Chapter Three: Getting Accustomed

Following the speech, Shepard knew she'd have to get acquainted with her new squadmates. She made her way down to the Normandy's lower levels to chat with the crew, namely Garrus, Wrex, Tali, and Dâgalûr. The conversation with Garrus seemed to endure for quite some time, as if the two had no cares in the world.

Dâgalûr, awakening sluggishly, managed to overhear most of it, as Garrus spoke of his carrer at C-Sec and sense of justice. To the half-uruk, this was laughable. Morality was a foreign concept in Uruk society, moreso since Sauron had ascended to power once more. Shepard managed to calm Wrex after provoking him with memories about the Genophage, and her chat with Tali was short lived.

Upon reaching Dâgalûr, who was sharpening his sword, Pauzûlshapât, she sparked a discussion with the overlord.

"Hey, Dâgalûr, just trying to get an idea of who I picked up. Got some time to answer a couple questions?"

"Feel free to ask, but know that I have the right not to answer any of them."

"Of course. My first question is where exactly did you come from? I've read the Extranet reports about you and your buddy," she stated, pointing towards Laga, "but I'd like to know more."

"I hail from the land of Mordor, dominion of the shadows."

"What system is that planet in, though?"

"What?"

"Your planet, Mordor, what star system is it in?"

"The name of my planet isn't Mordor, that's the name of the region. The name of the world is.." Dâgalûr paused for a moment. He had heard the name before, but it eluded his grasp now.

"Arda."

Shepard began typing on a small projected datapad on her omni-tool. "Arda? Interesting name."

"As for what "system" it's in, I couldn't tell you. We know little the stars."

"Well, what's your planet like?"

Laga, being much more knowledgeable than his superior, interrupted, "There are three continents: Middle-Earth, which is where we come from, the Lands of the Sun to the west of us, and the Dark Lands to the south of us. The Lands of the Sun are too hot to be habitable and the Dark Lands were inhabited by Ungoliant, the spider-demon."

"What's your continent like?"

"Middle-Earth? Got a wide range of climates, from the ice bays in the north, to the deserts and jungles of Harad in the south."

"How did humans get there, though? We never colonized this world."

"They are one of the children of the 'Father'," said Laga disgustedly, "and have thus been in Middle Earth since the beginning."

This hokey religious preaching didn't sit well with Shepard. "Anyways, continue. What's it like where you lived?"

"Mordor itself is a climate divided. The north is freezing from all the ash on the ground and dust polluting the air, and the only heat is from Mount Doom, which sends massive clouds of black smoke to blot out the sun. The only fertile area in the region is a large plain to the east in which most of the wildlife in Mordor survives. The south was lush and green because of the inland Sea of Nurnen, but now Orcs have been settling in and using slaves to strip the land and gather food for the growing armies. Now just about all that remains are the slaves and the beasts in the depths of the sea."

"Life sounds harsh."

"It is. Only the strongest survive day to day life outside the army." replied Dâgalûr.

"Who is this army led by?"

Dâgalûr once more intervened, "Sauron the Great. I myself am his 'left-hand-Uruk', if you will. He's been breeding us Uruks, Wargs, and the mighty Olog-Hai in masses for the coming war. He's also managed to sway the Southrons and the Easterlings into his ranks. When he regains his ring of power from the clutches of the enemy so that he may once again take physical form, the hordes will be unleashed upon the rest of Middle Earth, and none shall be left standing."

"The more you explain your world, the more it sounds like a fantasy vid."

"A 'vid'? What's that supposed to mean?" Dâgalûr retorted, a perplexed yet irate grimace on his face.

"It's just a form of entertainment people watch. Most of em' nowadays are trash, but there are quite a few gems under all the garbage."

Shepard, still typing, looked up and stared at the torn banner hanging overhead from the support beam.

"Is that your people's flag?" she said, pointed to the ragged black cloth, which bore a crimson circle with a slit dividing it at the center.

"It is. It bears the Eye of Sauron."

"My next question, if you'll allow me to intrude a bit, is what exactly are you? I know the report said you were a new species of some sort, but I'd like you to elaborate."

Dâgalûr paused for a moment, processing what Shepard just said.

