16 Hearthfire
I didn’t sleep very much - I woke around sunrise while the morning was still and nirn smelled wet and cold. I followed a trail north, eventually encountering a sign pointing to Vos.
The trail cut through terrain unlike any I have seen on Vvardenfell yet: a wide plain, punctuated sparsely with trees and scrub, full of alternating monocultures of two species of grass, one of which produces a large head of seed that I found to be in cultivation in the fields around Vos.
Vos is gorgeous: a nondescript
farming town, full of yellowed adobe houses, fortified with great tendrils of woody mushroom stalks, woven together into living walls and pillars. The docks are grown completely from the body of a single massive mushroom, an inn and several shops occupying its fruiting body, while the piers split off from the central stalk at the base, jutting out over the water, carved flat at the meridian and finished with some sort of waterproofing sealant.
The local lord and occupant of Tel Vos, the castle on the hill, Mage-Lord Master Aryon - quite the title - is looking for a diplomat or arbitrator to establish trading