Snippet #2056465

Talen-Shei could hardly see a thing through the wild blizzard that tore through the forests of Eastmarch, how by the Nine did the local Nords cope with this weather. Skyrim was nothing like Talen-Shei's homeland of Black Marsh, Skyrim's vast, coniferous forests were nothing like the warm, wet swamps of Black Marsh. However, a job was a job, and Talen-Shei needed the money. He urged his weary horse forward, a horse he had stolen from a highwayman who had made the mistake of trying to rob Talen-Shei. As Talen-Shei usually did with his victims, he carved a picture of a snake into the highwayman's forehead. He was beginning to wonder if he might become immobile due to the cold, cold-blooded creatures like him were ill-suited to to frigid blizzards of Skyrim.

After about another hour of riding, Talen-Shei finally reached his destination, Windhelm. He dismounted his horse, he didn't bother leaving it at the stables, he didn't need it anymore. It ran off, Akatosh knew where to. He walked past a few guards who guarded the gate, the one wearing an open-faced helmet glowered at him as if he were Tullius himself. Talen-Shei was half inclined to drive his dagger through the bigot's throat, but he could hardly get a job fighting for the Stormcloaks if he killed off his allies. Silently cutting the string that attached his coin purse to his belt and stealing it was good enough.

Once inside the city, Talen-Shei decided he should find some warmth and food before he lost all mobility completely. There was a nearby inn, Candlehearth Hall that seemed to fit the bill perfectly.

Talen-Shei pulled down his hood as he entered, allowing the warmth of the inn to seep into his weary bones. The inn was filled with mostly Nords, but there were a few Dunmer and a Redguard woman as well. He sat himself down at one of the tables after buying a pint of ale and a large bowl of stew. Once he finished, he was going to straight to strike out a deal with Galmar Stone-Fist.