I would say the trip was uneventful, that I arrived safely and whole, but I’d be lying. I won’t go into details now, but you, Mother, and Pappa must be on lookout for agents of Molag Bal. I defied him by refusing death and enslavement, and in doing so, I made an enemy.
And so has he.
I am well, for now, don’t worry, and don’t join up with the first caravan headed this way. Mother needs you. Just stick together, and watch for cultists.
My trip took a detour, but I did finally make it to Stros M’Kai. It took longer to establish a network than I expected – the war is heating up and everyone is distracted, to put it mildly. But I got connections made, and can move any merchandise you send my way, if needed. I also (finally!) have contracted craftsmen for my equipment. The Altmer making my armor is a snobby, racist ass, but I can’t fault her work, at least. You’d love the blacksmith I found – I think she said three words the entire meeting, but these blades can split a hair.
Stros M’Kai feels so much like home in so many ways: the sand, the plants, the clumsy dockhands trying to pick my pockets… I love it here. I’ll head over to Glenumbra soon, but this was a nice layover while I sorted out the supply chain and caught my breath from the trip and its trials.
The first job I was hired to do involved breaking a thief out of jail. I was unsympathetic, and I can already see the look on your face, because yes – he was the one dumb enough to get caught, right? But I owed the woman who hired me, and she needed the jailbird’s help. So I worked my down to the bottom of a petty warlord’s trap-filled dungeon, popped the guy’s cell door, got a heartfelt thanks, and then the bastard teleported himself out and left me to fight my way back out alone. Way to have my back, Guy Whose Life I Just Saved. Classy.
This “note” got long, so I’ll let you go. More information as I have it, and I promise I’ll share details of the Molag Bal issue later.
All my love,