Voir la source de TESO:TES Online/Hirelings/Clothing

{|  class=wikitable
! Number
! Author
! Text
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|style="text-align:center;"| 1
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Madam Firilanya, at your service. A true pleasure to become your exclusive outfitter. Your sartorial expertise is known even in the Summerset Isles. With my extensive mercantile connections, I shall source materials so you may create the finest-fitting—and looking&#33;—armors. I've enclosed proof of my diligence. Expect regular deliveries&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 2
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Once again, a timely delivery. I do hope you are pleased with the contents. The seasonal rains nearly washed them from the docks, but a good Altmer securing chain is worth its weight in gold. Unless you're imprisoned, of course.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 3
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I don't know why High Elven names confuse many throughout Tamriel, but to help bridge cultural differences I answer to "Miss Firi" or "Madam Lanya," as well as my given name. A competitor of mine once called me "Fishwife Firi," so I undercut her prices until she left town. I had to draw the line somewhere.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 4
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I never understand complaints made about nautical travel. You begin and end each journey in port. There you can find excellent deals for materials, such as what I have enclosed. The sea salt should wash right off.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 5
|| Madam Firilanya
|| The prices on untreated boar hides are outrageous. It's as though they've been hunted to extinction, at least in Valenwood. All that Green Pact business must be the culprit. I wager they ate right through them&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 6
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I heard a rumor of plague in the Colovian highlands. You have to take care when these things present themselves. If true there is great opportunity for profit, but if false you've wasted a trip. Until I know more I think I'll stick to the southern coasts. Wonderful prices down here, as I'm sure my latest delivery reveals.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 7
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I hope the first week in your employ has found you pleased with my services. If ever I am delayed due to the vagaries of travel, I have instructed my assistant to handle deliveries. This way you shall never want for a steady supply of materials.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 8
|| Madam Firilanya
|| This talk of war certainly makes things difficult for a roving outfitter such as myself, but no more so than anyone else. Some of the deals are phenomenal. But what use are cheaply purchased goods if they're raided or commandeered by roving armies?
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 9
|| Madam Firilanya
|| An interesting lead&#33; Rumors tell of a haberdasher in Black Marsh whose treated wamasu scales are crafted into the most eye-catching hats. In theory the same treated scales could be applied to pauldrons or hauberks. Perhaps they'll be flashier than the materials I've provided today&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 10
|| Madam Firilanya
|| My journey to Black Marsh begins in earnest, in search of treated wamasu scales. If I can convince the haberdasher to reveal his treatment process, I shall stockpile wamasu scales and corner the market.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 11
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Fleshflies. I've had enough of the filthy creatures&#33; Not for my own flesh, but that of the leatherwork I brought for trade. Thankfully they don't have a taste for the contents of my latest delivery.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 12
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Did you know there is no word in Jel for haberdasher? A friendly local informed me I should travel to the more remote villages and ask for a Kaoc Xuth Waxhuthi, which I'm told means "hat create person."
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 13
|| Madam Firilanya
|| The haberdasher of Black Marsh was a rumor. "Wamasu scale treatment" is a Black Marsh jest for an impossible task. Also, never say Kaoc Xuth Waxhuthi in remote Argonian villages. The reaction is … unfavorable. (I must have written it down incorrectly.)
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 14
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I found the most amazing dish today near the border of Cyrodiil. The innkeeper called it an Eidar cap. You hollow out a bread loaf, melt Eidar cheese in a pot, and pour it inside the bread. You can dip the bread inside and eat it there, or let it cool and take the whole thing with you as you travel. Delicious&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 15
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Cyrodiil is rife with bandits. They slew four caravan guards and made off with half of my baggage. But all is not lost&#33; I recovered the chain mail from the guards' armor. A quick rinse, some polish, and I traded the lot in Bravil for the material I have enclosed.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 16
|| Madam Firilanya
|| You certainly know of the White-Gold Tower at the heart of the Imperial city. After all the turmoil, once things are stable, do you think they'd let me climb the tower and see the view? I bet you can see Auridon from up there.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 17
|| Madam Firilanya
|| A conjurer lost control of a scamp this morning. The little thing found its way to the market and, I'm not entirely clear how, got its head stuck inside a melon. It teetered about, loosing balls of fire into the air, and eventually stumbled into a pile of manure which it then set alight. I've never seen so many laugh so hard while in such danger.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 18
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I lost a bet with a trader from Elsweyr. For the remainder of the week, whenever I barter for goods, I'm to wear a painted Khajiiti Senche-mask. I thought it would affect my trades, and it has&#33; Last night, after finishing my trading, I overheard some locals mention the Cat Elf with the outstanding prices. I've doubled my volume&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 19
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I once sold a shrine of Zenithar to a Breton noblewoman. Though I didn't own the shrine, I never once lied to her&#33; There's an art to playing upon people's mistaken assumptions, and I simply wished to see how artful I was. Of course, I immediately tithed most of her payment to the nearest temple. It does one no good to mock the Eight Divines.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 20
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I heard a wandering priest of the Eight Divines was hung in the Imperial City. The charge was treason. No details, but the locals are uneasy. Time for me to move along. Uneasy locals means a general distrust of outsiders is just over the horizon.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 21
|| Madam Firilanya
|| There's no plague in the Colovian highlands. But there is good news&#33; A wasting sickness has gripped much of the population. Rest, recuperation, and a strong tonic will cure it, but local custom has the sick wear flax scarves over their mouths and noses. The profits I made in selling the tawdry things went to the enclosed material.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 22
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Accused of spreading the plague with flax scarves. One step ahead of the mob. Forgive my brevity.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 23
|| Madam Firilanya
|| The mob torched the barn where I hid, but a kind sorcerer aided my escape&#33; I am now hiding in the cave he calls his home. Most of my traveling stock was destroyed in the fire, but the sorcerer offered to deliver this letter and what meager material I brought with me. He seems a kindly old sort. You have him to thank for this delivery&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 24
|| Madam Firilanya
|| The sorcerer who aided my escape belongs to the Cult of the Black Worm. He wished access to my "plague scarves" for his own purposes. I spun an elaborate lie of their hiding spot. When he left to retrieve them, I raided a hamper marked "Plague Zombie Ritual Material" and fled. Have no fear—neither the "plague" nor "zombie" portions were present.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 25
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I have completely replenished my stock&#33; Worm Cult sorcerers have so much useful material at hand. The one who aided my escape from the mob wasn't happy to learn I'd had no part in the plague after all. It was a gamble to collapse the deadfall atop him when he returned to his cave, but sorcerers rarely look up. Enclosed are some of the spoils&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 26
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Worked leather is impossible to find in the markets. The stock has dwindled to nothing, almost overnight. This tells me one of two things: either someone with much gold seeks to drive up the price before flooding the markets with leather, or they plans to armor a cohort of ogrim. I should watch for bulk purchases of oversized buckles&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 27
|| Madam Firilanya
|| If you are ever offered something called "pumpkin wine," you should pour the stuff anywhere but into your own mouth. I was not so lucky.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 28
|| Madam Firilanya
|| If the Mages Guild can communicate with every one of their chapters across Tamriel, why can't they alert one another to the spread of disease? You'd think such a service would benefit every Empire, kingdom, or stronghold in the land.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 29
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I'm due for more caravan travel as I seek out lower prices on trading stock. You learn to fight off the weariness in time. On those long roads, after a hard rain, the stench of a damp ox is often foul enough to keep your mind alert.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 30
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I must apologize for my previous shipment. It seems I swapped your intended package with materials owed to another. Here is the intended shipment, but as it was my mistake, you should keep the materials already received. This area is rife with thievery so I removed all labels from my packaging. I shall triple-check next time&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 31
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Finally, I've reached Anvil&#33; With its protected harbor and well-traveled caravan routes, there is nowhere in Tamriel that I cannot send shipments. Except the Reach, of course. And Sunforge. Or Solstheim, come to think of it. But my point stands&#33; Wherever you travel, my shipments shall follow. Even to those wretched places.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 32
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I've rented a small warehouse in Anvil for bulk goods. Now I may purchase directly from laden ships, store at the warehouse, and resell as needed. I'll need a good name for the placard, of course&#33; It took a while to narrow down my options, but I've settled on "The Bolt Hole."
