Year 201 of the Fourth Era, Turdas, 21st of Last Seed

Spent all of yesterday eliminating another bandit stronghold and running a couple of errands for the locals around Whiterun. Some young Redguard upstart told me about how she wanted to become a merchant or a caraveneer, and that some old khajit that ran a traveling salesman group was her ticket into the business. Problem was, she had nothing to offer to the furball. She did however, mention that if she could just get her hands on a mammoth tusk, she'd be able to gain the merchant's favor. So, I tell her that it's her lucky day, and that I already had one that I had gotten from the Halted Stream camp. Shared some real good trading tips; I'll be able to get even better prices for the fruits of my enterprises! With that business concluded, I decided to put my new knowledge to some practical use, and went out to hunt some more bandits and jack their stuff. I headed westbound along the road until I reached an old fort. At first, I thought that the walls were manned by a good force of ten or so, but they were just fakes, cloth sack dummies on sticks. Only one person on the wall was real, and she didn't look like any Imperial or Stormcloak I've ever seen, though I suppose I haven't seen very many Stormcloaks. She starts yelling down at me to go away, so I yell back that she doesn't own Skyrim, and that I'll go where I damn well please! Some people, I tell you. So, the witch starts sending arrows down at me! That's when I decide to go in and teach her a lesson...only to be met by several of her bandit friends. I led them all on a goose chase around the wall, allowing me to funnel them on the narrow pathway. Again, their archers were absolute crap shots, so I didn't need to worry about that. All in all though, it was a good fight, if only because of the sheer amount of opponents.

I head inside the fort and clear it out. Standard stuff, no need to go into a long rant about it. Found some old hag that claimed to be a cleaner. Apparently this fort used to belong to the Imperials before the bandits shoved them out. What's the Legion come to these days, when a few hide-covered skooma junkies can best an entire garrison of troops? It's a god damn shame. So I take a look around, find some odds and ends, and even more mead. Bandits must love mead, and lucky me, because I do too! Some of my clansmen would tell me that I have a drinking problem, but to hell with them. At least mead doesn't get me drunk enough to propose to a deer, unlike some OTHER orcs I know, ha ha ha! After looking over the bodies of my fallen foes and looting the more valuable items on their person, I went ahead back to Whiterun and did my usual run of the shops. I have to say, Ysolda really knows her stuff! I left those shops with a considerably heavier purse. I should thank her later. As soon as I start heading to the Bannered Mare for food, drink, and sleep, I hear the produce lady complaining about all of the suitors out to wed her. One of the most annoying and persistent one of them, she said, was a bard named Mikael. I. HATE. BARDS. Their stupid music and their stupid dancing! Not to mention most are AWFUL at it! I say I'll take care of the bastard free of charge, and march in to meet the pipsqueak. He didn't last all of ten seconds before he was on the ground and surrendering. I tell him to quit pestering Carlotta, and he understood me crystal clear. Even though I said I'd do it for free, Carlotta insisted I take some septims as payment. Well enough, I say. Gold's gold. I finished the day with some leeks, chicken and mead, and then I went up to bed. Don't know what I'll do today, though. We'll see.