"Do you get to the Cloud District very often? Oh what am I saying - of course you don't..."

"I actually advise the Jarl on political matters. My input is invaluable, of course. But this is all probably a bit over your head."

"Oh, it took years, but I earned my way to the top. I own Chillfurrow Farm, you see. Very successful business. Obviously."

I couldn't take it anymore. Every time I was in Whiterun, just going about minding my own business, forging daggers to enchant and sell or doing jobs for the companions, He was there. He couldn't just let me be. He had to pass comment in that condescending way of his every. single. time. I'd had enough.

And I tried, believe me I tried to do it nicely. Cleanly. I tried every way I could think of. I snuck in with enchanted gear and tried to backstab him when he was alone. I tried hiding in a corner opposite his bed where I was unseen, to shoot him with an arrow. But every time, one thing or another foiled me. Be it his annoying wife who would be outside then teleport into a corner of the room when I tried running in and backstabbing him as he slept, thinking he was alone. Her being asleep next to him and waking up even though I was silent and efficient. Worst of all, the filthy wood elf shop owner who chased me around the building, standing and staring at me silently at every turn. Ten times I tried to give him a peaceful death, ten times I failed. Eventually I snapped, as any man would. If they weren't going to let me do it the easy way, I'd do it my way.

There were no daggers. There was no sneaking. I marched into the Drunken Huntsman, my warhammer at the ready. I strolled up the stairs, into his bedroom and caved his skull in with one blow. His wife screamed and pulled a knife, I didn't care. The elf tried to shoot me with a bow, I didn't care. When the guards came for me, I happily paid my bounty and followed them to dragonsreach. But that was not the end of it, oh no. As soon as I was done, I went right back. His mangled carcass was still there on the bed just where I'd left it, with the idiot elf staring silently and his grieving wife looking over him. I stripped him of all his possessions, Including that fancy pants snazzy outfit he liked so much, which I put on myself. The protestations of his widow fell on deaf ears as I dragged his corpse downstairs, towards the Huntsmans cooking pit. Mute elf had returned to his spot behind the counter now, still watching on as I threw Nazeem's body over the spit and proceeded to pincushion it with arrows. This is where it will stay, as a warning to all Whiterun. This is what happens when you push a man to his limits. I went back upstairs and teabagged the widow, just to drive the point home, and then I left.

But I will be back Whiterun. I will be back. And you will not ask me about the smurfing Cloud district ever again.