Feyfolken , Book III Content . Feyfolken Book Three by Waughin Jarth Thaurbad had at last seen the power of the quill , " said the Great Sage , continuing his tale . " Enchanted with the daedra Feyfolken , servitor of Clavicus Vile , it had brought him great wealth and fame as the scribe of the weekly Bulletin of the Temple of Auri - El . But he realized that it was the artist , and he merely the witness to its magic . He was furious and jealous . With a cry , he snapped the quill in half . He turned to finish his glass of mead . When he turned around , the quill was intact . He had no other quills but the one he had enchanted , so he dipped his finger in the inkwell and wrote a note to Gorgos in big sloppy letters . When Gorgos returned with a new batch of congratulatory messages from the Temple , praising his latest Bulletin , he handed the note and the quill to the messenger boy . The note read : " Take the quill back to the Mages Guild and sell it . Buy me another quill with no enchantments . " Gorgos didn ' t know what to make of the note , but he did as he was told . He returned a few hours later . " They wouldn ' t give us any gold back for it , " said Gorgos . " They said it wasn ' t enchanted . I told ' em , I said ' What are you talking about , you enchanted it right here with that Feyfolken soul gem , ' and they said , ' Well , there ain ' t a soul in it now . Maybe you did something and it got loose . ' " Gorgos paused to look at his master . Thaurbad couldn ' t speak , of course , but he seemed even more than usually speechless . " Anyway , I threw the quill away and got you this new one , like you said . " Thaurbad studied the new quill . It was white - feathered while his old quill had been dove gray . It felt good in his hand . He sighed with relief and waved his messenger lad away . He had a Bulletin to write , and this time , without any magic except for his own talent . Within two days time , he was nearly back on schedule . It looked plain but it was entirely his . Thaurbad felt a strange reassurance when he ran his eyes over the page and noticed some slight errors . It had been a long time since the Bulletin contained any errors . In fact , Thaurbad reflected happily , there were probably other mistakes still in the document that he was not seeing . He was finishing a final whirl of plain calligraphy on the borders when Gorgos arrived with some messages from the Temple . He looked through them all quickly , until one caught his eye . The wax seal on the letter read " Feyfolken . " With complete bafflement , he broke it open . " I think you should kill yourself , " it read in perfectly gorgeous script . He dropped the letter to the floor , seeing sudden movement on the Bulletin . Feyfolken script leapt from the letter and coursed over the scroll in a flood , translating his shabby document into a work of sublime beauty . Thaurbad no longer cared about the weird croaking quality of his voice . He screamed for a very long time . And then drank . Heavily . Gorgos brought Thaurbad a message from Vanderthil , the secretary of the Temple , early Fredas morning , but it took the scribe until mid - morning to work up the courage to look at it . " Good Morning , I am just checking in on the Bulletin . You usually have it in on Turdas night . I ' m curious . You planning something special ? - - Vanderthil . " Thaurbad responded , " Vanderthil , I ' m sorry . I ' ve been sick . There won ' t be a Bulletin this Sunday " and handed the note to Gorgos before retiring to his bath . When he came back an hour later , Gorgos was just returning from the Temple , smiling . " Vanderthil and the archpriest went crazy , " he said . " They said it was your best work ever . " Thaurbad looked at Gorgos , uncomprehending . Then he noticed that the Bulletin was gone . Shaking , he dipped his finger in the inkwell and scrawled the words " What did the note I sent with you say ? " " You don ' t remember ? " asked Gorgos , holding back a smile . He knew the master had been drinking a lot lately . " I don ' t remember the exact words , but it was something like , ' Vanderthil , here it is . Sorry it ' s late . I ' ve been having severe mental problems lately . - Thaurbad . ' Since you said , ' here it is , ' I figured you wanted me to bring the Bulletin along , so I did . And like I said , they loved it . I bet you get three times as much letters this Sundas . " Thaurbad nodded his head , smiled , and waved the messenger lad away . Gorgos returned back to the Temple , while his master turned to his writing plank , and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment . He wrote with the quill : " What do you want , Feyfolken ? " The words became : " Goodbye . I hate my life . I have cut my wrists . " Thaurbad tried another tact : " Have I gone insane ? " The words became : " Goodbye . I have poison . I hate my life . " " Why are you doing this to me ? " " I Thaurbad Hulzik cannot live with myself and my ingratitude . That ' s why I ' ve put this noose around my neck . " Thaurbad picked up a fresh parchment , dipped his finger in the inkwell , and proceeded to rewrite the entire Bulletin . While