Veesk-Olan

Veesk-Olan is an Argonian adventurer. He may become the personal outfitter hireling for the Vestige should they choose to allocate points into the Outfitter Hireling skill for clothing, once they reach the appropriate level. He will send a letter with select materials to the Vestige on a daily basis, although the items he sends may be improved with additional points into the Outfitter Hireling skill.
==Hireling Letters==
Veesk may send the Vestige multiple letters to their inbox, detailing her adventures as he gathers resources for the Vestige. The following are a collection of the letters that she will send:
# 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.
# 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!
# 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.
# 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! I feel like a fire apple growing on a stormberry bush.
# 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.
# Have you even noticed the eyes of a mudcrab. They stare directly into you. And the intelligence within their unblinking orbs! By the Hist, I may never eat another mudcrab cake again! In fact, I have decided to take this poor, defenseless mudcrab with me. As a companion of sorts. I shall call him--Snips! We will be the best of friends.
# 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.
# 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.
# 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!
# 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! And he kept watching me the whole time, seeking my approval. What a good boy! But I was able to salvage today's shipment. I hope it finds you well.
# Veesk wishes the eggs around me had been empty when I was born! 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! Even the spines of anger and despair refused to erect when they placed the plate before me.
# How cruel my egg-brothers can be! 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.
# 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!
# 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! And to demonstrate my ability to build suspense, I'll tell you more. Next time.
# 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! Doesn't it sound exciting? An Argonian clothier by day, an avenging hero by night! It practically writes itself!
# "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.
# 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! My spines tingle in anticipation of my coming fame!
# 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.
# 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!
# 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! Oh, that's good. I need to jot that in my story journal.
# 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.
# 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.
# 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! 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.
# 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.
# 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! It took me three days to extract myself from the joyous city.
# 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.
# 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.
# 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.
# 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.
# Patron, I realize I have been remiss in describing what's wrong with Snips. And I want to be a writer! 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! If only the alchemist had agreed to help us.
# What a silly scuttle-claw I am! Turns out, there was nothing wrong with Snips. He was just molting! 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.
# 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 ….
# "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.
# 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.
# 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!
# 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! Her tales are wildly improbable, but she's given me excellent advice on how to proceed with "The Green Hood and the Dres Slavers."
# The petals of good fortune have opened in my direction! 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! Oh, I wallow in the mud of elation!
# 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.
# "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! You can soon read the finished manuscript. Meanwhile, use these components well.
# [Sent by Uraviin Dres] 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.
# [Sent by Uraviin Dres] 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.
# 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! She is evil! And she is part of House Dres. Even Snips is afraid of her!
# Honored patron, this is Veesk again. Please don't end our employment agreement. I really need the work. Your shipment is included.
# [Sent by Uraviin Dres] 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.
#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! 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.
#Oh, patron, I have terrible news! 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.
#They call the chef at Jorann'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 considered 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.
#Never disparage a cook or her food--especially when that cook is an angry Argonian with a heavy ladle! She gave me a bump on my head that looks like the peak of Dragonstar Mountain! 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.
#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.
#What a frustrating woman that Makes-Many-Soups is! 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.
#Snips is free! 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.
#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!
#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.
#I erect the spines of happiness and contentment in your general direction, good patron! What a night we shared! 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.
#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."
#By the Hist, I'm so depressed! 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.
#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 [sic] Snips has been remarkably good company and I hardly miss Makes-Many-Soups at all now.
#"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!'" As always, good patron, any suggestions you have to improve my rousing epic would be much appreciated. And your materials are included.
#[Sent by Uraviin Dres] 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!
#[Sent by Uraviin Dres] Dishonored enemy. Those bandits who recently attacked you? They belonged to me. That's right, you were ambushed! And that's only the beginning! 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! Your components are enclosed, though. Use them poorly!
#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!
#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.
#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.
#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!  But never fear. Your components are included.
#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! And that's as far as I've gotten ....
#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?
#My river runs exceedingly 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.
#Readers are never satisfied! They demand more and more and then even more! I feel trapped, like a rabbit in a snare, a victim of my own creativity. Oh, the irony of it all! I hoped for fame, found it, and now pray to the Hist that it fades away as quickly as it arrived. Oh, cruel fate! Your components are included.
#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.
#"'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."
#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.
#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.
#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.
#[Sent by Uraviin Dres] 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!
#[Sent by Uraviin Dres] 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! No lizard could be so heroic! And how he portrayed House Dres? It's a travesty! A crime against the Three! And his so-called villain? How dare he model her after me!
#[Sent by Uraviin Dres] 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! Oh yes, your components are enclosed.
#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.
#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.
#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?
#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?
#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.
#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.
#The stink of a fetid peat bog has floated into Windhelm and her name is Uraviin Dres! 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.
#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.
#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!" she screamed, "I love him so much!" Then she stamped off. I hope she returns soon with some soothing mint tea.
#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.
#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.
#Bad baby skeevers crawling up my arms! Cheese! The cheese smells like purple and tastes like sun! But never fear. Your shipment said it missed you and wanted to be delivered. The components are attached. Torchbugs!
#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 ....
#Honored patron, I feel much better! 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.
#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.
#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.
#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.
#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! 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.
#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!
#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.
#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.
#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.
#Exciting news. I am now a full-time teller of epic stories! 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! Please afford her the same respect you always gave to me. And wish me luck!
#[Sent by Uraviin Dres] 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.
==Appearances==
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Category:Online: Hirelings
Category:Online: Authors