Grelod the Kind

That old hag! Passing through Riften the other day, you've had the 'pleasure' of interacting with her in passing. A lone minute was all she needed to leave a sore spot over your pride. Her wrinkly gaunt face was warranting a punch, but in the moment you were afraid she'd be too feeble to handle it. It doesn't matter now, you think, as a more entertaining solution to your hurt feelings present itself to your shameless face.

Taking a quill to your hand, you write down the old coot's name into the book, plotting a **** like no other.