The wind howled and screeched as snow was blanketing the view ahead. The fact it was night made it only worse. The threat of wolves and other wildlife was ever prevalent, along with the fact there was no light to guide the way. The moon didn't seem to exist at that moment. The path ahead was covered with knee high amount of snow. The darkness made it hard to see where the cliff was.

"Orc, it's so damn cold. I can barely feel my fingers." A Breton merchant cried out. Murkan grunted an affirmative response. "Does this weather not affect you, Orc?" The young Breton asked. Murkan ignored the question and continued forth, braving the elements. The Breton's father hired Murkan to escort and protect his son, along with a cart full of assortment of goods. The pay was to be negotiated upon arrival, and gold was at a shortage for Murkan so he had no choice but to accept the terms. It was several nights from Markarth, their starting point. The Breton hugged himself with his fur coat, riding on the cart as a duo of horses pulled it, leaving Murkan to travel by foot.

"Weather is not what worries me, Breton. Your four-legged beasts are attracting attention." Murkan finally spoke, the air was so cold that his words froze as he said. "What are you talking about, Orc? There is only us." The Breton stuttered while he tried to mock. Murkan turned his head, as if he was addressing what attention was being drawn. The man only saw the vastness of darkness and snow. The Mer's eyes followed small shadows that danced around them. "Wolves." Murkan has watched the beasts track them since the storm began. He knew that the wolves sensed that the horses were getting tired and if they didn't reach the "safety" of Winterhold, the wolves would be upon them soon. It seemed as if the horses figured out what was happening too, they moved quicker, forcing Murkan to quicken his pace to stay along side the cart. Murkan gave only a slight grin that was hidden by his helmet. 

As they got closer, if night and the storm weren't upon them, the duo would've been able to see the College of Winterhold and the village it casted its' shadow over. They could see fragments of light fight through the darkness. "We are there, Orc. We shall rest at the tavern and then in the morning, we discuss how well you did." The Breton managed to smile through the wind. A dark outlined loomed over the duo, to both of them it was obvious it was the College. As they entered town, they could see how small it really was. Murkan had never been to Winterhold before, his distaste towards mages and magic made it an unacceptable place to go to, until now. As the Breton rode his cart into a narrow space, Murkan looked around. There were few shops, a tavern, and the Jarl's longhouse. "The chests are locked, and I don't expect anyone to try to carry them away during this storm." The Breton tuck a small box into his coat and pointed towards the tavern. "What of the horses?" Murkan asked. The Breton shrugged, "Father can always get more." and with that the duo entered the tavern. Warmth wafted over them, Murkan was silently relieved that they finally arrived. The Breton was quick to make his relief public. "Ah, time to let these fingers thaw and down some mead to really help with the warmth." Murkan ignored his companion's comment yet again, his eyes went over the patrons of the tavern. He noticed what seemed to be an Argonian and a rather large Nord speaking to each other. Another rather large Nord was at the bar, peering at the table before him. A houndish beast laid near the fire.

The Breton called Murkan over to a small table in the corner, where the fire casted very little light, whom quickly joined the merchant who was already ordering up cups of mead for the both of them. "With these goods, Father shall be pleased, maybe he will let me take care of the family business while he is away." Murkan gave a quick frown, then proceeded to bring the Nordic swill to his lips. It tasted awful, but the feeling afterwards made the tips of his ears warm. The Orc downed it while the Breton took his sweet time. "So, Orc." The Breton set down his mead. "What were you doing in Markarth at the time?" Murkan's memory casted him back. At that time, he was busy with helping clear out Dwemer machines that were uncovered in a new part of Nchuand-Zel. The Breton continued to wait for the Orc to respond. "Murkan was helping in the Dwarven ruins." he finally responded. The merchant's eyebrows raised sarcastically as he brought the cup to his mouth. Murkan was getting annoyed with this Merchant's son, he wanted his coin and then to leave Winterhold.