Companion Outfits - Please Give Us Helms

As always, the writ turn-in station at Vivec City is bustling with Crafters dropping off their deliveries as the shouts of Battleground trainers ring through the air nearby. Varanis Arano hands over the last shipment of weapons at the Vivec docks, where they'll be shipped off to support the war effort in Cyrodiil. "Alright, Mirri, I'm done. Time to go adventuring."

Five Mirri Elendis' look at her, equally expressionless.

"Er, which one of you is my Mirri Elendis?"

Can this please be the Standard for Companions?
Inspired by: PTS plans for Companions to despawn in cities for performance reasons
"You'll like Vivec City," Varanis confidently predicts as she and Mirri climb down from the Silt Strider station. "It's unfinished, but still a real architectural marvel. Lord Vivec is putting his own power into the foundations."

"I like solid ground!" Mirri mutters, hugging her stomach and looking distinctly green around the edges.

As they walk under the archway to the Crafting area, Varanis points upward over the bay to the massive meteor hanging above the three spikes of the temple Canton. "There's Baar Dau. I don't know how people stand living underneath that rock. What do you think?"

There's no answer. She turns around. Mirri, who normally sticks right at her shoulder, isn't there.

"Mirri?"

"Mirri?!"

She's nowhere to be found in the crowded crafting area, nor is she browsing through the guild merchants' wares.

"Mirri!"

Finally, Varanis spots her slouching against one of the wayshrine's pillars outside of town. "What's the matter, Mirri? Are you okay?"

"I, uh...I don't like cities."

Everytime I come through a wayshrine, Ginger tanks...Ginger tank clones everywhere

Marcus Titus Alessian takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and begins wading through the crowd of redhaired Imperial men and scowling Dunmer women waiting around the wayshrine.

"Are you my Bastian?"

The Bastian he addressed looks back blankly. "No, sir, I'm with a tiny Bosmer lady."

"Oh, sorry." Two nearby Bastians avoid his gaze. There's a small clump of three Bastians to his left playing rock, paper, scissors. He walks over, "Excuse me."

All three Bastian throw scissors at the same time. "Darn it, again!" One of them exclaims, then turns to him. "Can I help you?"

Marcus can tell at a glance that none of the three are "his" Bastian. "Nevermind, gents, carry on your game." They do, all three throwing paper this time.

He's about to resort to shouting "Bastian!" and thoroughly embarrassing himself when he spots Bastian - his Bastian - skulking on the fringe of the crowd, talking to a tiny Bosmer lady.

"Your Bastian is back there," Marcus says.

"Oh, thank goodness," she exclaims. "All these quest markers are so confusing!" She heads into the crowd.

"You know, Bastian," Marcus says, "We really need a better way for me to find you in a bunch of Bastians. Maybe you should wear a helmet."

The fact that I can see other people's companions just completely ruined the game for me.

An orc with lungs like brass bellows from the Belkarth wayshrine "Looking for damage dealers for Rockgrove!"

The sound carries all the way to the Belkarth Guild Marketplace, where Marcus Titus Alessian stops to peer at some nirncrux. The merchant offers him a jeweler's loupe to examine the finer grains. "It's guaranteed to make your weapon...potent, sir."

Behind him, Bastian groans. "Don't encourage him."

A rider on giant clockwork flea leaps over the first row of wagons, does a pirouette in the middle, then sprints past the second row towards a small red plant. The rider jumps down, rips the plant out of the ground, examines the roots closely for the tiny nodules of nirnroot crystals, curses, shakes the plant out, and then rides off.

"You left your worms behind," Marcus calls, but the rider is already gone. He shrugs and scoops up the worms. "I've been meaning to fish those motifs up from Summerset."

He and Bastian continue through the market. It's crowded with traders, bankers - feline and otherwise - and clusters of Bastians and Mirris marked out by their cloud of quest markers.

"Say, Bastian, I was wondering. Do you ever think it's strange seeing so many other Bastians?"

"Sir, seeing other Bastians is not remotely the strangest thing I've seen since agreeing to follow you."

What does Bastian order at the tavern?
Inspired by: the grind for Harpooner’s Wading Kilt leads

Bastian swipes sweat from his brow. Immediately, his forehead beads up in the humid, fetid air of the deep Shadowfen bog. "Here I thought the Alik'r dolmen run was the worst suffering you could inflict on me."

Marcus Titus Alessian shrugs. "They say that dry heat is better. I was stationed in Blackwood when the Planemeld went down, so I feel right at home." He hasn't moved from his stool for the last two days except to use the small portable chamberpot right next to it. The last time he stepped away for a sponge bath, someone ran into their little camp while Bastian's back was turned and nabbed the nirnroot seedling he's guarding.