"So, you want to know my story, eh?"

"If that answers my question."

Laga gulped. He knew this story, and he understood that it killed Dâgalûr inside to tell it.

"It started thousands of years ago. The year was 1451 of the Third Age, more than one and a half thousand years ago. My mother, Tormatum, was an Uruk, and a lieutenant at the time. She left home to hunt for the most dangerous weapons she could discover. My father, Sufyan, was a Haradrim blacksmith, but he was never respected. It was his damned Gondorian ancestry. He had pale, ghostly skin, and passed it down to me."

Dâgalûr paused to swallow. "He's the reason I look more human than Uruk. I don't know whether to bless him or damn him. This skin's made it so hard to earn respect from the Orc mobs. I sometimes gotta just open my mouth," He used his finger to pull down his lower lip, exposing his grey gums and sharpened, yellowed teeth. "to remind them who I really am."

Shepard was disgusted by Dâgalûr's mouth, but it did jumpstart her memory. "That reminds me, you need to see Dr. Chakwas as soon as you can. I need an up to date physical on you if you're gonna be seeing active combat soon. Sorry to interrupt. Go on."

"Anyhow, On the other hand, this skin's made it easy to spy on Gondor unnoticed, so long as I don't bleed an' just put on a lil' makeup. He did give me this." He stroked his blood-matted, entangled beard as he spoke of this. "so there's another plus. I didn't get much from my mum's side, but if one thing I got from her sticks out, it's my mindset. I've been raised around humans enough to control my bloodthirsty impulses while still holding onto my Orcish nature, and that's the only reason I haven't tried acted on impulses and done to you what I did to that turian."

"OK….." Shepard backed up slightly, unsettled by the notion that Dâgalûr's race was made up of raging, uncontrolled beasts. "It's almost like his race is a combination of humans and krogan, with a little vorcha mixed in..." she thought to herself.

"But hold on, you need to fill me in a bit. Who's Gondor?"

"Gondor, feh, they're the enemy, the lot of them, they think it's okay to mercilessly slaughter us Orcs because they're more civilized."

"I think I've heard all I need to know about your backstory, but what are you wearing on your face?" She was referring to the dwarvish-made eyeglasses that Dâgalûr was wearing.
"What, these old things? I need them to see because I was nearly blinded by my old drinking habits. Without them, everything is blurry. I stole them off of a dwarven merchant's corpse on the side of a road years ago."

"We can fix that up with a bit of laser surgery. Do you have any comments or remarks before I leave?"

"I do have a few. I'm telling you now, the struggles of my home mean more to me than any of the shrakh that goes down here. In return for helpin' you, I expect you to answer my call for help whenever it may be. I'll leave in a heartbeat if you don't agree to that."

"Dâgalûr, the mission comes first, but I'll give you my word that I'll help you with something in return for your work in the field. Anyway, I'll leave you to what you were doing."

"So be it."

Shepard began briskly walking up the stairs towards the uppermost levels of the ship. Garrus, who had been listening to the entire conversation, questioned Dâgalûr's validity. "Was what you said about 'Middle-Earth' really true, or are you just weaving a tale as you go along?"

"It was, and after seeing the reports and news back on the 'Citadel', do you really doubt me?"

"I guess you do have a point. And chill, I'm not trying to instigate anything, just joking around a bit. You take things a bit too seriously it seems."

"Sod off."

Dâgalûr went back to sharpening the blade of his sword, and shortly afterwards headed up the cargo hold's elevator, in order to pay a visit to this 'Dr. Chakwas'.

Dâgalûr's boots clanked against the steel of the floor, his presence commanding the room. He trudged his way over to the med bay, not too keen on what butchery may happen to him in there. He pushed up his clunky glasses and entered the med bay of the ship to the sight of various electrical devices and metal tables. Sitting at a desk was an older human woman with short, platinum blonde hair, typing away on a datapad. Next to her was a younger lass, ebony hair draping over her shoulders, most likely the assistant to the first.

"You must be the Doctor, I take it?" Dâgalûr said.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Dâgalûr. Shepard filled me in to let me know to prepare the physical. Have a seat on one of the beds and we'll begin."

