In a Hostile Country: The Saga of Cahmel (Let’s Play Morrowind, Part 23)

When we last left our hero, he’d finally given his moron employer the shaft. Finally, for the first time in like 5 quests, I’d be taking my orders from someone who didn’t make me want to beat him to death with a bit of scrib jerky.

Right, so, who am I reporting too now? I guess since that guy’s in jail, I’m going to start doing jobs for his boss. So, that would mean my current questgiver is…

Oh god.

I wonder if there are any jerky stands open this late?

Okay, no, gotta fight through that. Remember, Cammy, this isn’t about your pride or self-respect. This isn’t about giving you a comfortable life, or missions that aren’t intensely creepy. It’s not even about you, actually. It’s about a bunch of random strangers armed with a bucket of popcorn and a wagonload of schadenfreude.

Besides, it occurred to me that I haven’t even gotten my old quest reward back. So, I guess let’s get that part over with.

Please don’t be clothing, please don’t be clothing…

I'm not sure why he's facing backwards in this picture. Actually, I don't want to know. I don't even want to examine exactly WHY I don't want to know.

Uh. Thanks a lot, creepy man. Jeez, leave it to this guy to make you want to throw a magic item into a drainage ditch.

Dare I ask what my next quest is? Let me warn you in advance: if it’s to deliver your “magic sword” anywhere, I’m gonna defect to the goddamn Telvanni.

Actually, it’s really pretty harmless. Er. Harmless in the sense that it’s not creepy or weird, not harmless in the sense that I’m not going to cause harm to someone or something. I mean, this is Hlaalu.

Apparently, there’s some smugglers or something operating outside of Hla Oad. I’m supposed to find them and “convince” them to respect House Hlaalu. If they’re not in a respectful mood, I can go ahead and make them respect my sword in their faces. Sounds good. It’s kind of like The Godfather, if instead of Marlon Brando it starred your estranged swinger uncle.

Getting to Hla Oad isn’t much of a bother—it’s only about 2 miles away, so I can take a boat there. I only have to walk over about 2 and a half miles of Vivec to get to said boat.

I really want to shake the hand of the guy who designed these walkways. Shake it right off.

Sorry, back on topic. Hla Oad is identical to every other fishing town around: a bunch of houses, puddles, and badly-dressed people wandering around and passive-aggressively accosting strangers. Supposedly, the outlaw named…

Velfred? Seriously? Wow, okay, give me a second here. Velfred? That’s easily the worst smuggler name I’ve heard in my life. That’s actually so bad it’s kind of awesome. I mean…Velfred? That sounds like what a drugged-out rock star would name their unwanted firstborn. Their unwanted female firstborn.

Anyway, I need to find that guy. Shouldn’t be too hard—I just have to ask for the ugly guy with the stupid name, and he should turn up in a flash.

I think I spoke too soon.

Okay, actually, turns out Velfy ain’t in town. Many villagers know where he’s located, but none of them are willing to say. For, uh, some reason? Oh, I get it. The smugglers have intimidated people into not giving away their location, which (for some reason) is obvious enough that everyone knows where it is. Even, you know, people who have no reason to even want to know where it is. So the villagers hush up, and the smugglers are safe from anybody who’s trying to find them. I guess they get their customers through Craigslist?

Of course, these villagers are no match for Cahmel’s patented social domination techniques. All it takes is a firm tone, eye contact, and a massive bribe to get them to loosen up. Turns out, the smugglers have carefully hidden their craft out on the coastline, in broad daylight, about 100 yards from civilization.

I set out, and am there. I make sure to prepare my stabbin’ arm, and arrange my potions in order of least to most useful. I get the feeling it’ll take more than a bribe and a handshake to get these smugglers to respect Hlaalu.

Oh. My mistake. That’s actually all it takes.

I’m starting to see why Hlaalu appreciates my special talents. Specifically, my amazing knack for paying Hlaalu’s bribes out of my own pocket.

It’s okay, though. It’s an unspoken code of businessmen everywhere: when you have to pay for part of a business trip yourself, you take something back with you.

It just so happens that this is an Ebony smuggling ship.

4,000 drakes worth of pilfered Ebony later, I stumble back home.