part with her valuables for the low price of being swept off her feet by a charming ruffian. She gave me one of her gloves and asked me to check in the nearby town of Pelgiad for him while she stayed on the road, just in the case he returned that way. I detoured to Pelgiad, where I found him in the inn, just as described: devilishly handsome, dashingly dressed, with a cool, drawling voice, and long, black hair. I traded him her glove for a love letter that he had already composed for her. I feel as though I am living a fairy tale.
I took the long way back to the lady on the road, delivered the letter, and, as my leg was
beginning to ache the more I walked on it, returned to Pelgiad by way of the nearby lakeshore, gathering samples of all the plants named in the Traveler's Guide to Vvardenfell - the guide only notes as to their edibility or inedibility, but I suspect that any plants worth naming in a guide would have some kind of alchemical use, given a clever enough alchemist.
When I returned to Pelgiad, I pawned everything I had and, utilizing the largest words in my vocabulary, must have come off as an eccentric, hermitic alchemist rather than a hungry, homeless one, because I was able to earn enough to purchase a small grill and a