their skills would be quite diverse, and they would be able to deal with a good many situations. Against a dragon, it would be a good thing to have such a diverse skill set.

Surani listened as a Dark Elf gave what she thought was a poor attempt at a motivational speech. There wasn't a need to be so grim about it. A little levity could make for much better motivation than doom and gloom and 'By the nine its the end of he world if we don't do something'! She was tempted to say something, but the Dark Elf seemed the sort to take offense to such actions, so she kept quiet. Still, she would try to talk to her later after things had gotten underway. With a final few words, the Dark Elf headed up the mountain. Surani, after checking her equipment one last time followed after her.

The large fur cladded figure that seemed to tower over the rest of the group was rummaging through it's make shift bag, it looking like it was poorly stitched together from a elk's hide, for the third time since they exited the small village of Ivarstead. Tandagh was more than ready for the undoubtedly lengthy journey that would be climbing the infamous seven thousand steps of the massive throat of the world. But one of the first lessons that the Orc had learned when he entered this unnatural existence, that he had long since come use to, was to always be prepared for difficult situations. As he reexamined the three bottles swishing with a thick red liquid Tandagh reassured himself that he would be set for a few days if this trip took longer than expected.

Tandagh closed his bag as he heard the small Dunmer, who was the apparently the one who got the group all together in the first place, speak up from the front of the group. In all honestly the girl's words rang rather hollow for the Orc. Tandagh knew exactly why he had join the group, why he was risking exposing himself, why he was journeying to this old Nordic temple to learn this ancient magic. Not because of honor or for the greater good of others, but because of the rage and the craving of revenge towards those flying lizards he had burning inside of him. Tandagh pulled the bear skin that was wrapped around him a bit tighter as he let out a low grunt before he began to follow after the others up the mountain.

Bjornwulf stood at the base of the mountain, feeling the cold, wet wind distinctive of snow blow down the mountain. He couldn't even see the temple high above him and the small group gathered there with him. He looked around silently as his new companions. His blue-gray eyes were stoic and serene, belying his nervousness. This was such a first for him. His gaze fixed curiously on Ulemi. Why had he agreed to follow little Dunmer? He wasn't sure if he was up to the task. If they had only needed a smith, then sure. But to fight? However, he did agree that the cause was just and valiant. He nodded his head. This was indeed the best thing to do for all of Skrim. Mother and Greta would worry, but Father would be proud. This was for them, too. He was brought out of thoughts when Ulemi spoke.

Bjorn listened intently as she gave them all a short pep-talk. It brought a small small to his lips. She was quite the motivator. It was rather adorable. He paused in his thoughts and almost laughed. Adorable? She was probably at least twice his age. Did he really see himself as that old? Sometimes it felt like it. The Breton next to him was most definitely his age, but something about her seemed more ageless. Ageless? That was nothing compared to the dragons. He sighed. He was still getting used to the idea that dragons were real at all. Now I aim to defeat one? O great Zenithar, strengthen my resolve like my steel. May our hearts burn like your Eternal Forge.

The two adventuresses moved to start up the mountain. Bjorn did a mental double-check to make sure that he had everything he needed before setting off. He walked until he reached the bottom of the 7,000 Steps. He was immediately glad that he had decided to sell most of his ore and miscellaneous items. The climb would be hard enough without them. He braced himself against the cold, glad for the thick padding under his armor. There was no going back now.

Jorn stood at the base of that great mountain. His eyes looking up fallowing the seven thousand steps as far as he could. Climbing those great steps was always something he planned on doing in life. Making the pilgrimage to High Hrothgar, though he saw it with far less people manly just himself. But nine always have plans of there own, not to speak of course of Hircene, though he tends to care less about such matters and only on the hunt. So there he stood, feeling that brisk cold air as he smiled wolfishly, that wind was Refreshing, he was Nord, raised in the cold mountain of Haafinger. It also didn't hurt that his blood burned with the fury of the beast with in. He looked about as his armor was lined with only a think lair of wolf fur, nothing compared to the furs people had bundled around them.

