{"id":1634,"date":"2010-02-03T00:02:11","date_gmt":"2010-02-03T08:02:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.chocolatehammer.org\/?p=1634"},"modified":"2026-06-15T17:07:23","modified_gmt":"2026-06-16T01:07:23","slug":"in-a-hostile-country-the-saga-of-cahmel-lets-play-morrowind-part-34","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.chocolatehammer.org\/?p=1634","title":{"rendered":"In a Hostile Country: The Saga of Cahmel (Let&#8217;s Play Morrowind, Part 34)"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>When we last left our mighty hero, he was about to get the everloving <em>crap <\/em>beaten out of him by a bonewalker. See, this is where the dynamic nature of Bethesda\u2019s world really shines through. With an open world like this one, they have no way of predicting when the player will be having actual fun, so they had to craft a gameworld that could assess joy in realtime and convert it into finger-curling, mouse-breaking, eye-steaming <em>rage<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>The battle went something like this.<\/p>\n<p>Thinking quickly, I jettisoned all excess weight to ensure speed of movement. Since I had no way of knowing which parts of my actual gear would be necessary in the battle to come, this mostly took the form of, you know, relieving myself onto the floor. This doubled as psychological warfare, possibly, although to be honest I wasn\u2019t really approaching it from that angle at the time. At this point, I let loose a blood-curdling battle cry, one which imitated the sound of a cliff racer diving towards its prey (which, and this is a coincidence, happens to sound a bit like someone who\u2019s just dipped their crotch into a bucket of spiders). Then I leapt towards him, bringing my wicked blade down in a punishing arc, slashing into its flesh.<br \/>\n<!--more--><br \/>\nWell, towards it, anyway. I mean, I didn\u2019t actually hit him. It\u2019s like I went to swing it into him, and then I\u2026because he\u2026well, I didn\u2019t hit him, okay? So I hauled back and swung again, and this time, I got much, much closer to connecting. And then I swung again, and that one was a little off, I\u2019ll grant you, but I was starting to get a feel for general location when he proceeded to launch his fist through my right nostril, into my nasal cavity, past my tongue, and straight down my throat.<\/p>\n<p>It tasted like the worst goddamn salami you\u2019ve ever been in the same room as. Also, anemia, shame.<\/p>\n<p>He paused for a moment to admire his craftsmanship, lifting me up off the ground a few inches and spinning me around on his wrist. Fighting dizziness, I waved the blade at him like a kid waving a pendant at a baseball game. Except, the kid\u2019s team is losing, he\u2019s dropped his hot dog, and he just found out that he was adopted. That\u2019s not to say I didn\u2019t faze him: I think at some point, the wind from my hurricane of missing hit one of his open sores, and he winced noticeably before using his offhand to pummel my sternum like a speedbag.<\/p>\n<p>Needless to say, I wasn\u2019t ready for things to go this way. Sometimes, the AI pulls a tactic that comes out of nowhere and catches you completely off guard. Case in point: <em>winning<\/em>. The strategy guide didn\u2019t say <em>anything <\/em>about what to do when that happens. I consulted passersby, seeking some kernel of wisdom to salvage a victory from, but I didn\u2019t get much useful advice. The non-gamers mostly asked me why I\u2019d installed a screensaver of Frankenstein swinging his fist at the screen over and over while a little girl screams in pain. The gamers were too busy laughing and pointing to offer any constructive criticism.<\/p>\n<p>At this point, I waved my tiny blade somewhere the in vicinity of his ribcage, and felt a tiny <em>dink <\/em>as it connected.<\/p>\n<p>Imagine a pi\u00f1ata. Imagine a kid hauling back and swinging at this pi\u00f1ata as hard as he could, hitting it with enough force to hear from two rooms away. Now imagine that there was a live grenade inside the pi\u00f1ata, and also the whole thing was shaped like a zombie knockoff, and you\u2019ll get a sense of what happened. He exploded <em>and <\/em>imploded <em>and<\/em> shredded apart, bits of corpserot and stankmeat flying around like I was carving up the worst turkey in town with a chainsaw. I took him to the cleaners. I went to town, bought a nice vest, then set off a fireball in the market square. There wasn\u2019t a piece of him big enough to put in a locket as the world\u2019s grossest, also smelliest, keepsake. He was a fine mist that would take hours to clean out of my trendy assassination pajamas, but I didn\u2019t even care. Victory was mine, in the most explosive way imaginable. I was injured, and I was exhausted, but now I had a story that I would tell exactly half of to my grandchildren.<br \/>\n<em><br \/>\nALTERNATELY:<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>I walked in, saw a bonewalker, couldn\u2019t hit it for a while, lost a good amount of health and strength, then connected a few times and killed him at a modestly impressive rate. But that\u2019s not as much fun to write, is it?