((OOC: Hope you don't mind if I jump in. Don't have a CC, but you'll learn more about my character as the thread goes on.))
A figure in the shadows slowly creeped toward the family of deer. The Redguard hadn't eaten in days, and this hunger made him more reckless than usual. Suddenly - Crunch! - he stepped on a stick, sending off the deer. "Damn," Ahzar swore under his breath. The Redguard stood up. A bit over 6 feet tall, he was taller than the average Nord. The years of moving, stalking, wandering, combined with his diet of wild meat and sparse vegetation, had made Ahzar a muscular, but lean man. He surveyed the landscape with his piercing gray eyes. No food in sight, but it would be getting dark soon, and the wind was picking up a bit. He considered setting up a camp, but there was about an hour of sunlight left, so the Redguard pressed on in search of an inn.
A few minutes later, he heard a crunch behind him. Probable a bandit. Nothing he couldn't take care of, but there would be more nearby. "Damn," Ahzar said for the second time. He quickly considered his options while walking as if there wasn't a noisy lowlife stalking him. He had an ebony sword at his waist, a combat dagger, an ebony bow, and several throwing daggers at the right side of his waist, used for throwing as well as skinning. Ahzar smiled to himself, admiring his smithing skills. Ahzar thoughts wandered to the bandit for a few moments, then he made up a strategy.
He turned around, hurling one of his daggers at the figure. The bandit let out a small groan as the dagger that pierced his heart killed him. With sword in his right hand and dagger in his left, he charged at one of the brigand's comrades, dodging his clumsy warhammer and killing him with a few quick strokes. In a few moments, they were all dead. Ahzar had barely broken a sweat. As a hunter and wanderer, he could stalk for hours, run for miles, and fight a hundred bandits should the need arise. His aggressive dual-wielding fighting style and his dodging ability made the fight that much shorter. But his leather armor, though reinforced, could not stand the swing of a battleaxe. Evasion was his main defence. Because of this, fights did not last long. They couldn't.
Ahzar took his fur cloak from his pack and wrapped himself in it. The wind was much stronger now, and it was getting colder, now that the sun was close to setting. He wandered around, and it began to rain. His camping supplies were soaked, which meant no fire. But in the distance, he saw....an inn? It was surprising to see an inn in the middle of the forest, but it was a place where he could rest, and maybe find out where he was.
Ahzar ran all the way there, bursting through the doors. The innkeeper looked at him with a look of mild surprise, then said, "Do you need anything?" "Yes," Ahzar replied. "I need a bowl of venison stew, 3 pieces of beef, a carrot, 2 red apples, and a bottle of Honningbrew Mead. Also, could you fill up my water pouch?" "Uh, sure," the innkeeper said, taking the small purse of septims and the goatskin pouch that Ahzar gave him. Once the food arrived, Ahzar ate it hastily, then bought another bottle of mead. As he was setting his cloak over the fire, Ahzar heard a conversation. Sitting on a bench, he drank and listened.
