A/N: Yeah, I'm quoting song lyrics for my titles, get mad. This is the first chapter of the real thing: I followed the Ross Rule of five plus pages including an "exciting incident". Just as a general point: this isn't an exact "narration" by Elsa, obviously, but she and Sofie do interrupt the flow from time to time, mainly for humour, but also for clarification. They're divided by lines and made italic, so unless you're really stupid you shouldn't fail to notice the excerpts. If you have questions, comments, please contact me however you want.
Alright, if you're ready, avanza:
"Passport please. Mhm, alright. You with the Alik'r?"
"What do you think?"
"Don't get smart with me. Not all of you dress like nomads. Are you or not?"
"I'm not Alik'r, I'm a trader. I want to board a boat to sell my wares, not assassinate one of your ship captains."
"Alright, what are you selling?"
"A few gemstones, some swords, fine clothes, silverware-"
The exchange between the Redguard and the desk official was interrupted by a loud clearing of the throat.
"Oh, and him."
"You're selling a slave? You need a permit."
"Bullshit I need a permit. Slavery is illegal in the Empire, they won't make permits for illegal activity."
"Exactly, so hand over some coin or I call the guards."
Samatar snarled and forked over 100 gold. The lady looked at the pile of coins and looked back, hand still outstretched. Samatar forked over 100 more gold. Still she was unsatisfied. Samatar growled and threw 100 more gold at her face. She smiled and stamped his passport.
Samatar dragged the bound and collared slave to the centre of the port. Despite this area's unimportance for trade, the harbour was still large enough to accommodate six large ships, and provide a large stone seating area, covered to protect travellers from the desert heat. The pair sat down, and Samatar removed his prisoner's hood.
"Hey, this isn't Stros M'Kai…"
"Wow, he has a brain. No, it isn't Stros M'Kai. The Aldmeri Dominion sacked the place about a week before we got there. This was the nearest way out of Hammerfell."
"This war is getting more serious than I ever thought it would. High Elves in Hammerfell?"
"It's only been a year. They'll tire out, the elves aren't ones for concerted effort."
"Oh, you're an expert on Elven phylogeny now?"
"Come on Ogrumbumph, you know full well that an Altmer has the same drive as a three legged cat. This war will be over in a few weeks, I bet."
"Is that what the Countess of Bravil said before she was flayed and hanged over her sacked city by Khajiit militia?"
"Funny point. No substance, but funny."
"You haven't seen what these elves can do, Samatar…"
"And you have? You've lived in Orsinium all your life, before it was razed. The one elf you've seen got ripped in half by that Frost Troll I saved you from."
"Saved me? You captured me as a slave!"
"Yeah, but I didn't kill you. That's a damn sight better than most pirates. Anyway, where do you want to go?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well I need to sell you, so you should at least get the opportunity to pick the province."
"Summerset Isle."
"Funny. Just because they kill all Redguards at the border doesn't mean they won't kill you either."
"It's either there or traipsing through the desert again. Nowhere except Alinor and Hammerfell still have slavery. You're call."
"Fuck the desert. I can't bear to see more sand."
"Alinor it is."
"I can't bear to be executed either."
"Well you're just going to have to free me."
"I'll cut my testicles off and eat them before that day comes. I'm going to go get a snack, want anything?"
"Honey Nut Kebab if there are any."
"Pretentious arse."
Samatar got up and tied Ogrumbumph's hands to the armrest of the chair. The waiting room of the port had a few stalls and vestibules selling food and water to guests. Samatar walked over to the quietest one and asked for a kebab and a Windhelm Boiled Cake.
He downed the cake in one bite (Skyrim's fattening delicacy was his true Achilles' heel), and as he wiped the cream and sugar from his face, he heard shouts from a Dunmer crier.
"Akavir! Trips to Akavir! Visit Serica, Wa, Pot! The famous Ditch-upon-the-Sea, the Harbour of Incense, the Orange Wall of Gop! All of this and more in Akavir!"
Samatar walked over, his interest piqued: "Hey, did you say something about Akavir?"
"That's right! A trip to the Orient is available now, with us: the Happy Trails Ferry Service! This is the only service to Akavir in the whole of Tamriel, so this is your only chance to see the magical Land of Dragons."
