Two Tigers from Hammerfell

[Ashira]

Ashira made an almost disgusted face, giving a snort in the process as she rolled her eyes. They would most certainly not pay fifty septims for a single potion. And not even because that was all they had; it was the principle of the matter, and try as she might, the Khajiit could not fathom paying such a sum for a simple poison. Perhaps if that poison caused their prey's innards to transform into gold pieces then yes, she would consider it. But such magics were rare, and what books she had read on the matter of arcane sorcery said little to nothing of any ritual or spell that would in any way transform even a small wildflower into a shining bit of gold.

As such, the Khajiit gave a frown and a growled answer.

"I've no interest in overpriced potions, Half-man."

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

"Half-man?"

A pained grimace as he clutched his precious poison, Wulthgar could see that the desire to haggle still outweighed the Khajits' desire to eat.

"A graceless pejorative if ever there there was. Simply because I am the last to know if it rains speaks no less of my Nordic virtus, which I can assure you is, ahem, not diminished. But enough vulgarity. We have yet to reach concord, but I still retain hope."

Sizing up his feline negotiators, the dwarf made a point of letting his gaze fall equally upon each in a most studious way.

"As fifty septims seems to be a price leading you to destitution and ruination, and as I am unwilling to accept payment in meat, we shall endeavour to find a suitable break-even. You, swordswoman, unsheath your blade so I might see your sword arm."

[Akasha]

Akasha swatted Ashira's tail with her own, willing her sister to work with her here. It wasn't about the bear anymore, who, as far as she could tell, was long gone with their kill. This poison could make them both the bane of all the bandits in the Hold. Or even better... well, she'd have to ask if it worked against the undead first...

She caught herself blinking back to reality to find the small Nord looking her way and mentally replayed the last few moments of the conversation. "My sword?"

Her paw still lay on the long, lacquered hilt, which hung in an unassuming wooden scabbard meant for a Hammerfell scimitar. It was meant to disguise the blade, which, once drawn, was unmistakably rare. Its value would likely buy everything on the donkey's back, the donkey itself, and a team of hunters to take down that godsforsaken bear. But then, Ashira's bow was worth nearly twice as much and hadn't raised a comment. Maybe he wouldn't notice.

Akasha reached with her right paw and slid her uncle's sword free from its scabbard. It did not glint so much as shimmer like oil, jet black and edged in silver, etched with swirls of ivory along its delicately curved spine. The sword itself was far more impressive than her arm, which was still wiry with youth, but it moved freely and fluidly in her paw like a living thing.

[Ashira]

Ashira was mindful of any treachery that the dwarf might deliver, and her eyes remained sharp and focused. She shifted her weight to her other leg, allowing the motion to pull her back a half-step so that she had more room to fully draw should it come to that. She was overly cautious perhaps, but she had read enough stories and heard enough tales of strangers who sought to hoodwink the unsuspecting.

And yet, there was still a nagging notion, something that pulled at her awareness, and the Khajiit answered that call by sending a single ear swiveling back.

Something was off, and she wasn't so sure that it was the man they were speaking to.

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

Like a curator of a museum, Wulthgar leaned close to examine the beautiful ebony sword and the hand that held it. The craftsmanship was certainly exquisite, though the dwarf hardly considered himself any authority in the matters of smithing. The cat may well have been holding a rusty dinner knife for all he cared, but he watched the blade tip suspended in air and it did not waver a speck. The Khajit carried the thing as an extension of her own arm, with a sense of confidence that only experience merited. Still, he continued to inspect the blade, pausing a curious finger an inch from the cutting edge before thinking the better of a physical inspection. He could smell the oil on the weapon, and knew she kept it in loving condition.

"There are no shortage of sell-swords and bandits of middling quality in these woods, my Khajit friends. You will pardon the pun, but I believe you to both be a cut above."

A jovial expression as he stood tall and backed away.

"So then, a counter-offer that may yet be amenable. I offer the poison for the ludicrously generous price of fifteen septims. You, in turn, avenge yourselves upon that accursed ursine abomination and fill your bellies to burst. And once sated, all that I ask is that you travel with me to Falkreath, and be my guests for half a fortnight. All reasonable expenses paid. Lodging, ale, and a more reliable source of roast beast. All I ask in return is to keep your exotic company, and your beautiful instruments well-visible."

[Akasha]

Akasha's ears flipped up in surprise as she slid her uncle's sword home again. Everything in her wanted to say let's do it - it was a good deal, a place to stay, hot meals, and adventure all rolled up in one. But there was such a thing as too good to be true, and she - with great reluctance - glanced toward her sister, unconsciously licking her fangs.

[Ashira]

That nagging feeling was still there, but the words that had been spoken gave Ashira enough pause so that her mind began to work through the ins and outs of the offer now laid out by... Wulthgar, did he say his name was? No matter.

"It is tempting," she started, her words measured and careful.

