A day after I landed here, I was ambushed by a pile o' Dark Elf filth, an' had t' fight my way free. Next thing I know, I'm found by High Elves who offer me wine to sooth my nerves. WINE!

Don't get me wrong, {name}; I'm sure it's a fine vintage an' all, but strong drink ought to be made from grain and pure mountain spring water! It shouldn't be squeezed from grapes, then left to go sour in a bottle! I fear there ain't a drop o' ale to be had on this whole island!

On top o' everything else, me fine adventurin' clothes are torn to rags. All I've got are these Elf clothes, and none will fit. They've got good intentions, but these Elf allies of mine are too long in the leg and too thin the waist to properly clothe a Dwarf!

Particulars Edit

• Talk to Rudrin Ironspigot again, and try and calm him down.

Objectives Edit

• Calm Rudrin Ironspigot

Completion Text Edit

Now don't get me wrong, {name}. I took an oath, and I'll uphold it t' my death. The honor of my family, and of all Dwarfs, is at stake!

Yet I 'spose you're right. The High Elves are a traditional sort, and though my folk and theirs haven't always seen eye to eye ... there is a slight difference in height, y' see ... we've gotten over 'our differences and joined forces against a greater threat!

Though I won't be wearin' these clothes anythime soon, I should be able to pull somethin' together to cover meself. I ain't a Slayer; at least, not yet. It won't do for me t' run 'round naked, will it?

Thanks be to you for helpin' to put me mind at ease, {career}. I owe ye one.

Rewards Edit

• 1650 XP
• Ill-Fitting Elven Clothes