<br \/>\n<\/em><br \/>\nAnyway, the tomb was pretty bog standard, and I\u2019m not going to bore you with a report on what was, ultimately, a routine raid. I killed some more things, and took some things, and killed some more things, and then left. Mission accomplished: new equipment field tested. Ultimately, I\u2019d call the new blade a success, provided I can find a reliable source of replacement spinal columns once I return to Mournhold.<\/p>\n<p>Speaking of: time to head back. Time, in fact, for some more Mournhold Tales.<br \/>\n<strong><br \/>\nNaked Hot Nords<br \/>\n<\/strong><br \/>\nI\u2019m chilling in the Plaza, admiring the statuary, trying to figure out where I\u2019m supposed to be heading. See, the Plaza\u2019s kind of the midpoint of the city, and there are three doors you can take to get to the different areas surrounding it. There\u2019s the Godsreach district (full of fancy houses, fancy boutiques, and virtually nothing of any real interest), the Market district (which doesn\u2019t have many good markets, actually,) and the courtyard to the palace, which is freely accessible. Actually, anyone with working legs can stroll right through the palace, and can even check up on Queen Barenziah and have a little face-to-face chat. A little strange that they don\u2019t screen people a little better: anyone could walk in, from random peasants, to rat merchants, to, and this is purely hypothetical, ex-con serial flashers with a penchant for fraud, murder, and punching various figures of authority right in the face.<\/p>\n<p>But enough about my weekend plans; Point is, there\u2019s this plaza, and in it is a nord. He\u2019s naked. And hot. As in, he\u2019s sweltering. That\u2019s why he\u2019s naked.<\/p>\n<p>He insists that he hasn\u2019t been paralyzed by a witch, and he wasn\u2019t robbed. He\u2019s perfectly ambulatory, it\u2019s just that he\u2019s a little warm, so he\u2019s taken his gear off.<\/p>\n<p>Oh\u2026kay.<\/p>\n<p>So, you don\u2019t need anything from me? No? Are you sure?<\/p>\n<p>I don\u2019t judge, you know. I met a guy just like you\u2014oh, I mean, sorry, like you except he was paralyzed and robbed, instead of just being a naturist, and believe me, I\u2019m right there with you\u2014and I agreed to help him, no need for a reward, no questions asked. Of course, I ended up killing him, and then killing the person who took his stuff, and then taking his\/her\/their stuff, but I don\u2019t think that\u2019s really the point here.<\/p>\n<p>Don\u2019t need any help? Okay, let me know if the situation develops.<\/p>\n<p>Nice guy.<strong><\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>The Mouse That Roared<\/strong>,<strong> And Then Got a Slightly Bigger Mouse<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I decide to check out the Godsreach district. Additional note: jaspers, but those doors are huge. Seriously, they\u2019re <em>big<\/em>. They\u2019ve got to be crazy loud, too, with all the weight bearing down on those hinges. That can not be a good way to maintain property values. I mean, everyone wants to live in a gated community, but when the gate is a.) unlocked, b.) unguarded, c.) loud as hell, and d.) awkward to operate, it\u2019s a liability, like a nuclear power plant, or a neighbor who conducts banned post-WWII era Soviet experiments in his garden every night.<\/p>\n<p>Anyway, I come across this elf fellow. Big surprise, he wants my help. Even more surprising, it\u2019s for something that he has no business asking for my help with, something that puts me in considerable risk and involves me doing all the work while he all but supervises. So surprising that it paralyzes every cell in my body, save those incorporated into my sarcasm glands, he\u2019s not offering much in the way of reward.<\/p>\n<p>Specifically, he got thrown out of the bar by this big Nord, because he\u2019s tiny. Makes sense, seems like the logical thing to do in that situation. The elf\u2019s angry about it for some reason, and wants me to go in and beat the Nord up with my fists.<\/p>\n<p>What? Kid, do I <em>look <\/em>like some kind of monk to you? For your information, I shave my head because it\u2019s <em>stylish<\/em>, and because my hair kept sticking out of my flying saucer hat, not because I know secret kung fu. I can just about girly-slap a wimpy Hlaalu official hard enough so that he doesn\u2019t mistake it for a gentle kiss, or a leaf borne onto his cheek by a soft wind. Fisticuffs aren\u2019t my forte. Fists are for holding <em>weapons<\/em>. If the gods had wanted us to fight with our bare hands, they wouldn\u2019t have invented spiked gloves.<\/p>\n<p>Whatever, I\u2019ve got nothing better to do. I walk up and cold-cock this Nord fellow. Fifteen minutes of gentle scalp massaging later, he\u2019s down for the count, I\u2019m kicked out of the bar, and I\u2019ve got a modest payment. Not the absolute worst use of my time.<\/p>\n<p>No, that was yet to come.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>When we last left our mighty hero, he was about to get the everloving crap beaten out of him by a bonewalker. 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