And then that feeling burst into the forefront, as both ears hitched back and her eyes seemed to go wide. Her entire body twisted even as the thunderous sound of angrygrunts, growls, and an indistinguishable roar filled each of her senses. She brought her bow around, lifting the arrow tip up and drawing in a smooth motion.

And crashing through the underbrush like an unstoppable storm, the bear burst out into the open, rearing up to stand on its' hind legs and delivering a mighty roar that rattled the bones of even the dead.

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

"Nooo!!"

The sudden and very real threat of horrible bear attack made itself plain in an instant, and Wulthgar pumped on tiny legs to flee, which failed him as he stumbled on the path. His next course of action was to lamely seek refuge under his donkey, which also saw the nascent danger and very wisely began to trot away, leaving its master to his own fate.

"Curse you, you foul-smelling turncoat! May Hircine make a hat out of you!"

With no practical hiding place within easy reach and no practical means of defense, Wulthgar simply curled into a ball and played dead.

[Akasha]

Akasha's sword found its way back into her paws even as she stumbled away from the rearing monster. Her eyes darted from side to side, spotting her sister with an arrow nocked behind her, Wulthgar lying in an unnatural heap a stonesthrow away. Suddenly her mind's eye called up an image of the bear crushing the little Nord under an enormous paw as easily as it had crushed the elk's neck.

By the time her mind's eye considered what she would look like with a broken neck, she'd already leapt.

"Where's our ELK?"

The ebony blade flashed, opening a bloody ribbon across the bear's abdomen, but it was slowed down by thick rolls of fat and muscle and rebounded off the beast's iron-hard ribcage. Howling, the bear twisted and caught Akasha in the chestplate with the back of its paw, sending her tumbling backwards through the air.

[Ashira]

A single step back, and Ashira loosed her drawn arrow. It flew straight and true, burying itself into the heavily furred pelt over the animal's shoulder. It was a solid shot, but still woefully short of the power that they would need in order to lay the beast to the ground. A snarl, and the Khajiit had another arrow drawn even as she continued to back away.

"This one is not happy!"

It was more of a rumbling hiss, but the words were still present even as she let fly another bolt, this one finding home in the bear's exposed chest. It gave an ear-splitting roar to let all around know of its' pain and anger, and tumbled down to all-fours once more with intent to charge.

By now she was standing beside the curled form of the dwarf, and as she pulled back the bowstring with a third arrow, Ashira bared her teeth. She pulled in a long breath, holding it as she sighted the arrowhead's tip at one of the bear's eyes.

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

It was at awkward times such as these that Wulthgar had what might be considered a crisis of faith. Had he said enough prayers? Had he sacrificed enough goats or rabbits or whatever was economically viable when he had the capacity to remember to do so? Had he chosen the right deity? Oh, Sanguine was well and truly a sporting chap when the times were bawdy. When the drink is full, and your purse is full, and your barmaid's blouse even moreso, there's neither daedra nor aedra that deserves higher praise. Of course, when the ale is dry and your purse full of moths and the barmaid's sporting fried eggs nailed to a wall, you chalk that up to a healthy amount of daedric capriciousness. Even when times are bad, they're not about-to-be-eaten-by-a-bear bad.

Should've said a prayer for Akatosh in there somewhere. So with glum fatalism on his face upon seeing Ashira stand right next to him and noting that he was about to be trampled alongside her in a gruesome end, he did what anyone might well do without a more glorious end to their story in mind. He stood up, flicked the V's at the bear, and hurled the bottle of poison in his hand at the creature in a futile display of defiance.

And that was when the bear snatched the vial out of the air, chomped it, and swallowed.

Wulthgar stood alongside the Khajit archer, ready as he would ever be for what might come next, a tell-tale wet darkening appearing at the front of his trousers.

[Akasha]

Akasha's ears rang, her lungs burned, and her eyes saw the forest through a tunnel, but somehow she managed to roll onto her feet facing the general direction of the bear, her sister, and the Nord. Nirn seemed to tilt beneath her boots as she rose, but she'd kept her grip on her sword, and she sucked in large breaths of scalding air and surged after the beast with a hoarse cry.

But before she reached her mark, the bear tripped, made a horrible gurgling noise, and slouched to the ground in front of the dwarf. Its tongue lolled from its mouth, and foam poured out onto the forest floor as its limbs began twitching.

Akasha stumbled to an unsteady halt, her sword still raised to strike, and watched in horror as the creature swiftly finished its death throes. Then she looked down to see the discarded bear trap, still undeployed, lying skewed at the bear's feet.

"Alkosh's beard," she murmured. "It worked."

[Ashira]

The spectacle of the bear's death, and of course the knowledge that the poison had indeed worked, was enough to bring a perplexed look to Ashira's features. She unclenched her jaw, gave a bit of a long, slow exhale, and the arrow was lowered as she continued to stare down at the bear. It was not a particularly agreeable sight; of course she supposed that any death was not agreeable, but still. Even in death, the creature's muscles seemed to twitch, tendons and ligaments pulling in lagging fashion so that even despite the glassy-eyed stare, the bear twitched as though still alive. It was... disconcerting.