"What's in Akavir?"
"What's in Akavir? My dear boy, what isn't in Akavir? In Akavir, you will find fresh grown food, mysterious locales, and treasures as-of-yet unlooted. But keep your wits about you, because you'll find more than a few exotic critters and inhospitable locales, so-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah," Samatar snapped, "do they buy slaves?"
"Slaves? Oh yes, at a high price too. Especially if whom you're selling is say a Nord or an Orc, as they need hardy workers for their terracotta sculptures."
"Excellent. Ticket to Akavir please!"
"You haven't heard about prices yet…"
"I'm sure I can afford it."
"3,600 Septims, up front."
"Okay, maybe I can't. How do you expect me, or anyone, to pay that?"
"It's all necessary; the trip to Akavir is long, and the waters dangerous. We need to charge highly to afford the protection for our ships."
Samatar looted his pockets and bags to see how much money he could get together. After five minutes of searching he mustered a mere 1876 gold coins.
"Okay, this is more than half. Can't I pay you the second half when we get to Akavir and I sell my slave? I'll be able to get you five thousand then, if what you say is true about their need for Orcs."
"I'm sorry but we can't just-"
"Arvel, what's going on?" A Nord woman approached the two, holding a piece of mutton in her hand. She eyed up Samatar and smiled a certain smile. "And who's this?"
"Sorry ma'am, I was just telling this man that he can't get in without the full amount for a ticket."
"Oh I'm sure it will be fine. What's your name, Redguard?"
"Samatar, my lady."
"Oh I'm far from a lady…"
"I'm sure I'll find that out the hard way…"
"This is Captain Njada Stone-Fist. She's running the expedition."
"I am indeed, and you should come, Redguard"
"Is it I who should come, Madame Njada?"
"Wait, wait. Mama, there's no way that there was this much flirting," interrupted Sofie
"It's a story, not an exact account."
"It's starting to sound like a romantic novel…"
"Alright," sighed the Dovahkiin, "we'll skip ahead a little."
"So, how much money do you have?" Njada asked, twirling her blonde locks.
"1876 Septims exactly."
"That will do, we leave in an hour."
"But Captain! That's barely half of the cost for the ticket."
"Samatar here is a corsair, he'll no doubt make up for it by working a little on the ship. Now, grab your things and head out to the boat. It's the 'Marie Helena', the large ship with the weeping Dunmer figurehead."
"I'll see you there, then."
"Wait, how did Njada know he was a corsair?"
"Well you would have heard if you'd let me complete the flirting. It was some joke about whether or not he was a carpenter and was therefore good at drilling."
"There's no way this is true…"
"Shut up and enjoy the story."
"Hey, greenskin! We're leaving. Pack your things."
"So, Alinor it is? I'll prepare my neck for the noose."
"Nope. Akavir!"
"What?"
Samatar had seen many things in his short life, all across Tamriel. But he'd never seen an Orc with fear in their eyes. Even in death, Orcs don't show fear. It's their final "bite me" to a world so cruelly biased against them, those eyes animated with anything but fear. But Ogrumbumph gro-Gholfim was scared. The word "Akavir" paled his lime skin and widened his bloodied eyes. He began to fidget and sweat.
"Yeah, apparently it's some continent to the East. Far away, but they buy for high prices for Tamriel slaves. Plus, it's an adventure."
"Samatar, we cannot go there."
He raised an eyebrow on his dark face; "Since when do you get to decide where I can go?"
"Samatar, I obviously cannot force you not to take me but I beg you reconsider. Akavir is a dangerous, godforsaken place."
"What, and Tamriel isn't? Half of Cyrodiil is under control of elves, the Reach has been taken by primitive hill peoples, and Morrowind is a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Ogrumbumph, your home, Orsinium, was burned to the ground but weeks ago, everyone killed. How could Akavir be any worse?"
"Evil works in that land, Samatar. It infests everything. The sea is polluted with monsters and malevolent spirits, the wilds patrolled by hideous beasts and wraiths. And the people, the races, they are savage and cruel, and will kill you the moment you step on their land. There is a reason Uriel Septim V left Akavir so quickly after Ionith: the East is too savage an animal."
