~When All At Once A Mighty Herd Of Red-Eyed Cows He Saw~

Walking down the dirt-cobbled road, Clint was impressed. 'I imagine that cobbling a road like this was probably expensive for a town of this size, but I guess it was also probably necessary. They're a mining town, so they'd have to move around an awful lot of materials every day. Doin' that in the rain probably isn't very easy on a dirt road filled with mud. The carts would get stuck over ten meters.'

He was able to arrive at the butcher within a few minutes, mostly because he was walking slowly so he had time to take in the sites. A medieval village may not be the prettiest thing, but its exoticness compared to what Clint was used to being interesting to him.

The Butcher was a tall building, about two stories, with a steep roof like all the other buildings in the town. It was mostly wood, with some type of green shingles on the roof and some very foggy glass for windows. Outside, just left of the door, was a white merchant's tent and stand, various types of meat lining its shelves. Behind the counter stood a short, muscular man with a bald head and black mustache, scars littering his face.

The man worked on cutting up what appeared to be the corpse of a rabbit, which bloodied the apron he was wearing along with his hands. 'I doubt it's sanitary to sell meat that you butchered with your bare hands, but eh, what do I care. This is a fantasy world, the people here are probably strong enough to resist a little disease like that anyway.'

Clint waited until the man wasn't cutting the rabbit before he spoke. "Excuse me Mister, you're the butcher right? I've got a Sabre Tooth that I'd like to sell."

The man looked up, then looked up some more, and his eyes widened. "Well, you're a big fella, aren't you? Didn't know elves could get this big."

Clint chuckled a bit. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Ma says it's because my Pa was experimentin' with some weird magic nonsense and made himself real big. Luckily it didn't do much else other than make him tall, and then me."

The butcher sighed and nodded. "You don't like magic much either huh? I understand, don't know why those other elves are so fond of the stuff. It should be illegal if you ask me. Anyway, you're a hunter, aren't you? Never seen any clothes like those before, but they look close enough to a hunters. As for that Sabre Cat, I can give you 70 septims for it."

'So magic isn't uncommon then? Good, I was taking a risk by mentionin' it. I also now know that the locals—or at least this guy—aren't that fond of magic. Good to know. Now, as for sellin' this cat here, I need to strike up a deal to get the coat and a bit of leather from it too. He said 70 septims? It's probably worth more than that, a septim is only…' Clints eyes widened.

'A septim! This is the Elder Scrolls world! I knew the name Karthwasten sounded familiar! It's too bad I never went to the Reach, or I'd have figured it out sooner. Does anyone go to the reach though? This place sucks…' Clint thought as he finally placed the pieces together.

Luckily for him, he could think really fast now, so fast, that It's like thinking takes no time at all. Otherwise, the butcher would have been suspicious at what was taking him so long to answer.

Focusing back on the butcher, Clint hurriedly recalled the value of ingredients in the Elder Scrolls universe. 'This could be entirely wrong since I haven't played any of the games in a long time, and what I remember could be wrong here due to inflation and such. Anyhow, I think this Sabre Cat should be worth at least a hundred septims, maybe more if I don't bargain for the coat and leather… Well, no time to waste, let's find out.'

"This is a pretty big catch, Mister, I think it's worth at least a hundred fifty. But, I want to keep the coat and some of its skin for leather, so I'll sell it for a hundred." Clint offered.

The butcher shook his head. "No can do, I can give you eighty, but without the fur, it wouldn't be worth it."

Clint then sat the corpse down on the counter. "Okay, how about ninety? And I'll only take half the skin."

"Deal" The butcher agreed and shook his hand, then brought out his tools to begin skinning the beast.

'I probably could have gotten more… but eh, I'll cut him a break. I'll just count it toward my repayment toward the town for imposing on them. Now, I think I remember there bein' a quest here invovlin' the silverbloods. I assume that's who them steel-armored mercenaries are? Hired by the silverblood. Question is, what do I do about them?' Clint thought to himself as he waited.

'I could just not do anything and move on, but that wouldn't be very kind of me. Besides, I'm a cowboy now, I wouldn't be playin' the part very well if I didn't show up in a town out of nowhere, save it, then leave before anyone knew what happened. Alright, I've got my goal. I'll get my coat and skin when the butcher here's done, head down to the leatherworker to make a holster for Eastwood, buy my supplies, then snoop around a bit to think of a plan for dealin' with these mercenaries. I don't remember any of this quest, so I'll have to make sure to be careful with my decisions here.' He thought up his plan and nodded with a satisfied smirk.

