Morrowind Mod:Tamriel Rebuilt/The Autobiography of an Orc

Olgol gro-Muk's Private Notes

[There are various entries in a hardly legible scrawl. You can only make out a few.]

16, Last Seed

Olgol hate damn Furnius. Proud Orc Leginarre serving great Emperor not meant to polish blades! Maybe he just making me mad, so I more better when I needed to smash bandits.

20, Last Seed

No smashing, but now I scrub floors? It not proper! If I had rank, I make Furnius scrub floor with head! But making floor pretty not going to help me do that. . .

1 Hearthfire

Some people think Orcs idiots and savages. But they are fools. Maybe I not as smart as Telvanni wizard, but I can write and read. Smarty Legionarre like Furnius should know better. I fix his wagon. Just need Plan. Like drop something heavy on his head when he make me change candles on shandoleer. If Furnius dead, I think I go up in rank.

5 Hearthfire

Plan not work. Miss Furnius, and make him angry. Now I have to fix floor stones I broke too. Damn! Need better Plan. . . I know I need Plan, but I need better one than I made. Can't ask for help. That treason. . . Maybe a spell. . .

17 Hearthfire

After much practice, I believe I have produced a reasonably effective spell to make myself more intelligent. Though after my experimentation, I realize that the effect will eventually wear off. And so I am left with a small puzzle: While I can undoubtedly come up with a foolproof plan, how do I go about making the plan simple enough for me to understand once I become invetiably duller? I cannot escape the feeling that, even if I were to cast the spell just prior to rereading the plan, it would not last long enough for me to see the plan through. And so I would probably, after much quiet brilliance, simply draw my axe in confused enthusiasm and try to kill smug Furnius. And be executed. I no understand plan. At least, I think that plan I wrote when smart. It end with "executed". That not good plan. I try again tomorrow.

18 Hearthfire

I think I have arrived at a solution. Killing Furnius is now out of the question, as is apparent from yesterday's entry. More important is keeping myself alive. I fear that if I do not formulate a satisfactory plan soon, I will have to rely on myself not becoming frustrated enough to kill Furnius outright. And I cannot rely on that. And thus my solution: To keep myself alive, I must turn myself in to the guards. I have plotted murder, but failing to fulfill those plans, I might escape the gallows. Rolling the dice in that way is surely better than depending on my own limited intellect. The contents of these notes should be enough to have me jailed. So, keeping it simple. . .

The Plan:

• Give guard book. He help.
• Keep axe home. Guard do all work.
• Do what guard say. He help you follow good plan.

[This was the last entry. Apparently, Olgol's plan worked]

Breakout

And so, my murderous intentions toward Furnius revealed, I was hastily placed in a cell in the local prison. Not having had the benefit of an artificially inflated intelligence at the time, I became quite confused; perhaps the guard had misinterpreted my plan out of ignorance, I thought. I was supremely confident that the fellow would come around, and see things however it was I had outlined them. My confidence eroded thoroughly after the first week.

I was placed in a cell with a charming Khajiiti woman, though I fear I wasn't the most pleasant company unless I made myself smarter via spell. She had been, of course, arrested for theft, but being one who had harbored murderous intentions, I could hardly hold that against her. Indeed, she was good company, and helped pass the time with stories of the heroes and mythology of Elsweyr.

But as time wore on, I became aware that she would be released, and I would not. Saddened, I implored her to teach me some skill that might aid my escape. Truly, I feared that she might steal something of such worth that the guard would simply kill her next time, and wanted to ensure her safety. At any rate, she laboriously taught me a mild Chameleon spell in the weeks before her release.

Once I was alone, I spent my days catching rats in my cell, then made them appear to disappear. It wasn't the brightest thing I've ever done, as the invisible rats invited themselves into the prison food stocks, and so made my meals more rationed.

Experimentation taught me some interesting things. While the spell only worked when cast on something organic and vital, it would also effect the armor of the target, and so could extend its influence quite a bit farther. While the most obvious method to use this spell to escape would be to cast it on myself, to make the guard open the door and search the cell, the Khajiiti woman had warned me that such practices were well known to guards and so not advisable.