Samatar walked over and removed the binds around the arm rest.
"All the more reason to go: an animal is only as savage as its trainer is weak."
The 1876 gold had bought the pair two separate cabins. Samatar had proposed throwing the Orc in the cargo hold "with the rest of the freight", but Njada insisted he have a small place to rest his head. What's more, she removed all his chains aside from the slave collar, to loosen his sunburnt joints. Samatar was so enamoured with the captain that he did this willingly, all to Ogrumbumph's benefit. He smiled as he thought on that on his bed.
He did surprisingly well on ships, given his heritage. Orcs were many things, but sailing was never one for the Pariah Folk. There was an old Orc saying; "You can't direct the wind, so why invent the sails?" which summed up their thoughts on the matter quite well.
Ogrumbumph lay back on his cheap bed and read through the only book he managed to find: "The Lusty Argonian Maid". A classic of Imperial literature. Not because it's particularly well written, he mused, but because of the date. It came out but six years before the Oblivion Crisis, and the subsequent collapse of Septimate Cyrodiil. In the period of civil strife where cities fought each other and villages were razed, this bawdy comedy raised everyone's spirit. This has left the perverted Crassius Curio being celebrated as one of the greatest authors and playwrights. Ogrumbumph was no snob, he saw value in cheap smut, and chuckled along for a while.
After a few acts though, he was bored, so he pulled out the only thing he had left in this world to use –
"Oh my god mama! Stop with the smut!"
"Wha…oh no, you pervert. His journal."
"23rd Frostfall, 4E 172
Well, life has been good to me, but it seems Arkay is to pay me a visit soon. See, Samatar, my captor, has been sold the great idea of travelling to Akavir to sell me. All it took was promises of treasure and a pair of tits. I respect the man, more than I should care to admit, but women are a great weakness of his. And men, I'd wager. He needs a wife to keep him steady. He'd either be the most adulterous husband there was, or the most loyal. I can only hope who ever flips that coin lands on his good side.
In the meantime, he'll carry on losing power to attractive maidens. He's up there giving the captain one in her cabin no doubt. How you can do it on a boat is beyond me. The captain's in for a treat. Based on the sounds (I was blindfolded) of the girls he entertained while we were travelling across Hammerfell, he is talented. I wouldn't know what makes someone talented, but whatever it is, he's got it. Hopefully the Akaviri agree, that way he may be able to whore his way across the continent.
In the event I make it to Akavir and survive the first day, I may stay there. I mean, I will stay while captive, but after I escape (I will escape, I could bend this slave collar into an origami bird), I may buy a house in the country. I may have too: Tamriel is falling. Apparently Stros M'Kai fell some days ago to the Aldmeri Dominion, burned to the ground. Hammerfell and the Aldmeri Dominion won't take Orcs, Morrowing is inhospitable, even for me, and Skyrim's Nords may let us in, but I have no desire to be a second-class citizen to a hill tribe of hairy mead swilling barbarians worshipping a genocidal colonist.
In any case, it'll be nice to fight again. Somehow, I feel Samatar won't be able to sell me as easily as he thought, and we'll have to fight together. We would work well. That is, so long as the bandits don't have tits."
Ogrumbumph chuckled at himself. He signed off and headed out to the cantina, to mingle with the rest of the lower class travellers.
Ogrumbumph was right. Samatar had been pounding the captain in her quarters for some time. He finished his business after a while and pulled up his trousers. She breathed heavily and then laughed a little. He opened the window and began to roll a cigarette;
"Why are you laughing?" he chuckled, striking a match unsuccessfully.
"Because I was told that the greatest thing in the world was family."
"Why is that funny?"
"Because," she smirked, getting up and wrapping her arms around him from behind, "it's a lie. The greatest thing in the world was what you just did to my ass." Samatar laughed at her, and he struck another match. It broke and fell into the sea.
"Here, let me." Njada lit a small fire off her pinkie and lit the cigarette.
"A Nord mage? Now I've seen everything…"
"I'm hardly a mage, I just learnt a few spells. My brother and I used to play fight, but Galmar was much bigger than me, so I needed something to fight him off."
"I thought I'd heard your name before. You're Galmar Stone-Fist's sister. Commander of Imperial Forces in Skyrim."
