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“Hulda! Grab some more mead for us, will ya?” Herakles beckoned to the innkeeper of the Bannered Mare in Whiterun. He was the Harbinger of the Companions, and was celebrating with them after a long day of hunting. He was an enormous Nordic man, with thick muscles and flowing red hair laced with braids. A whorl of gold curled up from his neck and around his cheek. Hulda sent the barmaid Saadia over who arrived and delivered fresh, frothing tankards of mead. To Herakles right sat his wife Aela the Huntress, a beautiful and skilled woman. Beside her sat Lady M, a Bosmer and master archer. Her head was mostly shaven, but with a flop of deep brown hair emerging from the middle. Her instincts were excellent, and she was an experienced hunter. To Herakles left sat Farkas and Vilkas, strong brothers and good friends of the Harbinger. They were the five members of the Circle, who held the ancient gift of lycanthropy. The cure had been unveiled and all but Aela and Lady M had cured themselves. Those fierce women clung to the wolf blood like dogs to a bone.
Athis and Njada Stone-Arm sat together, a romance budding between them. Ria sat by Torvar, him drooling at Carlotta Valentia, her blowing a kiss to Brill. Brill sat with Tilma the Haggard, Vignar Gray-Mane, and Eorland Gray-Mane at a separate table. All the Companions wore plain clothing, kicking back after an exhausting day.
Unnoticed to most, as they were busy booing the bard and womanizer Mikael off the floor, a short, cloaked figure swept in. He was a mage by the name of Cirroc, and the Arch-Mage at that. He specializes in Restoration and Flame magic, and wore the thick robes bestowed upon the Arch-Mage.
“Give me a Honningbrew and a sweetroll, Hulda,” he politely asked in his Imperial accent, rare in these lands, as he plopped onto a barstool.
“Of course Cirroc. You really should spend more time with Viola, you know,” she replied whilst passing him a flagon and a plate.
“I know, Hulda. I know. I’m getting old, and so is she. We really should spend more time together. I’m heading back to Windhelm tomorrow, just so long as more adventure doesn’t get in my way.” Naturally, life just couldn’t allow that. He was an old mage, with long sheets of white hair draping his shoulders. A long and equally white beard obscured his chin. One of his eyes had been blinded during the Great War, but his mastery over Restoration helped him gain better eyesight in his remaining eye. He brushed the last crumbs from his beard and sucked the last drops of mead moments before his new life began.
Suddenly, a fight broke out. Torvar and Mikael, both drunk out of their senses, sprung up and leapt at each other. They had both been drooling over Carlotta, and upon noticing the other one drooling had bounded into action. Most of the Companions just laughed, but Lady M sprung up and backed away, carefully drawing her ebony bow and a dull iron arrow. If she had to shoot, she didn’t want to have a death on her hands. Herakles got up too, and walked towards Torvar while pulling out his Skyforge Steel dagger, just in case. He uttered a low, primal growl from deep in his throat, silencing his jeering Companions, but ignored by Torvar. Torvar whipped out his deadly dagger and flew towards Mikael.
“Enough!” Roared an authoritative voice. Cirroc stalked from the counter, hand raised as he created an impenetrable wall between Torvar and Mikael. Each wailed on the ward, but he simply stepped up to each, standing in the center of the ward wall, and jabbed each in the neck. A crackle of energy flowed from his fingers knocking both out cold.
“Take the bard to his room. He’ll sleep like a baby, but will be well as rain in the morning. Except for a hangover, and I’m sure that’s a regular state of affairs for him, hmm?” Chuckled Cirroc. Idolaf and Jon Battle-Born had no love for Mikael, but had respect for their elders and carried the bard to his room. Njada and Ria picked up Torvar and joked about his weight.
“Good thing he’s not wearing his armor, eh Ria?” Laughed Njada.
“Definitely, Njada. He’d be a bit heavier. But I think his beer belly is most of his weight.” Snickered Ria. They left the tavern, as did their jesting.
“Thanks a lot, mage. I’m Herakles, Harbinger of the Companions. Sorry about Torvar. He’s always drunk. And your name is…?” Questioned Herakles.
“Cirroc. I’m the Arch-mage of the College of Winterhold. It’s okay about Torvar. I have a couple of problematic youths up there. I know how hard they are to control,” said Cirroc with a smile. “And who is this gorgeous elf?” He asked with a beam in her direction.
“Call me Lady M. I’m a member of the Circle,” she said coolly.
“Be nice, M. Cirroc, would you like to come sleep in Jorrvaskr tonight? You can have Skjor’s old bed,” offered Herakles.
“I would love that.”

“Beautiful night,” sighed Herakles with a smile. Masser and Secunda hung bright in the sky, not a cloud blocking their view. The three of them were walking up to Jorrvaskr in the cool night air. Lady M shivered and pulled her thick, bear fur cloak closer. Cirroc pulled down the hood of his Arch-mage robes and admired the stars. They walked up the steps to Jorrvaskr, and Herakles pulled the doors open.
“Welcome to our home,” smiled Lady M. Cirroc gasped in wonder at the grandiose hall, a great fire blazing in the middle. Njada and Ria were caught up in a fistfight again, while Vilkas and Farkas were enjoying a nightcap. Cirroc walked up and sank into a comfy chair next to Vignar. Herakles watched the fistfight, yelling advice. Lady M was deep in conversation with Aela and Eorland about the best design for arrows.
“Hello good sir. My name is Vignar, of clan Gray-Mane. I assume you are Cirroc. Your name has been spreading quickly in Whiterun. Good job,” Vignar said to Cirroc with a smile.
