I need you to travel to Markarth and talk to those Dibellan whores. These bitches pull so much train they can barely fucking walk in the morning. I can help them out with that. Ysolda’s Wonderful Patented Liver Pills will add pep in their step, and gooses in their cabooses. This is an over the counter medication and completely safe as long as they forego any sexual activity for two weeks after ingesting the daily recommended dosage. True, each pill is little more than distilled liquid skooma bordering on an accidental overdose, but I’ll have those sperm slurpers so junkied out of their minds they’ll hand over the entirety of their whorehouse—I mean their Dibellan Temple—and it’s a nice day with you around.

Look. You’re a strapping young man. I don’t want you to be a stranger. But last night a Hagraven named Moira came looking for you. Something about she was going to take you to court for breach of promise? Okay. Your personal life is not my business. But I can’t have a fucking Hagraven stopping by my house looking for your ass, either. Bribes to guards only go so far. Especially when there’s a goddamn pissed off Hagraven stalking the streets of Whiterun looking for you. Anyway, here’s her scrying number, and she said you have to start making Haglette support payments, or some shit, and it’s a mighty fine day with you around.

I was walking back from Honningbrew Meadery and saw the Companions killing a giant in somebody’s cornfield, or some shit. Then Aela runs up and starts screaming at me why didn’t I help. Well, first of all, you filthy skank, because it’s not my fucking job. I’m a drug smuggler, not a goddamn giant killer. She was standing with like the sun behind her, and I swear I saw fleas jumping out of her hair! That bitch is so nasty to be around, her and her pipe-stem legs. On top of that Ria tells me she killed a bear, like I’m supposed to be impressed, and did I kill anything? Yeah, you stupid bitch, last night I slabbed a crew of jewel thieves working for Maven, then I fed their bodies to the fucking hogs, but not much else, I guess. Oh, then I hocked the jewels to a necromancer and made half a million septims out of the deal, so fuck off. By the way, here’s your percentage in all that, and it’s a fine day with you around.

Maven has a ship running an Imperial blockade tomorrow night. It’s called the Icerunnner, and I’d like to take it out. Go to Solitude and speak with Jaree-Ra. He has a plan to sabotage the lighthouse when the ship is under sail. That’s perfect for us. Here’s the problem. I don’t trust that fucking lizzer at all. He has a reputation of two-timing everybody, always playing both sides against the middle. I don’t care if he fucks Maven in the ass sideways, and twice on Sundas, but he’s not going to fuck me. So when the Icerunner goes down you gak Jaree at the first opportunity you get. Merc his cunt sister, Deeja, while you’re at it. She’s another piece of lizzer shit who can’t be trusted. I’m not in the habit of leaving an enemy behind to come at me later, and it’s a fine day with you around.

I’ve got seven deliveries today, and all scheduled within half an hour of each other. They got bunched up because we had a Spriggan Earth Mother attack where our tertiary smuggling route crosses the secondary. It caused a cascade effect on all our upcoming deliveries. I hate those fucking things so much. I want to move my product across Skyrim in peace. I’m not bothering anybody. I’m not looking for a fight. But eight of these motherfuckers attacked my caravan outside Moss Mother Cavern, and I don’t know if my foreman, Valdr, is alive. You have to head over there and snuff those fucking spriggans, and retrieve our product, so I can try and salvage something from this colossal fuck up. Oh, and it’s a fine day with you around.

Aventus Aretino is my cutout for putting cartel hits on people. Obviously, I can’t be doing the fucking Black Sacrament from my house, so I hired this little psychopath to do it for me. It’s worked extraordinarily well so far. But Astrid told me this watermelon-headed dumbass has taken it on himself to request a personal hit on Grelod. Un-fucking-believable. She’s one of my top people in our criminal organization. I can’t have that. Head to Windhelm, and speak to this barely functional midget, and get him to calm the fuck down. Remind him I have his mother held prisoner in a troll cave—he needed extra incentive to work for me—and I’ll ice that bitch if he doesn’t back the fuck off. Oh, and it’s a nice day with you around.

I’ll say this for kots. They have an instinctive way of avoiding trouble with law enforcement. Understandable, seeing they’re a lawless mob of thieves who’d stab their grandmother for a spoonful of moon sugar. I’d be foolish not to tap into that amazing talent. Which is why we’re going to hire kots to drill our active duty security personnel. Put a real fine edge to them. We need a hard training ground, though. So I’ve chosen Valtheim Towers as our new high-level security installation. It’s perfect! It has a bridge to rappel from, a river to practice underwater demolition and covert infiltration, local mountain climbing, exercise, and survivalist grounds, and a nice access road to levy tolls. I’ll recruit the kots. You clear out Valtheim. Kill all the bandits, and neutralize any protective runes and booby traps they left behind. Then we can move our people in, and it’s a fine day with you around.

