Why I Shot Him in the Face
Why I Shot Fr. Heimskr in the Face (a note tacked to the main gate of Whiterun)
Dear guards who are looking for me:
No doubt you are wondering why I elected to shoot Heimskr, the priest of Talos, in the face with my enchanted bow on the 23rd day of Hearthfire, 4E 201, from the rather-impressive distance of 50 yards.
The events of the day are no doubt still fresh on your minds, as many of you spent the better half of the morning chasing me through the town trying to shoot me in the face for having shot Good Priest Heimskr in the face. While two wrongs most certainly do not make a right, I nevertheless understand why you responded the way you did.
This one wishes the noble lawmen of Whiterun no ill will for seeking vengeance against him, and only hopes to provide clarification of the events leading up to my sending Heimskr up to be with his beloved god in Sovngarde. Hopefully by the end of this missive, we will all be better equipped to discuss this matter without the threat of violent retribution against Red-Neck's person and property.
In Red-Neck's defense, it was really, REALLY early in the morning.
You see, Argonians aren't what you'd call "morning people". My race is accustomed to awakening at a leisurely pace around 9 or 10 each day, when the waters of Black Marsh first warm up. We are perennial creatures, you see, driven by the warmth of the environment around us. Nords on the other hand are a very hearty people who begin their morning at first light.
Here is where we first begin to encounter problems.
As each of you knows only too well, Fr. Heimskr (peace be upon him) liked to rouse himself well before the first crow of the cock each morning, and could be heard praising Lord Talos VERY loudly from beneath His statue in the town square. I own a quaint little house by the name of Breezehome down towards Whiterun's main gate. No doubt each of you has passed it on your scheduled roves. Lovely, isn't it? Believe it or not, even at it's considerable distance from the town square, I was still woken up EVERY morning, at five, by the Late Good Friar Heimskr as he began his religious ministrations at the top of his lungs.
As an adventurer, I have endeavored to serve both Skyrim and the people of Whiterun in the months since arriving on your frozen shores. With by broad knowledge of the destructive and conjurative arts, I have personally vanquished thieves, bandits, Draugrs, vampires, spiders, much larger spiders, and door-to-door evangelists from your streets. I have even earned the esteemed title of Thane, serving at the table of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater in his leadership of your fair city. For all these services, all Red-Neck asks in return is for a little coin, a warm bed, supple young Khajiit boys to warm said bed, and 7 uninterrupted hours of sleep. And sweetrolls. Many sweetrolls for Red-Neck.
Continuing my story: I get in most mornings around three, too exhausted to even unfasten my fine elven armor. My many Khajiit boys do it for me - a task this one prefers they not do. Red-Neck wants only soft hands on his Khajiit boys. Soft, warm hands handling Red-Neck's secret places. When I finally collapse onto my bed, it feels no sooner have I done so than I am being awoken by the ecstatic shrieks of devotion coming from further up the hill.
I have done my very best to ignore this for many, many months. I have tried everything: sleeping potions, wads of cotton in my ears (Argonians have no ears - you see my desperation!) making sure to discipline at least two of my Khajiit boys before bed so as to calm the body. And yet always, my rest was interrupted.
Adventurers are not as effective without sleep, any more than they would be without sweetrolls or feminine-hipped, first-furred Khajiit boys. But when Red-Neck tells Fr. Heimskr this, he is called a blasphemer! Imagine! Me!
I try to pay Fr. Heimskr to sleep in a few extra hours. He refuses. I offer to make a VERY generous donation to the Shrine of Talos for but an extra two hours of rest. He yells at Red-Neck until Red-Neck's non-ears ring and his eye slits are filled with tears! Biting words!
And so, after discussing it with my Khajiit boys over many sweetrolls, Red-Neck decides the best course of action would be to shoot Fr. Heimskr in the face from atop the Sky Forge. Which, if you will note, is at LEAST 60 yards from the center of town. Impressive, no?
You have this one's assurance that the Good Father did not suffer in the least. Red-Neck's Dwemer bow is enchanted with the most paralyzing of winter spells, and his glass arrows were that day dipped in the most arresting poison available to any alchemist in all of Skyrim. No sooner had the arrow pierced Heimskr's brow was he gone from this world. Not the briefest instant of suffering. We should all be so lucky!
Enclosed you will find a satchel of Septims and several silver amulets and jewel-encrusted rings which I've gained through the past weeks of dungeon-crawling. They should be more than enough to cover any and all applicable bounties placed on my head... as well as a little extra to send each guard in Winterfell on a brief stay in a more temperate climate of his choosing.
When it is safe for Red-Neck to return, please send S'kuur (the youngest of my Khajiit boys) out past the gate with a signed letter from the Jarl absolving me of all responsibility for this misunderstanding. He should be waiting patiently for me in my bedding quarters in a state of complete undress. S'kuur, I mean. Not the Jarl.
Signed,
{ wax imprint of the Whiterun Thane sigil }
Red-Neck
Thane of Whiterun, Master Conjurer, Master Alchemist, et al.