In a Hostile Country: The Saga of Cahmel (Let’s Play Morrowind, Part 36)

When we last left our ruggedly independent hero, he was outsourcing his fighting to a hobo in chainmail and his loot-carrying to a rat. If I can find a cheeky monkey to handle my bribery and petty theft, I can run this whole adventuring gambit from a strictly managerial position. Maybe legitimize it by calling it a guild—I don’t have a name yet, but I’m thinking either House Cahmel or the Awesomekicker’s Guild would best suit it.

At the very least, I need a name for our little band as it currently stands. I was thinking about Team Fantastic Victory, but somehow, that name doesn’t have quite the atmosphere of success I was going for. Whatever, I’ll come to it later.

Alright. Here we stand—I, Lord Cahmel, our reasonably fearless leader! A master of the long blade, and adequately trained with the weapon he will actually be using, Cahmel is a name feared by all evil men who prize the integrity of their faces. I let no sin go unpunished, unless it doesn’t directly affect me—in which case, I will mosey down like a slightly miffed angel, dealing out lukewarm justice if somebody’s paying me to do so. I am truly a force to be reckoned with!

At my right…what’s your name again? You know, I don’t actually care. At my right stands the mercenary! When I found him, he was standing in a gutter, his biceps naked and wild. I took him in, fed him, and used my folksy adventurer wisdom to tame his feral arms. Shirted, he is a mighty force for good–a singleminded juggernaut of pay-subsidized pain-dealing.

And at my left, my faithful companion, good Ratsy of Rattington. He may be small, he may be weak, and he may not have much to contribute to my fight against evil. This isn’t going anywhere, he actually is pretty much useless. But no matter! I’ll take him along anyway.

Together, we are…

The Knights of Cahmelot!

The place: a shadowy tavern in the Plaza Brindisy Dorum. I lean against the bar, sipping dark liquid from a shot glass. The glass is my own, the liquid is a Bargain Restore Flatulence potion I found in a bandit’s rubbish bin—alcohol makes me queasy, and after getting a good look at the kind of animals they’ve got out here, I’m really hesitant about ordering a glass of milk.

I don’t attract any attention. This is mildly remarkable, since I am an outlander, I am armed, I got into a drag-‘em-out fistfight the last time I came in here, and I am currently dressed in the armor/uniform of the evil unstoppable assassin cabal that has its headquarters directly under this very city. You’d think somebody would comment on that. I guess I’m just…real…stealthy? Like, I just project an ambient stealth field so potent my fellow barflies don’t register me. That would explain why people I know never stop and say hello to me on the street. I test the theory by passing on some of the potion-induced gas—nobody comments on it. In fact, people seem to be ignoring me even more now, somehow. Yeah, I guess the stealth field theory’s the way to go.

Mercenary stands awkwardly next to me. A tragic, hereditary spinal disease means he’s unable to actually sit down anywhere. It’s pretty common out here in Morrowind. Out of consideration for his feelings, I remain standing as well.

“So,” I say, assuming my smoothest fearless-leader tone. “Gentleman. Shall we discuss our next move?”

Merc glances uneasily at Ratsy, then back at me. “Uh. I thought you said we were just going to go kill things in the sewers?”

“Well, yes, that’s the soul of it, but there are many considerations at hand. Tactics, my good fellows, we must discuss tactics.”

“Tactics…fellows…look, are you including the rat in these discussions? Because I don’t know if I can handle that, I actually don’t.”

Ratsy squeaked in indignation. I scoffed, something I’d been waiting the whole morning for an opportunity to do.

“Really, now, don’t be prejudiced. Ratsy has many exceptional qualities. For example, he did not get stuck on the doorframe entering this bar. I consider this to be an admirable accomplishment.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it, then shut it again. Then he opened it, then he shut it–it was at this point I realized that he was chewing some scrib jerky, and I stopped keeping track.

“Anyway,” I said, “let’s discuss tactics, briefly. Let’s say I’m…a bandit. I’ve got a sword, and I’m charging at you. What do you do?”

He gave it a little thoughtful consideration. Then he replied, “I’d run up and start hitting him with my sword.”

“Oh…kay. Yeah, that’s fair. Now, let’s say you’re in a tomb. There’s a spellcaster preparing a fireball, and he’s taken cover behind a pillar. What do you do?”

His lips started moving as he ran through an internal tactical analysis. “Well. I suppose…in that situation, I’d run up and start hitting him with my sword.”

“Yeah. That works, actually.”

“Really, it’s a classic.”

“Now, here’s a trickier one. Let’s say we’ve got confined, sewer-like spaces. You hadn’t been told this beforehand, but it’s actually a stronghold of the Dark Brotherhood. Within are far, far too many assassins for one man to handle, so you—in this hypothetical scenario—have been duped into fighting them with him. You’re carrying lots of valuable gear, as well as some of this man’s money. Anyway, he leads up to an area with five or six assassins. All of them are armed with magical shortswords. What do you do?”

He was silent for a minute. Actually a full minute–I counted under my breath. It occurred to me, as he sat there chewing the gristle of this intellectual feast, that he wasn’t actually stupid. Not the kind of gobsmacking door-smacking slapstick stupid I’d expected, anyway. He may be single-minded, but it’d be a mistake to call him an idiot.

Finally, he said, “Well, that’s a hard one. My usual approach doesn’t really work here.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t. I mean…there’s three of them.”

“Right.”

“So…” His brow knitted in concentration. “I guess…” The clouds of uncertainty drifted away, and he snapped his fingers. “I’d run up to the closest one and start hitting him with my sword, then work through them by order of proximity.” He looked a bit proud of this. “See, the process is solid, you just have to be ready to improvise a little in the field.”

I could already tell this mission was going to be a rousing success.