A tall Breton sat in the Bannered Mare, enjoying a meal of fish and spiced wine, his dark jade eyes silently watching the other patrons as they went about their buisness. The Breton was athletic, tan and sported short dark hair and a heavy scar on his face. His features were difficult to make out however, as the hood from his shoulder cloak masked his face in shadows.
The man was relaxing after collecting a massive sum of money from his last contract. The reward was supposed to have been split amongst five people, but four of those five "accidentally" perished inside an ancient Nordic tomb.
It was so easy, the Breton thought. All he had do to was shove one into the incoming battleaxe of a dragur and the rest sorted itself out. Two of the fools had perished in a simple poisoned arrow trap. The last one simply died of his own arrogance. The foolish mage was so certain of his answer to the ancient puzzle door that he didn't even notice when the Breton man spun one of the circles while the man bragged about his genius to his comrades.
Just like that, the Breton man claimed nearly half a million septims. The Companions sure paid a hell of a lot just to get a simple shard of an old axe. The Breton took another swig of his wine as a woman frantically burst into the room, her hair caked in dirt and her face slicked in sweat. The Breton rolled his eyes and returned to his meal, but the woman soon appeared inches from his face.
"Are you the man they call Raven?" She asked between ragged breaths. The Breton pushed the woman back until she was an arms reach from his table.
"First off, back the hell up, I'm trying to enjoy a meal without your foul stench. Secondly, who the hell wants to know?" The woman paused, taken aback by the rude man, but she quickly regained her composure.
"Please, you have to help..." the woman was abruptly cut short by the man,
"I really don't have to help you," The man said, with a grunt.
"Please, my son and I were attacked by vampires!"
"And you left him? Pathetic."
"No! Please, they've taken my son to a redoubt not far from here."
"Why the hell should I care?"
The woman drew a surprised breath, "Because my sonis about to be killed by vampires! Please I need your help to get him back!"
The Breton sighed impatiently, "Again, why the hell should I care?"
Another man stormed up to the Breton's table, slamming his hand down, "You should care because this woman is pleading for your help!"
"No. She's really not. She hasn't offered me anything." The man, a hefty Nord, made to grab the Breton, but he kicked the table over and sent the Nord reeling. The Nord threw the table off, but recieved a crushing roundhouse kick squarely in the jaw.
The Nord struggled to his feet, spouting a string of profanity as he did so. The Breton shattered a chair over the man's head, slamming the bloodied Nord back to the ground. The Breton snatched a fork from another table and jammed it into the Nord's hand, nailing it to the ground. The man yelled in agony, but the Breton kicked the man in the face and drew his sword, holding it at the man's throat.
"Don't get up," he sneered. The Breton turned back to the hysteric woman, who offered up a sizeable coin purse at his approach.
The Breton laughed, "You know, this could have been so much simpler if you had done that earlier." The Breton sighed, taking the money, "Such a waste of good food."
"Are you Raven?" The woman repeated.
"I thought I made that clear," the man said.
Raven followed the woman to a cave about three miles from Whiterun, quickly killing the four Necromancers - the stupid wench thought they were vampires - and saving the cowering boy. It wasn't anywhere near as fruitful a job as the last, but the Necromancers had a few valuable trinkets that earned Raven a few more septims when he returned to Whiterun.
As he exited Belethor's sad excuse for a shop, Raven was stopped by a guard.
"Word is that you assaulted a man inside the Bannered Mare and damaged some property."
"Yea, why the hell do you care?"
"Because you owe 200 septims to the Inn-Keeper."
Raven shoved past the guard waving him off, "Get it from the damn fool who started the fight."
The guard scoffed, drawing his sword, "We can do this one of two ways. You can pay up, or I can beat it out of you."
"You best put that sword away."
The guard stepped closer, "Last chance."
Raven sighed tossing the money at the guard, "Fine. Take your damn coins and get the hell out of my face."
Raven strode away from the guard, making for the Drunken Huntsman.