Soon though that Dunmer spoke, he had no real issues with the Dunmer, his family having traveled to Morrowind, and he took a trip there as a child and he was still amazed by those large slit styrders and those big floating netches. But that was an adventure for later. For now he listened to her short speech, smiling as his eyes looked out shimmering some as they reflected light some, not enough for anyone to really notice unless they really looked in to his eyes. "well Then! Greatness awaits us! Onward we go to feast and mead that would make those in sovngrade envious!" he announced rather loudly as he took his first step forward.

Only now did he really look around at the diverse group. Diverse was good, it was strong and it meant they were able to fight different ways. He stopped at the first step setting his foot on it then pushing up and forward to the next, and with those steps his newest adventure began.

Timoster stood at the base of the mountain. He had been there before a couple of times, yet it still looked terrifying to him. Aside from the beasts that could lie within it's caves and the merciless cold the climb itself would be a challenge for most people. From what he had heard the steps were extremely sloppy, wolves roamed the upper sections of the mountain and corpses of unlucky pilgrims and hunters riddled with diseases weren't uncommon. He was more than ready to make the climb, though, as he had brought his sword, wands, potions, food and even a magical scroll with him.

This adventure was something Timoster had never done before. He couldn't get used to the idea that he could be in the same group with vampires. There was a Breton in the group who looked like a vampire or, more accurately, didn't look entirely like a Breton. He could be wrong but his instincts were usually spot-on in these things. Most importantly, he found hard to believe that a group with such different people could work together to defeat the mighty dragons, beasts that could pour fire and ice from their mouths and single-handedly defeat dozens of soldiers. They definitely looked like experienced fighters and their multitude of skills could be useful in many situations but this wasn't enough. They'd have to trust and help each other selflessly or their group wouldn't last long. But how could a vampire do that?

Despite all these, Timoster couldn't back off. He felt that it was his destiny to band with these people and defeat the dragons together. It was a noble goal, after all.

Maemion sat cross legged at the base of the mountain. While the others were merely marvelling at the height and grandeur of High Hrothgar, Maemion was taking time to draw a short sketch of the better half that wasn't covered in clouds into one of the blank books he carried. He began writing notes about his adventuring party after the sketch. The first was a Dunmer who had sort of hyped them up for the climb, but it made Maemion a bit less interested than anything really. The next member of the party was a young Breton mage. She seemed rather generic for a Breton really, other than the lack of robes she was generally what you'd expect from a Breton. He was glad to have at least one skilled mage in the party although he did have a slight feeling of unease around her. He was probably just experiencing the after-effects of some bad pork that the inn had served him before. The third member of the party was an Orc to say the least. He towered over the group much alike the mountain ahead although he seemed to have been involved in more fights than said mountain. Maemion stopped writing about the Orc as the chance that he may write something offensive was a definite chance and if the Orc ever found his notes, then Maemion could probably guarantee that he could say goodbye to his neck.

The fourth member of the party looked much alike to the people he had seen in Ivarstead. It was obvious he was a Nord and you'd have to be blind to confuse him with an imperial or a Breton. The member after him was much alike the fourth. In fact, if he hadn't met them recently and found out what they were actually they like he would call them similar in just about everything. But their personalities seemed to differ quite greatly. The last member of the party Maemion got to write about was a Breton Priest. A battle priest to be more precise. He should be fun to write about at least, to find out why a priest would turn to violence would be a very interesting thing to write about.