“It is pleasant to know I am not the only elder here, Vignar. You assumed correctly. I am Cirroc. I understand you were quite a warrior when you were younger, as was I. I served in the Great War when I was younger, and my eye was taken out by an elf’s shock spell. I beheaded her after. I think that, somehow, that spell either made me discover my own reserves of magic or imbued me with some of that Altmer’s magic,” said Cirroc, more reminiscing than anything. They went on to have a passionate conversation about their younger days. Njada was strutting around after defeating Ria, who was skulking in the corner. Eorland was showing Aela and Lady M how to forge a marvelous arrow. Farkas and Vilkas were locked in an intense arm wrestling match. Vignar and Cirroc were the first to retire, with Herakles sending everybody else to bed soon after.
Waking up early, Herakles roused Lady M and they proceeded to the main hall with Brill and Tilma to make breakfast. Brill fried up some omelets, whilst Tilma cooked some assorted fish. Herakles prepared the meals; getting bread, berry preserves, and drink. Lady M floated around, seasoning what needed to be. Once they were done and the great wooden table was set, Brill and Tilma awoke everybody. All came up, exuberant about the astounding breakfast. They knew how good Lady M and Herakles were at cooking, and their talent showed. As all were seated around the table, salivating over the plates of food chosen personally for them. Herakles, Lady M, and Cirroc stood.
“Attention, everybody. In case you don’t know, but I am sure most, if not all of you know, this is Cirroc. He is the Arch-mage of the College of Winterhold, and our honored guest. He will be staying with as for as long as he wishes for his, ah, assistance. Thank you. Oh, and you may eat,” said Lady M with a smile. By the time the three had sat down everybody was already well into their feast. Torvar was blushing extensively and was still a bit woozy.
“Cirroc, Lady M and I were planning on going hunting today. Would you like to join us?” Asked Herakles between mouthfuls.
“Why not. I haven’t gone hunting in a while,” replied Cirroc.
After breakfast they all went to their rooms to get ready. Lady M had been bugging Cirroc and Herakles about wearing light armor, but Cirroc complained he preferred robes and Herakles lamented the fact that he would have to leave his Daedric armor. Lady M finally forced convinced them to wear light armor. She wore her light set of furs and Herakles wore his suit of studded armor. Cirroc went up to Eorland and got suited up in hide armor. Then they set out.

“There’s a herd this way,” whispered Lady M. “Three of ‘em.” She stalked out, Herakles and Cirroc following. She pulled out her sleek wooden bow and a steel arrow. She killed the first deer just as Cirroc let off a firebolt. The deer had already begun to flee and his firebolt hit just short. He swore under his breath.
“Ah well. We got one. Let’s have lunch,” said Herakles as they walked towards the corpse. He got to work skinning the deer as Cirroc started a fire and Lady M gathered herbs. She had a knack for finding the best spices. Cirroc built a pyramid of wood and then stuck his hands inside and ignited them. Lady M returned and got to work making a delicious stew. She filled the pot with water, as they were by a stream and threw in some chunks of venison Herakles had sliced up. She added some chopped potatoes and leeks as it boiled. Finally, she tossed in assorted herbs and a splash of ale while Cirroc got out bowls, spoons, and bread. They ate the soup, witch was spectacular, and decided to set up camp. Lady M pitched the three tents while Cirroc smothered the fire and Herakles continued working on the deer. Once the camp was ready and the deer was tied in a tree to stop predators. Cirroc knew they thought he didn’t notice, but he saw Lady M sneaking raw chunks of deer. He became suspicious, as he had grown up in Skyrim and had heard the tales of werewolves as any other. He knew of their hunger for raw flesh in both human and wolf form. He decided to keep an eye on her.
They caught two rabbits and three grouse that afternoon. They had been attacked once by a pack of wolves, and took their pelts to sell. They returned to their camp and the men got to work on skinning and taking the best cuts from their spoils. Lady M went about roasting some dinner. They enjoyed a rich dinner of venison and rabbit with cheesy fried potatoes on bread. They retired early after enjoying a couple of mugs of ale around the fire.
Late in the night, Lady M and Cirroc awoke to a shout of pain and surprise. Lady M was the first up, and saw what had happened. A lone bandit had snuck up on Herakles and stabbed him. An arrow shred through his throat before he could turn. Cirroc saw what all the fuss was about and rushed to Herakles. Lady M was already by his side.
“He’s still breathing, but it’s bleeding extensively. I don’t think he’ll make it,” gasped Lady M.
“Lucky for you guys, you picked up the right mage. I’m a master of Restoration. This should be no problem,” replied Cirroc with a grim smile. First he washed the wound and wiped away he blood. Lady M hovered attentively at his shoulder, obeying his every request to the letter. Next he started working his magic. He rested his hand on Herakles’ chest and let his fingers curl into the wound. Healing magic danced between his fingers and into the wound. Slowly, it began to close. Finally, Cirroc lifted both hands and wove them expertly. A hair-thin thread of magic wove the last of the wound shut. He rested his hand on the pale scar and whispered a spell to prevent infection. He started a fire and carefully brewed the ingredients Lady M brought him. Once the potion was ready he brought it to Herakles lips and tipped it in. Cirroc laid him down and bundled him in his sleeping bag. Cirroc and Lady M took shifts watching him. As the sun rose and Lady M was cooking breakfast Herakles awoke.
“Huhhh…What happened last night? I dreamed I was stabbed… It seemed so real,” groaned Herakles.
“That’s because it was real, Herakles. A bandit stabbed you last night. It was really bad. Luckily Cirroc is a healer. You’ll be okay now,” whispered Lady M, now by his side. She gave him a plate of delicacies. “Eat up.” He was ravenous. He enjoyed it and finished up as Cirroc and Lady M took down the camp. Cirroc investigated Herakles and made sure he was fine. They set off for Whiterun.