I scratched my handsome green head for a moment, then struck upon a solution. A thick moss grew on the wall at the back of my cell, and I cast the spell on it. My hopes were borne out, for much of the wall became transparent! I shouted for the guard in excitement, telling him that some foul criminals were trying to break me out. Why anyone would try something like that, I do not know, but thankfully, the guard did not raise similar questions. Instead, he saw what appeared to be an open wall to the outside, and rushed to unlock my cell to, ironically, prevent my escape.

Once the door was open, I grabbed the guard, and threw him into the invisible wall. As expected, his fear stunned him much more than the blow, for he had expected a fall of a few stories. Time enough for me to take his sword, at which point I demanded he remove his armor. That done, I struck the poor fellow unconscious. If only he could have figured out my brilliant plan to kill Furnius, he could have spared himself a headache, I thought sadly. Luckily, no other guards were present.

I quickly hid myself in a storeroom to don the armor, and appropriated a closed helm from the guard's stocks. Thus, in plain daylight did I walk out of prison without being challenged by any of my former mates in the Legion.

How to Break in a Set of Armor

Once I'd freed myself from prison, I scarcely knew what to do with myself. Mind, before this, I had been but a guard in the Legions; my knowledge of outlaws was limited to knowing I wouldn't get arrested for roughing them up. Since no one seemed to take note of me wandering listlessly about town, I grew bold. Surely it wouldn't hurt to linger for a while as I got my bearings.

Then it occurred to me that my former cellmate, the nice Khajiiti woman, would probably know more about being an outlaw than I. And so I cast about for her, and at length, found her at a shady cornerclub. Ma'Dar looked at me nervously, and it took a while for me to remember I was in full armor, and unrecognizable. I had to come up with a subtle way to let her know who I was, without letting everyone else know, for I WAS a wanted criminal.

"Um" I said, "I'm Orgol." It was a shining example of why I employ intelligence enhancers so often. For her part, Ma'Dar relaxed, and, to my horror, informed the general patronage that I was the Orc she had just been speaking of. Surprisingly, no one attempted to bring me to justice, but rather they all laughed uproariously, and several offered to buy me drinks.

I just stood there for a few seconds, until it dawned on me that Ma'Dar could not see the look of confusion on my face. Since I wasn't in danger of being caught here, I removed the helm so my confusion would be plain to see. After trying a few euphemisms that went over my head, she flat out told me the cornerclub was a Thieves Guild hangout. In return, I explained to her that I knew nothing of outlawing. She purred appreciatively, and mentioned that she knew of some smugglers that were short a man (two, actually, so she would be accompanying me). In the morning, she assured me, we would set out for the Dwemer ruin that they had holed up in.

When morning came, Ma'Dar was true to her word. Again, I was able to walk about town freely, though I got some strange looks, since I was posing as a guard and Ma'Dar was a known thief. We made it out of town without event, but as we neared the Dwemer ruin, I had a jolting thought.

"Ma'Dar!" I cried in despair, "I cannot remove this armor! It was meant for a smaller fellow than I, and I fear I am stuck! If the smugglers see me in this, they are sure to attack me, thinking I came to arrest them." And so my little Khajiiti friend tried to assist me in removing it, to no avail. The armor was stuck fast. She hissed despairingly, then suddenly smiled.

"On three, you must stretch, my green friend." She purred, and cast a spell of a sort I hadn't seen before. Amazingly, my stolen armor started to tarnish here, crack there, and, after doing as she asked, it broke into pieces and fell off of me. "Armor disintegration," she explained patiently "is sometimes useful for a thief. The cracks give us somewhere to slide in a jinkblade, allowing our escape."

Though I could hardly be expected to pick it up with anything like quickness, I suddenly wanted to learn the spell. After all, I thought as we approached the ruin, I was going to be a lot more involved on the other side of the law from now on. A big strong (loud) Orc might not make the best thief, but it was the path that lay before me.

The Second Door

I had never seen a Dwemer tower before, and I couldn't help but gawk. Everyone knew the Dwemer themselves were long gone (though where and why are still up in the air), but their ruin looked as if it could wait countless millennia for them to return. The rusty round door opened easily, if noisily, when I pushed. Ma'Dar crept quietly behind me as I trod cautiously into the place.