"Seriously, I'm going mad from that dumb plant's singing."

"You can go back to Stormhold without me if you want."

You know what? I think I will! I can't wait to stop at the tavern for an ale."

"Bastian, the last time I took you to a tavern, you ordered milk. The Nord bouncer nearly threw you out."

"Well..." Bastian splutters, looking around for the path. The swamp is dense and overgrown. All the trees look the same. Across the river, a crocodile sunning itself slides off the bank into the water with a ripple, and then all is still. "On second thought, maybe I'll stay. Someone needs to make sure you don't get eaten out here - they'd never find your body if I left."

"Thanks. I appreciate the company."

Mirri needs a better hair style. ESO you can do better!

Amalien slowly rolls her wheelchair around the large pile of luggage, book boxes, and excavation tools. "I think this is everything we need to scry and excavate Saarthal, Varanis. Maybe we'll find some Atmoran artifacts! Though that might be too obvious an explanation..."

Varanis begins directing the assembled porters to lug everything down to their ship at the Solitude docks. To Amalien, she says, "I'm ready to go once Mirri arrives. I sent her to the apothecary to get something for seasickness."

The front door of the Antiquarian's Circle bangs open. Varanis begins to scold, then shuts up as Mirri marches in, and wags her finger in her face. "Do you know that your fetching apothecary sells hair care products made with torchbug parts?"

"Er, no. I had no idea, I swear."

Amalien peers up at Mirri's furious scowl. "I take it this is a bad thing."

"It's awful! Torchbugs are so pretty and all these people do is tear them apart and smash them up for potion ingredients."

Varanis sighs, "Did you at least get the seasickness cure from her first?"

"Oops? I'm sorry. I got so angry I called her a s’wit. And she's a fellow Dunmer, so she called me a fetching guar whose hairstyle is so plain that I ought to shave it all off and start over!"

"I wouldn't shave it off." Varanis said. "But you have to admit that a braid is pretty basic. You really don't want to change things up?"

"Oh, shut up. I never see you with anything other than that side bun."

"That's because it fits well under helmets...which you refuse to wear. What's your excuse?"

"I like my hair and I don't want to change it!"

Amalien clears her throat and points to where the porters are hauling out the last of the boxes. "Do we need to get a seasickness cure before we leave, soon?"

"Mirri, if you'll escort Amalien down to the docks, I'll go beg for your seasickness cure."

"Just make sure there are no torchbug or butterfly parts in it!"

Rapport unfair to members of Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood
Featuring my Master Thief and Silencer Maria Montclair

Silencer Maria Montclair, a short, sour-faced Breton woman in armor marked with the Black Hand strides into the Undaunted office in Wayrest "Do you have a Companion who'll accompany an assassin?"

Nearby, a troll roars and bangs the bars of its cage at two duelists fighting in front of it. Maj al-Ragath shakes her head as though she didn't quite understand. "Excuse me?"

"I need a companion to accompany me on my adventures, but Bastian is a goody two shoes and Mirri disapproves of me joining the Dark Brotherhood instead of her precious "legal" Morag Tong. You folks are good at killing. I'm good at killing. It's a natural partnership, right?"

"Er, look, can I interest you in taking a damage dealer position instead? I'll warn you the queue is a bit long."

"Nah, why do you think I want a tank who's not afraid to cut some throats as well as bash some skulls? Oh well, I'll look elsewhere."

................

It's a lovely day in Artaeum as it always is. Maria blends into the crowds of Antiquarians running to and from dig sites, emerging at the Tower with her pockets full of goodies. Inside, she swipes a few more small valuables on the way to see Loremaster Celarus. "Hey, can I borrow Josejah and the Augur of the Obscure for a bit?"

He glowers. "Absolutely not. In fact, after Sotha Sil's research notes appeared on the black market after the last time you visited, I should ask the Ritemaster to banish you from the Order."

"Aww, that's no way to treat the woman who murdered her way through Nocturnal's plot, now is it?"

"Such overt violence is not the Psijic Way."

"Well, darn it. There goes my chance at getting a Psijic Companion."

..................

In the Dragonguard headquarters, Sai Sahan stares down at her. "Absolutely not."

"No? I just want to borrow one of your Dragonguard. They're really good at killing."

"The last time I adventured with you, you sacrificed me to Akatosh and laughed about hurting Lyris' feelings. Now go away."

