blakkrulfr

[blakkrulfr]

[blakkrulfr]

tepiidus:

          “I suppose you’re right.” Straightening her posture, Mercy allowed

her gaze to drop, looking over the blade in her hands. While she was not

perfect, she had come a long way from where she started. She cannot help

but to think back to the very night she decided to wander in and ask if she

could join the Companions. It was almost… difficult to remember how weak

she was back then.

          “I appreciate your patience and willingness to work with me, 

Vilkas,” the woman spoke, lifting her gaze. A small smile graced her 

plumps lips, her eyes suddenly growing softer thinking back. “If it 

wasn’t for you, I’d be nothing but a shell of a woman. And weak as 

shit, too.” A chortle escapes her lips as she shakes her head a bit.

Mercy could not help but to be a bit thankful that she eventually earned

his respect. 

         “I know you must have many other responsibilities to tend

to, but the fact you don’t mind spending time on helping me 

improve is incredibly kind of you.”

                     Mercy wasn't a part of the inner circle, and she wasn't aware of where a portion of Vilkas' strength came from, but she certainly sparred with him as though she did. When she fought, she fought HARD. And if you could go toe to toe with a veteran companion, you were definitely worth respecting.

                    Setting his shield down and letting out a chuckle, Vilkas attempted to stretch and recover from the other's incredibly forceful strike. If it wasn't for him? Surely, she was mistaken. He hadn't done anything differently, had he? He didn't think so. Certainly there was the fact that he found her to be incredibly attractive, intelligent, strong-- But that hadn't caused him to treat her any differently, had it? He hoped not, as Farkas would never let him live that down otherwise. Rubbing the back of his neck, Vilkas would then shrug. Why was he acting so sheepish all of a sudden.

“I’m just doing what anyone here would have done. Your  improvement, however, is something that I don’t think  that you really even needed me for.”

[blakkrulfr]

tepiidus:

          Raising an eyebrow, Mercy looks over her shoulder as Vilkas 

approaches her before looking forward, allowing him to adjust her 

stance and positioning. She trusted her fellow companion, especially

someone such as Vilkas, to know what might be best for her.

          “I know you can, Vilkas. It’s not like this is the first time 

we’ve worked with one another. You can drop that idea anytime,

you know.” A small chortle leaves her lips before she focused. After

a moment, she allows herself to sprint forward, swinging her blade 

and using the technique Vilkas encouraged. She would admit, this 

did feel a touch more comfortable, as if she had more control over

her weapon. 

"I didn't say that it was."

                     Another chuckle would be given then as the companion braced himself. Vilkas was most certainly the stronger of the two, but Mercy wasn't some delicate flower. Her hits hurt like hell if you weren't prepared for them, and like every other companion, she could kick your ass into next week if she truly wanted to.

                    Stiffening a bit, Vilkas allowed Mercy to strike him; a small grunt escaped him. Though he really didn't move, he most certainly felt the force of her strike. Had she been practicing--? Her form wasn't ideal just yet, but it was clear that she had improved a great deal since the pair of them had done this. Impressive.

“See? You had much better control and you struck a lot harder  that time. Once you master holding your blade like that, you can  move as you just did without giving it a second thought."

[blakkrulfr]

@tepiidus

“You know, if you keep holding your sword like that,   you’re just going to topple over.”

                   Chuckling, Vilkas would come up behind the much smaller companion and force her arms up a bit. Mercy wasn't weak by any means and could definitely hold her own, but it was Vilkas' job to oversee the training that all of the members went through. He was usually rather harsh on most that he trained, but-- Mercy was different.

"Now, turn around and strike me holding your blade that  way. If you're afraid of hurting me, don't be. I can take it."

[blakkrulfr]

Y'all mind if i

*turns into a hideous beast and runs into the woods*

[blakkrulfr]

starter call!