We are finally making our big push to consolidate power in Morthal. I’m sending another secret package of Elsweyr White skooma flakes to Jarl Idgrod. I want you to see it’s delivered. I’ve already got that bitch so strung out on skooma she thinks she’s seeing visions from the Divines. With a little bit of finesse I’ll have her financing a clandestine underground drug facility. This will double our production capacity, and increase our finances tenfold. Not to mention the drugs we sell in town. Those goddamn sad sacks live in the middle of a fucking swamp. What else is there to do but get wasted on skooma, and rub moon sugar on their toothless gums for a cheap high? Oh, and it’s a fine day with you around.

Well, this day is choice, and by that I mean I’d rather have a skeever shoved up my ass. I need you to head to the Throat of the World and get with Cracker Jacks, or whatever the fuck that damn wyvern is called. This fucking lizard knows magical powerball words or some shit, right? Have him teach you the powerball word for fire, or something like that. That is, if he can pull himself away from contemplating the fucking snow long enough. I need you to restart the fire salts on a mobile cook lab down in Rorikstead. I had a horse thief who was supposed to take care of it but that motherfucker never showed up. Get them back to cooking skooma before we lose the whole batch. Anyway, it’s a nice day with you around.

I’m always looking for ways to branch out my business. Have you ever noticed the shape of skooma bottles resemble Ayleid butt plugs? We can repurpose the empties and pass them off as ancient artifacts. I know what you’re thinking. No one is going to believe that shit. Except I’ve already sold five to Nazeem, and Haelga put in an order for a hundred. At fifty septims a pop that shit adds up fast. It’s not a huge money maker, but this has been a rough year, what with the siege and everything, so I’ll take any advantage I can get. Oh, and it’s a fine day with you around.

If I never see another Breton it will be too soon. These midget forsworn fucksticks cause me more trouble than anyone else. My current headache is Bothela in Markarth. She runs the Hag’s Cure. This dried up mummy concocted something called a Stallion’s Potion, but she won’t sell it to me. I need a sample so our chemists can analyze it. If it’s what I hope it is, a potion to make horses run faster, we can make bank at the racetrack and clean up. What could go wrong? Find a way to filch a sample and bring it to our chemists at Honningbrew Meadery, and it’s a mighty fine day with you around.

I don’t understand Bosmer. I’d like to dissect one of those little fuckers and see what makes it tick. But I’d be a fool not to use them as drug mules around Riften. They can slip through the forest like a shadow. I’m willing to bet that’s a wrinkle that whore cunt Maven hasn’t thought of. So we are going to start running moon sugar through her territory, and use Bosmer to disrupt her ongoing smuggling operations, even the honey she uses for that Black-Briar slop she calls mead. I’d love to see her face when she realizes we’ve infiltrated her drug pipeline and compromised her illegal profit margin. I seriously want that rat bitch to wake up every morning and think her tits are in a meat grinder so let’s step up our war against her, and it’s a fine day with you around.

I’m sending you to Riften. The enemy camp. I want you to contact my deep cover operative. His name is Aerin. That dude is a stone cold hammer. I planted him there to spy on Maven. He’s plotting her hourly time and distance movements around town so we can find a weakness in her security and take her out. He’s got a stupid Nord bitch who never stops talking he’s pretending to help. It’s part of his cover. She’s a couple sweetrolls short of a dozen, but she’s all right, I guess. Dude heard her screams inside a Dwemer ruin and walked in just as you please without a weapon. He’s a fucking monster; no fear whatsoever. Anyway, bring me Aerin’s latest data on Maven so we can start collating it, and it’s a fine day with you around.

From all accounts Hist sap is some very powerful shit with many unknown properties. But where to find it around here? Lizzers. We smoke lizzers and distill them into slime to see how much Hist sap we can titrate out. The possibilities are endless! It might be worth mixing Hist and skooma and see what new drug cocktails we create. Head to the Windhelm docks. Ulfric will pay us to clean them out. I’ll have wagons collect the bodies you deliver, and you take them to our facility in Honningbrew Meadery and let our chemists get to work. One lizzer won’t give out much Hist until we refine our production methods, so this is definitely a numbers game. If this venture falls through we sell the hides to a belt maker I know. Oh, and it’s a fine day with you around.