"Aww, but no one wants to work with me. I'm all alone!"

"I wonder why that is."

.......................

"Fennorian? Adusa? Either of you want to adventure with me?"

"You do realize the Ravenwatch is trying to save the mortals, not kill them, right?"

*sighs*

........................

Maria studies her final three candidates. One is a Breton Worm Cultist who swears he was high in Mannimarco's good graces, but frankly is a novice necromancer at best. The next is a wild Reach Witch who doesn't care who Maria kills as long as she gets to kill some of the oppressor Nords. Finally, there's the Argonian, Remains-Silent the Bequeather.

In the end, it's a simple decision to pick her Dark Sister. "At least I don't have to listen to you criticize my technique!"

Remains-Silent nods knowingly.

ZOS, Please Tell Marri Torchbug Thoraxes and Butterfly Wings only come from bugs!

Kragh the Dreugh King lies dead in a heap of giant shellfish legs, surrounded by his horde of once-menacing mudcrabs. Varanis Arano is getting the polite brush off from the Mephalan Spider Cultists who hired the Undaunted team to clear the grotto out. Marcus Titus Alessian sits near the pile of mudcrabs with a nutcracker, picking through the shells for potion-quality chitin. Mirri and Bastian stand together, scowling at the other two.

"Can you believe she uses potions made from butterfly wings and torchbugs? I caught her glowing-handed, fingertips stained with bug guts. She didn't even look guilty!"

"Oh, I believe it. The first time I went on a dolmen run with Marcus, he singlehandedly slaughtered a herd of goats for their guts saying he needed to fish and left their carcasses to rot in the sun."

"That's horrid!"

With particular relish, Bastian adds, "He kills rats too, and doesn't even eat them."

After an awkward pause, Mirri asks, "Do you really want Marcus to eat the rats? That's gross."

"It's the principle of the thing. If you aren't going to eat it, you shouldn't kill it." Now, it's Bastian's turn to pause. "I guess technically Varanis does drink the bugs she kills."

Scowling at him too, Mirri stomps off to her own corner.

Marcus finishes his pile, tossing down the last cracked crab claw. "Alright, I'm done looting this place."

Varanis asks, "Did everyone turn their quest in so we can go?"

Mirri says, "Yes, now let's go before Varanis Arano the Bug-squasher kills another spider for her potions."

As one, the Mephalan cultists turn to look at them. Gamyne Bandu draws her swords. Vila Theran snarls, "Kill them!"

"Oh, Mirri, now you've done it!"

Would your character romance the companions?
Neither Varanis nor Marcus are interested in romancing their companions, but during a Mages Guild daily, a funny thing happened on the way to the forums...

Marcus Titus Alessian barges into the Wayrest Mages Guild with Bastian at his heels and a small animal's cage tucked under his arm. He marches over to Alvur Baren and holds it out. "You take it!"

Inside is a rat, furiously gnawing at anything it can get its teeth into. "Ah, the Ravenous Rodent!" Alvur says, taking it. "It's good that you didn't let Sheogorath's pet out of its cage, no matter how much it lied."

"Of course not! It said it was going to eat the server hamsters if I did."

"I, er, don't understand. Are you sure hunting Sheogorath's relics isn't taking its toll on you?"

"Ugh, maybe. I could ask Valaste what she thinks." Marcus turns to look for her. "Valaste? Oh."

She may have come up from the basement to greet him, but now she's staring soulfully into Bastian's eyes, and Bastian into hers.

"It occurs to me," Bastian says, "That love and magic have a lot in common. They both delight your heart and enrich your soul. And both can be dangerous to beginners." He's blushing the way only a natural redhead can.

Valaste, her gaze and smile on him, not the pages of her beloved book, replies, "We're lucky to have you, adept. I'm no battlemage."

Marcus looks at Alvur. "Is that what I think it is?"

Alvur murmurs back, "If you ruin it for them, I'll get Shalidor to haunt you for the rest of your days."

So Marcus claps Bastian on the shoulder instead. "Hey, man, I need to do some shopping at the guild traders. What do you say we spend a couple extra days in Wayrest? I'm sure that Valaste will be happy to, ahem, show you all the new books she's acquired for the Guild house here."

Valaste beams. It takes Bastian a moment, then he favors Marcus with a bright, happy grin. "Thanks."

"Have fun, you two. Oh, Valaste? I promise he's a great guy, but he doesn't like cheese."

Bastian sputters, but Valaste smiles brighter. "I knew I liked him!"

Bastian has some serious food issues.

