On the planet of Nirn, on the continent of Skyrim, during the tumultuous and bloody war between the Empire and the Stormcloaks, Edgar Van Nord goes to accept the bounty for Skjor, a Companion turned murderer, from Balgruff the Greater, the Jarl of Whiterun. As Van Nord walks up the stairwell towards the throne of the Jarl, the housecarl Irileth bars his way.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” The Dark Elf stares at Van Nord, taking in the blond hair tied into a singular braid, the sea green eye opposite a scarred and milky white one, and the imposing fisque covered in ebony armor.
“In response to your first question, I am Edgar Van Nord, bounty hunter and student at the College of Winterhold. And I'm here to get more of the information about Skjor. Anything wrong with that?” A smile tugged at the corner of Van Nord's mouth at the look of bewilderment and amazement passed over the elf's face.
“I'm not used to many people coming through here with any more intelligence than to know how to swing a battleaxe. Maybe you'll be able to take him down. We've sent multiple adventurers his way, and everyone of them has met very grisly end.” Irileth looks up at the Jarl talking to his regent, Proventus Arentino. “Go, hurry up now, before I change my mind.”
Edgar Van Nord nods his thanks, and heads up the final three stairs toward the throneroom, passing the doorways into the Magister's study on his right, and on his left, the entryway to the kitchen. As he passes the study, he hears Farengar Secret-Fire mumbling about a dragonstone and draugr. Pushing it out of his mind, Van Nord bows to Balgruff.
The Jarl waves away Proventus. “Are you here about the bounty? We need someone with more skill than a Companion. We can't hire...
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... Companions have left him.
The guardsmen take control of the bound Skjor and escorts him towards the Jarl. Van Nord follows behind them, in case of any retaliation.
After Jarl Balgruff sentences Skjor to prison, he calls Van Nord forward. He hands him a large pouch of gold and says, “Good job, my friend. Anything you need, you must only ask.”
Van Nord takes the pouch and nods. “Thank you, but I'm going on my way now.” He then turns on his heel and walks toward the door.
“What will you do next, my friend? Will you take a rest? Or will you continue on searching for bounties?”
As Van Nord reaches the door, he stops and looks over his shoulder saying, “I'll keep going, because no one else can do what I do. Remember me when you have another bounty, Jarl.”
Van Nord walks out the door of the throne room, off on his search for a worthy battle and worthy bounty.
" What is it " I asked looking at them in concern. Voltaire pushes them out the door and hushes them. He brought back a small piece of armor and I looked in the reflection.
The mercenary laughed. “I told you before Reinhardt. Such outdated virtues have no place in this world anymore. The only thing that matters is to get the job done, no matter the cost.”
“I don’t want to fight James Braddock because I’m so scared I will kill him.”
... me no choice. That blacksmith is my friend, so I have to kill you. It does not matter that people will come looking for you because I will not be here,” Finishing his sentence with a gunshot.
"SilverVan," Brixon, the human barbarian, messaged the paladin using the guild chat window. "My warriors are ready to move. Just say the word."
"Hold your hand Soldier. He's the bravest lad I've ever seen and I'll not have him whipped." He paused for a moment. " At least not until I've spoken with him and see what this is all about."
“Can I kill him? Can this be the end? No, it’s not going to work.”
“Very well, but if your master would like to join me and my knights on our quest, the rewards would be much greater than a mere fifteen dollars.”
As he finally makes it back to his hometown of Geatland. His men reunite with the king
“I really need to stop taking these mini-adventures behind the scenes.” Said tails putting his hands behind his head and laying back.
“You don’t know me.” My voice sounded as unsteady as his stance. He shrugged as he chuckled; the laughter turned my blood cold. He seemed to know something I did not.
“No, let me!” yells Abdul. He points his sword at the king and the assassin, and slowly walks towards them.
“Well, I suppose you shouldn't give up hope. I'd advise you to ply your charms, but as Ned would say, it's like asking a plow horse to run at Santa Anita.”
“Look here you lazy sack of bones, I tried to ask for help, but you were too busy skull-king to help me out.”