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 33
|| Madam Firilanya
|| My new business is no longer "The Bolt Hole." Last night a crowd of drunken sailors arrived. From the name alone, they expected my new establishment to be a house of ill repute&#33; To avoid further confusion, I changed the name to "Bolts in Bulk."
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 34
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I erred again with my business name. "Bolts in Bulk" drew a different crowd of drunken sailors. It seems "bolt" is a local euphemism for something you'd associate with a bawdy house. This rules out my alternate names: "The Bolt Store," "The Better Bolt," and "Barrelfuls of Bolts." I've gone with a safe alternative: "No-Bilk Silks."
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 35
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Ridiculous&#33; "No-Bilk Silks" is the name of a well-known Argonian night-swain. I learned this from the well-heeled sailors who arrived last night, vastly disappointed he wasn't available for "conversation." I give up&#33; Now I'm calling my business "The Raw Deal." I can only hope everyone thinks it's the least appealing brothel in Tamriel.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 36
|| Madam Firilanya
|| There is a danger in playing tavern games with which you are unfamiliar. This is why I learn every one of them&#33; Seven Mugs, Skink Smash, Knuckle Jugglers, Troll Stutters, Red Staben's Dance, Frogswallow, Bilge Baiting, and even Wattle Swinging, which some Nords will say can be played with a mammoth. Do not believe this. They are testing you.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 37
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Anvil is an odd place. Everyone knows raiding bands keep gold flowing through the port. It's always rougher when their boats return, but the locals are mostly immune. Even the meanest dogs are loathe to foul their own nests. A curious balance, but they seem to keep it.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 38
|| Madam Firilanya
|| What do you suppose the moons are? The Khajiit think them gods, while the Mages Guild says they're islands in the sky. I've heard stranger theories. A sailor once said they were enormous atronachs, wrestling for the amusement of the Daedric Princes. He says it's what causes thunderstorms&#33; Foolish man. Everybody knows they're made by Sheogorath.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 39
|| Madam Firilanya
|| There's been talk of werewolves in the nearby hills, so I've taken precautions with your latest package. You've no doubt noticed the smell on the packaging&#33; It's a local remedy, sworn to keep them away. If you are yourself afflicted, my sincere apologies. Soak your hands with the salts in the enclosed pouch to soothe any irritation.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 40
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Some find it strange that I rarely trade with stronghold Orcs. I have no problem trading with Orcs, of course&#33; But I've learned the Orcs who live in strongholds are like mages you find in caves: powerful, insular, and able to turn you inside out when they're having a bad day.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 41
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I always bribe the lighthouse keepers at a port. They're first to spot the ships, and can send runners with what they know of the shipmasters, their expected hauls, and the like. The best weapon is a keen mind, my mother always said&#33; Also a dueling sword. She was rather particular.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 42
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I heard a version of Over the Seas last night called "Ever the Tease and Over the Mane." Things grew racier from there. You know how it is, lots of nautical phrases like "half-mast" and "anchors aweigh" taking on vastly different meanings. Sailors think they're so clever.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 43
|| Madam Firilanya
|| The dockworkers in Anvil made it abundantly clear I need to hire locals to staff my business. Tomorrow I have two choices: sift through the sotted dregs everybody else refused to hire, or watch the dockworkers throw everything I own into the harbor. I'm still weighing my options. That should tell you the quality I expect to find.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 44
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I interviewed ten candidates for assistants. All of them are terrible, but I must hire one or the dockworkers will acquaint my belongings with the sea. This is not unlike straining sewage with your teeth—no matter how bad it tastes, you must do your utmost to keep the biggest pieces of dung on the outside.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 45
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Wharf Dog Melloy, a Breton with a Khajiit-tail necklace. Low-Neck, an Argonian who says he is best at "stealing things." Cuts First, who beneath her extensive scars is either a spindly Nord or a stocky High Elf. I must hire one of them to appease the Anvil dockworkers. Very well&#33; I'll give each a trial day and see who outworks the rest.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 46
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Cuts First threw a knife at me when I told her to move some barrels. I found Wharf Dog Melloy sleeping off the skooma shakes in my office. Low-Neck is missing, along with my ledger. Thankfully I'd hidden today's delivery, or he'd have made off with your package.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 47
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Low-Neck returned with my ledger this morning and said he was impressed with my volume of business. He promised to skim no more than a small portion of my profits. Better a candid thief than a throatcutter or a skooma fiend&#33; I hired him on the spot. If you receive this package, it means my new assistant can take direction.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 48
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I heard a joke the other day. What do you call someone who rants about Dwarves who sew jewelry into the fringes of their robes? A Dwemer hemmer gem condemner&#33; (I never said it was a good joke.)