Marcus Titus Alessian sprinkles a pinch of cayenne over the bubbling cheddar smothering a fried potato hash that's been a favorite of his ever since he made fifty of the Port Hunding speciality to level his provisioning. Then he takes the plate back to their table at the inn where the adventuring party of four has settled after their disastrous job in Fungal Grotto. The smell of hot cheese wafts across the table.

Bastian turns a little green.

"That smells amazing," Mirri says, toasting him with a glass of red. "Varanis, why do you never cook for me?"

"I buy you wine instead," Varanis says, takes a spoonful of her Bewitched Sugar Skulls, then leans over to inspect his plate. "Isn't that a green quality, level 15 food?"

Marcus takes a bite, relishing the crisp potato crunch. "Yeah, but it's so good!"

Bastian grumbles, then grabs his bowl of corn chowder and carries it to the table behind them so that the ladies block his view of the offending cheese.

Mirri turns in her seat, "Bastian, you have serious food problems."

"At least I'm not a drunk."

"I'm not a drunk! I'm an oenophile. Means I like the taste of wine."

"I'm lactose intolerant, okay? Cheese does terrible things to my digestion. Then there's Marcus having a foodgasm over there with his cheesy fries. Sometimes I just can't stand the guy, you know?"

His mouth full of hot, cheesy, fried potatoey goodness, Marcus mumbles, "Sorry; not sorry."

"See?!"

Mirri shakes her head. "You've still got food issues, Bastian. Who thinks it's okay to eat dungeon rats?"

Varanis brightens up. "Hey, I know a blue quality CP 10 recipe for Goblin-style grilled rat!"

"On second thought, maybe I don't want her to cook for me."

Whose odds does Mirri not like?
Inspired by: some issues with the Elsweyr Event world boss dailies

It's a sunny day in Southern Elsweyr as Varanis Arano and Mirri ride up to training grounds where the Goutfang Pariah Ri'Atahrashi and his students live.

Mirri eyes the Pahmar-raht martial master with disdain. "I really don't like your odds."

Varanis scans the crowd of allies waiting to fight him with more trepidation. "I dunno, Mirri. You have to know the mechanics for this one."

"You're the Vestige. You can handle it!"

Five fiery deaths later, Mirri grumbles, "That was awful," as she stores the loot in Varanis's pack.

"I did warn you."

"Dunmer fire resistance didn't help at all! So unfair. Anyways, whatever's next can't be so bad, right?"

Varanis checks her journal. "Goutfang stole some rice. We need to recover at least 3 sacks."

Their allies in the fight have now invaded the training camp, turning over every crate and bedroll, shaking out every bag. An Imperial man shouts in triumph, holding aloft a sack as he sprints for the nearest wayshrine. A bosmer woman pursues him, shaking her fist. Two redguards begin dueling over another sack of rice, unaware that a particularly shifty-eyed Khajiit is deftly switching it out with a bag full of moonsugar - normally more valuable, but right now, rice is clearly the premium good.

Mirri squares her shoulders. "I really don't like your odds," she announces as she marches over to the nearest Mirri and engages in a staring contest over a conspicuously empty spot that might have once held a bag of rice, and might yet again if they wish hard enough.

"I really don't like your odds," the other Mirri retorts.

Varanis sighs, then calls out, "Anyone want to group up? We can share the credit for the rice!"

Everyone is too busy searching, squabbling, or making unwise bargains with Clavicus Vile for rice to pay any attention to her. She takes a seat next to another conspicuously empty spot and wonders to herself. "Do you think Bruccius would know the difference if I just bought a couple stacks of rice from a guild trader?"

Bastian is the new Stuga...
Inspired by: repetitive companion dialogue

Marcus Titus Alessian and Bastian arrive at the Rimmen Wayshrine, lugging crates of dragon-hunting gear. "Crud, we're too far from the nearest Dragon Scour," Marcus says, consulting his map. "I don't know a closer wayshrine. We'll have to ride."

"That's fine," Bastian says, "Cities are as alive, fickle, and uncertain as people. Some are good; some are bad. Some give you gifts; others rob you blind."

"I'm pretty sure that's racist against khajiit. But keep an eye on your purse anyways."

.........

As their ship ties off at the dock in Anvil, Marcus takes a deep breath of briny air. "The smell of home!" Then he catches a whiff of a certain rotten scent. Wrinkling his nose, he asks, "Are those bodies?"

Sure enough, along the seashore and amongst the dock workers going about their labor are a number of dead bodies that were sliced, diced, and stabbed then left to bake in the sun. Mostly the workers ignored them, but occasionally a body slips over the edge where it's set upon by a horde of waiting slaughterfish and mudcrabs.