Before Maemion could finish people began to climb the mountain. He looked up in curiosity as the sound of boots trampling on snow filled his ears. He always loved the sound of snow being walked on, it was like the harsh scribblings of someone pressing too hard on a quill. He closed his book before putting it into his satchel and standing up. Disaster struck as he stood up though, his quiver fell down his shoulder and onto the ground. He forgot he had moved it as it was chafing his shoulder. He facepalmed at his own stupidity before picking it back up along with a few arrows that had fallen into the snow and putting them all back in the right positions. He hoped he didn't look too stupid while doing that. He began to follow behind the group. He began to converse with the rest of them, the few semblances of speaking were the Dunmers 'speech' and the Nord commenting on said 'speech'. He tried to change the topic of the conversation to something more diverse and relatable.
"So, has anyone read 'Fall of the Snow Prince?' I recently bought at and wondered if it I should bother reading it" He grinned, he hoped that some of these people read books. He didn't mean to sound cruel when he said that it was just, a few of the party members were a bit....oafish looking. Nevertheless, he had met stranger people in his time and there was always the chance.

It, was cold. Much colder than she had liked. Surani shivered under her cloak. She had only been in Skyrim for barely a year, yet she couldn't bring herself to get used to this freezing cold. She'd briefly wished she was back in Hammerfell, then quickly dismissed the idea considering her condition. Still, she did wish the cold would let up sooner rather than later. She knew that wasn't likely though. The further up they went, the colder it was probably going to get. At least she had a fire spell or two she could use if things got too cold. You know what would take her mind off the cold though? Some friendly conversation. Unfortunately, most of the group seemed to be a little less than friendly.

An orc, two Nords, another breton, and an Argonian. All seemed well suited to their task, but she had her concerns about them, especially the Orc. He was big, even for an Orc. He looked like he'd be able to beat a troll with his bear hands and barely get a scratch. That, wasn't what bothered her though. She could take a bezerking Orc, it wouldn't be her first, but something about him made her uneasy. The other Breton also made her uneasy, he didn't seem to be the type to be friendly towards people of her nature. In fact, she would have to be extra careful around him. The Nords didn't seem to be particularly interesting, but looks could be deceiving. Hopefully she would have a chance to talk with all of her companions in the near future. You could learn all kinds of things simply from talking with someone, which she was about to start trying to do had the Argonian not beat her to it.

"Oh, Fall of the Snow Prince!" Surani replied."Yes, I read that one!" She excitedly exclaimed, glad that at least one of her companions knew how to read. She turned to look at the Argonian with a friendly smile as she continued to follow the Dark Elf up the mountain. "It is an excellent account of the Battle of the Moesring. I would recommend it to anyone who has an interest in history or just reading in general." Well, that would really be up for him to decide in the end, but she thought it was a good read. Then again, she read almost every book she came across, and they weren't always the best of books. "You read then, Argonian?"

Maemion wasn't really paying attention to where he was going while walking and was more interested in the falling snow. The hide armour underneath the cloth was keeping him sufficiently warm and he had never really seen snow like this before. It was beautiful in a way, watching the small bits of snow fall next to the snowflakes. He smiled with a sense of comfort from watching them. Soon he was snapped out of his tantalizing dreamworld type phase and back into the real world of conversation. It turns out that the Breton girl had actually read the book, much to the delight of Maemion.

He was happy to hear that the book was actually worth reading, he couldn't stand it when he purchased books only to find out they were written by some two-bit poser who thought they had the greatest ideas ever. He was also happy to find out that at least one other person in the group read books. He suspected the other Breton also did and possibly the Dunmer. When the Breton asked him if he read yet another grin appeared on his 'lips'.
"I do, I do, I also write though, I got published as well! I'm pretty big in Valenwood, not to brag and had a few hits here and there but-"He realized he was rambling.
"Sorry, I seem to have went on about myself, I'm not really that arrogant. I'm, Maemion by the way, not just 'Argonian'"he laughed.

"No no! I don't mind. It's not every day I get a chance to travel with someone who shares interest in literary practices. Ramble away. Maemion." She laughed. It was the truth. Most often her travel companions didn't share much interest for such things. It was a pleasant and welcome surprise to be able to travel with someone who had similar interests. As far as she was concerned, she could listen to him ramble all day. Listening was a part of learning, after all, and people can learn many things simply from listening to someone or something.

