Online:Nelmia Othrelas

Nelmia Othrelas
Home City	Hallin's Stand
Location	The Snakeskin Suds
Race	Dark Elf	Gender	Female
Health	25,974
Reaction	Justice Neutral
Pickpocket	Medium	Profession	Commoner

Nelmia Othrelas

Nelmia Othrelas is a Dark Elf commoner who can be found at The Snakeskin Suds in Hallin's Stand. She and her brother are merchants recently come from Craglorn. They are currently in a passive-aggressive competition with each other due to a disagreement.

Dialogue

When she is spoken to while the city is still under Imperial occupation:

"I don't know what's worse: the Imperials strutting around beating people to death, or this vile mead.
I'm inclined to think the latter."

Once The Shifting Sands of Fate, she has a lot more to say.

"My beloved brother has a better chance of squeezing fire salts from an ice cube than getting an apology from me."

What are you and your brother fighting about?

"Fighting? Oh no, no, no. This isn't fighting. This is deeper than that. This is a seething, simmering battle of wills. A vicious game of alit and guar where a single miscalculation can end in catastrophe."

What are you and your brother seething and simmering about?

"We immigrated here from Craglorn a month ago. I told him Hallin's Stand was a perfect place to sell our goods, given its close proximity to both Evermore and the Alik'r. He lauded my genius and quickly agreed."

So what happened?

"We were set upon by highwaymen out in the wastes and nearly starved before finally arriving here. Then what little merchandise we had left was seized by the Imperials."

So why didn't you leave?

"Remyon was furious and demanded an apology from me for getting us into this situation. I refused, calling him a netch-backed dandy. I said he was weak for whining.
So rather than leaving without me, he's gone out of his way to make me miserable."

How?

"We both hate it here, but he gorges on their over-spiced meat, shovels their horse manure, loudly sings their obnoxious music … on and on and on. I must do the same or lose face."

Why not just apologize?

"And let him win? Dumac take it! I'd die a hundred deaths before I admit fault to that flat-headed s'wit.
So here we sit. Now if you'll pardon me, I have to prepare for a celebratory goat-milking competition."