[blakkrulfr]

bxynjolf:

           A shrug rolls over his shoulders, splayed hands forward with an air of idle surrender.                             ❝Move I shall, lad——— ❞             And, true to his word, he traipses on. Steps fall soft to the soil, and despite the poke, seemed no clumsier for it. There’s an unquestionable air of smoothness in its place, as if the very muck’s squelch and the whisper of grass and the trifling breeze ignored the man’s very presence. His pace follows the other’s gesture, and while his walk is steady, his head tilts back to the fighter. Aye, a man casting him a glare was no new phenomenon. Shor’s beard, if a mere glower put a stopper to him, he’d not labored by Mercer’s side for as long as he had. Though a twitch of strain entered his smirk, he donned his casual demeanor. No point in playing prideful when the big man with a sword was rather intent on sticking him with it.            ….then again, wouldn’t be a  first instance of such nonsense sparking.           ❝Now, if you no mind my askin’, do you truly fight children as a Companion? Or, is that more of a….say, recreation?❞

                    Vilkas despised thieves. There was no honor in stealing, no glory to be had by remaining in the shadows. In his mind Brynjolf was a COWARD and was in no way worth respecting. Perhaps not taking his weapons and leaving him unbound wasn't the best of ideas, but in all honesty, Vilkas didn't expect much resistance from Brynjolf. After all, he was stronger and currently carrying a more powerful weapon than the thief happened to be. He wasn't exactly all the worried.

         "I told you to keep quiet."

                   Roughly shoving the other in an attempt to both shut him up and get him moving, Vilkas nearly growled. He didn't have the time or the patience for Brynjolf's nonsense, and he wasn't about to feed into his behavior. That was more of Farkas' thing, and unfortunately for the captive, the younger twin wasn't around at that moment.

[blakkrulfr]

Gruff men who get all soft and happy when they’re with you 

Big men with calloused hands who touch you like you’re something incredibly special 

Grumpy men who chuckle at your bad jokes 

Calm men who get protective and irrational and then pretend like they didn’t

Stoic men who look at you with gentle smiles on their face when you’re not looking at them with an expression that sort of says “I can’t believe she’s with me." 

[blakkrulfr]

atonings:

@blakkrulfr - ❝ it would please me to teach you something new. ❞      ↪ meme || not accepting

—✕ █ ▌❝Would it?❞ He’s cautious, of course, raised DELICATELY upon a kill or be killed sort of mentality and groomed for war without even realising. Perhaps this is what the other sees in him, something of which that cannot be TAMED so easily; something of which could be greatly useful —— for his bones always feel ready for battle. He pauses, a long moment of hesitation, before he adds in a CAUTIOUS tone, ❝please you, I mean.❞

Lips purse into a thin line as he watches the other move, limbs as TAUT as a bowstring. There is little else to do but plunge straight in. He knows he would not do with turning around like a dog scolded — perhaps there truly is something for a man like he to learn. ❝What is it that you have in mind?❞

    "Part of my job involves training the young recruits, so      saying that it wouldn't would be a lie."

                  Scanning Loghain over as though he happened to be inspecting him, Vilkas would mentally take notes about his form. Loghain didn't appear to be a stranger to combat, but by the way he was standing, he didn't appear to be trained as strictly a warrior like Vilkas happened to be.

                 Slowly circling Logain with his arms crossed, the companion would then stop directly in front of him with an almost cocky smirk resting comfortably on his features. He hadn't even seen what Loghain could do, and he was already fairly certain of his abilities.

“If I asked you to knock me back, could you do it?"

[blakkrulfr]

blakkrulfr:

     “If there’s a cave– Animals or bandits are going to be inside,       no doubt.”

               These days, the only people who ever approached him, outside of the companions that is, were in search of someone to do a bit of work for them; usually along the lines of something incredibly dangerous. However,  Vilkas was a six foot, three inch man made up of pure muscle who happened to wield a weapon capable of lopping a beast’s body in half. Naturally, not a whole lot of things frightened him. But rather than give the stranger a chance to explain themselves, or even mention why they were there in the first place, the companion interjected/ Which was, of course, rather rude, but he hardly cared.