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 49
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I watched a Wood Elf kill another Wood Elf today. She pulled a dagger, slipped up behind him, and cut his throat. Then she shouted something about "avenging the black sap." Her surprise when most everyone shrugged and went about their business marked her as an outsider. If the locals have no time to bet on a fight, its outcome doesn't matter.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 50
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I find it best to honor all of the Divines. Even Akatosh, who commands us to "serve and obey the Emperor." I tithe to him so he can settle that particular mess. Queen Ayrenn, Jorunn the Skald-King, High King Emeric, or someone else entirely. Perhaps even you&#33; Whoever it is, emperors are good for business.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 51
|| Madam Firilanya
|| A dozen zombies shambled from the sea onto the Anvil docks. The entire crew of the Gizzard Cutter shrieked as one and fled for the hills&#33; I'd heard of Redguard superstitions involving the undead, but never seen it in person. The Khajiiti crew of the Sleek Claws slew the zombies, then raided the Gizzard Cutter's hold. I admit, I'm still chuckling.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 52
|| Madam Firilanya
|| You may wonder why I am so diligent with the frequency and quantity of my deliveries at such an agreeable rate. Though this is certainly a service I provide, word of our association has provided multiple business opportunities for me. In a way, your reputation is funding your shipments&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 53
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Have you heard the phrase "squeeze blood from a stone," or some variation? I met a member of the Mages Guild who assures me this relates to some rather infamous gargoyle experiments. I'm not sure if I should believe him. He insisted Vanus Galerion was born a Snow Elf. I insisted he'd had too much to drink.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 54
|| Madam Firilanya
|| There's very little time to explain, but I must board a ship to Alik'r. Here is your latest package. If I am unable to contact you for the duration, my assistant Low-Neck will handle the next week's deliveries.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 55
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I made landfall in Khefrem. I expected a drier climate, but the western waters are quite refreshing. And now for the good news&#33; I heard a rumor of a mage deep in the Alik'r wastes who trades incredibly exotic materials, but only when both moons are full—two days hence, according to the charts&#33; Tomorrow I leave for his tower.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 56
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I knew the scorpions were large, but I didn't expect them to outsize the horses&#33; Thankfully they turn with the grace of rowboats and lunge like drunken sailors, something I've long since grown accustomed to avoiding. The horse I rented knew more than enough to give the creatures a wide berth. I continue to the mage's tower&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 57
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Bad news. The tower was entirely empty, but for a single table. Upon it was paper, pen, and inkwell. The paper said "Petitioner's Trade" at the top. Out of spite, I wrote "the sleep you stole from me" before bedding down in the tower. In the morning I sought the page as a souvenir, but it must have fluttered away in the night. So I took the pen&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 58
|| Madam Firilanya
|| We return to Anvil with nearly empty hands. It was too good to be true, despite the assurances from sources I normally trust. Low-Neck At least I was able to turn a profit on barrels of dried fish. The spices alone will fund a backlog of shipments—such as the one.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 59
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Always pay your dues to the Thieves Guild&#33; If you're protected, they're better than any city guard at finding who slipped a bolt of fine silk out of your warehouse. The last thing they want is independent competition.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 60
|| Madam Firilanya
|| A traveling merchant tried to sell some relics he claimed were taken from a Dark Anchor. He'd clearly never been to Anvil before he came, because the sailors here are quite superstitious. When they finished with him, he left town as a "pitch goose." This is why I always learn about my markets&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 61
|| Madam Firilanya
|| The storms here are terrible&#33; I'm not certain this package will reach you. If not, I shall double the volume of my next shipment. And if so, I hope you will forgive any unexpected sponginess.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 62
|| Madam Firilanya
|| A smith's apprentice tried to woo me the other day. I tried to let her down with grace. The extensive travel and associated dangers are poison to relationships. For now, my only love is business&#33; Also, slippers made out of bear paws. So comfortable&#33; If you ever make it to Orsinium, ask around.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 63
|| Madam Firilanya
|| A Fighters Guild contract led three imbeciles to slaughter a nearby Goblin tribe. This is the same tribe I'd paid to cull the harpies along the nearby caravan routes&#33; If I were a cynical person, I'd think the Fighters Guild was looking for a more lucrative harpy contract. Did you know they charge twenty times what Goblins do? Maddening&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 64
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Under no circumstances should you ask a Sea Elf to toss you a knotted line. You'd think they'd been trained at the same carnival, the way they all mimed reaching for their drawstrings. And most of them were women&#33; I walked away. I have no interest in knowing just how different Maormer are from the rest of the Elves.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 65
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I received a strange delivery today. At first I thought it a returned shipment, for it was wrapped in the same packaging I use. But inside was a lacquered box, and within that an immaculate silvered cloth that unfolded to the size of a bedsheet. Was this a gift from you for my service? If so, thank you profusely&#33; Such lovely patterns woven in.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 66
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I realize the silvered sheet was not sent from you—forgive my presumption. Still, it is a wonderful bedsheet&#33; I did have the strangest dream last night. I was standing outside a citadel. I heard the strangest song, but I couldn't make out the words. If I could carry a tune I'd sing it. Perhaps I should try? No, no … I couldn't do it justice.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 67
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Today I woke just before dawn. I heard the song again&#33; I can hum the notes, but the words aren't anything I recognize, and I speak four languages&#33; Did I hear it in the citadel? I must have. I dreamt I was pounding at the door. Such a strange place. I think I'll take a nap after sending this package. The silvered sheet is so warm.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 68
|| Madam Firilanya
|| the words i understand the words for the song is the key to the doorway it spins and twitches and is perfection i must share the song with you it is my duty it is truth but i cannot send away the Argent Chord i must not part with the song or it will leave me the song is endless it must not end or all shall fade
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 69
|| Madam Firilanya
|| help me the singing is so loud make it stop
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 70
|| Low-Neck
|| I am Miss Firi's assistant, Low-Neck. She is very sick so I will be sending you packages until she gets better. She is a private person who would not want details of her sickness shared. Out of respect, I will not say she was found screaming and scratching at her ears in the small hours. Or that her wounds will mostly heal.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 71
|| Low-Neck
|| I am still Low-Neck, Miss Firi's assistant. She is very organized and has prepared many packages for you, to be sent if she is ever delayed on a journey. Her long rest is a delay, is it not? Therefore I will send you packages daily. Unless her journey takes longer than three weeks, at which point all I could send is her stockpile of calipers.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 72
|| Low-Neck
|| This is Low-Neck. While going through Miss Miss Firi's belongings I found a silvery cloth with black weaving. It smelled strange, like rotten eggs. I traded it for another stinky thing, a small barrel of salted fish which I left by her bedside. She hates the smell of salted fish, so perhaps it will help her wake.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 73
|| Low-Neck
|| Low-Neck again. Miss Firi is unable to pay me while she sleeps, so I took my wages from the strongbox where she stores her money. The locked one, beneath the locked trapdoor, under the junk-laden cart. The one with the old tapestries draped upon it. Did you know her decoy strongbox has more locks than the real one? She is a clever woman.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 74
|| Low-Neck
|| It is still Low-Neck writing, but not for much longer. I am pleased to say Miss Firi recovers. She no longer screams when she sees my face, so this is progress. It is now more of a whimpering, with occasional prayers to the Eight Divines. I tried wearing an amusing hat, but that led to more screams.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 75
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Please forgive my recent illness. I understand Low-Neck followed the instructions I left him in the event of my absence. I raised his salary, which is to say I agreed he could skim slightly more from my profits. I am still in poor health, but am still capable of continuing your shipments.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 76
|| Madam Firilanya
|| My assistant says you know more details of my illness than I first realized. If I said anything unsuitable, I beg your forgiveness. I still don't entirely understand what happened. I remember writing an angry letter to the Fighters Guild about harpies, and then it was weeks later. Perhaps the ink was poisoned? I'll have it checked, to be certain.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 77
|| Madam Firilanya
|| the singing the singing i can still hear it they never stop why won't they stop
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 78
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I can't find yesterday's shipment anywhere. Low-Neck insists he saw me hand it to the courier, but I have no recollection of doing so. Did you receive anything? Low-Neck has never lied to me before. Perhaps I need more rest. I assure you it will not affect my duties.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 79
|| Madam Firilanya
|| A great wave washed three ships into the Anvil docks. One went up in enormous gouts of blue flames. The other two—it was as though the ships began to scream, as though they could feel pain—and then it all stopped. All three carried some of my outgoing shipments, and now their captains refuse to sail.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 80
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Dozens of raiding ships returned to Anvil today. I hear their raid was a failure, which makes for tense streets. Low-Neck warns me to stay inside after dark, at least for the next few days. It seems when raiders lose a big fight, they like to pick many little ones.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 81
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Half a dozen Undaunted provoked some raiders. A tavern game got out of hand and they refused to back down. Usually these things end in a few broken teeth, but not today. I've never seen any hung from a mizzenmast's spars before. Today, I saw it happen six times.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 82
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Tragic news. At dawn, horsemen wearing Imperial armor rode down pilgrims traveling to a distant shrine of Arkay. I asked around this morning, but nobody knew any details—or even of the attack. Were the soldiers Imperial cavalry, or bandits wearing stolen armor? I suppose it doesn't matter when dozens lie dead.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 83
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I'm no longer allowed in my favorite tavern. Word of the massacred Arkay pilgrims arrived in Anvil last night. How could I have known yesterday morning? It happened while I slept&#33; When pressed, I could not recall how I knew. I could tell they were afraid of me. Perhaps drink is the last thing I need right now.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 84
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Low-Neck said I was speaking Jel in my sleep. I'm not sure what should have me more concerned: that I was talking in the Argonian tongue, a language I've never learned, or that my assistant was in my bedroom as I slept. He insisted he was simply looking through my jewelry box for rings to steal. How is that supposed to reassure me?
