In a Hostile Country: The Saga of Cahmel (Let’s Play Morrowind Part 2)

When we last left our intrepid hero, Cahmel, he was being asked by a random stranger to perform a time-consuming favor without any promise of reward.

Is this the face of a useless twit with no sense of responsibility? Yes.

The woman had the following predicament, although I would hesitate to even call it that. Apparently, she was a woman of wealth and nobility, traveling alone with several expensive jewels and no way to defend herself.

To the shock of bubble-headed naïve morons everywhere, she was robbed.

Except, she doesn’t care about that little detail—the jewels are “not important”. What she really wants is for you to set her up with that dashing rogue.

Apparently, the robber was “polite” and “charming”, and she was swept off her elegantly-sandaled feet by him. Enamored, she wants to give him one of her gloves as a token of her favor.

For reasons known only to her, this is impossible for her to do herself, so she instead decides to impose on the next heavily armed stranger to come along. Bear in mind here that she offers no reward but her gratitude.

Now, I kind of wanted to see where this was going, so I accepted. Turns out, the bandit was headed south…

…towards Pelegiad…

…which was where I was just coming from.

I really didn’t want to do this.

It’s not that I didn’t want to help her. Well. Okay. Actually, I really didn’t, but that’s besides the point. It’s just that it’d take so damn long to do.

Up to this point, I’d been walking everywhere. Partially because I wanted to get into character, partially so I could drink in the sights, partially to conserve my Fatigue meter in case I get attacked. Thing is, this is an excruciatingly slow way to travel.

When I left the first town, loaded only with my basic gear, I was kind of shocked at how tedious and unhurried my pace was. I can’t imagine ever walking that slowly, unless badly crippled or getting in line for a free kick in the jimmies. After about a minute of traveling like this, I thought I’d have a taste of what running was like. I hit the run/walk toggle key…and discovered that I had been running the whole time. I was now moving like a maimed tortoise wading through quicksand. During a Zack Snyder movie.

Anyway, if I was going to do this quest, there was no way I was going to do it at a walk. Experimentally, I jogged a few paces. It was still painfully slow.

Seriously. If you took away her walker, Cahmel could just about outpace his grandma.

Hm.

I scanned my inventory, looking for things I could leave by the wayside to increase my speed. I chucked out a few minor items, reasoning that I could pick them back up on my way back.

Well…let’s just say that one thing led to another.

...how long has it been since I've washed that fur loincloth thing?

Alright, Express Nudist Courier Service, let’s do this.

I just like to imagine the expressions on the faces of the townspeople as I trotted into town. Can you imagine what flashed through their minds?

I'm. Too sexy for my gear. Too sexy for my dignity. Too sexy for my quest, my quest's a piece of crap.

As a matter of fact, I can, because they told me. In Morrowind, NPCs tend to pick up on subtle details like a burly streaker prancing around the village square. A few choice morsels:

“You’re a fool to walk around like that!”

“Wake up in a hurry? You forgot your clothes!”

“Put that away! It’s disgusting!”

I ignore them as best as I can, pulling into the local tavern to look for the thief. Oh, look–there he is.

Package for you, sir.

I find him, deliver the glove, get a missive to deliver back, and sprint out, listening as their jeers fade into the background. Jeez, that was humiliating. I think it’s safe to say I’m never going back there again.

I jog back down the round until I come to the questgiver.

This has been the most epic quest EVER. Thanks, lady.

She gives me some lip about my nudity as well, which frankly makes me want to throw the message back into a ditch. Look, it’s like this, lady:

1.)    Free
2.)    Fast
3.)    Dressed

Pick any two, alright?

Message delivered, squat received as a reward besides a vague mention of some friend of hers that runs some shop somewhere on the other side of the continent who might possibly maybe give me reduced prices or something like that. What a smashing waste of time. Grumbling quietly, I begin to recover my gear. It’s all in one compact pile, so there’s no danger of missing anything. Armor, weapon, potions, provisions…wait a minute…

My drugs. Where the hell are my drugs?

My skooma and moon sugar, representing about 500 gold worth of loot, are nowhere to be found. Okay, think, think…did I put them in a different pile? Have I already sold them? Did I…oh.

Oh hell.

They’re still in that crate back in town.

…

Oh, hi, guys. Just came back to stuff some narcotics in my diaper, kthnxbai.

And from that day forward, the guards always had the following on standby: a box of blindfolds, a pair of pants, and a long, sturdy rope.

Few people have the courage to streak through a populated thoroughfare full of guards. Only I would do so twice in the same day.

I got back to my clothes somewhere around sunset.

Next time, I’m taking the goddamn fast travel.