Inside, the empty halls echoed mournfully the rhythmic grinding and clicking of strange machines the likes of which I had never imagined. Of course, because their purpose was so unclear it is doubtful that anyone could imagine such things, let alone a somewhat dim Orc. I noticed some ancient shelves that were riddled with rust, but they seemed surprisingly sturdy considering their disrepair. The Dwemer must have been great craftsmen, of a kind to rival the marvelous quality of the greatest modern Orcish smiths.

We couldn't seem to find any trace of the smugglers we were to meet up with, though. Ma'Dar continued on ahead of me, as I studied the design of a beautiful goblet of Dwemer crafting. My distraction was probably for the best; because Ma'Dar was a known Thieves Guild member (and quite a great deal sharper than I), they would likely be more receptive to her. After a few minutes, however, she ran by me in an awful fright headed toward the exit. Perhaps the smugglers were not nice people after all.

As I was her companion, and had grown somewhat attached to her, I trotted after, albeit at a more leisurely pace. I cast a glance behind us, and realized it was not smugglers she was fleeing from. Though I hadn't seen such creatures before, I recognized them instantly from childhood tales: Dwemer Spectres. Four of them chased us, and I had only the Imperial Broadsword taken from my prison guard - nothing that would injure these undead. Apparently, Ma'Dar was similarly ill-prepared.

We exited the ruin, huffing and puffing from our run, and slammed the door behind us. We waited breathlessly for the angry ghosts to simply pass through the door and continue the pursuit, but they did not. Perhaps they were bound somehow to the ruin that had housed them in life.

"Huh?" I inquired astutely of Ma'Dar.

"Deeper into the ruin, I came to a locked and trapped door." She panted (neither of the beastfolk could sweat, to my knowledge), "I tried to pick the lock, and I thought I was being quiet about it, but I think the noise attracted the Spectres. Since I was already detected, I swore loudly." She shook her head in negation, "A voice on the other side of the door warned that I had taken the wrong entrance. Then I ran."

She might have actually spoken in the third person, but I had grown accustomed to that Khajiiti habit during my stay in jail. At any rate, we explored the grounds the ruins were built upon more thoroughly, and indeed found what looked like a second entrance. It was well hidden among a patch of wickwheat, so we didn't feel as witless for having overlooked it.

Inside, we finally met the smugglers. There were just three of them, and they seemed a pleasant enough sort. As it turns out, Kievier Sounien (which I was told [several times] is pronounced Kev-e-yay Sow-neh), a Breton battlemage, had used a Turn Undead spell to usher the Spectres into the lower level. The ghosts, he said with pride, were our security system. Besides which, if anyone cared to investigate the ruin and were attacked by them, nothing would seem out of place. Among a group of thieves and a battlemage, however, I began to think myself out of place. . .

Like in the Deal

The first few days with my new friends was a time to great enjoyment. Every day, I would spend a few hours begging Kievier Sounien to teach me a new spell. I knew he dreaded my stupidity, but he could not ask for a more enthused student. Besides tolerating my attempts to be educated, there was little to do. Celewen, our fair Bosmer leader, would often be away trying to track down job opportunities. It was an arrangement that I found myself liking, for it gave me a chance to familiarize myself with my new allies.

Ma'Dar, Kievier Sounien, and Celewen, I have already mentioned. Besides them, the ruin also housed Reeya and Hjestvild. Reeya was an Argonian mage, and wasn't as receptive as Kievier about teaching his craft. I didn't learn much more about him, because I have a policy against bothering creatures with that many sharp teeth. Hjestvild was a boastful Nordic thief, and was very ill-suited for his profession. The majority of his tales of theft ended with something like "And then I smote the guard with a mighty fist" or "But jail's not so bad, you know?" I would have taken the opportunity to let Hjestvild teach me about his trade as well, but even unfortified, I knew better.

As Sundas turned into Morndas, marking the passing of my first week here, we began to worry that Celewen had been captured. Usually, she would be gone only half a day at a time, but none among had laid eyes upon her for four. I'm sure none of the others enjoyed the irony that she returned on The Day of Waiting, as I doubt those outside of the Dragontail Mountains know of it (the day, for those outside that range, was the 9th First Seed).