"You write as well? Oh I must simply read some of your work some time! I can't say I've been to Valenwood yet, but I plan to sometime during my travels! But why is an Argonian popular in Valenwood?..." She posed the question aloud without thinking about it. It was curious, to her as to why he would be popular there. There was also the fact that he didn't have a typical Argonian name. Perhaps he was raised in Valenwood? She realized however, that he might find the question rude and quickly stopped herself from asking. She apologized and introduced herself. "Sorry, I tend to ramble sometimes myself. I'm Surani, by the way. Pleasure to meet you, Maemion."

Maemion thought back to his past when the question about how he got big in Valenwood was asked. He looked out over Skyrim from the short height they were at right now before smiling and recalling the past few years. If it wasn't for his surrogate father, he'd probably be some orphan, shouting at how life done him wrong and wasting his life away with a bottle of rum. His mother was equally to be thankful to. She accepted the young Argonian in practically a heartbeat. She loved him as her own son and taught him the ways of the Bosmer as to help him blend in. The hardest choice for them to make was his renaming. He would surely stand out with his Black Marsh name. They renamed him Maemion, he loved the name and embraced it with open arms.

He snapped back to reality before answering, Surani's question.
"Valenwood's pretty nice if you like rainforests and huts. I wouldn't expect to find many inns, but a few imperial encampments and whatnot are sometimes around." He thought about the second question for a bit before answering.
"Well, I was raised by Bosmer you see, my real parents died when I was young and a Bosmer couple took me in. I got popular in Valenwood because my first book was based off of my father, who was a hunter." He looked to the mountain to his right before continuing.
"It turns out a lot of Bosmer love reading about hunting and that's essentially how I got kickstarted." He turned back to, Surani.
"Anyway, enough about me, I noticed you have a mages staff, what magic do you practice?"

At Maemions question, she briefly thought back to when she received the staff from her first mentor, the one who taught her the basics of Conjuration and Destruction back in Wayrest. That felt like ages since she left, and longer still since she received the staff. They were bittersweet memories, at best. While she wanted to leave home and travel, it was still hard to just leave everything like that, without even really knowing where you were going. Even now, she wondered what her father was doing.

"Oh, I don't mean to brag but I'm quite skilled in Conjuration and Destruction. I dabble in Illusion as well, but don't expect me to make people invisible anytime soon. She chuckled as a gust of wind disturbed her cloak causing them to pause for a moment to re-adjust them. "I learned Conjuration and Destruction in Wayrest, my home. I picked up Illusion in Cyrodiil, some years later after I left. I also learned how to handle a sword in Hammerfell, and how to make potions in Black Marsh. Not so skilled with the sword, but I can use it if I need too."

Obviously, she conveniently left out her study of necromancy. Most viewed it as a vile practice and while she agreed that it could be rather, gruesome and morbid at times, it still fascinated her and though she hadn't practiced it since she came to Skyrim, she wasn't going to pass up a chance to learn more if the opportunity arose. Though, at that point keeping it a secret was likely going to be difficult.

As Jorn walked up he turned back hearing something about a book as he turned back. "Pitty what happened to them snow elves. I Would of liked to meet one" he said as he reached up scratching under his chin "of course I heard an obscure rumor once, that the felmer used to be the snow elves. Sad fate for an enemy so proud if it is truth" He mentioned as he looked back at the conversing pair. . Another nord like him self, two Breton's, an orc and an Argonian...this was good. A good Variety, the orc , the other nord and himself would mostly likely Draw the most attention in battle , hopefully letting the sneakier sorts have more freedom. Though there was something about that orc and the one Breton, it was there smell. He had smelled it before, but had trouble placing. He let it pass though, allies come in all manors and no matter what it was he himself was considered a monster by most.

"I am Jorn Red-Fang, Shield-brother in the companions." he stated as he looked around "If we are to possibly die by each other sides the survivors should know the names of the men and women they will raise there mug too" He said with a grin on his face looking forward and up the mountain "And should we all live we need to let the bards know of whom they sing about" He said with a hearty laugh as he felt that brisk cold air. "at least it's a warm day for a hike" he said rolling his arms and stepping on ward matching pace to the Dunmer.

