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((
So yeah--
I got way too lazy and didn't finish the sketch of what Galdolf actually looks like, but basically.. His hair is to his shoulders, a lot darker than Vilka's, and he has messy bangs around his face. Also- a long scar across his left eye, and around his face-- just look in the pic. Blah blah- yeah. The armor in the picture is also what he wears- ))

It was another day in Skyrim. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining. People were wandering through the streets of their towns going about their every day business. The deer and animals were grazing on the plains and in the mountains. Everything was normal.

Well- except for the fact that a certain woman was arguing with one of the stall keepers in Whiterun.

“Are you serious?!”
Vilka had just about had enough. She had just travelled across Skyrim in search of some stupid animal that the dark elf had asked for. It was a weird mix between a dog and a cat, mixed with some kind of cow in between. It was pretty disgusting, but it was a job, and she was going to do it.
Of course, when she had killed the damn thing and brought it back, the dark elf shook his head and said it 'wasn't the right one'.

“What the hell do you mean it isn't the 'right one'?!” She growled, banging her fist on his stall. The man jumped back, pointing at the hunk of flesh and meat she had dropped on his table. “It's not the right one! It has a larger body than that.” The way he said it. As if it was obvious.
Vilka's eye twitched in irritation. The way she just glared at him, it was so obvious that she was about to kill the man. “I swear to the gods--” She started to mutter, expression darkening, when there was suddenly a loud commotion from the front gates.
There was shouting. A lot of shouting. A small group had even formed around whatever was happening. “What the..?” Out of curiosity, Vilka dropped what she had been doing, venturing over to the group- which mainly consisted of guards. “Out of the way.” She pushed a few people aside, earning a few complaints, as she made her way to the front of the crowd.

Laughter rang in the air, as there was a loud shouting and screaming from what seemed like a very angry guard. Finally able to see what was happening, Vilka soon realized that the guards had a man on the ground with his face on the stones, attempting to handcuff him. The person laughing was the man on the ground.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Vilka shouted, as all of the guards looked up, eyes wide. They all stood at attention, swallowing. “T-Thane,” One of them said nervously, “We found this man outside the gates.”
“Why are you trying to arrest him?”
“W-Well, he's the leader of the Rebellion.”

That caught Vilka's attention.
“...You're all dismissed.”
“But--”

“NOW!”
All the guards quickly ran off.

The man on the ground groaned quietly as he stood up. He was much taller than any of them by far, his armor dusted and ripped in a few places. His hair was midnight black, long and messy, falling around his shoulders. His eyes seemed brighter than sapphires, a light turquoise color. “I'm so sorry about all that,” Vilka started to say as she walked to his side. “The guards can be a bit idiotic someti-”
She stopped short, as the tall man turned to look at her. A large, long scar was across his left eye. It was old and faded, but she recognized it anywhere. Other multiple scars were across his left cheek, like he had taken a bad mauling from an angry animal.
Vilka's eyes shot wide, as the man's did as well. After a split second of staring, the man went to step forward and say something, but the woman was quicker. She stepped back and grabbed Dorian's hand, turning and starting to run off the other way.

The man stared in shock, before he started to follow after. “Wait!” He shouted, as they passed by the market. “Vilka, stop!” She still didn't slow down.

“Sis, WAIT!”