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 85
|| Madam Firilanya
|| My apologies if this arrived with any delay. I couldn't locate my assistant so I had to manage this shipment myself. Low-Neck seems to disappear when there's trouble. I do hope he's all right.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 86
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I have left Anvil for good. It seems the raiders thought me cursed and feared I'd spread it to their ships. Before they could torch my warehouse, Low-Neck smuggled both my goods and myself onto a Dark Elf trading vessel. The crew here are devout, fearing nothing but the wrath of their three living gods. More later. We depart for Vvardenfell.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 87
|| Madam Firilanya
|| The Dark Elf vessel—the Graceful Netch—stopped briefly in Rivenspire. Blood fiends and civil war is all anyone could talk about in Northsalt Village. Also, strange happenings in the nearby city of Northpoint. I don't know the details, but I recommend avoiding uncivil blood fiends should you visit. For me, it's on to Vvardenfell.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 88
|| Madam Firilanya
|| We arrived at a House Hlaalu trading port with a name I can't pronounce. The night terrors were particularly bad last night. The captain of the Graceful Netch recommended I approach House Telvanni. He says if anyone can help me learn about my dreams, it will be them.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 89
|| Madam Firilanya
|| House Telvanni refused to join the Ebonheart Pact with their fellow Dark Elves if it meant giving up their practice of slavery. Yet these isolationist slavers are my only hope at stopping the dreams that haunt me. Should they decide I look better with a yoke around my neck, I've made arrangements with House Hlaalu to continue your shipments.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 90
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Good news&#33; House Telvanni didn't enslave me. They asked me half a day's worth of questions, then sold me some potions they assured would suppress my dreams. All in all, a pleasant experience&#33; Or it would have been, had they not been a pack of muck-eating, slaving bastards. If I'm lucky, I'll never deal with them again.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 91
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I rode a silt strider today. It was very peaceful. I'm not sure I care for how the drivers move them about by poking directly at their exposed innards, but the creatures don't seem to be in any pain.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 92
|| Madam Firilanya
|| It is all so strange here. Towers made of mushrooms. Gods you can meet. This strange obsession with ash which works its way into most of the food, I regret to report. Still, there is enough alike to the rest of Tamriel that I can still do business. And I've already cornered the market on kwama eggs&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 93
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I don't like the sight of Red Mountain. It reminds me of my dreams.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 94
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I write this letter with a heavy heart. The dreams are growing worse. The potions I purchased from House Telvanni aren't working, and I fear I cannot continue in your employ as long as these strange dreams persist. I must consider my options. I will inform you before making any drastic alterations to our business arrangement.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 95
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I came to a decision. A friend once spoke of a wizard in Wrothgar who knows much of dreams. I will head there and see if this wizard can cure me. I hope the bracing air will reinvigorate me, for I do hope to continue as your outfitter for quite some time. I board a ship for colder waters this evening.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 96
|| Madam Firilanya
|| The snows of Wrothgar are indescribable. The mountains here are like enormous clenched fists dusted with great piles of flour. Skyrim Nords boast of their ranges, but nothing compares to these. Just a few more days to Orsinium&#33; From there I will find the wizard who can cure my dreams.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 97
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Another bad dream last night. A million voices, screaming the same word over and over. I couldn't make it out. I suppose that's for the best.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 98
|| Madam Firilanya
|| I no longer travel to Orsinium. My mouth fills with the taste of copper whenever I take a step in that direction. I've petitioned a local shaman for aid in dispelling the dreams. I don't care what he thinks of a foreign High Elf standing outside his stronghold's walls. I just care that he trades knowledge for gold.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 99
|| Madam Firilanya
|| The shaman spoke of a hermit who cures ill dreams. This may be the wizard I seek. Before I head to the mountains, I must thank you for your indulgence. Speaking of this burden has helped lightened its load, and though we've never truly met, I feel a certain kinship. If I may impose upon you to wish me luck, I would be forever grateful.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 100
|| Madam Firilanya
|| Honored client&#33; Due to unavoidable circumstances, Miss Firi is currently unable to personalize your delivery. Your regular shipments shall continue, of course&#33; She anticipates the day when she can once more provide the personal touch she includes with her uninterrupted and reliable service.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 101
|| Veesk-Olan
|| I erect the spines of greeting and gratitude for allowing me to provide for some of your outfitting needs. I am Veesk-Olan. You do remember our agreement? You may expect regular deliveries of the best materials and crafting components I can acquire. On that, you have my word.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 102
|| Veesk-Olan
|| The wilds of Deshaan are particularly beautiful this time of the season. I spent much of the day sunning myself beside Lake Hlaalu, watching the torchbugs lazily fly by and otherwise letting the mud of contention slide from my scales. Then I remembered to send this package. Use its contents well&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 103
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Veesk again. I hope your river still runs clear. As I was preparing this shipment, I suddenly noticed how so many of the materials I send remind me of my own scintillating scales. Kind of makes my stomach twist like a swamp eel in a net. Do not fear, however. I won't shirk my duties just because of a little discomfort.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 104
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Oh, honored employer, a storm brews within me. My egg-brothers once again speak badly of my chosen profession. Well, not my profession, exactly. They say that an Argonian who gets squeamish at the sight of fur and hide has no business trying to earn a living as a clothier. I'm so confused&#33; I feel like a fire apple growing on a stormberry bush.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 105
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Honored employer, thanks again for believing in me and continuing to pay for my timely services. Sorry this shipment is late. I won't let it happen again. But I do have a legitimate excuse. I was as sick as a dehydrated mudcrab after removing the hides of deceased guar in the Narsis lowlands. I'm better now.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 106
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Have you even noticed the eyes of a mudcrab. They stare directly into you. And the intelligence within their unblinking orbs&#33; By the Hist, I may never eat another mudcrab cake again&#33; In fact, I have decided to take this poor, defenseless mudcrab with me. As a companion of sorts. I shall call him--Snips&#33; We will be the best of friends.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 107
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Sometimes I hate my egg-brothers. They laughed long and hard after little Snips took off the tip of my finger with his razor-sharp pincers. I told them he was just playing, and for some reason that made them laugh even harder. I hope their scales dry and turn brittle. Here's your shipment.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 108
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Dear patron, please accept this latest shipment. I had a bad incident when I decided to collect snake skin for leather. First, those dry-skinned Ashlanders in the valley southeast of Mournhold? They take umbrage to people who hunt their precious snakes. Second, the snakes reminded me of my egg-brothers. I cried with each skin I harvested.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 109
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Remember my last letter? How bad I felt as I skinned those valley snakes? Well, I'm over it now. As soon as I returned home, my egg-brothers started making fun of me again. That was all it took for me to come up with a new way to control my aversions. I just remember how cruel they can be and picture them as I peel off the skin. Stay moist&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 110
