Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20150618162258/@comment-5583506-20150620184842

"Hey, don't think you are getting that drink without me, you..."

Elda froze up as she saw the big Nord sitting by the counter. It couldn't be...? No, it was definitely him. There could be no arguments about it. Her hand slowly moved towards the hilt of her shortsword.

''By the Gods, what am I thinking?! ''she thought, interrupting her action.

There was no denying that the man by the counter could be no one else but Arngrim Bearsbane, or the Bull of Skyrim, as some people called him. This man was responsible for many deaths of her kin over the years, pushing them back whenever they had raided a village, a camp or a troop. Her uncles had spoken of his name with as much hatred as they had with respect. The man was a natural born commander after all, and during the past wars he had actually helped the Reach to push back some patrolling Thalmor squads and secured Skyrim's borders. Her opinions of him were in tatters.

Killing Arngrim Bearsbane would indeed by a great accomplishment, but what would her kin think of her if she performed the deed by stabbing him in the back like some spineless gutter rat? No. She wanted the man dead, but doing it from the shadows was unbecoming of her... at least in this case. The Bull deserved better than an unexpected stab from the shadows by no one.

"Ehrm, I am just gonna order a room for now", she simply said in hesitation.

Arngrim glanced over at the three strangers entering the inn. They didn't look like they belonged together the least. The Imperial had the look as if he was on the run from something. He could recognise the features of a deserter anywhere. He had seen plenty of it during the Civil War. The Nord warrior looked as if he had seen plenty of battles in his lifetime.

A man like myself, he reflected.

And there was the woman. The thin facial features, the slender body shape, even the colour of her hair, all indicated to the fact that she was of Nordic and Bretonic breed. She seemed to have the determination of the common Nord, but the elegant appearence of a Breton, yet something was a bit... odd... She reminded him too much of the Forsworn. Could be that perhaps she was of Reachmen stock, but then again, that was none of his business. As long as she didn't plan on attacking harmless civilians he saw little reason to draw his axe...