Dâgalûr went for the closest of the operating tables and took a seat upon it, lying flat on his back while Doctor Chakwas prepared the questions she was required to ask.

"First, do you know your weight and height?"

"I couldn't tell you height, but me weight's about 21 and a half stones."

Doctor Chakwas was somewhat shocked how someone at that weight could expect to be ready for combat, unless of course it was pure muscle.

"Alright, I'll need to make a few measurements, then."

After measuring Dâgalûr's height, it came out to be 6 foot 5 inches. He towered over Doctor Chakwas and her assistant, but was still dwarfed by most elcor and hanar. The doctor was unsure of the average weight of an Orc, as there were only two known specimens in the whole of the galaxy, but going by human standards, Dâgalûr was fairly heavy at a whopping 300 pounds.

"Alright, you'll need to go on a strict exercise regimen beginning today, and following that we'll need to have you sit out one or two missions before we can determine if you're healthy enough to see combat. A few simulations and we'll see."

Dâgalûr tried his hardest to not respond with 'Feh, what would you know about Orc physique?' and replied with a simple "Understood."

"Second, what's your age?"

"1,600."

Chakwas was both skeptical and astounded by this answer. Nevertheless, she had no idea what the average lifespan of Dâgalûr's race was, and typed it into the datapad.

"Do you have any physical handicaps we should know about?"

"Aye. these here," Dâgalûr pointed to his glasses, "Help me see. I'm blind as a bat without 'em."

"Well, we can fix that up with a bit of laser surgery. We can replicate it here on the Normandy, and can get it done before you're out of here today."

"Good. One less problem with this beat up body."

"Any alcohol or drug use?"

"I drink more than I eat most days."

"Noted. Any hereditary issues, serious injuries or illnesses?"

"I've been beat up on a daily basis, if that counts as a serious injury. My legs and arms have been broken more times than I can count in this tongue. I have more scars than years to my life. Nothing on illnesses, though. I don't think I've been sick a day in my life. Not that I can remember, at least." Dâgalûr explained in a more hardened tone.

He felt his cheek, his gloved hand running down it, feeling every minute graze of a blade and slash of an axe. It gave his face a bumpy texture as he ran his hand on it, and he felt around the inside of his mouth with his tongue. Although his teeth grew back endlessly, there were still plenty of scars from where war hammers and maces slammed against his jaw.

Chakwas typed ceaselessly on her datapad, noting down every detail of the info Dâgalûr was giving her.

"That's a good sign. It indicates your immune system is strong. And you must have one hell of one if your body healed all those scars you say you have. Now, if you could, I'll need to see what's under that armor of yours."

Reluctant to part with his armor in an unfamiliar world, the half-uruk eventually complied after some coercing from the Doctor, stripping down until only a loincloth remained.

Chakwas was completely unprepared for what ungodly sight that lied beneath that armor. Not only was the scent of carrion and death itself much more prevalent, but Dâgalûr's entire body was covered from head to toe with scars of all kinds, and his sickly pale skin was riddled with infection, caked on dirt, and shit. This was proving to be a hefty order for Chakwas and her assistant, and one that would be time-consuming. Nonetheless, if Dâgalûr was to be in prime fighting condition within a handful of missions, he needed far more than standard exercise and dieting.

They would be forced to start with patching up any open wounds and infections. With some stitching, antiseptic wipes, and disinfectant creams, his wounds were largely covered up in just an hour and a half, and he was permitted to re-arm himself. Afterwards, the smell had mostly cleared up, but his mouth was laden with tartar buildup and his gums bled profusely when provoked. Although Chakwas was no dentist, she used her scalpels to carefully scrape against Dâgalûr's teeth, eliminating most of the accumulation of tartar and plaque. Next would be the part Dâgalûr dreaded most of all, but knew was absolutely necessary for his continued survival: correctional vision surgery.

The half-uruk was restrained to one of the examination tables as the correctional surgery began. His eyeglasses were removed, and his eyeball was pried open with metal clamps to ensure he did not blink. His cornea was flattened as the laser did its work, but not without Dâgalûr screeching and screaming, trying to escape. The majority of the ship was riddled with his cries, everyone wondering what unholy force was causing such a noise in the med bay.

