To the Bannered Mare, in the Fourth Era, early in Viktor, the Dragonborn's, journey.

Viktor entered the inn with Lydia, the Housecarl assigned to him not even an hour ago. He had become Thane of Whiterun after playing a pivotal role in slaying a dragon threatening the city. Not that he cared all that much for such titles. It was nice and all, and he appreciated the gesture, but he hadn't fought the dragon for monetary gain or for titles or anything like that.

He hadn't even fought the dragon for purely altruistic reasons, though they had played a part. No, Viktor Bloodseeker had sought one thing from that fight: a battle against a strong enemy. For Viktor was a man who fought for the sake of fighting. He was a Nord man who craved power, and desired to test that power in combat. For a man like him, what better opponent could there be to test his mettle against than a dragon? Though the thrill had been diluted by the fact it wasn't exactly a one on one fight, Viktor could honestly say it was the best scrap of his life to date.

"You seem in a good mood, good sir," a tipsy man in dark robes remarked to Viktor, who had just bought a mead for himself and Lydia to celebrate, and taken a nearby seat.

"A little bit," Viktor replied, taking a gulp from his tankard. "I fought a dragon today."

"My Thane, most people would consider that to be a large part of a bad day," Lydia replied dryly.

"Most people don't enjoy combat," Viktor shrugged. "It's my favorite way of having a good time."

"Really? That's quite interesting," the man chuckled. "You seem to have a specific idea of a good time."

Viktor laughed a bit at that. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I also enjoy a good party, good drinks, and the occasional sharing of a bed with a woman I enjoy the company of, but nothing... Save maybe the last one, gets my heart pumping like a battle against a powerful foe."

The man laughed. "Well, do you enjoy any form of nonviolent contests? Like say... A drinking contest? You look like you can hold your liquor pretty well, but I bet I can hold it better. I have a powerful staff and another fascinating trinket for ya if you win."

"A staff, huh?" Viktor asked, pausing and considering. He preferred a good blade to magic personally, but that didn't mean he was opposed to magic use. He knew a few spells actually, mostly in the Restoration School. If the staff was good enough, he wouldn't say no to using one. And whatever the other trinket was, might have a decent enchantment on it. "...and if you win, what will I owe you?" he asked.

"Huh, good question," the man mused, clearly having not thought of that. "...I think you can put up five hundred gold for that. Name's Sam by the by. Sam Guevenne. You up to the challenge?"

(I admit to struggling a fair amount with this chapter, so sorry if it's a little awkward. As for Viktor's appearance, he has shoulder length black hair that's a little messy, save for the braid he wears on the right side, blue eyes, a short beard, and he has a vertical scar over his left eye, though the eye itself is fine. About six feet tall, has a lean, but well muscled frame and is currently wearing Nord style Steel Armor, save the helmet.)