Celewen brought news of a shipment of moon sugar that needed distributing, as well as some other cargo she was more secretive about. Mostly, it would involve hauling crates from the boat at the port to our hideout. Considering the build of our fellows, I suspected the duty would fall chiefly on Hjestvild and myself. Time to earn my keep, I suppose. At least my armor had been destroyed, so I could do the work without that Igma on my back.

While the rest of us prepared to leave, Kievier sprawled himself out on a hammock. As the only one who could exercise a measure of control over our undead security system, he was the safest choice to stay. Reeya finished his preparations early, and dashed out of the ruin. Curious, I followed the Argonian (besides, having very little to my name, I required very little preparation). I found him bent over talking to the shoreline not too far from the ruin. My approach must have been unwelcome, for he gestured for me to stay back.

When he finished whatever he had been hissing in his own language, a muted purple haze floated over the water, and he turned to me. "It's the Slaughterfish, warmblood. We trained the ones here to carry messages for us. No man, or mer, or even Argonian can match their grace under the surface." He began walking back toward the ruin's hidden entrance, to await the others. "Swift swim will hasten their journey even more. We will follow the shoreline to the port, and keep our eyes to the water. For when we see again those Slaughterfish, we will know whether or not the law will be there to dissuade our work. The deal with our fellow smugglers did not include fighting well armed guards, after all."

Laid Low

And so we set off, Ma'Dar, my good Khajiiti friend and sometimes cellmate, Reeya, the wise and sharp-toothed Argonian, Hjestvild, the bulky Nordic version of a thief, Celewen, our pretty Bosmeri leader, and myself, the Orcish former Legionnaire who was apparently the muscle of the operation. As instructed, my eyes never strayed from the water's edge. My attention was so focused that I almost trampled Ma'Dar a few times, at which she laughed "You stumble as though on burning sands," then, more quietly, "Let the scaled one worry about the fishies, eh?"

Considering that the fishies had the benefit of both fins and a swift swim spell, I began to wonder what was taking them so long to "report" back to us. The Argonian became nervous as well, letting out a long, low hiss of distress. Hjestvild slapped Reeya on the back and laughed, suggesting that perhaps the lizard hadn't trained the Slaughterfish nearly as well as he'd thought. We came within sight of the small port town without ever catching sight of the fish. Celewen shrugged it off, since nothing else seemed amiss. Except for her and Hjestvild, the rest of us became more guarded in our manner anyway.

We walked to one nondescript shack near the shore, and Celewen disappeared inside while we waited. A few minutes later, as I was studying the craftsmanship of a barrel, I was startled when a clawed finger touched my shoulder lightly. I turned to face Reeya, who's [sic] nervousness had become something just shy of terror. With his other hand, he was pointing toward the docks. Looking in the direction indicated, I saw three Slaughterfish tied to a post and gutted, with an Imperial guardsman standing nearby. Uncomprehending, I shrugged.

"Fool!" Reeya hissed quiet explanation, "Those are not just any fish, they are our fish! I would recognize them anywhere. The guard may be on to us! Bad enough that he's here, but that we might be expected . . . " As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the guard seemed to turn his head toward our small group. We all looked at each other fearfully, then Hjestvild said "Oh, what the hell," drew his weapon, and began walking toward the guard. The guard, naturally, responded in kind. Ma'Dar, Reeya, and I ran, splitting up, not wanting any part of this action.

It seems the Imperials had expected us, for I noticed two more guards rushing to the scene of combat as I tried to appear to be a regular townsperson. Behind me, I could hear among the clash of swords Hjestvild shouting curses about his cowardly allies who had abandoned him, and such. In the middle of one curse, he fell silent. Knowing it was just a matter of time before the original guard identified us, I began to search for Ma'Dar and Reeya. Celewen hadn't exited the shack, so I assumed she either was dead or arrested already . . . or she was still negotiating the price for our smuggling. Reeya, I saw some distance away, stealthily diving into the water west of town. Almost frantically, I cast about for Ma'Dar, and my heart sank when I finally spotted her.

