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[GiglameshDespair]

Well, we don't have a need for an inn at the moment and we don't know where our brother is. Might as well get to business, it's cold standing around.

[Yourmaster]

Why would the guards in windhelm help an elf?

[freeformschooler]

Why would the guards in windhelm help an elf?

They should be honored to help one of such a proud species as the Dunmer.

[Araph]

If you're going to be a merchant, you should find out what the Civil War's wrested from the city. Ask a guard about the shortages around here. Demand drives price up, after all.

Considering your options, you decide to look into the state of the city's economy before finding Thauraver. You haven't seen your cousin in many years, but you know that if he's at all like he was back in Morrowind he probably didn't actually think this plan through.

There's a guard lollygaggin' off to the side of the street you're walking down. While you have grave doubts about his knowledge of economics, he'd be as good a place as any to start investigating the impact of the war. You approach him and ask how the war's going; asking him outright about shortages would probably be a bad idea. He bluntly responds by asking you if you're planning on joining the Stormcloaks. You answer noncommittally. He tells you that if that's not the case, you should bugger off back to Morrowind.

Why would the guards in windhelm help an elf?

They should be honored to help one of such a proud species as the Dunmer.

Well, at least he didn't arrest you for anything. Yet. In all of your long, elven life, you'd never actually been to Skyrim. This whole 'blatant racism' thing looks very different on the receiving end. You somberly reflect on how yet another proud elvish tradition has been appropriated by men.

Enough with the sentimental guar-crap, back to business. You square your shoulders and resume the hunt; one guard might have brushed you off, but you're a Dunmer who gets what he wants, and what you want is information. You continue trekking through the city, approaching Nords and Dunmer alike. Most of the Nords brush you off, but you manage to glean a few pieces of information.

The war has locked down much of the traffic across the holds, leading to shortages of many goods: staple foods like wheat, potatoes, and maize, as well as raw materials such as fabrics. The demand for weapons and armor from both sides has led to exceedingly high demand for iron, and the current mines throughout Eastmarch are barely able to supply enough metal for the Stormcloaks. Ulfric is angry at the Orcish strongholds for not opening their mines to his laborers. Luxury items from the Empire are completely cut off. The Dunmer in the city are impoverished, practically a nonentity in the economy.

Nearly an hour later, the grey sky has started to darken to night. You notice that the guards seem to be paying closer attention to you now. They haven't accused you of anything yet, but you get the impression they're waiting for something.

[Tomcost]

PTW. I will just lurk around here, as I have 0 knowledge about Skyrim

[escaped lurker]

Ask the next friendly face where you could find a suitable place to stay the night.
Doubt the guards would do us much good. Obviously "friendly face" translates to "Mer". Minus Orsimer, which we most likely don't count as mer. Well, we probably should have no qualms about asking one of them lot either.

[GiglameshDespair]

Eh. Head to an Inn. There should be enough of them around - we probably spotted one on our wanderings.

[escaped lurker]

Eh. Head to an Inn. There should be enough of them around - we probably spotted one on our wanderings.

True enough. But if the Inn's owner is even half as racist as the guards all seem to be, he will either jack up the price, or ask us to leave. Hence my idea to ask for an inn that welcomes mer.

Actually, I do hope we have enough septims to stay at an inn. So far I think we only know that we have not enough gold to start a buisness.

[Xantalos]

I am going to PTW this and make suggestions later, when I'm not as tired.

[Harry Baldman]

Don't we have a cousin or something? Or is he one of the beggars?

[Haveroszaur]

PTW, might suggest actions later. All my knowledge of Skyrim is using console commands to give me awesome gear and skills, then killing every non-essential NPC.

[Araph]

Ask the next friendly face where you could find a suitable place to stay the night.
Doubt the guards would do us much good. Obviously "friendly face" translates to "Mer". Minus Orsimer, which we most likely don't count as mer. Well, we probably should have no qualms about asking one of them lot either.

Eh. Head to an Inn. There should be enough of them around - we probably spotted one on our wanderings.

Before darkness falls completely, you politely ask one of the quickly passing Dunmer where you can find an inn hospitable towards actual people. He points you in the direction of the main gate and says that Elda Early-Dawn isn't the friendliest towards non-Nords, but she'll let anyone stay at Candlehearth Hall as long as they can pay. While you'd prefer to avoid draining your dwindling gold reserves if possible, this was an expense you'd been anticipating. Not to mention that you need food anyways; there wasn't much for passengers to eat aboard the Sload.

