A Slayer Comes

The Bounty

Whiterun rests on a tall hill. Guarded by old, yet sturdy walls. From it's vantage, it commands the surrounding area for miles. A fortress of its own. There by commanding the Tundra. Yet for all it's magnanimous presence. The Grim Rider simply crossed through its gates as intimated as a Sabre Cat is by a squirrel.

The old gates were open wide, the stallion banners hung high and flying proud in the sway of the wind. Clad in his darkened steel armor and black fur cloak. The Grim Warrior walked Whiteruns main street like a shadow newly unfurled from a lightless land. With all eyes that met his own being struck silent by his passing.

As the citizens made their rounds about the market. The Grim Warrior kept his course true and walked undistracted to the Bannered Mare. One of the finest inns in the land. Mirth and merriment resounded from the other side of the door. The cackle of drunken boasts and the laughter of old friends dominated even the atmosphere of the outside.

The Grim Warrior entered the Bannered Mare with a controlled pace. Staggering many who were seated by the front door with his imposing presence. The loud merriment died down for the brief moment of his crossing from the entry way to the bar where Hulda oversaw her treasured establishment.

Wasting no time, yet without haste, the Grim Warrior took umbrage with the vacant stool at the end of the bar. Lowering his black fur hood to reveal long and wild locks of Ghost White hair crowning his head. Many thought him to be a man of sixty years from the color of his hair. Though the Warriors scared and bearded face resembled that of a man in the early spring of his fourth decade of life.

"Honningbrew Mead, if you please." The Grim Warrior asked with a deep gruff voice. To the man seated next to him. It might as well have been the crash of lightning. Hulda, unphased by the Grim Ones voice, accommodated his request. Brandishing a chilled bottle of Honningbrew Mead with a professional haste that seemed like a dance born of feline grace.

The Grim Warrior took hold of the bottle with grateful care. Meeting the mouth of the bottle with his mustache veiled lips and drinking steadily and appreciatively. First the bottle was returned to the table top of the bar. Then a steady swallow of the Mead in his mouth. The Grim Warrior then exhaled satisfied with his beverage.

"What else can I get you dear?" Hilda asked with a friendly tone.

"I'm passing through looking for work. The kind that requires a sword." The Grim Warrior stated with his gruff voice bellowing from his lungs.

Hulda took a pause and thumbed through her memories of gossip and official decrees voiced from Dragonsreach. Eventually finding what he asked for. "There is something I heard announced recently. Apparently a Giant migrated into the area near Rorikstead. Causing no end of terror."

The Grim Warriors face stired with intrigue. The excitement of facing a Giant burning bright in his wolven eyes. "And the coin on offer?" He asked.

"Don't remember. You should head up to Dragonsreach and ask Proventus Avenicci for the details." Hulda answered.

"My thanks." The Grim Warrior said before resting seven Gold Septims on the bar. Putting a smile on Huldas face. Since the Mead was only worth five.

"Come back anytime." Hulda said with warm appreciation for the Grim Warrior.

The Grin Warrior gave no word in reply. Only a wave in respect as he made for the door. Willing to waste no more time on a bounty like this. A Giant is surely to fetch a handsome sum. Being such a consistent issue for the Hold.

Once more, the Grim One walked like a living totem of death through the streets populated by the common folk of Whiterun. Striking at the senses of many who were unlucky enough to miss his gaze. Though he didn't try to meet their eyes at all.