My little Khajiiti friend was dashing away, blissfully unaware of an archer posted atop a building on the outskirts of town. I knew I couldn't reach the archer in time with sword, and I'd have a hard time hitting him with a spell, such was his position. Shouting to Ma'Dar would do no good, and would just betray my own position. In desperation, I did the only thing I could think of . . .

Leaning casually against a barrel, I looked from the fleeing Ma'Dar to the archer and back again. My timing had to be spot-on, or she would be skewered. Watching the tautness of the bowstring, I cast the powerful spell that would knock the wind from its target which Kievier Sounien had been kind enough to teach me. Then it was a race between the arrow and my spell. I saw Ma'Dar crumple to the ground, and for a moment I wasn't sure if my plan had worked (and the arrow had sailed harmlessly overhead), or if the arrow had pierced her. Waiting just long enough to see her get to her feet again, I breathed a sigh of relief. Our group scattered, it was now my turn to flee.

Seeking Home

And so my new-found friends became scattered in the midst of an Imperial ambush. I dashed west, weighed down only by the sword I'd stolen from my jailbreak, and the clothes on my back. After several hundred yards, it dawned on me that Kievier would still be at the Dwemer tower, waiting for us to return. Not being terribly intelligent, it did not dawn on me that the Imperials might have known about our stronghold too. In any event, I thought it probable that those of us who escaped capture would likely return there, and I couldn't abandon Ma'Dar, who had been such a good friend.

So I abruptly stopped running, spun on my heel, and started walking back the way I'd come. Lacking creativity, I'd simply ran in a straight line. Had I been followed, that would have been very, very bad. On the bright side, it also meant that I wasn't too lost. In the time since the ambush, the sun had fallen from the sky, and I very quickly found that not being too lost during the day was quite a different beast from being not too lost at night. In short order, too lost I became.

Besides my bearing, I lost track of the hours as I stumbled through the countryside, trying to remember what direction the coastline was in. If I could find the coast, I could probably follow it back to our Dwemer ruin, or to the port crawling with Imperials if I was unlucky. However, not knowing which way was which way certainly made either option problematic. Rather than pausing to figure it out, I bulled ahead, becoming ever more lost.

Then it hit me -- I was disoriented because of the darkness. If I cast the Night Eye spell Kievier had taught me, I'd be able to tell where I was. Maybe.

After my vision brightened, I surveyed my surroundings. Nothing looked familiar. Then, from behind a hill, I saw a low, quick shape running toward me. If I hadn't cast the spell, I never would have seen it. Confident, I drew my sword and waited. The shape slowed, apparently seeing that I had stopped moving. It rose, into a posture I recognized: a humanoid, out of breath. As it walked closer, I finally realized what it was.

"Ma'Dar!" I bellowed, "glad to find you!"

Between breaths, she corrected "Ma'Dar... found... you... silly... Orc."

I sat on the ground while she caught her breath. When she did, she informed me that she had been trying to track me down the whole time I'd been lost. She was afraid I'd lose my bearing, walk back into town, and get caught. Considering I'd saved her life, she probably felt the need to repay me. I'd given her a hard time, since I'd wandered so randomly as I became ever more lost.

Finally, I asked her if she knew the way back to the tower. "Of course" she purred, "but Ma'Dar does not think it wise to go home now. They knew we were coming. They might also know where we came from. You see? Employment comes second to staying out of cages. We must seek a new home."

I nodded in agreement. But without gold, how far could we get?

On the Move

Hammerfell was a nice province, as provinces go, but things there had become too interesting for Ma'Dar and myself. The honorable thing to do would have been to regroup at our Dwemer hideout, and plot to rescue our fellow smugglers from their Imperial captors. However, as is often the case, the honorable thing to do and the smart thing to do weren't the same thing. Besides which, how great of a rescue could we have mounted?

Still, I felt guilty for abandoning my friends. Of course, walking south without a drake to our names, and living off the land has a tendency to put one in a bleak, guilty sort of mood. Add that to the fact that we were walking south, toward the Imperial province, the self-proclaimed center of civilization in Tamriel, and more importantly the center for Imperial law, and you can understand why my spirits weren't too high.