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Snips, my mudcrab companion, did the cutest thing. He decided he needed to sharpen his claws, so he started cutting my thick, leather travel bags. He turned my bags into a pile of ribbons so fast&#33; And he kept watching me the whole time, seeking my approval. What a good boy&#33; But I was able to salvage today's shipment. I hope it finds you well.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 111
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Veesk wishes the eggs around me had been empty when I was born&#33; While I was recovering from a bad reaction to collecting hides from dead guars, my egg-brothers hid Snips and pretended that the mudcrab cakes for dinner were made with genuine Snips meat&#33; Even the spines of anger and despair refused to erect when they placed the plate before me.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 112
|| Veesk-Olan
|| How cruel my egg-brothers can be&#33; First, they placed a plate of mudcrab cakes in front of me and told me they were made with jumbo Snips meat. Then, when they saw how devastated I was, they broke down into fits of unrestrained laughter. I paused just long enough to send this shipment, but now I need to confront them and find poor Snips.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 113
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Veesk here. Veesk-Olan. Your hireling. Turns out I didn't need to rescue Snips after all. That brave little mudcrab sliced his way out of the crate they trapped him in. I arrived just in time to see Snips chase my egg-brothers out of the house, snipping at their feet and tails with his remarkably sharp claws. I was so proud&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 114
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Dear patron, have no fear. I have no intention of shirking my commitment to you. But I have decided to start a new project to help me deal with my aversion to any and all crafting components that remind me of my own body parts. I have decided to become a storyteller&#33; And to demonstrate my ability to build suspense, I'll tell you more. Next time.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 115
|| Veesk-Olan
|| As I wrote last time, I plan to become a storyteller. I've always been fascinated by the tales of the Lusty Argonian and the epic poems of Fjokki the Bard. I have an idea for my own character--the adventures of the Green Hood&#33; Doesn't it sound exciting? An Argonian clothier by day, an avenging hero by night&#33; It practically writes itself&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 116
|| Veesk-Olan
|| "The Green Hood and the Dres Slavers." That's the title for my first epic featuring the Argonian hero, the Green Hood. In this story, I introduce the mild-mannered Argonian clothier named Kseev-Nalo, who has a bit of an aversion to dealing with reptilian hides. Reminds him of his own skin. And no, this character is not based on anyone we know.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 117
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Veesk-Olan again, expert hireling and soon-to-be-famous writer. I was telling you about my first story, "The Green Hood and the Dres Slavers." We discover early in the tale that the mild-mannered Argonian with the pet mudcrab has a secret life. At night, he dons a green hood and becomes a hero&#33; My spines tingle in anticipation of my coming fame&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 118
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Here's another shipment. Now where was I? Oh yes, the origin of my new heroic character, the Green Hood. As a young hatchling in Black Marsh, he was taken in and trained as a Shadowscale. But when he was sent to remove an Argonian elder whose only crime was speaking out against injustice, Kseev-Nalo left the job undone and departed for Mournhold.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 119
|| Veesk-Olan
|| You must be wondering: How did a former Shadowscale become a masked hero who defends Argonians who can't defend themselves? Simple, really. He has the skills and abilities, and he cares about his egg-brothers and sisters. His story is so compelling, even Nords and Dark Elves will look forward to every exciting installment&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 120
|| Veesk-Olan
|| And did I mention that the Green Hood has a pet mudcrab who helps him fight injustice and tyranny and the forces of Molag Bal? His name is Spins, because he's a whirlwind of heroic destruction&#33; Oh, that's good. I need to jot that in my story journal.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 121
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Writing is hard work. Oh, not these letters included with my shipments. I'm talking about pouring the river of my mind onto the pages of my epic tale, "The Green Hood and the Dres Slavers." After just a few days, I feel like the river has run dry. I need a break. I'll get back to it after the rains of imagination once again overflow my banks.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 122
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Patron, I hope this package finds you well. Here, the deep mud of depression threatens to drown poor Snips. I'm not sure what's wrong, but he hasn't tried to clip a tail or a finger with his claws in days. Worse, he even stopped chasing my nasty egg-brothers around. I hope my mudcrab isn't ill.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 123
|| Veesk-Olan
|| There's been no change in poor Snips. He won't eat. He won't playfully snap at loose extremities. He won't snuggle under my knees when we go to sleep. I'm so worried&#33; After consulting with a number of knowledgeable friends and associates, I've decided to seek the alchemist Aleeto in Eastmarch. I will continue to send you components, of course.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 124
|| Veesk-Olan
|| I feared that poor Snips had contracted Llodos plague, but despite my egg-brothers' protests to the contrary, my mudcrab never turned into a ravenous monster. He remains his usual ball of cuddles and coos, even if he seems to be as sad as a willow tree in a desert. So, we're on our way to Eastmarch to find the alchemist Aleeto.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 125
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Patron, excuse the delay. I disembarked in Windhelm and got caught up in the festive celebration. I thought it was just a normal Nord party, but it turns out that they were honoring the tenth year of King Jorunn's reign. Every time I turned around, someone handed me another mug of mead&#33; It took me three days to extract myself from the joyous city.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 126
|| Veesk-Olan
|| My head is still swirling, like angry storm clouds on a windy day. Who knew Nord mead had such a potent kick? I certainly didn't. I think I prefer the bitter taste of bile-beer to this cloyingly sweet beverage. As soon as my head clears and my teeth stop aching, we're off to find someone to help poor Snips.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 127
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Another day, another shipment. And another bout of nausea, I'm afraid. I can't help picturing my own glistening scales every time I remove the hide of a lizard or a snake. But at least I'm not as ill as poor Snips. My mudcrab companion is one unhappy crustacean. But we have an appointment with the alchemist. Soon everything will be better.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 128
|| Veesk-Olan
|| I hope that the alchemist Aleeto proves to be as good as the tales I've heard about her. She does have an impressive shop in Fort Amol, with walls and a ceiling and everything. It's not just an outdoor stall as so many of the lesser alchemists I've met utilize. I hope she can help Snips. He seems to have gotten even worse since last I wrote you.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 129
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Hello. It's Veesk again. I erect the spine of disappointment in your general direction. The alchemist Aleeto refused to see us. She claimed to have no time to deal with a mudcrab and the crustacean following him around. Now what should I do? I'm not sure Snips can last much longer in this sorry state.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 130
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Patron, I realize I have been remiss in describing what's wrong with Snips. And I want to be a writer&#33; Let me rectify. He has been quiet and nonresponsive, and not at all his usual playful self. More recently, he has begun to swell up like an over-full water skin. I fear he's going to explode&#33; If only the alchemist had agreed to help us.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 131
|| Veesk-Olan
|| What a silly scuttle-claw I am&#33; Turns out, there was nothing wrong with Snips. He was just molting&#33; Now he has a nice, new shell and he's so much bigger than he was before. And I've got his old, discarded shell to save as a keepsake. Sorry to have worried you. Enjoy the shipment.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 132
|| Veesk-Olan
|| I was using the clothier workbench in Fort Amol when the alchemist Aleeto happened by. She noticed how much distress I was in, as I was working with fresh snake skin and guar hides. I can't help it, but all I can think of is myself—flayed alive and scaleless for all the world to see—whenever I work with these components. Aleeto frowned and said ….
