Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim. Wish I did though. Skyrim is glorious.

—

Raxal pulled his hood up a little more to block out the damned, bright sunshine out of his eyes.

'God I miss the rain' he thought. 'Or the clouds. Or the inside of a rented room. Oh well, I am the one who decided to be a bounty hunter. What a brilliant fucking life decision.'

His musings on the direction of my life were cut short when what has got to be the scariest damn roar he's ever heard tore through the sky so he dived off the road into a ditch and when he looked up he saw a dragon. An honest to Malacath dragon…and the fucker was a massive son-of-a-bitch. As an Orc he knew he should be happy at the prospect of death in battle but he'd prefer to actually be able to hurt my enemy before they tear me apart. So he wasn't really upset when it just kept on flying. He climbed out of the ditch and checked he still had my gear. His pack, check. Novice Hood, check. Belted tunic, gloves and boots, check. Dual steel swords on his back, check. He sighed and kept going on down the road, he was pretty close to Whiterun anyway.

—

The roar reverberated through the air and a short wood elf looked up.

"What the bloody hell was that?" He said aloud, his familiar whined slightly.

"You're right Mune! We should check Falkreath! Maybe someone there will know what the fuck that was."

Mune the familiar howled.

"I'm sure Mother will be fine and safe with Cicero and the family. Let us go my dear familiar! Onward to ADVENTURE!"

Mune the familiar grunted in pain and dispelled.

"Goddamnit."

—

'Bastards. Utter bastards!' Raxal mentally shouted 'If the 'Guards' of Whiterun had their heads any further up their cheaply whored out assholes, they'd be inside out…that probably wasn't fair of me, or true at all. Only true for the two at the gate.'

Regardless the guards had left him with an overwhelming desire to kill something.

'Oh hey. Rampaging giant. Perfect.'

Drawing his swords he rushed forwards, the others fighting the thing made it stagger. He ran up behind it and used its leg to jump up and stab it in both sides of the neck. It roared in pain but he smiled and started channeling Sparks spells through the blades. The giant began twitching…and given the sound, its eyeballs just exploded. Good. When his Magicka ran out he pulled his swords out of its neck and hopped to the ground. Raxal and the others just watched it fall to the ground with a rather loud thud, after a few seconds he walked forwards and cleaned his swords on its pants, then he checked its pockets. Its pockets turned out to be empty.

'Bastard didn't even have any decent loot the fu-' Raxal's mental flow of profanity was interrupted by a feminine voice.

"Impressive, a little gory, but impressive. You'd make a decent shield-brother."

Raxal restrained a sigh at what sounded like another recruitment pitch "Am I meant to know what a 'Shield-Brother' is?" He asked in a moderately polite voice.

"An outsider, eh? Never heard of the Companions?"

"Is that a brothel?" Raxal asked in a deadpan way.

"No it is not!" The woman shouted "It is an order of warriors! We are brothers and sisters in honour! And we solve problems if the coin is good enough."

"So you just sell yourselves in a different way" Raxal said with a smile that was far too cheeky "mercenary whores."

The woman just growled and made to draw her bow but her companion, a bear of a man with a greatsword on his back, held her back "It isn't worth it Aela" he said quietly. She glared at him but stop trying to draw her weapon, then she noticed Raxal walking away "where do you think you're going?!"

Raxal raised his hand as if to wave but only his middle finger was raised "I'm going to Falkreath miss angry. By the way, you should really keep your nose out of other people's business!"

And with that Raxal kept walking, only leaving a woman screaming in rage

—

Raxal grumbled as he stood at the entrance of Bloated Man's Grotto. He didn't actually care about the werewolf the Deadric Prince Hircine wanted dead, but when a Deadric Prince wanted you to do something it was usually best to just do it. So he just sighed and head in. He could hear some fighting in the distance so he headed deeper along the lefthand path and he ducked behind a tree when he saw other hunters, then he simply watched as the werewolf and a man in leather armour and hood swiftly killed the hunters…but the man? Kid? The scrawny bastard in leather could barely keep hold of the blade he was holding. Damn nice weapon it was too. Raxal quickly decided it was going to be his. He drew his left hand sword and prepared a Flames Spell in his right. When the two drew close he rushed out of cover and swung his sword at the man's head but he quickly leant back to avoid the strike.

'So novice with the sword but not to fighting huh?'