When I asked Ma'Dar again if we really had to go this way, she responded as she always did: "Ma'Dar knows, and Ma'Dar doesn't like it either. But try to think fuzzy thoughts -- Cyrodiil is a big province. Big provinces have big problems. They don't have time to worry about a couple of Ja'Khajiit like us. We'll just slip quietly by Rihad and Anvil, and then we'll be in Valenwood. It's a wild place, but the Imperial arm doesn't reach very far in the forest, and that's what matters."

I contemplated that for a moment, then said "And the Bosmer... they're light-fingered mer. We might be able to find employment there."

Ma'Dar stopped walking, and studied my face. Her bright, clever eyes twinkling, she purred "A clever Orc you are, to say this without having to fortify your intelligence. Ma'Dar thinks maybe you are only unlearned, and not..." she trailed off, realizing the insult that train of thought ended in. "This is good," she said hastily "it means Ma'Dar might not have to worry about the big, silly Orc getting himself lost again."

She was right - I hadn't used an intelligence enhancer for quite a while. I still used them when I wrote in my journal, but other than that I was relying more and more on myself. And as we drew away from civilization, it dawned on me that I was a much better outdoorsman than Ma'Dar. Her area of expertise centered on thieving in a city, which didn't adjust well to roughing it in the wilderness. I hadn't had time to contemplate, and really realize how much I'd changed.

We passed just east of Rihad without event. As we walked parallel to the road south to Anvil, I motioned Ma'Dar to halt. We had run out of water two days ago, and the constant march was wearing on us. Gratefully, she sat down on a cool rock. I looked around, then nodded.

"There are some gourds over there, in the brush sprouting up by the forest. If they've been growing there for a few generations, there might be a few dry, hollow ones. We could use them as canteens, and we're still close to the river south of... of Rihad." As I finished, I realized how strange those words coming out of my mouth sounded. Seeing my confusion, Ma'Dar's ears flattened in amusement. I quietly and quickly went off to check the gourds, and found three likely subjects. When I returned after filling them, Ma'Dar had something to say.

"My friend, Ma'Dar thinks that all that fortification has rubbed off on you. But that's not quite right, is it?" I shifted uncomfortably, "The insight it would give you... some tiny bit of it stayed with you every time. Not whole big ideas, just little parts you could sink your claws into." she paused to take a drink "But you'd used fortification so much, those little bits added up. Now you understand so many little parts, you're smart without fortification."

I hesitated. "I don't think I'm that smart. I couldn't imagine what you just said, for one thing. But now that you said it, I see what you mean..." I felt almost surreal. "Huh." I concluded.

But before the words had time to sink in, more words came, but were uttered by neither of us.

"Ho, there!" the confident voice of an Imperial reached us. "You two look rather road-weary, considering Rihad is so near." I turned my head to witness an Imperial guardsman walking steadily toward us, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. "It almost makes one suspicious. As if you have reason to avoid cities. As if you're evading the just reach of the Empire's law." The guard put as good a face on his suspicion as he could, continuing "But I'm sure there's a good, honest cause for it." He spread his arms, as if in friendship, but when they fell back to his sides his hand returned to the hilt. "And friends, I've always an interest in a good story." As he finished, he stood within an arm's length of us.

I knew it was an arm's length, because I reached out and grabbed him, holding his arms to his sides so he couldn't draw his blade. Leaning in menacingly, I cast a simple spell. When the light in his eyes changed, I knew I had him.

"He was just doing his job." I explained to Ma'Dar, not taking my eyes off the Imperial's. "He's probably not a bad sort, so I don't want to hurt him. I'm saying this, so the spell can transform my words in his ears. It doesn't really matter what I say; in his mind, it'll be the most terrible, frightening thing he's ever heard. It's a variation of the demoralize humanoid spell; it works with the spoken word, while your in-born Khajiiti ability is more visual."

As I released him, and he turned to run, Ma'Dar deftly grasped the hilt of his sword. All she did was hold it -- in his rush to get away, it slipped from it's scabbard. Handing it to me, she commented "My friend, you are getting sharper, but you still have tricks to learn. An opportunity like that is only an opportunity if you see it. But Ma'Dar is with you, so you are armed now anyway." She cast a glance in the direction the guard had run, back toward Rihad. "But enough musings. A scared man flees, but he will bring his fellows back. We should move on..."