Stratos is clearly trying to do his stoic, nothing-gets-to-a-tribune act, but Jim is family and he gets to catch the muttered curse beneath Stratos's scarf as the Imperial tugs a hood around his face.
"This is maddening. How do the Dunmer tolerate it?" No wonder their eyes are red, he thinks. There must be something a mage can do- perhaps an oakflesh spell would ward it off, but then he'd need to conceal it to maintain the ordinary merchant act...
It's a problem he's pondering as they make their way down between woodland and mushrooms, tramping over the wooden bridges that cover over small waterways. They're alone for a little while, before low, croaking grunts herald the approach of a small merchant caravan. At the head pace a couple of Dunmeri soldiers, totally concealed beneath chitin armor - complete with goggles.
Behind them come an assortment of squat, brown, bipedal creatures with leathery scaled skin, something like little dinosaurs with oversized tadpole heads and tiny eyes. Each is loaded up with a harness bearing bundles and sacks, and they waddle along docilely under the watchful eye of an Argonian herdmaster... although one can only tell his race by the tail poking out from his clothes. A couple of the bigger specimens have Dunmer merchants astride them instead, and though he steps aside Stratos lifts a hand to greet them politely.
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"This is maddening. How do the Dunmer tolerate it?" No wonder their eyes are red, he thinks. There must be something a mage can do- perhaps an oakflesh spell would ward it off, but then he'd need to conceal it to maintain the ordinary merchant act...
It's a problem he's pondering as they make their way down between woodland and mushrooms, tramping over the wooden bridges that cover over small waterways. They're alone for a little while, before low, croaking grunts herald the approach of a small merchant caravan. At the head pace a couple of Dunmeri soldiers, totally concealed beneath chitin armor - complete with goggles.
Behind them come an assortment of squat, brown, bipedal creatures with leathery scaled skin, something like little dinosaurs with oversized tadpole heads and tiny eyes. Each is loaded up with a harness bearing bundles and sacks, and they waddle along docilely under the watchful eye of an Argonian herdmaster... although one can only tell his race by the tail poking out from his clothes. A couple of the bigger specimens have Dunmer merchants astride them instead, and though he steps aside Stratos lifts a hand to greet them politely.