You make your way towards the main gate and eventually reach the inn. You can see the merry glow of candles and torches leaking through the gaps in the shuttered windows, and faint music emanates from the doorway as you approach it. The tune is distinctly Nordic. You'd be willing to bet the lyrics involve Talos, killing elves, or Talos killing elves.

You pull open the heavy door and a rush of warm air - or at least less cold air - washes over you. You can hear the song better now: frenetic strumming, rapid drums, lots of clapping along.

_{"Well I'm a rover, seldom sober..."}

That voice sounds... familiar.

"I'm a rover of high degree!"

Wait. Oh no.

"And when I'm drinkin', I'm always thinkin'..."

AZURA KILL ME NOW.

"How to gain my love's company!"

As the door clacks closed behind you, you see a divided crowd: half are singing and clapping along as two men lead the song while the other half are muttering angrily to themselves. It's easy to see why, since one of the bards is playing an Ashland drum. And has grey skin. And is your cousin.

Dammit, Thauraver.

As the last chorus ends, the crowd cheers, drinks, and heckles good-naturedly in turn as the two performers bow. You see recognition light up your cousin's face when he sees you, his smile stretching even wider. After leaning over and saying something to the other performer, he weaves his way through the crowd and reaches your position near the door.

With your amazing powers of observation, you notice that he unobtrusively avoided walking near the clusters of resentful Nords. Maybe he's not quite as ditzy as you thought.

"You made it! Have you eaten yet? Come on, let's grab a seat."

The two of you find one of the few empty tables and take a seat as the remaining bard begins strumming his lute again. Thaur waves a serving girl over and orders food and drinks for the two of you.

"I don't know whether I should be disgusted by your taste in music or impressed at the stones it'd take to perform in front of this crowd. How have you not been strung up by a mob yet?"

"Ah, they're not so bad. You just need to know your audience, play what they want to hear. The mark of a master thespian." He makes a theatrical gesture with one hand.

"Do you even know what that word means?"

"Doesn't matter if I do, you're the only man here who could call me out on it."

"I'm going to take that as a 'no'."

"And you would be correct! Fortunately for me, that point is completely irrelevant."

The server returns with two plates and two mugs. As she sets down Thaur's dinner, he smiles warmly and thanks her. You see with surprise that the Nord responds similarly. Fortunately for dark elves everywhere, you're ever-vigilant when it comes to upholding the good name of the Dunmer. Her smile falters when you gravely thank her and she sees your unflinchingly stony face.

Disaster averted. Well done. You calmly begin eating.

"Aside from corrupting a traditional Dunmer instrument for the Nords' entertainment, what have you been doing? Your letter made it sound as though you had a plan."

Your cousin sighs slightly. "Still always serious, I see. I've been performing for money, getting in touch with merchants, trying to figure out what our best bet is for cornering a market."

"I trust you've taken into account the fact that our family's coffers are completely drained."

"Yes, actually! Have a little faith in my abilities. I tried to contact the Silver-Bloods, but they won't lend to anybody in Eastmarch because of the war. The Nords haven't been any help at all, but I've found a benefactor who might be able to loan us enough to begin making a profit."

"Who is he?"

Thauraver hesitates. "He, uh..."

"Just tell me."

He grimaces. "He's with the Camonna Tong."

You pause mid-bite and very deliberately set your fork down. This... could be a problem. Or it could be very beneficial. The Camonna Tong were a crime syndicate back on Vvardenfell. They weren't the sort of people you would want to cross, but they collapsed along with the rest of the island's organizations during the Red Year. If they're reforming in Skyrim, though... "Have you already agreed to any terms?"

"Sssssssssort of, kinda, yeah. I... actually already owe them money."

Face, meet palm. "How much."

"A couple thousand septims."

Dammit, Thauraver.

[Urist Arrhenius]

This is Skyrim, which is to say the land of side-questing-at-the-expense-of-the-main-quest. So lets get to it!

Find somebody completely unrelated to our cousin and the Camonna Tong to help. Hopefully at the bar. Or arm-wrestle somebody into submission!

[Peradon]

You know what is the best business for wartime? Coffins. Someone's got to do it. Suggest that to the cousin.

[3man75]

You know what is the best business for wartime? Coffins. Someone's got to do it. Suggest that to the cousin.

If he dosen't like the idea then we could pitch this idea.

Go to an Orchish stronghold and set up a contract with a reliable Orc to supply only us with Iron. Once we've secured the iron we can sell it to the highest bidders in the weapon smithing businesses. Of course a side quest is going to be needed.