Ulwilon Forestlock sat quietly on a stump located somewhere a little ways off the road to Riften, rummaging through his rucksack as the last rays of a golden sunset bathed the skies above him in streaks of orange. Had he bothered to look up, he would have certainly thought it a gorgeous sight. However, other things were on his mind. At last, he found what he was looking for- a large hunk fresh venison and his trusty steel dagger. Stabbing the raw meat through the blade, he raised it cautiously to the fire, cooked it for a minute or two, and then began to eat. He smirked to himself as he chewed. To him, no meat tasted better than the kind you killed yourself.

Ulwilon loved to hunt, and fresh game meat was the good he made a living on. He had never really had to hunt in his youth, as he had not been a true child of Valenwood, and therefore had never had the dogma of the Green Pact instilled with him. Besides, while he believed in the Eight Divines no less than most common folk, he was not quite a mer devoted to their worship. In spite of all this, however, he found that he could not find himself at home in the great cities of Skyrim. Instead, many nights were spent alone, lying in a handcrafted lean-to tent beneath the starry sky as the smoke of a smoldering campfire danced in the dim starlight. That was home to him, and he was fine with keeping it that way.

At least, most of it. If truth be told, he was rather sick of the loneliness that such a life wrought. Not many Nords in this land trusted strangers enough to share a campfire with them, especially elves like Ulwilon. Sure, he might deal with the occasional ragged beggar looking for somewhere warm to lie near, or a traveler seeking a quick source of food, but that was about all he interacted with. A social life? Such a thing did not flourish for a man of the wilderness.

"Excuse me, wood elf?" a heavily-accented Khajiit voice called out to him. He nearly jumped. Such a strange coincidence the gods had thrown his way. Still, he shouldn't be so foolish as to turn away what he had just asked for. Turning around, he did indeed find himself face to face with a lone Khajiit, his body clad in a simple cloak that would not look out of place for a mage. It was not the kind of clothing he would expect a common Khajiit thief to wear, and that was a good start.

Still, he found it a little strange for a Khajiit to wander the lands of Skyrim alone. Most respectable, law-abiding members of this species wandered through this realm in caravans. Why did one didn't, he could not decipher.

"Ah, good evening, cat," Ulwilon greeted with a playful smirk, unaware of the impolite word choice he had used. "What can I do for you?"

If the khajiit was offended by the slur, he did not express so outwardly. Instead, he approached the camp with slow, deliberate steps, finding a seat on a nearby stone. "May I rest for the night at your camp, friend? M'aiq is tired of walking for the day."

Ulwilon shrugged. "Sure, I don't see why not. M'aiq, was it?"

"Thank you, and yes," M'aiq answered as he unfurled his own bedroll near the fire. He had no tent to accompany it, but seeing as how the skies were clear tonight, it wasn't much of a problem to Ulwilon.

"Are you a hunter, Mr. . ."

"Ulwilon!" the wood elf answered a little too eagerly. "Ulwilon Forestlock. Yeah, I guess you can say I've done my fair share of killing the gods' natural creations," he chuckled. It was intended as a joke, but the khajiit did not laugh.

"Yes, well this one asks because this one is hungry. Do you have any food?"

"Yeah," Ulwilon nodded. "Looking to buy?"

M'aiq the Liar frowned at the word 'buy'. "Oh, this one does not have any money. You see, an unfortunate encounter with two mudcrabs and a frost troll left this one without a septim. Perhaps one day, M'aiq will have his revenge, but not today."

Ulwilon finished off his last bite of venison and chewed it deliberately. "Well, I can't just give you food for free; a elf's gotta earn his living, doesn't he?"

"You are not wrong," M'aiq replied with a hint of a grin. "Perhaps an, er, unconventional transaction will suffice, no?"

Ulwilon cocked his head. He hoped the khajiit was not implying what he thought he was implying. "Come again?"

"A poem!" M'aiq offered cheerfully. "I shall recite a poem to the elf, and in return, he shall give me some of his meat! Does this sound like an agreeable transaction?"

"A poem, huh? Normally, I'd laugh in your face for assuming I'm a mer of wordplay, but you've rendered me curious," he remarked. After a moment's pondering, he nodded. "Alright, M'aiq, show me what you got."

M'aiq wasted no time in rising to his feet, posing with dramatic fanfare as he recited the following lines:

Greetings! This one is M'aiq the Liar!

I've wandered many lands both far and wide.

I hold secrets that all hearts desire

With a few "exaggerations" inside

Do not try to block holding two shortswords

Because you shall only stress yourself out

Just trust M'aiq; he's faced many a horde

This one knows what he is talking about.

For years, my clan has walked through Tamriel

Sharing our secrets with all that listen

And though Skyrim is but an icy hell

In this frozen land, our knowledge glistens

The things M'aiq says? To some, they are shocking!

But for right now, M'aiq is done talking.

Ulwilon just sat there, contemplating the peculiarity of the past minute or so. "What?"

"Do you have salmon?" M'aiq inquired hungrily. "M'aiq loves salmon. In fact, M'aiq loves all fish, both as friends and food. Most of the time, though, he loves them as the latter."

Ulwilon nodded. A deal was a deal, after all. He was certainly a host to strange company tonight, but he supposed beggars could not be choosers. "Sure thing, cat."