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 133
|| Veesk-Olan
|| "I think I can help you, after all," Aleeto said.  "Come by my shop after dusk and I might just have something to take care of your queasy constitution." I must admit, what with all the smoke and explosions usually emanating from her shop, I have some trepidations. But here are more components for your use. Hopefully, more will follow tomorrow.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 134
|| Veesk-Olan
|| I entered Aleeto's shop cautiously. Snips, however, scuttled in and started exploring with his usual playfulness. "Did your creature wipe his claws?" Aleeto asked. "I don't want mud all over my nice, clean floors." Snips clacked his pincers and cheerfully ignored her. I, however, was feeling neither cheer nor curiosity. I was dry with fright.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 135
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Veesk again. Turns out, I was worried about nothing. Alchemist Aleeto might be a bit rough and a little crazy, but she knows how to mix elixirs and concoctions. Now, her soothing stomach potion smelled like Nord socks and tasted like guar dung before she added a few drops of jute root, but it settled my insides. And she's teaching me to make it&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 136
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Our visit to Fort Amol was a success. Snips is back to his old self—now significantly larger. I learned how to make a potion to ease my work-related nausea. And I found out that Aleeto is also a storyteller&#33; Her tales are wildly improbable, but she's given me excellent advice on how to proceed with "The Green Hood and the Dres Slavers."
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 137
|| Veesk-Olan
|| The petals of good fortune have opened in my direction&#33; Aleeto introduced me to her publisher, a Dark Elf from Mournhold who provides exciting tales of adventure and is always looking for the next Narsis Dren. He loves the idea of a masked Argonian and offered to publish my first story&#33; Oh, I wallow in the mud of elation&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 138
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Patron, Veesk-Olan here. I want to assure you that my newfound calling as a storyteller will in no way diminish my obligation to you. Your shipments will continue to arrive on a regular basis. And I will let you read the tales of the Green Hood before the general public--for only a slight increase in our current agreement.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 139
|| Veesk-Olan
|| "Emerging from the mist like an avenging Aedra, the Green Hood struck with the precision of a lightning strike and the force of a thunder clap. The Dres slavers fell, like young trees in a strong wind." Oh, patron, the water of imagination overflows my banks&#33; You can soon read the finished manuscript. Meanwhile, use these components well.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 140
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Potential patron, forgive the intrusion. I am Uraviin Dres, of House Dres. I know you have an agreement with Veesk-Olan, but I have the connections and experience to provide a higher level of service than that smelly lizard could ever hope to match. I appreciate your consideration and look forward to your affirmation of a new working arrangement.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 141
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Potential patron, perhaps my previous letter failed to reach you. I am Uraviin Dres, of House Dres. You really must sign on with my service, for House Dres offers an ongoing stream of components for all of your crafting needs. Besides, how can you stand touching material that were handled by that ... that ... lizard? I await your reply.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 142
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Honored employer, please disregard any letters you may have received from that Dark Elf dryskin, Uraviin Dres. I discovered that she had taken my journal and was trying to steal my patrons with her false promises and fancy words. Do not believe her&#33; She is evil&#33; And she is part of House Dres. Even Snips is afraid of her&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 143
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Honored patron, this is Veesk again. Please don't end our employment agreement. I really need the work. Your shipment is included.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 144
|| Veesk-Olan
|| No-longer-potential patron, you are dead to me. I don't understand how you could prefer that disgusting lizard over a scion of House Dres, but you will feel the sting of this rejection. House Dres neither forgives nor forgets. Remember that. I remain Uraviin Dres, of House Dres, and you will regret this unwise decision.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 145
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Veesk here. I recovered my journal and sent that vile Uraviin Dres on her way. She certainly made my scales tingle with the fear of a hundred nights&#33; At least I have inspiration for the villain of my epic tale, "The Green Hood and the Dres Slavers." Although writing about her is sure to give me nightmares. Your shipment is included.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 146
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Oh, patron, I have terrible news&#33; While we were visiting Jorunn's Stand, Snips wandered off to explore, as he often does. This time, however, he wandered too close to the cooking fire of Makes-Many-Soups. She has imprisoned poor Snips in a basket and refuses to return him to me. She does assure me, however, that he will taste delicious.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 147
|| Veesk-Olan
|| They call the chef at Jorunn's Stand Makes-Many-Soups. Luckily, she has just one pot to cook in. She can't make a new soup until the pot is emptied. As I consider how to keep Snips from becoming tomorrow's dinner, I'm spreading tales of how diners have gotten ill eating Makes' current soup. That should keep the pot full until an idea strikes me.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 148
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Never disparage a cook or her food--especially when that cook is an angry Argonian with a heavy ladle&#33; She gave me a bump on my head that looks like the peak of Dragonstar Mountain&#33; Makes-Many-Soups still refuses to return Snips to me, however, and the mud of my options has dried into the dust of indecision. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 149
|| Veesk-Olan
|| After another long discussion with Makes-Many-Soups, I got her to reveal that she has a secret passion for steamy tales of romance and adventure. She has a particular fondness for the stories of the Lusty Argonian, it turns out. Perhaps I can use her obsession to save poor Snips. Your shipment is included.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 150
|| Veesk-Olan
|| What a frustrating woman that Makes-Many-Soups is&#33; You don't know what I had to promise her to secure Snips' freedom. Still, anything to keep my mudcrab companion out of the soup pot, right? I will include her as the sexy heroine in "The Green Hood and the Dres Slavers," Makes-Much-Love. (She suggested the name.) And I have to take her to dinner.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 151
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Snips is free&#33; And Makes-Many-Soups received a few days leave from her post at the cook pot, so I agreed to accompany her back to Windhelm for the meal I promised to buy her. The trip was uneventful, but we did get a chance to talk along the way. I never knew how fascinating the life of a chef could be. Your components are enclosed.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 152
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Dear patron, my meal with Makes-Many-Soups was surprisingly pleasant. We decided to partake of the fare at the Sober Nord, and the food was delicious. Makes was impressed--and when it comes to food, she's very hard to please. The innkeep even served six-ooze parfait, an Argonian delicacy, to end the meal. It was amazing&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 153
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Not much to report today. Makes and I took a room at the inn and we're just … working out some scenes for my epic tale of romantic adventure, "The Green Hood and the Dres Slavers." Your components are included.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 154
|| Veesk-Olan
|| I erect the spines of happiness and contentment in your general direction, good patron&#33; What a night we shared&#33; And a day. And another night. But now, alas, we must go our separate ways. Makes must return to her post at the cook pot, and I have materials to collect. I am joyful and sorrowful at the same time.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 155
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Before we parted ways, I shared an idea with Makes-Many-Soups to make her cooking fire better. I suggested she add a second or even a third pot. That way, she can prepare more than one soup at a time and give her patrons a choice. "More than one soup at a time?" Makes said, stroking my head fin. "I must consider this radical approach carefully."