Bastian observes, "Cities are as alive, fickle, and uncertain as people. Some are good; some are bad. Some give you gifts; others rob you blind."

"Anvil wasn't a bad city when I was growing up here! It's the fault of the Dark Brotherhood and their awful initiation rite." Marcus grimaces, "Man, now I can't even eat my favorite Gold Coast Mudcrab Fries without feeling like I'm eating partially-digested people."

.........

When they arrive at Daggerfall, Marcus steps out of the Wayshrine, then holds up a hand in front of Bastian. "Don't say it."

"What?"

Mimicking Bastian's tone, Marcus parrots, "Cities are as alive, fickle, and uncertain as people. Some are good; some are bad. Some give you gifts; others rob you blind." Then he adds, "I'd rather hear what you think. What do you really think about Daggerfall?"

"You know that guy here who keeps saying he owes you an ale for saving King Casimir? Let's go ask him for it."

""Gives gifts" it is, then!"

........

The next time they arrive in Rimmen, Bastian says, "Whether it's desperate commoners or the greedy soldiers, this city will rob you blind if you don't keep an eye on your purse."

"It's much less racist when you say it that way." Marcus agrees. "Plus, I appreciate hearing what you actually think of the city."

Why cant Companions carry their own items? and other quality of life things you want

Marcus Titus Alessian pokes through Mad Urkazbur's hoard wrinkling his nose every time the icy wind off of Wrothgar's slopes carries the smell of rancid meat and ogre body odor with it.

"Hey!" Bastian exclaims, holding up a pair of boots in surprisingly good condition considering the likely fate of their previous owners. "Blue quality, quickened trait..." He strips off his left boot and tries the new one on, "It even fits! So much better than that white quality vendor trash that you bought for me."

They quickly gather the scholar's lost notes and the loose coin from the hoard. Then, as Marcus bundles it all together for his pack, Bastian tosses his old pair of boots into the pile. "I might want it later."

"If you want to keep it, you carry it." Marcus says. "You've got a backpack."

Bastian glances over one shoulder, then the other, at his conspicuously backpack-less backside. "You said you didn't want to buy the Antiquitarian's Field Garb for me. Or the Dungeon Explorer or the Treasure Hunter's armor, even though that's basically how you make your living."

"I didn't buy those because they'd get in the way of your shield, Mr. Sword&Board Man. Anyways, you've got a horse. Stick it in your saddlebags."

"My horse? Right, I've been meaning to talk about negotiating for an increase in pay, Marcus. If I'm going to start paying 200 gold a day so the stablemaster can train my horse to carry more loot home, I'm going to need you to chip in."

Marcus slowly begins to nod. "That's fair. When I was a new adventurer, I was constantly strapped for inventory space too. Good backpacks and spacious saddlebags cost a pretty penny. I can chip in." Packing the boots away, he adds, "One question though - "

Bastian cuts him off. "If it's about wearing a helmet? Absolutely not gonna happen." Smirking, he runs his fingers through his red hair, mussing it further. "I'm not sharing my barber either."

"Darn. Okay, then how much will it cost to get you to stand on pressure plates? Even Stibbo can do that!"

Official Discussion Thread for "Crown Store Showcase—November 2021"
Inspired by: ZOS finally releases the previously NPC-only Short Mussed Wave hairstyle.

Marcus Titus Alessian pumps his fist in the air. "Finally!"

He points across the Wayrest Square where Pacrooti sits, hawking his fanciful painted crates, and the crown-topped billboard behind him featuring three mannequins. "Hah, hah, Bastian, you said they'd never do it. You said your Barber would take that secret to the grave!"

Bastian sighs, running his hand through his short, mussed, wavy hair. "That's a hell of a way to tell me you took out a Black Sacrament on my Barber, Marcus."

"Huh?"

He continues, "And then you freed the necromancer Mannimarco just so he'd owe you a favor."

"That's not why I freed the jerk."

"A favor you then cashed in so he would raise my Barber from the dead, thus freeing him from his oath of secrecy." Basian's gaze is immeasurably disappointed. "I thought better of you."

"I didn't -" Marcus protests, and then Bastian starts laughing at him.

"Laugh all you want," he mutters. "Because I didn't, but I'm pretty sure Varanis is gonna pay for a Morag Tong writ if Veya's hairdresser doesn't cooperate."

Yay, you made the compilation.

I definitely missed a bunch of these the first time around, so it's good to be able to catch up. These are fun.