After 15 minutes passed, both eyes were corrected, his visual translator chip from Sulelsha had been implanted, and special goggles were placed over the half-uruk's field of vision to prevent damage over the next day.

"Despite all the screaming, you preformed rather well Mr. Dâgalûr. I've forwarded your exercise regiment to Shepard, and your physical is now on record. You're free to go."

As Dâgalûr left the med bay, Shepard spoke over the intercom: "Garrus and Wrex, please report to the Command Deck." Almost immediately, the turian-krogan duo exited the elevator and passed the half-uruk as he made his way down to Storage.

After about an hour had passed, with nobody in the storage area save Ashley. the Requisitions Officer, Dâgalûr, and Laga, an unbroken, awkward silence filled the air. Dâgalûr decided to muster up the courage to descend into the engineering section and have a conversation with Tali, the two not having said a word to each other since the rescue. He was extremely nervous, as he felt some form of tingle within him he had not felt in more than a hundred years. He could not pinpoint it, but he just tried to ignore it to the best of his abilities. His voice almost completely trembled with nerves, but he assured himself in his head that he was as powerful as Sauron, even though he could feel very human emotions.

"Uh, Tali? Do you think we might be able to talk for a second?"

She turned around to face him, her bright, white eyes being the only thing Dâgalûr could see beyond her mask. They seemed to have an almost surprised, yet nervous, look to them as they darted around.

"Oh, uh, hey Dâgalûr." Her voice almost sounded as shy and withdrawn as his, "Of course. What did you have in mind?"

"...Truth be told, I didn't think I could get this far in this conversation without my nerves getting to me. I'm really not great at small talk. Anything you want to talk about?"

As nerves boiled away and tension died down, the two decided to truly spark an exchange.

"Nothing comes to mind, really, but if I may ask, what language are you speaking? I heard you speaking it when I watched the Citadel newscasts. There's no recorded language I could find in any database that matches it, pre-spaceflight or not."

"It is the tongue of my people, the Black Speech of Mordor. My people can speak Westron as well, which I believe the dialect of it that everyone here is speaking is called "English", but we prefer Black Speech when we're with each other."

"And where is this 'Mordor'? what system is it in?"

"Here we go again..." thought Dâgalûr, the persistence of this question infuriating him slowly but surely.
"I know not how I came here, nor what a 'system' is."

"Well, what of your people? You mentioned 'Uruk' back on the Citadel. That's a another term I'm unfamiliar with."

"Ah, yes, the Uruks are the elite breed of Orc, perfected to resist daylight and be larger than the common rabble and Snaga. My mother was one of the few known female Uruks, and from what I can remember, she was stunning compared to the rest of our race. She's long gone, however, and may whatever awaited her have been better than what she got in her life."

"I know what it's like to lose your mother; mine passed about five years ago. Know that I share your pain."

"No, you truly don't, but your attempt at empathizing with me was greatly appreciated."

Tali did not know to be offended or flattered by Dâgalûr's remark, so she ultimately chose to change the subject. "What exactly are Orcs? Were they just introduced into the galactic community?"

"They were Elves in the First Age of our world, but our eldest lords took them, and bound them to darkness. They mutilated, tortured, and selectively bred them over generations until they created the Orcs, made to be the back,bone of their armies."

"Keelah, that sounds horrifying."

"It truly is. We've talked too much of me, though. What about your people?"

"Life isn't easy. My people were driven into exile from our homeworld by the geth. Now we live aboard the Migrant Fleet, in cramped living quarters. We put a large value in trust and loyalty, so there is rarely disagreement over our limited resources. Food's not too abundant, and it doesn't help that our DNA is based around dextro amino-acids, so we can't eat the foods of levo amino-acid based organisms, like humans, and orcs, I assume. We place no value on personal possessions, and take only what we need. Tight-knit families are common, and it's illegal to have more than one child unless there's a population crisis. Our laws reflect on our migrant nature, and young adults are required to go on a pilgrimage, like I mentioned before. Also, due to our weak immune systems, we have to wear these enviro-suits. That's about as much as I could really tell you, though."

"I have one final question for you, then I will leave you to what you were doing."