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 156
|| Veesk-Olan
|| By the Hist, I'm so depressed&#33; Who would have thought I'd miss Makes-Many-Soups so much after we parted ways in Windhelm. This must be what that condition Fjokki the Bard always writes about--a broken heart. Anyway, here's your shipment.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 157
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Dear patron. Forgive my previous message. There's no reason to burden you with my heartache and sorrow. It's unprofessional. But in case you were worried about me, please don't Snips has been remarkably good company and I hardly miss Makes-Many-Soups at all now.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 158
|| Veesk-Olan
|| "She stared into the Dark Hood's stormy eyes, an impudent smile playing across her scaly lips. 'Yes, hero, I am that good,' Makes-Much-Love declared. 'Now get out there and stop those Dark Elf slavers&#33;" As always, good patron, any suggestions you have to improve my rousing epic would be much appreciated. And your materials are included.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 159
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Dishonored enemy, I hope you aren't well. That fool Veesk was so absorbed in his writing that he never noticed as I slipped his work journal from his pack. His vicious mudcrab did attempt to slice a few of my fingers off, but Uraviin Dres is nothing if she isn't faster than a bloated crustacean. So I write to let you know--vengeance is mine&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 160
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Dishonored enemy. Those bandits who recently attacked you? They belonged to me. That's right, you were ambushed&#33; And that's only the beginning&#33; House Dres believes that revenge is a dish best served with a pinch of pepper and a flask of flin. Lots and lots of flin. Bwahaha&#33; Your components are enclosed, though. Use them poorly&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 161
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Dear patron, forgive the intrusion. It seems that the scaleless Dark Elf known as Uraviin Dres has once again gotten into my journal and sent disturbing letters to my clients. I erect the spine of apology and beg for your understanding. I promise that such an outrage shall not happen again. Stay moist, my patron&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 162
|| Veesk-Olan
|| My egg-brothers have come to visit. I'm hoping that they behave themselves, but I expect them to be as annoying and bothersome as ever. They continue to tease me about my chosen profession (clothier materials provider) and about my faithful companion (Snips the marvelous mudcrab). Worse, they found the manuscript for "The Green Hood." I'm doomed.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 163
|| Veesk-Olan
|| To my surprise, my egg-brothers aren't teasing me about my work-in-progress, "The Green Hood and the Dres Slavers." Instead, they demand that I complete the story so they can find out what happens. They've never been this interested in my work before. I erect the spine of confusion.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 164
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Could it be true? Did I actually create something that my wretched egg-brothers care about? I'm not sure how to feel about that. Is the Green Hood merely a hero for the common folk or is he an icon of modern Argonian literature? Could he be both? My mind swirls with the fallen leaves of indecision&#33; But never fear. Your components are included.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 165
|| Veesk-Olan
|| My egg-brothers devour every page I write, eager to see what the Green Hood and his paramour, Makes-Much-Love, do next. At this point in the tale, Makes has been taken captive by the slavers, while the evil Duvariin Dres has sent her necromantic creations to destroy the Hood—and all of Mournhold in the process&#33; And that's as far as I've gotten ….
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 166
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Oh, bother. The turbulent waters of utter confusion fill my head these days. My egg-brothers want the rest of my epic tale of the Green Hood, but I haven't written it yet. My demanding clients (but not you, of course) want more crafting components. And there aren't enough moments in the day to accomplish both tasks. What is a poor Argonian to do?
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 167
|| Veesk-Olan
|| My river runs exceeding slow this day, patron. I wrote well into the darkest hours, burning my candle from both ends, in order to place a few more pages of story before my eager egg-brothers. Then I was up at the crack of daybreak to gather this batch of components for you. Use them well, you slave driver.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 168
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Readers are never satisfied&#33; They demand more and more and then even more&#33; I feel trapped, like a rabbit in a snare, a victim of my own creativity. Oh, the irony of it all&#33; I hoped for fame, found it, and now pray to the Hist that it fades away as quickly as it arrived. Oh, cruel fate&#33; Your components are included.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 169
|| Veesk-Olan
|| I have an idea, patron. As I furiously near the end of my epic tale, "The Green Hood and the Dres Slavers," I have decided that the Green Hood will sacrifice his own life to save his paramour, Makes-Much-Love. It will be a heroic end, full of drama and emotion. And it will allow me to cleanly step away from this monster I have created.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 170
|| Veesk-Olan
|| "'Don't weep for me, Makes,' the Green Hood said as the bridge began to collapse. 'I did this to save Mournhold. And to save you, my love.' Then the bridge fell away, carrying the Green Hood into the churning waters and away from Makes' out-stretched hand. He was gone, but the Dres slavers were defeated. Mournhold would survive. The end."
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 171
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Now that my epic tale of the Green Hood has been completed and the book will soon be published, I feel an odd sense of emptiness. Whatever shall I do with my free time now that my writing is finished? At least my egg-brothers enjoyed the story. They did give me a sound beating for killing their hero, so I know they really liked it.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 172
|| Veesk-Olan
|| I have decided to rededicate myself to my chosen profession and double my efforts to gather crafting components for all of my patrons. And since you are my favorite, dear patron, you will benefit most from my newfound commitment. As the sun rises every morning, so shall my shipments to you arrive in a safe and timely fashion.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 173
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Snips did the cutest thing today. His claws are so much sharper than even my finest pair of shears. He watched as I cut strips of cloth from a bolt, then mimicked my actions. Between the two of us, the bolt had been cut into sections in record time. Of course, teaching him to measure before he cuts continues to be a challenge.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 174
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Pardon the interruption. This is Uraviin Dres, of House Dres. I have again borrowed the lizard's journal so that I can reach out to his patrons. I have just one question. How can you continue to employ a hireling who has slandered the good name of House Dres with his book full of hateful lies and half-truths? I am beside myself with indignation&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 175
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Consider yourself blessed to receive yet another letter from the quill of Uraviin Dres. Have you read that lizard's propaganda called the Green Hood? Utter kwama spittle&#33; No lizard could be so heroic&#33; And how he portrayed House Dres? It's a travesty&#33; A crime against the Three&#33; And his so-called villain? How dare he model her after me&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 176
|| Veesk-Olan
|| There is only one course opened before me, Uraviin Dres, of House Dres. I must write a rebuttal against the cowardly lizard. Disparage his book far and wide so that no one deigns to read it. Make Veesk a laughing stock throughout the lands of Morrowind and beyond&#33; Oh yes, your components are enclosed.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 177
|| Veesk-Olan
|| A hundred pardons, honored patron. That tree mold by the name of Uraviin once again absconded with my client journal. I hope whatever messages she sent weren't too disturbing. I wish she would find her own clients and leave me and mine in peace. As a thank you for your continued support, use these components well.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 178
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Once again I am visiting the great city of Windhelm in my quest to source the finest crafting components for your use. To save some gold, this time I'm staying at the less-expensive accommodations, the Cold-Moon Inn. It seems that my tale of the Green Hood has reached this Nord settlement and I find myself with more attention than I am used to.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 179
|| Veesk-Olan
|| One of the Cold-Moon daughters, Innbild, is very friendly. She serves me before any other customers. She finds time to sit with me and ask all kinds of questions. She's about halfway through "The Green Hood and the Dres Slavers." She genuinely seems to be enjoying it. But I wonder why she insists on sitting so close whenever we visit?