'Oh! I'll also need to find out the year. I know that it's probably sometime near the start of Skyrim, but I don't know exactly when. The game starts in 4E 201, somethin', I don't remember the exact date.' With that final thought, Clint went back to people-watching.

The skinning process only took about fifteen minutes, mostly because the beast was pretty big and the butcher's tools were primitive. Clint got 90 septims, some skin, and the coat, which planned on turning into a cloak that would go nicely with the rest of his attire, even if it wasn't as strong as his other clothes. Maybe he could enchant it? He'd worry about that later.

For now, Clint went back on the road, making his way around town to find the mine that the owner mentioned, which he probably should have asked the butcher for directions toward. It took a lot of wandering around, and a lot of stares from warry village folk, but he eventually found the mine he was looking for, and next to it, the leather workers building with the smelter by its side.

Nothing interesting really happened there, as the leather worker in charge had a pretty forgettable face and personality. He spent a few septims to buy time using the worker's tools, then got to work after his Sabre Cat skin dried. After an hour he was able to finish his holster, and finally gave Eastwood a home. He also was able to make a pretty sick-looking Sabre Cat Shawl, which he decided to over the cloak after some internal debate.

The holster was a brown color, a little darker than his pants—but not quite as dark as his boots and hat—with a golden horseshoe mark sewn onto its side using some gold-colored string the leatherworker had lent him. The Shawl, on the other hand, was a white and yellow due to the fur used in its making. It was obviously thicker than most shawls, but that was okay since he now lived in one of the coldest places on the planet. The Shawl's front extended down to his mid stomach in the shape of a triangle pointing down, with the back being much longer and reaching down to the ankles. It was honestly more of a mixture between a Shawl and a cloak rather than just a pure Shawl

That was fine though, he didn't plan to wear it all that often—only when he was trudging through the snowy regions of Skyrim.

Anyhow, after that he spent 10 septims on a backpack and left to find the general goods store, which the leatherworker had told him was on the other side of town overlooking the cliff.

The general goods store was a pretty simple place for a building so important to the town's economy. It was a one-story building, maybe half the width of the leather worker's place. The only thing that distinguished it from the rest of the houses nearby was the large, clear glass window on the front. Clint wasn't even sure how they had gotten glass that clear, seeing as the rest of the village had extra-foggy glass, he had just assumed that better glass-making techniques hadn't been invented yet. Maybe he was wrong?

That or this was magic glass…

Anyway, through said window Clint could see the store owner behind his counter. He could also see three silverblood mercenaries arguing with him…

'*Sigh* Guess I'm not avoidin' trouble for as long as I'd hoped I would. Ah well, at least I made it two or so hours, better than nothin'.' Clint thought as he knew that he would inevitably end up tangling with them due to conflicting interests.

He believed in customers having good manners toward the ones serving them, and these people…

"Well, why don't you just shut the fuck up then and give us the damn discount! Keep trying our patience and we might have to get violent! You wouldn't want that, would you?"

…Obviously didn't.

"Sir, I don't care how many times you demand it, I simply cannot sell that low! If you're not going to actually buy anything, then leave my damn store! And no, you're not intimidating me with mere thre-"

*SLAM*

The door slammed open—perhaps a little harder than necessary—to reveal Clint, who walked in casually, ignoring the three mercenaries.

"Howdy there Mister, I find myself in need of a few supplies. Ropes, knives, tents, sleepin' bags, etc… Ya have any of that right now? Preferably the cheapest, since I haven't got that much on me right now." Clint asked as he went and stood in front of the mercenaries.

The owner, who was a tall, Nord man with a burly physique and long, blond hair, smiled a bit and flashed him a thumbs up. "Of course! I wouldn't be much of a 'general goods' shop if I didn't have the basics, now would I? Now, when you say you're short on septims, how short do you mean? That might help narrow down the search a bit."

"I've got 85 septims on me at the moment… not much I know. I could probably just do with the sleepin' bag and knives for now, and can get the rest by huntin' later." Clint says as he gestured to his gun.

The owner didn't know what the weapon was, but he could still tell it was a weapon, so he nodded in understanding. "That's fine, with 85 I can give you the sleeping bag, a hunting knife or dagger—your choice—and some rope since it's pretty cheap here. The cheapest tent I have is 50 though, so you won't be able to afford it with everything else. How does that sound?"

Clint flashed the man a toothy smile. "That sounds just dandy Mister, and I'll be back for that tent by night. Shouldn't take me too long to find somethin' worth huntin'. I will need a few other things, but I can jus-"

He was inturrupted by the mercenary grabbing his shoulder and yelling. "Who in Oblivion do you think you are?! Walking in here and ignoring us like we're not even here… Damn knife ears like you alwayse think you're better then everyone else, ignoring us like we're nothing. Well, I'll tell you now Thalmor skum, you're in Silverblood territory now, and if you want to leave with your head intact then you'd better apologize and leave this store now. Otherwise, things will get mes-"

"It's rude to inturrupt people," Clint inturrupted.

