Dearest Plague Husk Horse,
I write to you today upon the 28th of Hearthfire, because I, your old friend, have sought to summon you with the aid of the Trickster Pacrooti.
When I first arrived to gaze upon the gathering of crates, I could but only stand stunned, for it reached to the very top of the mightest of castles. Stacked upon one another in bundles, there was no fewer than one-hundred and twenty of the Tricksters crates. But the sheer size of the task nor the economic depression my vaults faced was no challenge, as long as I held you, my dearest Plague Husk Horse, within my sight.
I stormed and scourged through each and every chest, and within I found much, everything from Crows to Masks of hollow natures and inkworks that would appear beautiful on that of a mortal vessel. I too, saw that even the madgod himself attempted his tricks upon me, for I found his old and dirtied rags amongst the rest of Pacrooti's left overs.
Twice, I was faced with the wrath of Cinder Wolves, whom after I disturbed their rests, angrily tried to claim my life. But how could they? For my dreams of you, my dearest Plague Husk Horse, kept me upright, and ready to face all challenges ahead.
But... my dearest Plague Husk Horse, now I stand here, defeated in the holy city of Mournhold itself, with a carriage filled with one-thousand, five-hundred and sixty-five peculiar gems, but... I do not see you, and I cannot claim you.
Where are you, my dearest Plague Husk Horse?
Leader of Bloodlines
-- EU --
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