                                            “The companions can take care of it for you– For the                                              right price, of course.”

[blakkrulfr]

starshrouded:

    The mede beheaded the spriggan and Astraeus felt a corner of their mouth pull up, a small grin breaking the indifferent mask of their face; very nicely done. And then he wasn’t him, but a tall, Nord woman, and his sword was her axe, a metallic arc in the moonlight. In a blink he was himself once more, healing magic swirling around him. Astraeus’s grin remained.

    With him properly healed, the focus of the magic in both their hands shifted, changing to a deep, crackling purple. The flame atronach ignored the final wolf in favor of the spriggan, humming as it weaved around the its opponent. The two were beautiful, in Astraeus’s eyes, focuses of different elements. Shame the spriggan wasn’t a matron, Astraeus had had many an interesting conversation with spriggan matrons in their time.

    As the two elementals danced around each other, Astraeus formed a large, spear pointed crystal between their hands, holding it there as they waited for the right moment. The spriggan paused in its movement to cast a spell and it was what Astraeus had been waiting for, launching their spell and watching with satisfaction as the crystal punched through the wood of the spriggan’s head. Acceptable.

                       It was then that Vilkas finally took notice of the other, causing him to pause for just a second. They hadn't always been there-- Had they? No, certainly he would have smelled them before the fight picked up. They didn't seem to be like an enemy either, so naturally his suspicions weren't raised higher than they usually were. If they were going to pose any problems, they likely would have done so already. Pushing the thought of them possibly attacking him to the back of his mind as quickly as possible, Vilkas struck the final creature closes to him with a single, solid slice of his blade.

                      Spriggans were awful to deal with-- Where there was one, there were likely a few more and were very much ready to defend their own should you step too close. He could take a few down, sure, but in a fight like this-- Singling them out would have proved to be a bit too much to deal with. He would have to thank the stranger once things had completely calmed down.

[blakkrulfr]

[blakkrulfr]

     “If there’s a cave– Animals or bandits are going to be inside,       no doubt.”

               These days, the only people who ever approached him, outside of the companions that is, were in search of someone to do a bit of work for them; usually along the lines of something incredibly dangerous. However,  Vilkas was a six foot, three inch man made up of pure muscle who happened to wield a weapon capable of lopping a beast’s body in half. Naturally, not a whole lot of things frightened him. But rather than give the stranger a chance to explain themselves, or even mention why they were there in the first place, the companion interjected/ Which was, of course, rather rude, but he hardly cared.

                                            “The companions can take care of it for you– For the                                              right price, of course.”

[blakkrulfr]

Finished up the Companions print It is available as a print here!

[blakkrulfr]

vulsoven:

     “ Personally I’d like to see what he could do with ebony, ” she muses; it isn’t a boast but genuine curiosity. She only ever sees the man work his steel, but what else can he do? “ You’d think he’d make something if I brought him the materials? The man sells himself short, only working with steel like that. ” 

She rubs her chin a moment, and then smirks.

     “ You think if I sold you lot the bones of dragons, you’d be outfitted in them eventually? Imagine that. Guards from Markarth to Riften would be talking about the Companions in their dragon bone armor. As if bandits weren’t already afraid enough to come near this place. ”

     "With a bit of time, I'm sure he could make something fit for a god."

                    Vilkas had always looked up to Eorlund and found the work he did to be absolutely incredible just as everyone in the companions did. Had Vilkas not gone down the path he had, he might have actually attempted to become Eorlund's apprentice. But it was too late to become such a thing now, and he enjoyed his current life a bit too much to just give it all up.

                   Giving a firm nod, Vilkas confirmed what the other had just asked, as though he didn't have a doubt in his mind.

"The old man would be more than willing to work with dragon bone,  and we would be just as willing to buy it off of you. We would really  make those bastards piss themselves with armor like that."

