<div class="floatleft">(http://i1221.photobucket.com/albums/dd461/rikk_319/Character%20Images/Viking_Warrior_by_severeene.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Aelfgar<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Reach, just outside of Markarth<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Early evening, dusk.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Drake, Iljana, Moric, open<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>It took only ten minutes to reach his tethered horses; they were under the overhang near the bottom of a cliff outcropping.  He approached the hulking black warhorse, stroking its chin and forehead.  "Minnefat, aye, that's his name...ten years with me and built all of courage."  Then he moved to the slightly smaller draft horse, which seemed just as intelligent as Minnefat, nickering and nuzzling Aelfgar's hand.  "This is Terious...he's the heavy lifting boy among the two...but he'll not give a single complaint.  He's been with me twelve years.  These two are my closest friends in these wide lands, and they know me better than any two-legs."  He said this with some humor, but there was much truth in it--and further, both of them were unfazed by his were-form, as there was too much of his human scent when in it, and he'd spent much time in the deep reaches of Skyrim in were-form while leading them towards a kill.  He knew he ran a risk, if he couldn't find something to prey upon, that he might turn on his own horses, but so far he'd been wise enough to never put himself in that position.<br/><br/>After checking the gear on his horses, he began walking them back towards the camp; he was too respectful to mount Minnefat and ride while Drake walked.  "Tell me more of the Companions," he spoke suddenly.  He had a sudden urge to understand them better--to know what they offered someone like the elf...and perhaps he himself.