Fortune's Tradehouse: A Skyrim mod
Project Overview
Fortune’s Tradehouse is a mod for The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. It adds a new marketplace to the city of Markarth with five branching quests to play.
The player is tasked by an up and coming Argonian cobbler to help him secure a coveted spot within Fortune’s Tradehouse. This leads the player through a chain of quests to gain favor within the faction.
High quality voice work is the final step needed to bring this project to life, and there are a total of eleven uniquely voiced roles, including seven male roles and four female ones.
Once you are cast for a role, I will send you .PDF that contains all of your character's lines, as well as context for each one. I ask that you record each line as a .WAV file in mono. From there I will begin integrating your files into the Creation Kit, and I will reach out to you asking how you wish to be credited for your role. I plan on releasing the mod for Skyrim: Classic Edition, as well as Skyrim: Special Edition.
Thanks for taking the time to look at the project. I look forward to seeing what everyone does with the characters!
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Fortune is the proprietor of the tradehouse, a silver haired Imperial known for his eccentric success in business. He is a quick witted rogue rumored to have ties to the Silver-Blood family, but has a reputation for the fierce loyalty he shows to his fellow merchants.
“This is Fortunes Tradehouse, my friend. Curated by yours truly.”
“Luck affects everything we do. To a greater degree than most of us are willing to admit. It's enigmatic, but testable. Take a septim for example. You have the Emperor on one side, mirrored by Akatosh on the reverse. There are only two outcomes. Lucky or unlucky. I gave Ut-Keen his chance."
“I'll make you a deal. If you can gain the favor of everyone in the tradehouse, help them in some way. I will give Ut-Keen the open spot.”
An Argonian cobbler who hopes to hold a spot within Fortune’s Tradehouse. He grew up in Windhelm, working on the docks. Ut-Keen is gentle, soft spoken, and humble.
Accent Reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i4jW6SZt9C4
I was hoping someone could speak to Fortune on my behalf. I'm a cobbler you see, and I know Fortune has an open spot in his tradehouse. Unfortunately, he refuses to give me a chance. Something about bad luck. Convince him of my worth, and I'll make you a fine pair of boots.
I used to live in Windhelm. Worked on the docks with the other Argonians. Our boots would be falling apart by the end of the month, so I started repairing them myself, then the shoes of my fellow dockworkers. Word got around to the Nords, and suddenly I was widening their hunting boots instead of unloading ships. This work was easier on my body, so I stuck with it.
To Oblivion with it then. I don't need Fortune. One of these days his luck is going to run out.
A self proclaimed pyromaniac, though many would simply call Uthor a madman. The reachman wears a set of enchanted robes that keep him persistently aflame, trading anything and everything related to fire. Uthor speaks with an intensity that others find off putting, and he lacks the self awareness to censor himself.
Fire is death and rebirth. It provides us comfort when we ask, and others mayhem without warning. Fire is hungry, passionate, alive! This is why I am an acolyte of the flames.
I provide tools to create fire and the training to harness its primal power. I can teach you to transform a spark into a fearsome conflagration.
A priest of Kynareth once accused me of being an arsonist, but who is really to blame? The mortal who stoked the flames? No. I say the fault lies with Goddess of wind and rain, who did nothing to douse her temple.
Seline is a Redguard adventurer turned bookseller. She wears Hammerfell garb and carries a curved sword at her hip, but doesn't get as much sun as she used to. Seline speaks with the intelligence of someone who is well read.
Books. Rare ones to be precise. My collection ranges from ancient tomes, to poorly written smut from halfwit playwrights.
Bits and pieces from all across Tamriel. Occasionally from other booksellers, but I prefer getting my hands dirty. There's no better feeling than dusting off a book that hasn't been touched in centuries.
Afraid I can't leave my shop unattended to chase rumors, not the way I used to at least. Would you please go for me? I'll even throw in my old sword, assuming that everything pans out.
Morilla is the definition of a perfectionist. She bears all the trappings of High Elf elegance, confident that the Summerset Cider she brews and sells can not be beat.
No need to focus on anything else once you've achieved perfection. Besides, Nords do mead the best, and the Dunmer have their fiery liquors. As far as wine, any bottle worth a damn comes from Cyrodiil. Never settle for being the second best.
