Barbas the Rebel

“We have a complaint, sir.” Winston tugged at his vest sharply as he stood before Indigoblade’s desk.

“When don’t we, Winston?” Indigoblade replied while leaning back in his chair with his fingers folded together in his hands.

Winston nodded while opening the letter. “This one comes from Clavicus Vile.”

Indigoblade ran one hand down his face then looked up at Winston. “What pray tell does the Daedric Prince of wishes wish from me?”

“It’s about his dog that apparently was removed from his side  by one of your agents.” Winston tossed some paintings onto the desk. “That didn’t seem to be the problem. The problem occurred when the dog returned.”

“Dare I ask what is the problem.” The mead bottle was headed to his lips for a long drawn out drink.

“Mr. Vile claims after the dog came back, they left together to continue granting wishes to his followers. There was a snowstorm that caused him to seek shelter inside a dwemer ruins and his dog won’t leave now. The dog per Mr. Vile keep insisting upon riding the equipment found in the ruins.” Winston looked over at Indigoblade. “It seems the dog, Barbas, will now only say ‘Woup!’,  ‘Woup!’ , ‘Wodown! and ‘Woagain!’ and Mr. Vile believes an OBIS agent caused it.”

“And he expects me to believe that?”

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