[blakkrulfr]

lxrdhuntsman:

              The stag watched as the brute turned to face him, the animal’s lifted and stood more proudly and dominance over the other. Pale ivory gleamed in the scattered sunlight that shone downward through the break of the treetops “Watch who you are talking to, pup” The Stag snapped back almost immediately after the other. “I’m not one of those drunken Nords or elf weakling you deal with. I MADE you, pup, you best remember that.”

              "I didn’t make you do anything.“ The Spirit of the Hunt replied. "I have my honour. I would never deny another of their hunt, what happened was all your doing.

              "Though, I must say… you hunted well, pup.” He was purposefully keeping what the beast’s prey was vague, amusing himself with Vilkas’ fight to remember the events that occurred

                     While it was true that Vilkas had once enjoyed the benefits of beasthood once, but that could no longer be said as being true. This was a CURSE, not a blessing. There were those who would disagree with such an opinion, but Vilkas no longer cared. He was going to be cured eventually, and if there were those who looked down on him for it, then so be it. The appeal of sovngarde vastly outweighed anything Hircine had to offer.

                    Remaining silent, Vilkas could feel his emotions threaten to overtake him again. Though, much like everyone else in the circle, he could usually control his transformations, Vilkas had a tendency to lose that bit of control when he became too emotional. With his breath still labored, Vilkas wished that he could fight back. That he could somehow permanently shut the other up. But he couldn't. He knew that. This was HIRCINE, not some cheap bandit or merc. So, instead of doing what he wanted, the nord complied and remained submissive to the lord of BEASTS. He didn't like it, but it wasn't as though he really had much of a choice.

            “--My lord... What prey did I claim?”

[blakkrulfr]

bxynjolf:

              There is calculated leisure in his pose; nay, he’d not dare trifle with a man whose steel was as certain as the winter storm. He’d confess to be a creature of pride with full heart. Yet, prideful as the master thief may be, he wasn’t a damn idiot. Having bones crunched to dust and sporting a skull swimming with pain made for springing traps all the more difficult. Contact with his lot could be made in a pinch. There was no city untouched by greed, and by extension, an agent of theirs. At the right price, any single member could be reached. 

            The ideal mark to have him spared, sadly, was indeed out a ways.

              Not to mention, rare was the day Maven had patience for his scraps. Blasted rich Hagraven wasn’t likely about to indulge in a jailbreak on his behalf, let alone one so strenuous. Fingers drum against the padded plate of his side. A ribbon of irritation threaded through his mind. Aye, he was in a wee bit of a pinch. Mercer didn’t permit dawdling. Neither did their clients appreciate it. A breathy sigh skips past once pursed lips. Best keep safe. Travels to and fro were riddled with enough challenge. He’d not dare invite a scuffle for this moment. Opportunity would rear its wild head like the howling wolves of the Reach. And, much like the hunter with bated breath, he’d wait for that daring chance. 

               ❝Shall I toss you my weaponry or have I the honor t'keep it?❞

              ❝I’ll confess, I’m a touch befuddled for this process. Shall I expose my wrists and cry for justice now or wait till I’m settled nice ‘n cozy once shackled?❞

                     In Vilkas' line of work, money talked. The more he got paid, the more willing he was to go out and drag some poor soul's ass back to wherever the client wanted. The companions were all about honor and glory, and he was certainly no different, but who said that there couldn't be glory in a bit of coin? Certainly the gods couldn't fault him for finding a bit of joy in that.

            "Normally, I'd confiscate your weapons, but--"

                    Now directly in Brynjolf's face, his usual look of displeasure still remaining comfortably upon his rough features, Vilkas stared the thief down as though he was as insignificant as an insect.

       "I've fought children with broadswords who were         stronger than you are."

                   He didn't trust Brynjolf at all, but he was certaint that the other knew better than to try to attack him. If he ran, he would be out of his element and would be able to be recaptured easily. This wasn't Vilkas' first time bringing in someone with a large profile, and it wasn't about to be his last. Prodding Brynjolf forward, Vilkas' frown became more apparent.

"--Shut up and get moving."