"Alright, alright. I'll take you on a walk. Good boy.. Good doggy," soothed the Khajiit to the dog, attaching its leash onto its collar. He cranked open his broken front door, stepping out into the cold wind with Tiger. "C'mon Tiger!" he shouted playfully, starting to slowly jog next to the animal.
"Well well well, what do we have here?" said a croaky, ugly voice. The Khajiit froze in fear, and turned around slowly. A Dunmer stood, crossbow aimed at his chest. "I like your jacket.. Take it off," said the man, pointing at him.
The Khajiit wasn't wearing a jacket. "Ohh that's your fur? I'll just have to skin it off," he bellowed, sending a crossbow bolt into the cat's chest. "A fine coat such as yours'll get a mighty fine price on the market," he sneered at the dying Khajiit.
"No... Please.." he begged. Tiger was barking furiously at the man with the crossbow.
"Shut up you stupid mut," he shouted, shooting the dog through the skull. It plummeted to the snowy floor, bleeding out of its head.
"Tiger.." stammered the Khajiit.
"Time to put you out of your misery, housecat."
The last thing the Khajiit saw was the sneering face of the Dunmer and a bolt flinging out of a crossbow.
+++
The Dunmer entered the bar.
"Heeey if it isn't old Hal," shouted the barkeep, a huge Nord named Omas.
"Hello my friend," said Hal, hefting the bag of Khajiit fur on his shoulder. "I killed a bear.. Skinned it. Had the strangest fur. Now if you wouldn't mind fixing me up a Godsmasher eh?"
"Godsmasher eh. Quite a heavy drink for a little Dark Elf," countered the Nord.
"Hah! You're just jealous a "little Dark Elf" can out drink your sad [censored]," he said with a wink.
Omas grunted, "May I be damned if I can be out drank by a Dunmer!" the Nord slammed two mugs of ale on the table. Hal grasped one of them.
"Cheers."
They chugged down the mead and the Nord belched loudly. "It seems we have a tie, Omas."
"Indeed, Hal. I have had enough drink for tonight... You still want that Godsmasher?"
"Yeah, I'll have a Godsmasher."
Omas mixed up a fast Godsmasher, a mixture of the most potent alcohols in the land. The Dunmer chugged it in three gulps, the fiery liquid racing down his throat.
"Ahhh..." sighed Hal.
"Get to bed, Hal.. You don't look so good."
"Aye.." burped the Dark Elf, stumbling upstairs and to his room.
The soft, fluffy beds in the top of the bar were for special guests only, and Hal Stormbolt was one of them. He fell down on the pillows and blankets on the bed, sinking into its cozy depths.
The dark pull of sleep overcame him and he fell into a deep slumber. The bloody bag of Khajiit fur was in a pile in the corner of the room. Its ominous presence sent a chill down the Dunmer's spine, even though he was asleep. It was a shadow over his dreams the whole night.
OOC: Don't be too harsh in the critique on this, because I'm just experimenting with new ideas to see what I'm going to write about forreals next.