Raxal raised his right hand and blasted the werewolf's face with fire. It howled in pain. The man tried to attack with a clumsy uppercut and Raxal diverted it upwards with his sword, he then ended his spell and his hand flew to his other sword. He drew it and slashed downwards but the werewolf caught it in its teeth and snapped it in half so Raxal cast a quick Firebolt in its face. The man tried to stab Raxal but he moved slightly to the side and allowed the sword to pass by harmlessly. Raxal slammed both hilts into the man's hand and forced him to let go of the sword, he then quickly dropped the handle of the broken sword and grabbed the curved sword in a reverse grip and quickly held both to the front and back of the man's neck but didn't do more as he felt a clawed hand grip his own neck.

"Let my friend go" a surprisingly gentle voice spoke from behind him.

"You can speak huh?" Raxal mused aloud "so I guess that means you aren't feral."
"I am not."

"Then why have you got a Prince after your hide?"

"I…I wished to gain control of the beast inside me…so I took the Ring of Hircine, it was said it would allow me control of of transformations but…"

"It completely fucked you over?" Raxal prompted.

"When doesn't Deadric shit do that?" The scrawny man asked.

Raxal sighed then sheathed his steel sword "Well I ain't a fan of the Princes so I sure as hell ain't gonna kill an innocent man."

Both the werewolf and the man relaxed and Raxal was released.

"I'm keeping the sword though so gimme the sheath" Raxal reached for it but the man stopped him.

"No mine."

Raxal stabbed the blade forward and cut the sheath and, quite accidentally, one of the man's fingers off.

"Owie" the man said sadly as he looked at the stump of middle finger "my favourite finger."

Raxal just rolled his eyes and cast a quickly Healing Hands on him and leant down a grabbed the sheath then he held it up.

"Mine" Raxal sheathed the sword and attached it to his belt "so what's your name fuzzy?" He asked as he looked at the werewolf.

"Sinding" he replied with a bow of his head.

"Raxal" he introduced himself and pulled down his hood, revealing a relatively plain Orc with slicked back black hair and a short beard, yellow eyes and small stripes of purple war paint over his left eye "and you scrawny?"

He scowled as he pulled his own hood down, revealing a Wood Elf with tied back brown hair, bright blue eyes and a jesters mark of orange war paint on his face.

"The name's Crimple!" He summoned a familiar "and this is MUNE!"

Raxal simply raised an eyebrow and looked at Sinding "Is he always this…fucked in the head."

"Hey!"

"As far as I can tell, yes he is."

"Sinding!"

"Crimple" Sinding deadpanned in response.

"…Rude" Crimple grumbled.

"Entertaining" Raxal said with a smile.

"Asshole."

"I do my best."

Sinding chuckled "While I shall remain here you should be going, but know you two will always be welcome back here" he finished with a smile.

"It would be a pleasurable honour Sinding!" Crimple said with a smile.

"Sure thing mutt" Raxal smiled and patted Sinding's head as he walked past.

"Hey! Sinding is a lovely man! He is not a mutt!…get back here and apologise!" Crimple rushed after Raxal and Sinding chuckled again.

—

Crimple found Raxal waiting outside…with the avatar of Hircine.

"Oh hey Hircy" Crimple greeting him casually.

"Well met again hunter" the ghostly stag spoke.

"I failed to kill him.'

"Not a failure, my servant."

"I didn't do what you wanted" Crimple said in confusion.

"So you may think. By bringing down my other hunters, you turned the chase inside out."

"Cop out" Raxal muttered.

"And they were no base prey."

"Could've fooled me" Raxal muttered.

"You continue to amuse and impress."

"Amuse yes, impress…I highly doubt it."

"Go forth, with my blessing."

"Lot of good that'll do him" Raxal snarked.

"SILENCE!" Crimple screamed at him.

Raxal stuck his tongue out at Crimple then spoke "When I'm gonna see if Whiterun is open yet" and he walked off.

"I'll come with you!" Crimple declared.

"God-fucking-damnit" Raxal sighed.

—

Author's Note: Well I hope you enjoyed this train wreck. There will be more.

Raxal is my Skyrim character.

Crimple is the Skyrim character of my friend LittleGhoulish on Deviantart.

If you are wondering what the 'Jesters Mark' war paint is, LittleGhoulish.

As you can tell, this story will focus on two main characters in the world of Skyrim as opposed to just one, and neither of them is the Dragonborn.

Hope you enjoyed!