» Thu May 03, 2012 12:18 pm Artur and Faendal stumbled into Whiterun around midday. The journey from Riverwood had been perilous, what with feral wolfs and other less undesirable creatures wondering through the wilderness, attacking passers-by at leisure. They had also been given a hard time at the gates by the city guards, which was not surprising considering the recent dragon attack, an attack that Artur had somehow survived relatively unscathed.
What Man and Mer needed now was a place to buy a tankard of ale and some warm food. Artur checked his dwindling supply of gold. Best just to have the ale then, he thought. As the largest trading city in Skyrim, Whiterun had an abundance of food, ale and all manner of trading posts but if they wanted to keep living the dream that was a full belly, they would have to find work soon. And what better place to find work than the gossip mongering of a bored bar keep? Hopefully The Drunken Huntsman was no exception.
The smell of cheap ale and cooking fires assaulted Artur’s nose as he walked in the door. As normal, Faendal kept his opinion of Artur’s choice in establishments to himself. However, it was clear from his demur that the confined and cramp area that served as a drinking ground to the Huntsman’s patrons did not appeal to him. The tender introduced himself as Elrindir, Artur quickly masked his surprise and smirk at seeing another Bosmer, apparently not all wood elves were as fussy as Faendal.
“I’m looking for work, you got any leads?” asked Artur
“Try Hulda, the innkeeper at the Bannered Mare. It’s just up the road, near the market. You should check in at Dragonsreach too. There’s so much going on these days, the Jarl or his Steward might have need of help.” Elrindir’s response sounded well-rehearsed.
Clearly Artur’s previous theory had a few flaws. Thanking the man he turned on his heel and marched to the door, Faendal in toe. From there they walked at pace towards the cloud district and what they hoped was a brief appointment with the Jarl.
Artur thought of Whiterun as one of the more beautiful cities in Skryim. And it was not hard to see why with the beautiful Gildergreen in full view, flanked by the cascading waterfalls that made up the Dragons Reach’s main entrance. Even the priests of Kynareth pratting about its base had their place. Artur’s legs were burning with fatigue by the time he reached the top of the marble stairs, he had to give a grudging respect to the poor fools that walked up and down its length all day.
“Staying out of trouble kinsman?” the guards question dripped with mockery. Maybe the steps were a good idea after all. He pushed open the great oak doors eager for the next challenge ahead.