Tandagh's boots sank deep into the snow with every step he took, the sound of crunching snow escaping from under his feet. As the group started up the mountain Tandagh couldn't help but to think back to his home land and it's mountainous land scape, though the snow did end the similarities between the two. The Orc walked towards the front of the group, partly do to wanting to get to the top of the mountain as fast as possible but mainly for his need to get out of the open before the sun began to beat down on him. He gave a slight look over his shoulder to the rest of the group, though it was rather brief. He honestly didn't know what to think of this little band of travelers, he knew better to judge someone's skills based on their appearance and words, both could be quite deceiving.

Tandagh let out a low grunt as what he considered nonsense started. He never enjoyed small talk so it was no surprise that when the topic of reading material was brought up he was less than pleased. He looked over his shoulder to the Argonian and Breton, a stern expression on his face. Pointless. He thought as he eyed the two. He was about to return his attention forward when he noticed something... off about the Breton. He couldn't be sure but there was something familiar about her pale skin.

Tandagh's attention was pulled away from his suspicions when one of the Nords spoke up, introducing himself to the group. The mer had herd of the companions in his travels, he had a vague knowledge of the group of renowned warriors and a slight respect for them, but they were to well known for being boastful for him to ever consider joining the group. Tandagh wanted to brush aside Jorn's words, but they did have some wisdom in them. If he would to be shedding blood with this group they should know his name. So as the Orc brushed past Jorn he said in a low rocky voice. "Tandagh."

Ji'sien had mostly stayed quiet, as he was traveling with new adventures he had never met. And, seeing as he was climbing to the highest point on the planet he had other things on his mind. Like, for example, not dying of a heart attack so young. The snow was ice cold, as it would be, and he didn't have much for the cold, besides a small coat. He didn't really pack much, just his weapons and tools, as he didn't have the money for anything, and all he had was what he had leaving, which was of course nothing. He clearly wasn't a combat ready orc or something, nor was he an argonian with scales off armor. Oh no, he had fur to keep him oh so not exactly warm. And the dunmar's speech didn't help a bit.

For a while he just listens to the others chat about places, themselves, and whatever else people chatted about while traveling, it bothered him slihtly about how they went all these places and did this or that and he was just a street rat of a boy, who lived in a little shack until his parents died. But so is life, he thought. And hell, maybe the greybeards would have something for him, but of course, twas unlikely, as of course he was the street rat, rather then the warrior. I guess he could classify as a thief or something, but he only stole when he had to, I guess he could help the team pick locks into places or so.

His ears flickered in the cold as the others continued to chat, as he only continued to doubt his journey and everything he was doing. 'This isn't my fight' he thought almost stopping in place for a few seconss. 'I am going to die, trying to fight a battle only the dragonborn could win' he continued in his head, 'the dragonborn, that bastard!' No prophecy, just empty lies and loud shouts.' He finally finished his ongoing chat with himself. Finally an orc said their name. Tandagh or something, he felt himself able to speak for a moment. "Hi Tandagh, my name is Ji'sien. I am to my knowledge going to be the weak link." He said, his usual enthusiasm or happiness lacking slightly. He took a breath as the air thinned, he spoke again. "Born and raised in a shack, Ji's my name, occasional stealing in order to survive....Is my game..." he said finally, he said it in an odd way, but meh, he hadn't much of a silver tungue.

**Reserved. Hey, I am working on my post but my weekend ended up crazy. I'll be posting it either late tomorrow or early Monday. I'm sorry!**

Some of the others had begun talking. About what Ulemi couldn’t say since she hadn’t been listening, but from the tone of the conversation she deduced it wasn’t important. She sped up a bit for a little while, just to give herself some distance from the disturbance. The wind did the rest of the work for her, muffling the sound to the degree where it became noises rather than voices. She would play nice with these people. That much she had promised both herself and Azura. But she didn’t have to go as far as to indulge in their meaningless social rites. Pretending to be or like something was beneath her. Be honest, always. That was her way.