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 180
|| Veesk-Olan
|| I think that Innbild has a fascination with Argonians. I heard she was very close to a stable hand named Dazzling-Tail before I arrived, and now she's spending time with me. I thought I understood the mating rituals of the dryskins, but the things Innbild has suggested have confused me. I wonder if her sister Innsold can explain them to me?
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 181
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Dryskins are so confusing. Or maybe it's just Nords. All I did was ask Innsold a question about Nord mating rituals. So that I could better respond to her sister Innbild's advances, you understand. All I learned was that such questions make Nord women extremely angry. And now my jaw hurts from where she slugged me. Your components are included.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 182
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Dear patron. While Innsold may be angry with me, she has shown a remarkable fondness for my mudcrab companion, Snips. I believe that Snips shares her affection, because he hasn't tried to lovingly slice off even one of her long, pale, Nord fingers.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 183
|| Veesk-Olan
|| The stink of a fetid peat bog has floated into Windhelm and her name is Uraviin Dres&#33; If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was following me. Perhaps, like me, it is simply business that brings her to this bustling city. However, I fear she has more dastardly plans than merely filling her house coffers.  A new shipment is enclosed.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 184
|| Veesk-Olan
|| That hagraven Uraviin Dres must have tampered with my store of soothing stomach potions. Instead of settling my queasiness while I work, the potion I imbibed made me more ill. I'm as sick as a guar that got into the bile-beer. I will endeavor to persevere, but I really don't feel very good. Still, your shipment is included.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 185
|| Veesk-Olan
|| My stomach churns like a summer storm. It rumbles like an erupting volcano, making me weak as a newborn pup. Innbild came by. Instead of helping, she yelled at me. "How could you kill the Green Hood&#33;" she screamed, "I love him so much&#33;" Then she stamped off. I hope she returns soon with some soothing mint tea.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 186
|| Veesk-Olan
|| No soothing mint tea for Veesk today. And Innbild never returned. But I was visited by Uraviin Dres. At least I think it was her. Unless it was a fever dream. She came by to gloat, tell me that she had poisoned me. If I wanted to cure, I had to agree to renounce my book. Or pounce on the crook? My mind swims like a drunken eel.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 187
|| Veesk-Olan
|| The next thing I remembered was Snip. He crawled onto my chest and had a long talk with me. For a mudcrab, he's really quite articulate. Sounds just like a Breton noble. Not sure why I never noticed that before. He also has a lovely singing voice. Sang me an old Black Marsh lullaby and put me right to sleep.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 188
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Bad baby skeevers crawling up my arms&#33; Cheese&#33; The cheese smells like purple and tastes like sun&#33; But never fear. Your shipment said it missed you and wanted to be delivered. The components are attached. Torchbugs&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 189
|| Veesk-Olan
|| There's nothing left inside me and wisps of colored light dance before my eyes. I think I know how the Green Hood felt as the bridge slowly disintegrated beneath his feet ….
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 190
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Honored patron, I feel much better&#33; Please excuse any reports that sounded strange, as whatever vile concoction Uraviin slipped into my soothing stomach potion set off a series of rather vivid hallucinations. I'm not sure how close I came to rejoining the Hist, but I'm almost certain things would have been worse if not for Innsold's intervention.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 191
|| Veesk-Olan
|| I'm not sure what Innsold gave me to drink, but I feel almost like my old self again. She stayed with me throughout the dark time, as my mind swam in and out of focus and my sweat turned from hot to cold and back again. When I finally opened my eyes and actually saw her, she smiled and told me never to scare her like that again.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 192
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Today I witnessed the power of a Nord maiden defending a friend. Innsold Cold-Moon first threatened to rip every hair from her sister's head if she didn't stop complaining about how I ended my story. Then she picked up Uraviin Dres and hurled her bodily into an empty stable stall. Well, it was mostly empty. Your components are included.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 193
|| Veesk-Olan
|| When I asked Innsold why she was helping me since it was only a few days ago that she had slugged me in the jaw, she told me to shut up. Then she kissed me and asked if I wanted to learn how to perform a Nord mating ritual. Or seven. I must admit, for a large, scaleless Nord woman without a tail or a visible egg sac, she had me intrigued
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 194
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Dear patron, you don't know how hard it was for me to say goodbye and leave Windhelm. I'm going to miss Innsold Cold-Moon. She advanced my understanding of Nord practices by leaps and bounds--literally&#33; I'm even going to miss her sister, who broke down and hugged me when I told her I had a way to bring the Green Hood back to life.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 195
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Ah, patron, I enjoyed our time together as the swamp beetle enjoys the sun on its shell. But soon Snips and I must move on to other things. You see, the visions I suffered from Uraviin's poison weren't all bad. From them, I came up with a way to return the Green Hood from the land of the dead. And the adventure, as they say, is going to be epic&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 196
|| Veesk-Olan
|| To make my transition from novice storyteller to full-time writer, I need to find someone worthy to take over my component-sourcing business. I have a particular person in mind, someone who you may not completely trust. But rest assured, not every fetid fruit is rotten on both sides. Your components are included.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 197
|| Veesk-Olan
|| I caught up to Uraviin on the road to Fort Amol. Ostensibly, I was on my way to visit my friend, Makes-Many-Soups, but I was actually seeking the scion of House Dres. We cautiously greeted each other, wary of treachery on both our parts. But to forestall any trouble, I erected the spine of apology and offered to make amends for my story.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 198
|| Veesk-Olan
|| We talked for hours around her campfire. I explained my ideas for the further adventures of the Green Hood and how he would find an ally in a daughter of House Dres, demonstrating that not every Dark Elf is a villain. So that I had the time to write all these adventures, I told her I needed someone to service the clients in my component business.
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 199
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Exciting news. I am now a full-time teller of epic stories&#33; I'll remain active in the component-sourcing business, but my new partner will handle the day-to-day gathering and distribution to clients. Allow me to introduce Uraviin Dres, clothier crafting hireling supreme&#33; Please afford her the same respect you always gave to me. And wish me luck&#33;
|-
|style="text-align:center;"| 200
|| Veesk-Olan
|| Patron. Now that you have entered into a partnership with Uraviin Dres, there will be a few changes. First, I will be unable to send you personalized notes for the foreseeable future. That's just not my cup of flin. Second, your regular shipments will continue. Third, I will avenge myself against Veesk. After all, I am a scion of House Dres.
|}

[[Catégorie:Versions originales]]

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