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The snow whip across the stone street with a gentle rustle, almost masking the conversation of two figures standing in the ice scarred expanse of stone that lay below the massive iron gates of Windhelm.
The characters of this vista a, scale-backed fighter garbed in the battle-dress of a Companion, the other a dark haired Nordic sell-sword gripping the worn handle of a ancient blade.

-What will be your price Harnkil?-

-650, no less Kaenya, alright?-

-Very well here be your gold. But no more asking, it will make my scales itch.-

Harnkil had gone on for seven months without a contract, SEVEN! He would not make the same mistake again, but still the secrecy of his employer was uncomfortable, more so than troll stench. Maybe it was the demand of visiting the nearby ruins. Whatever the case Harnkil needed the gold, especially if he planed to repay Gavlvich. -Cursed old man, his kindness and gold will make me soft again, I cant afford that, especially now.- His mind gazing back into the past, the blood still fresh in his mind.

-Hey nord! Stop daydreaming, we have a job to finish!-

Whispering under his breath so no one else would hear -Cursed lizard! Well all die soon in the ruins-