I brew it in the Aldmeri tradition. It's a potent combination of magic and science. Skyrim's glaciers have remarkable water chemistry, but it's my golden apples that perfect the brew. They're plucked from Summerset trees. Not too sweet, appropriately tart, and imbued ancient magic.
I regret asking you in the first place. As angry as I am with the Thalmor, it's no excuse for murder.
A Nord and a cook, Kjorn is damn good at being both. He cooks hearty food the way his ancestors have for generations, and like many Nords he has a soft spot for mead. With all the bloodshed surrounding him in Skyrim and Markarth, Kjorn just wants to cook good food in peace. Fortune’s Tradehouse affords him this opportunity.
Food fit for a Jarl. The heartiest in Markarth.
Skeevers in the basement. Thought I could deal with them myself, but they've overrun the place. Now that a professional is here, I'll stay out of your way.
There were only a few at first. Didn't think much of it until one of them turned up in my stew. Surprisingly delicious. I fed the skeevers to keep them around, but more started showing up. Damned vermin turned on me.
Inuril is a Thalmor tax collector with free reign to enforce the will of the Aldmeri Dominion as he sees fit. This arrogant elitist is easy to hate.
Stole? They're property of the Aldmeri Dominion. I merely reclaimed them. Delicious things, Summerset apples.
The only way to negotiate with the Aldmeri Dominion is to submit. You'd do well to remember that.
Whatever you're up to, it's not funny. Get out of my sight before I turn you into a pile of ash.
The famous playwright, and House Hlaalu councilor. You might remember him from Morrowind, and probably know him for his work on “The Lusty Argonian Maid.” Curio might be long dead, but he still makes an appearance in Fortune’s Tradehouse as a ghost. He sounds just like your creepy uncle.
Dearie, I do believe you have something of mine. I'm afraid Forbidden Tails needs to be destroyed.
This has nothing to do with you, my sweet. It's that naughty book you're carrying.
I know you aim to hand Forbidden Tails over to that collector. Don't do that, dumpling. Burn the book instead. Tell the Redguard woman that was a cheap imitation.
Uthor’s unconventional “lover.” Elle is a Daedra, specifically a fire atronach, and she is not thrilled about her being summoned to Skyrim. She has a hostile attitude towards the player.
Not one step closer, mortal. I am not in the mood.
How perceptive of you. Now could you depart before my temperament worsens? I'd hate to see that pretty face of yours charred beyond recognition.
I'm sure Uthor neglected mention how he ripped me from Oblivion. It was a powerful summoning spell. Bound me to this Lover Stone, but I have no feelings for Uthor, and I'm unable to retaliate against him. I've bid my time by attacking travelers visiting the stone. None of them have been powerful enough to banish me, but perhaps you are.
Myra would never describe herself as a graverobber, but plundering through the valuables of the dead is how the Dark Elf makes her living. She is scrappy, street smart, matter of fact, and always on the lookout for her next big score.
Found it in a shipwreck just off the Bitter Coast. An old Hlaalu ship. The pages were scattered about the captain's cabin. Had to get everything rebound when I got back to Blacklight. There weren't any serious buyers in Morrowind, so I figured I'd try my luck in Skyrim.
The experts I've taken Forbidden Tails to say it's too crudely written, that the great Crassius Curio would have been much more subtle.
For unreleased work from Tamriel's most famous playwright? It's priceless. Can't eat off priceless though, so we'll call it yours for a thousand gold.
A Khajiit farmer who witnessed the death of one of Fortune’s merchants. Haunted by what he has seen, Trick feels obligated to bring some closure to the matter.
Accent Reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ekxHU5cLXbA
I was bringing the giants an offering when I saw your friend sneaking around their camp. Had something bronze in his hand. You said his name was Dalmyn. Tell me, were you close?
The largest giant clubbed him into the sky. The poor soul. I can't get his scream out of my head. I'm sorry to say this, but he had to have died on impact.
Wouldn't be surprised if his body ended up as far north as Atmora. Lost cause if you ask me. Unless you're planning to search the Sea of Ghosts.
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