Author note: This chapter has been written for a long time. There will be more, I'll just apologise in advance for the time it will probably take!
"Talsgar! Talsgar the Wanderer..." Talsgar declared to his reflection, then added in a dramatic whisper, "Werewolf Hunter." He did this every day. It prepared him for the day or night ahead. He couldn't go around shouting about his Werewolf related activities, but he thought whispering it added a sense of exciting intrigue, anyhow.
He usually avoided settlements unless his work took him there, preferring to camp; it kept him away from nosy strangers, fitted with his cover story of being the wandering bard who played for the common man on the road, and kept him in tune with the nature around him. It was important to feel the land, so he would know when something was off- if something was a little more lupine that it should be. Nevertheless, if he was lead to a town he would welcome the opportunity to sleep in a warm bed, enjoy the food and mead, and subtly gather information from the locals and guests on his quarry.
Today he awoke in Vilemyr Inn in Ivarstead. He'd spotted one particular werewolf several times now. Well, more accurately he'd been tracking this particular werewolf for some time. There was something different about it. It seemed... focussed? Intellient? Almost purposeful... it was not simply hunting for food or sport. It was always going somewhere. Some interesting places, too. He'd tracked it to numerous ancient ruins, barrows, near several cities. And recently it had seemed to be heading for Ivarstead. The only reason anybody went there was to visit take the pilgrimage up the seven thousand steps that lead to High Hrothgar. What business does a werewolf have with the Greybeards? he pondered. He felt absurd asking himself such a question, but he would not be Skyrim's officially sanctioned, top secret werewolf hunter if he shied away from conspiracy.
Today, he was Talsgar the Wanderer... Werewolf Investigator.
It was a spectacular evening in the town at the foot of the Throat Of The World and Ungahrm Bjadassen, Dovahkiin, was drunk. He wouldn't say he got drunk often... for a Nord. He had Dragonborn business to deal with, of course, but he could afford a night off once in a while, right? A night not wasted though- this time was all honourable work in the name of Dib-... Mara; on arriving in Ivarstead the previous morning, he remembered the lovely bard girl at the inn from his first visit. What kind of Dovahkiin would he be if he didn't greet the lady? Business could wait a day while he paid her the proper respects when she worked that evening.
Okay, two days. It would be better to get rid of the hangover and start fresh the next morning. Can't have the Dragonborn giving a bad impression while on business. Hair-of-the-dog usually helped and to be fair, he wasn't feeling hungover any more. Can't feel hungover while you're drunk, can you?
The door to the tavern opened and in swept an unusually tanned Nord man with pale hair and a clear penchant for the dramatic. He seemed to pose for a second as though allowing the room to survey his entrance, until a tankard flew in his direction and a woman yelled at him to shut the damn door. Ungahrm, who had temporarily forgotten the presence of Temba Wide-Arm, attempted a half-lunge, half-dive-roll to a position of cover behind the fire pit. He did not want to be on the receiving end of another rant about her problem bears. He could take down the bears for her, easily- he was Ungahrm Bjadassen, he slew dragons with naught but his fists! But he thought he'd rather stick with the angry Temba he (unfortunately) knew than succeed in resolving her situation and experiencing her gratitude, whatever that would look like.
Peering queasily over the stone of the pit, the she-hulk remained safely in the far corner. His woman, though, the sweet Lynly, had left her seat by his to greet this stranger at the door. Ungahrm was not a man to be cuckolded, certainly not before he'd even had a chance to be the... what was a cuckold? Whatever, the Dragonborn was not going to stand for some man with a lute muscling in on his women. Rising impressively to his feet, his towering height and massive frame setting the women of the inn quivering with lust and men trembling in submission, Ungahrm strode intimidatingly over to the pair. Well, he would have done if he wasn't so inebriated.
Lynly introduced the pair when Ungahrm was upright and demanding to know who the fetcher was, though he didn't notice the begrudging tone. "Oh, Ungahrm... meet Talsgar, he arrived here last night, but it seems you haven't met yet since you were passed out by then. He's known as the Wandering Bard! He has such tales to tell of his time spent playing in the wilderness for travellers and adventurers! It's good to have you back for another night, Talsgar!" she clasped the bard's hands in an excited greeting, which he accepted graciously. But Ungahrm was unravelling what he was up to and narrowed his eyes in scrutiny, swaying slightly as a result. Lynly continued, "Oh! Talsgar, this is Ungahrm... the Dragonborn," she suppressed a grimace as Ungahrm draped an arm across her shoulders, not to cop a feel, apparently, but actually using her to keep himself standing. She remained polite to the local legend, "With his adventures you could create some memorable songs, I'm certain...!"
Talsgar offered his hand to the Dragonborn and smiled warmly, "Ah, the Dragonborn himself! What tales you must have! The best stories are those of adventure. Add dragons... the lady could be onto a good idea, eh friend?"
Ungahrm attempted his best glare and superior tone, "The lady will have nothing to do with the likes of you, bard. I see you. Leave this place, unless you wish to tangle with the Dragonborn! It won't be a song you want to sing!"
Talsgar gave him a concerned look, for the man was speaking angrily but pulling an odd face. "Forgive me, Dragonborn, but it is always a great joy to meet a fellow person of the bardic profession. And a Nord, at that! I meant no ill, allow me to offer you a drink, anything you want!"
"Trying to flash your coin now? She is not so shallow, I have the power of ancient legend behind me, you won't win. How does being a wandering bard even work? Skyrim is massive, I hardly think you run into enough people to make the coin to treat the Dragonborn and his woman." Talsgar blanched, just for a moment. "There's something not right about you, bard. I'm watching you." Ungahrm motioned his first two fingers from his eyes to Talsgar's, allowing his menacing glare to linger while he turned away and tried to sweep his woman with him. Lynly, however, was prying Ungahrm's heavy arm off her shoulders with a mildly disgusted look on her face. Short of shouting them both out of the tavern, there was not much he could do to save face. "To Oblivion with you then, wench! The Dragonborn has no time for the follies of bards!" and he furiously meandered his way to his room. From behind the door he could hear the pair begin a gods-damned lute duet, but he could not see the frown that had clouded the Wandering Bard's face. He was not angry for long before he fell into a mead coma, snoring like a hound.