his original draft , before Feyfolken had altered it , had been simple and flawed , the new copy was a scrawl . Lower - case I ' s were undotted , G ' s looked like Y ' s , sentences ran into margins and curled up and all over like serpents . Ink from the first page leaked onto the second page . When he yanked the pages from the notebook , a long tear nearly divided the third page in half . Something about the final result was evocative . Thaurbad at least hoped so . He wrote another note reading , simply , " Use this Bulletin instead of the piece of trash I sent you . " When Gorgos returned with new messages , Thaurbad handed the envelope to him . The new letters were all the same , except for one from his healer , Telemichiel . " Thaurbad , we need you to come in as soon as possible . We ' ve received the reports from Black Marsh about a strain of the Crimson Plague that sounds very much like your disease , and we need to re - examine you . Nothing is definite yet , but we ' re going to want to see what our options are . " It took Thaurbad the rest of the day and fifteen drams of the stoutest mead to recover . The larger part of the next morning was spent recovering from this means of recovery . He started to write a message to Vanderthil : " What did you think of the new Bulletin ? " with the quill . Feyfolken ' s improved version was " I ' m going to ignite myself on fire , because I ' m a dying no - talent . " Thaurbad rewrote the note using his finger - and - ink message . When Gorgos appeared , he handed him the note . There was one message in Vanderthil ' s handwriting . It read , " Thaurbad , not only are you divinely inspired , but you have a great sense of humor . Imagine us using those scribbles you sent instead of the real Bulletin . You made the archbishop laugh heartily . I cannot wait to see what you have next week . Yours fondly , Vanderthil . " The funeral service a week later brought out far more friends and admirers than Thaurbad Hulzik would ' ve believed possible . The coffin , of course , had to be closed , but that didn ' t stop the mourners from filing into lines to touch its smooth oak surface , imagining it as the flesh of the artist himself . The archbishop managed to rise to the occasion and deliver a better than usual eulogy . Thaurbad ' s old nemesis , the secretary before Vanderthil , Alfiers came in from Cloudrest , wailing and telling all who would listen that Thaurbad ' s suggestions had changed the direction of her life . When she heard Thaurbad had left her his quill in his final testament , she broke down in tears . Vanderthil was even more inconsolable , until she found a handsome and delightfully single young man . " I can hardly believe he ' s gone and I never even saw him face - to - face or spoke to him , " she said . " I saw the body , but even if he hadn ' t been all burned up , I wouldn ' t have been able to tell if it was him or not . " " I wish I could tell you there ' d been a mistake , but there was plenty of medical evidence , " said Telemichiel . " I supplied some of it myself . He was a patient of mine , you see . " " Oh , " said Vanderthil . " Was he sick or something ? " " He had the Crimson Plague years ago , that ' s what took away his voice box , but it appeared to have gone into complete remission . Actually , I had just sent him a note telling him words to that effect the day before he killed himself . " " You ' re that healer ? " exclaimed Vanderthil . " Thaurbad ' s messenger boy Gorgos told me that he had just picked up that message when I sent mine , complementing him on the new , primative design for the Bulletin . It was amazing work . I never would ' ve told him this , but I had begun to suspect he was stuck in an outmoded style . It turned out he had one last work of genius , before going out in a blaze of glory . Figuratively . And literally . " Vanderthil showed the healer Thaurbad ' s last Bulletin , and Telemichiel agreed that its frantic , nearly illegible style spoke volumes about the power and majesty of the god Auri - El . " " Now I ' m thoroughly confused , " said Vonguldak . " About which part ? " asked the Great Sage . " I think the tale is very straight - forward . " " Feyfolken made all the Bulletins beautiful , except for the last one , the one Thaubad did for himself , " said Taksim thoughtfully . " But why did he misread the notes from Vanderthil and the healer ? Did Feyfolken change those words ? " " Perhaps , " smiled the Great Sage . " Or did Feyfolken changed Thaurbad ' s perceptions of those words ? " asked Vonguldak . " Did Feyfolken make him mad after all ? " " Very likely , " said the Great Sage . " But that would mean that Feyfolken was a servitor of Sheogorath , " said Vonguldak . " And you said he was a servitor of Clavicus Vile . Which was he , an agent of mischief or an agent of insanity ? " " The will was surely altered by Feyfolken , " said Taksim , " And that ' s the sort of thing a servitor of Clavicus Vile would do to perpetuate the curse . " " As an appropriate ending to the tale of the scribe and his cursed quill , " smiled the Great Sage . " I will let you read into it as you will . "