Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-19164168-20170209134944/@comment-25073873-20170304033339

Renee frowned and slid off the horse as well, deciding to just follow while turning around to observe and look, to see if they were being followed.

---

(Time for Kristian Eleisyn)

A lone man sat at a table in Falkreath's inn, drinking slowly from a mug, not appearing to take note of anything around him, his eyes closed. It wasn't that he even appreciated what he was drinking, as it was obvious from his facial expression he hated it.

It didn't seem right for a delicate looking Breton man to be drinking in a rough, run down Nord inn, or even be in Skyrim, but he was. Furthermore, the man didn't even seem to care if he was obstructing the way, or taking up a four person table alone.

"Hey, boy, you are in my seat. Hoof it before we get nasty" growled a burly Nord, who was standing with three of his equally big friends, all smelling of cheap booze. The Breton just ignored the man, continuing to drink, as if he didn't even consider the statement a threat.

"Why you ..." the Nord started forward and swung his hand. He expected it to connect, and it did connect, with a palm, that held the hand in a viselike grip. The Breton had turned to face him, and with a twist, multiple cracking sounds could be heard as he broke almost all the bones in the punching hand of the Nord, maiming him for life.

The large man collapsed, as the Breton opened his eyes, staring at the remaining drunkards with his icy gaze. The rest of them didn't need a verbal warning as they dragged their now handicapped friend with them, retreating before any more trouble was caused.

And then the Breton resumed his drink, as if nothing had happened.