The mans scowl deepened, and he was about to say something, but wasn't fast enough.

"I don't know nuthin' about you Silverblood fella's, and I don't care to know, but no matter where ya are, you have no excuse to be rude. Same goes for grabbin' someone without permission. Had I not been as kind as I am, that hand wouldn't be attached to its wrist anymore. I'd suggest you fix that before somethin' happens that you'll regret." Clint said without turning toward them, his eyes shadowing over as his hat fell lower on his face.

Unfortunately for Clint, the people of Skyrim are stubborn and not easily intimidated, whether they be Nord or otherwise. Some would even fist-fight a Sabre Cat if it wandered into town and they didn't have a weapon on them…

"Something that I'll regret? I knew you knife-ears are stuck up, but I didn't think it could go this far! There's three of us, fully armed and armored, against one of you. Sure, you're a little big, but I've seen bigger… and you don't even have a weapon. What, you going to throw some of you're fancy magic at us? Whatever, you lost you're chance, C'mon boys, let's show this knife-ear what happens when you go against the SIlverbloods!" The apparent leader of the small group said, to which his two companions responded by unsheathing their swords.

*BANG*

The leader fell before he could even fully draw his blade, a hole in the top of his head.

"Sorry about the blood Mister shopkeep, I'll clean it when we're done here. I'll also make sure the guards know it was me who did it… best make sure you don't get punished for my actions." Clint said as he put Eastwood back in its holster.

"Ah, don't worry about it. This isn't the first time I've found a man's corpse in my shop, and it probably won't be the last. The people of this land are very quick to fight, you'll find… Honestly, I don't know how we're still around after all the killing we do to each other. Anyway, you shouldn't need to talk to the guards about this, they drew the blade first, so they're at fault. The law here doesn't care much about the circumstances, just who drew their blade first." The shopkeep waved it off casually as he walked over to the corner of the room and brought back a mop and a bucket of water, ready to clean the blood.

Even with all the strange things Clint has seen in his life, the shop owner's casualness to the murder slightly unnerved even him, causing him to let out an ever so slightly nervous chuckle..

*CLANG**CLANG*

The other two's swords fell out of their hands as they looked at the body of their friend, eyes widening.

The owner's attention was drawn away from his cleaning by this. "What about them? If you're going to kill them too, you should do it now, while I've still got the mop out."

Clint shook his head and waved it off. "Nah, then this would be a massacre. Here's a tip Mister, if you're gonna kill someone, you either only kill one person, or ya kill everyone in the room—that way, nobody will be around to witness it, and you can sleep soundly knowing you aren't one of those monsters who committed mass murder. After all, if nobody saw it, it didn't happen. Since I can't very well kill you, no massacre will occur here today… or rather, no massacre WON'T occur here today, hehehe."

With that said he walked up to one of the dumbstruck lackeys. "Besides, these two are just minions, killin' them won't prove nothin'." He looked them in the eyes calmly, "Why don't you two go tell you're boss that he best be neighborly while I'm in town, that means no tryin' to extort these nice fella's just tryin' to make a livin'."

The two looked confused before their brains finally rebooted and they scowled. They didn't attack though, no matter how much they wanted to. They knew they were outmatched, so they decided to do the smart thing and take Clint up on his offer and nodded their heads.

Of course, they fully intended to get their boss's help in killing Clint, since they obviously couldn't let their friend's death go unavenged, but Clint already knew that.

So, just as the two were about to leave, Clint added one last thing. "Make sure that you stay neighborly now. Wouldn't want to have to find your boss's house and clean it up for him, sounds like too much work."

The two would have scoffed at that remark and ignored it, but for some reason, something about the tone gave them a bad feeling. They couldn't quite place it though, so they just shrugged it off and left.

Clint then stretched a bit and yawned. "Alright then Mister, I'm off to do a bit of huntin', I'll probably be back by dusk. You open then?"

The owner simply flashed Clint another thumbs up, as he was too focused on dragging the dead body out his back door to talk. Clint decided that he simultaneously liked and feared this guy. Clint could definitely beat them in a fight, but then, you could easily beat a spider in a fight too, and plenty of people are afraid of them.

Clint included.

Clint froze in place at that thought. 'Shit, them big-ass frostbite spiders are probably here too, aren't they?'

-o0o-