Maerdan Bavaril brought her hammer down with a loud squish on the skull of Frost Troll that had been bothering her for over twenty minutes. It had actually attacked her horse, Honey Snuffles (a Palomino mare that she adored, and the troll attacking her had put her over the deep end). Hefting her hammer out of the remains of the thing's head, Maerdan turned to Honey, who sniffed the red mess with vague interest. "Did he get you, girl?" Running a mailed hand over the horse's side, Maerdan examined a trio of deep cuts in Honey's flank. "Poor baby! That skeever-licking bunghole hurt you!" With a snort of rage, Maerdan ripped a pouch of ointment out of her pack and smoothed the foul-smelling herbal mix over the wounds, working it into the bloody slices until they stopped bleeding. Then she applied a poultice to keep it clean and gave her a final pat. "Go home and rest, I'll walk the rest of the way."
Honey mouthed Maerdan's short, spiked ridge of hair and trotted off as instructed, towards the stable outside Whiterun. Maerdan herself didn't own a permanent home, but tended to fall asleep wherever she happened to lie down, be it a troll nest or on top of a dragon. She wasn't generally picky about her own surroundings, but she was very fastidious about where her horse was kept. She had gotten into a bar brawl when a particularly skeevey bard had suggested she leave Honey tied to a post outside Riften when she couldn't afford to have her properly stabled. Luckily, the bets placed in her favor were enough to cover the rest, and Honey Snuffles had spent the night in comfort. Of course, Maerdan had slept on a bench, but she didn't care.
Whiterun was a thirty minute walk from where she was standing, and she knew sabercats had a habit of roaming the area, and once she had been waylaid by a cave bear. Maerdan huffed unhappily and took a quick look around to make sure there were no wolves intending to jump on her back once she started off, and, confident she was alone, she walked towards the multi-tiered city. Whiterun was a pretty little place, and she liked the Gildergreen in the middle of the Cloud District. Sometimes she would sit beneath it, although the priest who shouted about Talos at all hours tested her patience severely. She often fantasized about kicking him into the pond outside Dragon's Reach. She was a Talos worshiper, but damned if the priest wasn't a pain in her ass. It didn't matter if it was midnight or dawn, he was yelling about how they were all worms and Talos was mighty and whatnot and while she had been sympathetic for about five minutes she had quickly gotten irritated with his constant high-decibel preaching.
The Khajiit caravan was resting outside Whiterun's gates, and Maerdan stopped briefly to talk with their guard Khayla. She was a nice woman, the only Khajiit warrior Maerdan had ever met (Maerdan was the only Bosmer warrior in Tamriel, as far as she knew), and they discussed things like the availability of work and how annoying it was having to rip out the spines of every idiot in his cups who whistled at them because they were women.