It was beautiful up here. She could see very far already, and they hadn’t even begun making any real progress even though they had been walking for quite some time. She couldn’t help but wonder how many of them would make it. People were bound to die or give up at some point or other, that much was certain. The question was who. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wasn’t going to. Azura, lord of twilight and prophecy, hadn’t shown herself to Ulemi in that fateful dream just to have her killed before she could complete her destiny. And she was damned if she was going to give up now that her goal was so clear.

The group continued their climb for the rest of the day. They were all quite fatigued when the decision was made that they should make camp and rest until first light. Firewood was gathered from what had been brought and what could be found, and before long a small campfire was burning in the midst of the tired little circle of travelers. They had managed to find some shelter in an outcropping in the rock which shielded them from both wind and snowfall. The cold was ever present, though, despite fire and furs.

Ulemi sat cross legged in the opening of her little tent, which served as both her quarters and an additional shield from the elements, and inspected the rest of the group while she ate a simple meal of jerky and bread. The campfire was and had always been a special place. She had many vivid memories from both her childhood in the Grey quarter and from later years in the mercenary camp, and some of the best ones were of the times she’d sat at the fire with the people she loved. She didn’t love anyone of these strangers in front of her, and while the prospect of her ever doing so seemed ridiculous at the time she knew she’d thought the same thing when she first entered the mercenary company. She suddenly got the urge to speak, to say or ask something, but she smothered it in the cradle. Instead, she simply continued eating and monitoring her travelling companions, wondering who they were and what they were doing here.

Tandagh had continued to walk in silence after letting his name be known to the group, hoping that would be the extent of what he had to say on this trip. He trudged up the mountain through the snow, adjusting his bear skin as he loosened around his shoulders. He was focused on walking when he heard a voice speak up from beside him. As the Orc turned his gaze he was met by the sight of what was obviously a quite young Khajiit. Tandagh let a low grunt as he listened to the cat, quite honestly with very little interest. He eyed the boy for a moment before looking forward. "Weak means death, death means failure in our quest, failure is not possible. You are not allowed to be weak." Tandagh said in a rough voice. He didn't make eye contact with the boy and continued to scale the mountain.

As the group set up camp for the night Tandagh couldn't help but feel a slight irritated. He could of continued walking the rest of the night and be there by sun rise with little problem. He could of been done with this part of the quest yet here he was sitting at camp. Then again he did have a slight advantage over the others do to his lack of needing to sleep and rest. So he sat at the edge of camp his bear skin set as a mat for the sleep he did not need. He eyed the group around the camp fire with cold eyes. He didn't really feel anything towards these people, neither a kinship or disdain, they were merely people he needed for the moment. But he hadn't felt much of anything since his lose brought by the dragons, so this was nothing new to him. His gaze wandered the group falling on the female Breton from earlier again, getting the same feeling of something familiar, as if they had something in common.

Surani continued up the mountain, listening to her companions conversations as she did so. It was nice, to have talkative companions for once. Travelling alone or in a quiet group was not something that she liked doing. Conversing breeds trust, and everyone should always trust those they are working with, shouldn't they? Well, it was what she thought anyways. Whether it did or not, she was content with listening to the various conversations, until she heard the Orc. Needless to say, the way he spoke to the young Khajiit didn't instill much confidence in him. She already was slightly put off by him as it was, when he said that, she became even more wary of him. Something about the Orc, just screamed wrong, and it slightly frightened her. An odd thing, since she had only ever been truly afraid of one thing ever in her life.

As night fell, she lowered her hood, glad that the sun had finally set and that the Two Moons rose high into the sky. She was glad to finally be out of the sunlight, she enjoyed it and wished she could spend more time in its warmth, but as it stood, that could be deadly to her. A sad thing, for her, but she would eventually get used to it in time, if she lived long enough. She did have...eternity ahead of her now, after all.

