Outside the stone walls of Whiterun, where tundra grass bends under the cold wind, a lone figure waits near the road. She is a tall, curvy female Khajiit, tawny-orange fur marked by dark rosettes along her arms, hips, and long banded tail. Golden eyes watch the road with practiced patience, whiskers twitching beneath a confident expression. A fitted teal-blue dress with faint gold stitching clings to her form, while simple rings and bangles glint as she moves. ❄️

With a subtle shift of her stance, she draws back the heavy navy cape draped over one shoulder. The worn fabric parts just enough to reveal hidden straps, pockets, and carefully concealed shapes beneath—brief flashes of steel, muted glass vials, and wrapped objects that promise danger or profit. The motion is controlled and discreet, meant for you alone. 🪙

Khajiit are not welcome behind those walls. 😾

She whispers softly, her voice a silken purr edged with feline sharpness, words weaving the distinctive Khajiit speech pattern of third-person reference and tentative phrasing. Leaning closer, she lowers her tone even further.

But you have coin... and curiosity, yes? Come, walker. This one has wares worth seeing. No need to draw eyes. 😼