Ashira hrmphed, and slowly pulled the arrow from the bowstring to replace it in the quiver at her back.

She gave a sideways look down, to Wulthgar, then lifted her gaze back up to Akasha. There was relief in her eyes at the sight. Standing a small bit straighter, she let a toothy smile pull back the corners of her lips.

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

It vaguely occurred to Wulthgar in what he imagined to be the final second of his life that he was making a stupid face. Hardly an exception to the annals of slaughtered poor fools, he thought. There must be no shortage of stupid faces made just before death claimed its share. Of course, when he didn't die...

"Ha. Ha! Haaaa!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

The joy of life triumphed over the destruction of vanity and the desecration of dignity. No weepy faces nor urine-sopped pantaloons would deny the Nord the pleasure of breathing in the sweetest air he'd ever tasted, or hearing the most beautiful song of a bird in the distance. Were his smile given wings, he would soar higher than the mythical World-Eater himself. Indeed, Wulthgar bounded circles around the nearby Khajit archer, a giddy laugh not leaving him as he paused at last only to catch his exhausted breath.

"What joy...that I might see hear smell feel and taste the riches of Nirn sweeter than ever before..."

Falling to his knees with a look of contentment, he gazed up at Ashira, and Akasha too as she neared.

"I spoke true, friends. I am no charlatan. And we are all of us richer than we dared count not a moment before."

[Akasha]

Akasha followed Wulthgar's circuit with wide eyes, then glanced to her sister to see if she was any less perplexed by the dwarf's antics.

"Um... no. This one does not think she is any richer than before."

She wiped her blade clean on a sash hanging from her belt as she crossed toward Ashira. "Sister, are you injured?"

[Ashira]

"I am unharmed," came the amused if slightly perplexed reply as she continued to stare down at Wulthgar. His small dance around her had been met with an odd look and a measure of silence, but her thoughts on the matter were soon enough brushed aside as Akasha moved toward her.

Pulling a face, she gave a tsk to the dwarf.

"And I too, am no richer than before."

A last gaze to the bear, ideas forming in her mind before Ashira let here eyes finally fall on her sister. The swipe that she'd taken was not any blow from a feather duster, that was for certain.

"And you? I've not seen you sent off your feet in a long while."

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

"I disagree!" Wulthgar countered to the Khajiti appraisal of wealth, shaking one leg of his damp pantaloons as he began the task of coaxing his donkey back on the road. Fortunately the traitorous beast of burden hadn't wandered terribly far, but it was nevertheless a stubborn ass every bit as the idiom suggested, and Wulthgar found himself putting his back into tugging at the reins.

"Perhaps your purse is no heavier but...ngh...you will find...ggh...an appreciation of quality...hnnk...in things once seen mundane."

Panting after finally getting the donkey back on the road, Wulthgar raised a hand to smack the stubborn beast, but took solace in his own life affirmation, and instead kissed it eagerly on the forehead, which was repaid with another HAAAW.

"Does not life feel that much sweeter, now that it remains securely in your own hands?"

[Akasha]

"This one has not been struck by a bear in a long while," Akasha grunted as she prodded her chestplate where the beast's paw had landed. Her armor had done an admirable job of distributing the blow, but come sundown she knew she'd be wearing large, blackened bruises beneath the fur of her shoulders and abdomen. She took a deep breath, and, satisfied that she had broken no ribs, let it out again with relief.

"Fine," she said, and then she stepped forward again, stumbled, and was caught in her sister's arms before she overbalanced.

She turned her dark-furred face up toward Ashira's and grinned as though she'd drunk a barrel full of skooma. "We fought a bear."

Then the same giddy intoxication that had beset Wulthgar overtook her, and she laughed uproariously and pounded Ashira on the back.

"If Father could see us now, ai?"

[Ashira]

All told, it was infectious, and Ashira couldn't help the smile breaking her stern expression. She returned the hearty back-slap with a little bit of a jovial shake. Even as she helped to right her sister on her feet, the taller Khajiit let out a laugh of her own.

"Aye, a bear," she grinned. "He would say that we are touched in our heads!"

Yellow eyes narrowed in a conspiratorial fashion even as her grin turned sly.

"He would also say that this bear... though his meat is poisoned, is still useful for his pelt and claws."

Ashira let a single claw out to taktak against the chestplate that Akasha wore.

"Fur would be far more comfortable beneath this thing rather than the cloth-linen you have now, I'd wager."

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

"I also carry an assortment of cures and dyes for the tanning trade." Wulthgar piped up, getting a strange look from the two felines, which he countered with a reassuring gesture.

"Gratis, naturally. My brush with Oblivion has made me somewhat more generous than otherwise. That, and the heat of a curing fire might put right the sins of a weak bladder, if you will permit. I would very much like to dry my garment, and to imbibe a few skins of wine to ease my overburdened nerves."