I pray to Mara everyday Lydia will slip in pig shit and break her fucking neck, yet there she stands in front of Carlotta’s vegetable stall buying a tomato. But she’s untouchable. I can’t put out a hit on Hrongar’s daughter, and Balgruuf’s niece. I’d never get away with that. This bitch struts around Whiterun rousting my drug pushers and my good paying junkies while she plays private cop. Balgruuf lets her do it despite being on my payroll, because he’s a fucking fence sitter. So here’s what we’re going to do. Get one of your dragon buddies, Partner Sax or Ovaltine, or what the fuck ever they’re supposed to be called, and fly Lydia to Skuldafn. Don’t hurt her. I can’t afford that kind of blowback. I just need her out of my fucking hair while this war with Maven is going on. Oh, and did I tell you it’s a fine day with you around?

There’s a giant bringing a cow through Rorikstead tomorrow. It’s part of a long term business investment I’m running. That animal has been force fed so much moon sugar its milk is laced with the stuff. Kill the giant so there are no lingering witnesses. You may have to kill his whole tribe. A minor detail. Then take the cow to Honningbrew Meadery where we have our production facility. Milk the cow and churn the milk into cream. Kots love to lick my cream! If this takes off, we can charge as much as the market can bear and make a killing. Breed cream cows for moon sugar milk, and ramp up our production tenfold. Oh, and it’s a fine day with you around.

I want you to get one of your dragon friends, Parker Snatch or Ogre Wing or whatever the fuck they’re called, and use it to fly on that caravan of kots and fricassee them. It has to look like a regular dragon attack and not traced back to me. I gave that one mangy rug the mammoth tusk he wanted all hollowed out to move moon sugar into Morthal and that fucker never did it and it’s costing me overhead. I’m going to make an example of him and it’s a fine day with you around.

Waifus
Lore
Sap

I’m expanding our operation. I’m sending you to Redwater Den. Redwater skooma is potent shit, and I want control of it. He who controls the skooma controls the kitty kots! See if there are any systemic problems with the set up. If things look good go ahead and hit them—not the addicts that’s money in the bank—and I’ll arrange to put our own people in place. Belethor and Proventus are backing us up so I can squeeze out Maven. That bitch has a diamond for a brain so she’s not going to sit around and do nothing. This is a territorial move on our part so be extra careful. It’s a fine day with you around.

There’s a gypsy kot kamp outside Markarth. I want you to hit them. Hard. Kill all the guards and slaughter the kots. These thieving fur balls disrupt my supply lines and snort up more drugs than they sell. I’ve had enough. I can’t pay off Balgruuf to look the other way and he is not a patient man. I heard he slave whipped Irileth for getting on his ass drinking too much while running his mouth spilling state secrets at the Bannered Mare. Hung her from the Dragonreach trap and caned that bitch raw and bloody. Then he let the guards run train. Twenty septims she keeps her cunt mouth closed next time, huh? Anyway, it’s a fine day with you around.

I’ve got moon sugar coming in from Windhelm. But the smuggler broke down outside Loreius farm. That’s right. Fifty pounds of kot sugar sitting on the goddamn road in a broken wagon. What a goat fuck this is. Get out there ASAP and get that fucking clown moving before a guard catches on. If Lorius helps, or doesn’t help with the repair, kill him and his wife. We can’t leave witnesses to this disaster.

I’ve got moon sugar coming in from Windhelm. But my smuggler broke down outside Loreius farm. That’s right. Fifty pounds of loon sugar sitting on the goddamn road in a broken wagon. What a goat fuck this is. Get out there ASAP and get that fucking clown moving before a guard catches on. If Lorius helps facilitate the repair, kill him and his wife afterward. We can’t leave any witnesses to this disaster.

Someone is killing my drug mules in Windhelm and taking the vials of skooma they swallowed. They’re trying to cover their tracks by making it look like a serial killing. Find who’s disrupting my drug chain and slab him. While you’re there push junk to orphans and other children in septim doses. I’ve got to make up the loss in revenue somehow.

One of our Whiterun skooma dens was raided by those gypsy kots pretending to be merchants. I lost 29540 septims worth of pure Elsweyr white in that goat fuck fiasco, and Balgruuf wants his fucking sin tax no matter what. I want you to behead every kot in their fucking gypsy camp, even the kittens, and unborn kitty kots. Smash their tiny brains against a stump. We’ll teach those mangy rugs not to fuck around with my operation.

“I’m moving 30 keys of Skooma into Whiterun on the third Mondas of this month. I need you to provide security for that transfer from Solitude and prevent those thieving kots from high jacking the shipment. You have permission to exterminated them with extreme prejudice if they come anywhere near the route. Oh, and it’s a fine day with you around.”