"And not a very good one. He's managed to lose half of Skyrim's land and the Altmer aren't even there. They haven't even got past Bruma!"
"Hey lay off the guy, he's better than most Imperials."
"That's like saying you have a bigger cock than most women. Sheep led by more incompetent sheep, the lot of them."
"Are you not going to put some clothes on? It's a little cold."
"Says you, you're topless."
"Yeah, but you're naked."
"I'm a Nord, we can handle the cold."
Samatar smiled and puffed on his fag. He headed over to the table to get away from the cold wind and saw a map of Akavir in all its glory. It was big, varied, and intimidating.
"Ever been before?"
"No, this is my first time."
"Never forget your first time. You'll like it. Mountains of gold, and even more women. Horny, too."
"Where could I sell the Orc?"
"You're best bet would be to go to the capital of Serica, usefully named "Capital City". There's a huge slave market for rich Tsaeci noblemen who want to take their goods back to their more rural and picturesque home."
"What's a Tsaeci?"
Njada raised an eyebrow. "Wow, you really know nothing about Akavir. Alright, pull up a chair, I'll do my best to explain."
"Akavir is a huge continent, bigger than Tamriel, but we can still divide it by nation. These islands, Wa, are run by the "Tsaeci", a snake people."
"Like Argonians?"
"No. They cannot breathe underwater, nor do they have legs. They are snakes with arms, essentially. They tend not to wear armour and fight with short swords."
"Oh, well, they should be easy to fight…"
"You'd think. This wee circle is where they originated. They currently run all of these islands, and all of this part of the Mainland, called Serica. The only bit from this area they don't rule is the Tang Mo, a group of 1,000 tiny islands where tribal monkeys live. They're harmless and very receptive."
"Okay, what about all of this desert and snowy area up here?"
"This is the land of the Po'Tun, or Ka Po'Tun if you're one of them. It's mostly steppe and taiga, with a little desert plains thrown in, and many people think they live as primitive nomads, but they never say this to their face: their 20-foot tall tigers. Very violent, very intelligent, very anti-human…I don't think a human has ever visited their lands in fact. Oh, and they're led by a King called Tosh Raka, who apparently has turned into a dragon. That's unconfirmed, but he has been alive for 200 years, so he's doing something right."
"Alright, and this place?"
"Ah yes, Pot. It's mostly mountain and icy plains, like Skyrim but worse. There you have a few surface colonies, but most of the life is in the mountains. The Kamal, Snow Demons, live there and bide their time till summer, as they need the Sun's full nourishment to survive outside. During winter they use magicks to stay healthy underground. They are perhaps the most normal of all the Akaviri kingdoms in terms of disposition, but still more aggressive than anything in Tamriel. The highest mountain in the world, Mount Ulpius, is there, and no-one has ever climbed it."
"Um, and where are the kingdoms of men?"
"Men? There are no kingdoms of men in Akavir. Men are spread across the continent, but in Serica they are slaves of the Tsaeci, and in Pot they are but mere ice nomads and fishermen."
"There are no kingdoms of men? How?"
"The tigers beat them back to the coast and then the snakes bombarded said coast with their navy. They had to accept the rule of the Tsaeci."
"Men…ruled by beasts…it's not right."
"Come on, enough talk," she said, grabbing at his crotch. "It's a long way to Akavir from here…"
"Hey, Orc. Come sit with us: we have a bet to settle."
Ogrumbumph shuffled over and sat down around the small campfire on the deck.
"Is that safe? On a wooden ship?"
"Orintur is trained in frost magic; there's no issue. Anyway, my friend and I have five gold on whether we can guess your backstory. Care to settle this?"
The slave sighed, "Fine, but the loser has to forfeit their mutton chop."
"You're on. So, I think you are a bandit chief, hence the muscles and the beard, operating in Cyrodiil, hence the tan. You were operating in occupied Cyrodiil, which is why you could be enslaved without the Imperials getting wind of it, and your bandit posse was presumably hiding out in one of the Ayleid Ruins in that area."
"Alright. And you? What do you think?"