"Hm?"

"Will you help me figure out how this blasted 'omni-tool' works? The tutorials taught me the basics, but I'm still clueless on what to do."

"Sure. Engineer Adams, do you think you'll be alright without me for a while?"

The man to her right wordlessly nodded, being quite engrossed in his current tasks. With the approval of the Engineer, Tali and Dâgalûr made their way back to Dâgalûr's lounging place, with him plopping down on a nearby box while the quarian got on her knees. The orange glow of the tool illuminated the his goggles and her visor as it brought up a holographic screen requesting a passcode, which the Servant of Sauron input while facing away from his counterpart.

As the hub menu was pulled up, it made much more sense to Dâgalûr, having had his translator implanted.

It took Tali mere minutes to explain the ins and outs of the tool to the half-born, and he was downloading games and surfing the Extranet in no time. She returned back to Engineering, content with listening to Dâgalûr's over the top reactions to the wonders of the Galaxy, reminding her of herself at a young age.

Among the games that caught Dâgalûr's eye was one titled 'God of War", an old human video game having been released on Earth about 183 years ago.

Its summary on the Extranet read:
"God of War is a third person hack-and-slash video game developed by Santa Monica Studios and published by Sony Computer Entertainment (SCE). First released on Earth on March 22, 2005, for the PlayStation 2(PS2) console, it is the first installment in the series of the same name and the third chronologically. Loosely based on Greek Mythology, it is set in ancient Greece with vengeance as its central motif. The player controls the protagonist Kratos, a Spartan warrior who serves the Olympian Gods. The goddess Athena tasks Kratos with killing Ares, the God of War and Kratos' former mentor who tricked Kratos into killing his wife and daughter. As Ares besieges the city of Athens out of hatred for Athena, Kratos embarks on a quest to find the one object capable of stopping the god once and for all: Pandora's Box."

With a summary like that, Dâgalûr could not pass it up. He himself pined for vengeance, so he thought that it may teach him how to achieve his dreams.

As he loaded up the adventure and began to take control of this 'Kratos', he found himself engulfed in his struggles, his plight, his hatred towards the god who had wronged him. He empathized with someone who most saw as a cold-blooded killer. If there ever was a chance to meet this warrior, he knew he had to buy him a round of drinks to dull his pain.

Garrus, returning from the mission, prodded Dâgalûr gently, hoping not to anger him.

"Huh? What time is it?" Dâgalûr was oblivious to his surroundings, having been so engrossed in the game.

"Shepard's requested everybody meets her up top in the comm room."

"Alright, I'm coming."

The two made their way up to the Command Deck and entered the comm room, taking the two seats between Tali and the empty seat next to Wrex. Garrus, who had been on the mission, seemed worried about Shepard, who looked as if she were troubled by something.

Kaidan, however, was the first to speak. "Are you okay, Commander? You look a little pale."

Ashley had to pipe up with her cynical nature that Dâgalûr couldn't stand. "It's that damn Cipher! That asari messed you up good! And for what? We still don't know where to find that stupid Conduit! What a waste!"

Shepard, who had some kind of traumatic experience, as Dâgalûr pieced together, finally spoke up. "She said it could take a while. I needed the Cipher. It's going to lead us to the Conduit. I'm just not sure how yet."

Kaidan remembered, however, that they had another option, "We still have another lead, Commander. That asari scientist in the Artemis Tau Cluster. The Matriarch's daughter. She's an expert on the Protheans. Maybe she knows something."

"Don't worry, we'll deal with her soon enough. Crew dismissed."

Dâgalûr, taking that as his cue to get the hell out, did so, as the rest of the crew left to return to their duties. They could still hear the pilot of the ship, whom Dâgalûr knew as "Joker", as he spoke to Shepard over the intercom.

"I've sent off the Feros report, Commander. You want me to patch you through to the Council?"

That was the last thing Dâgalûr heard as he went back to his usual dwelling, returning to his following of the story of this 'Kratos'.

Author's Note: OK, so I still can't figure out what I wanted to do with this chapter. It was most likely going to be a slice of life, but it kinda fell short of that. Nevertheless, here it is, and it technically will advance the plot.