Surani took a seat next to the fire as she pulled out her journal and a quill, and began to write of the days events. The entry mainly had information about the arrival at the base of the mountain, the trek up it, but mostly it detailed the group she traveled with. Names, race, and a little bit of what she thought of them. As she paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, her eyes drifted towards the edge of the camp, and fell on the Orc, who she conveniently caught watching her. She quickly turned her attention back to her journal, though words seemed harder to come by now. Soon, she gave up, and closed it, deciding to write in it later, and for now she would simply enjoy the night and wait for morning.

Jorn kept up his pace as the orc rushed by him, He looked to him as he caught that scent of his, though he ignored it for the most part considering he would have to be in his beast form to get a good read on it. He somewhat wished this was a companion adventure, at least then he wouldn't have to worry about anybody finding out what he was, and they would hunt together. It was then that the Jhajit was speaking, Jorn looking over and shook his head as the orc responded "harsh words, but true words" he said as he walked so he was a little closer to the Khajit "If one thinks him self weak, then he is weak" He added before turning his head to him "though strength is not only measured how large your sword or axe is. Find what makes you strong" he said. His family worked of a system of the older generations teaching the new, as well he helped out with training with the companion's new members. Such things came easy to natural to him as he looked up at the dunmer and orc. He could of matched there pace, maybe even gone faster. But they were already pulling a head as he looked over to his fellow nord "Would you mind moving to the back of our little group. We should have our strongest fighters in the front and back." he said looking forward at the two slowly pulling ahead. He understood eagerness to get there, but when travailing in a group you only move as fast as your slowest member.

Soon camp was being made, he looked around some and then saw the orc, he seemed irritated. Jorn understood that slightly as he him self could keep going, but for now he took in a deep breach of that cold mountain air as he exhaled and he could his breath. Deciding to take a moment he walked away from the camp, standing on he edge of the mountain as he looked out over the horizon and that vast distance. The distance howl of wolves as he looked up at the two moons. He wanted to go out and hunt, but for now such things would have to wait as he turned back around walking back to the camp. He made his way through it to Ulemi "Have you met Irileth? She is a housecarl to Jarl Balgruuf in whiterun" he stated as he sat down before her, one knee up he rested an arm pulling out some bread and meat. Holding the meat ontop he bit into it chewing and swallowing it. "She is dunmer like you, you honestly remind me of her a bit. Very capable fighter, strong willed, slightly stubborn" he said looking around the camp "though she had more experience in leading I suspect." he spoke quietly in the last part, not wanting the others to hear this. He took a bite of his bread chewing on it as he smiled swallowing before speaking, still he kept his voice low "if we are to live we need to act less like individuals, and more like a group. Look at wolves, they take care of there wounded, bring it food until it can hunt once more. They move at the pace of there slowest member." he stated looking around at some of the others "If you are to be the leader you shouldn't be so far ahead that you can't command, and you should get to know the people under you. Know where they are strong, where they are weak so you can plan accordingly, for some of us it is obvious where we are strong, we wear our armor and carry are large weapons. A fool knows what we can do, but what of the others, the more subtle ones" He made a motion with his head shrugging his shoulders as if to say 'who knows' "Take my counsel or ignore it, it's up to you." he was well traveled, and very used to working in groups as well as working alone, adventuring was his lively hood and he had done it his entire life.

Standing up he walked away leaving there leader as he looked around the camp. The path was narrrow up the mountain and fallowed a clif for the most part, this was good cause it meant there was less places for surprise attack. He took a seat around the fire eating his bread and meat, he wasn't honestly expecting to much from the likes of bandits or anything. There wasn't really anywhere to set up a good camp, the only way up started to close to a town. No bandits shouldn't be a problem, but his homeland had far worse things then bandits to deal with. "So who wants the first watch?" he announced leaning back and finishing off his food as he sat by the fire, he himself didn't care, he didn't get much sleep as that wolf inside was restless and caused restless sleep and he would probably be up for most of the night.