"Storm?" A one eyed Nord laughed derisively, "boy this is not storm, a balmly fall day is all!" The surrounding Nord roared with laughter at the comment. Kris managed to avoid rolling her eyes by long practice. Such nonsensical bragadicio was nothing knew to her, she had known Nord scouts to lose toes to frostbite rather than admit it was snowing. Everything in Skyrim was always bigger, badder and more ferocious than anywhere else. The Imperial who had asked the question cursed bitterly.

"How am I ever to get my goods to Whiterun before the snows block the passes?" he whined. One of the local Nords, drunker than the others, staggered to his feet and let out a deafening belch. He took a couple of steps towards the merchant, drops of ale dribbling from his lank blond beard as he did so.

"You trading with those traitors in Whiterun, we ought to string you up for collaborating Imperial," the man snarled. The merchant might have done any number of things to defuse the situation, calling back an insult would probably have worked, simply ignoring the drunken boor might have done the job too, instead the man's hand instinctively went to the hilt of a short sword he wore buckled beneath his cloak. The Nord let out a bellow and lurched forward, lifting up the table and dumping it, contents and all atop the merchant. The Imperial rolled under it, coming up with  his shoulder braced, driving it into the Nord's stomach hard enough to drive the wind from his lungs in an audible woof. Men and women of a half dozen kingdoms were grabbing for weapons now and at least one, a sinister looking dark elf, appeared to be readying a spell. Kris picked up a clay flagon and hurled it at the elf striking him between the eyes with a thunk a moment before the bar disintegrated into chaos.  

"Get the lizard men!" another Nord shriekd, rushing at an Argonian who has been sitting quietly in the corner oppoiste to Dax and Kris. A pair of wood elves leaped to their feet a moment before a Kaijhit slashed at one of them with clawed fingers. The bar was rapidly dissolving into a melee of people out to settle grudges real or imagined. Kris wasn't eager to see the inside of a jail when the Stormcloaks arrived and she tried to back away, but the Nord who had precipitated the fight grabbed the merchant and hurled him at her. His body struck her a glancing blow and sent her spinning to the ground. Roaring like a bear the Nord rushed after his intended victim. Kris drove her booted foot hard against the side of his knee as he passed. The Nord howled with pain as he went down in a crash, fingers outstretched for the merchants throat.