"See, I agree on location: you must have been seized in Leyawiin or around that area, but I think you were a legionnaire, maybe a legate, and were captured by the Thalmor. They didn't want to deal with the paperwork, so sold you to the Redguard you're travelling with. Am I right, or am I right?"
"You're both wrong. I'm from High Rock. The Redguard captured me after I was ambushed by a Frost Troll. Mutton chops please."
"Damn," the pair said in unison. They handed over their food and Ogrumbumph cheerfully chowed down some sustenance.
"What brings you to Akavir?" he asked them.
"Fame and fortune. There's nothing left for us in Cyrodiil. We're from the Reach in Skyrim, you see, but unlike most Reachmen we don't support Madanach and the rebels. We know if we stayed we'd be put to death as soon as the Empire wins the war and returns to Skyrim, so we've decided to pick up a blade and adventure."
"And you pick Akavir for your first adventure? Wouldn't you like something slightly safer for a first foray, such as a Plane of Oblivion, or the Ashlands?"
"Oh come on. I'm sure we'll be fine. Akavir might be foreign, but it's hosted man for longer than Tamriel, so they must be doing something right…and there it is!"
"Wait! It took them half a day's travel on a boat to get to Akavir? If it's so close why have so few people visited?"
"No, it's a month long journey, and that's if the winds are good. But I figured you didn't want me to tell you their daily schedule for a month. Now shut up and drink your mead; we're getting to a good bit."
"That doesn't look so bad, does it Orc?"
"Well…no, but that's the entrance port. It's not exactly going to-"
Ogrumbumph was cut off by a huge explosion to the east. The dusk filled sky was lit up by a pillar of flame emerging from a large war frigate. Flanked by two smaller sailboats, the listing warship continued to fire cannonade at the offending party: a cutter flotilla headed by a corvette. Their small size allowed them to dart along the waves, dodging cannonballs and fire arrows from the larger, fleet ships.
"What the…I didn't know the Empire and the Dominion were fighting this far east."
"That isn't the Dominion, the ships are too small. Those are Tsaeci raiding boats. It seems that there's a war going on," Ogrumbumph mused.
"You're very calm, Orc. Are you sure you weren't in the army?"
"I'm sure," he laughed. "There's just no cause to worry. They're not going to attack us."
Just then, the flotilla split off, with the lead corvette and two cutters surrounding the weakened frigate and its support ships, and four cutters charging the ferry.
"Hmph…so I was wrong…RUN!" Ogrumbumph shouted. The passengers began to scramble from the deck as cannonade began to rain down from the cutters. A refugee family from Bravil crushed by a huge cannonball launched from the lead cutter, a sellsword from Mournhold pierced by a crossbow bolt, a merchant from Chorrol burned alive by a fire started by the fighting. It was chaos.
Ogrumbumph sped down the stairs to his cabin and grabbed his journal and a small kitchen knife he found on the floor. He made for one of the lifeboats at the stern of the boat, but the floor collapsed before him, blocking his way. "Samatar", he thought to himself, and headed back up the ship to find his owner.
Back on deck, fires raged across, claiming the refugees too sick to run. By now, Akaviri soldiers, men led by their reptilian masters, had boarded and were variously slaughtering the fleeing civilians. The men were poorly dressed and equipped, with a hodgepodge of farm equipment and village clothing serving as weapons and armour. What's more, none it seems had seen an Orc before, so cowered and screamed in fear when they saw the chained green monster emerge from below decks. Ogrumbumph charged a few, snapping their necks and bludgeoning those few who fought back.
The Tsaeci marine leading the charge slithered forth, unafraid, and drew his sword. The stories about the beautiful, golden scaled serpent men of the Orient were true: his upper body was that of a slender, elven man, his lower a golden viper. He smiled and batted his tongue at the Orc, inviting him for a challenge. The Orc charged forward with an eye to tear it from his mouth, but the lumbering brute was too slow for this snake. The Tsaeci darted around him like a mosquito, leaving little love bites with his sword all over Ogrumbumph's body.
Eventually, the Tsaeci grew bored, and dug the sword into his knee, slashed his chest, and then dug it into his shoulder. Ogrumbumph screamed and fell to his knees. His vision began to blur as the Tsaeci smiled and bared his fangs, ready to feed.
Just then, a hand reached from behind the officer and grabbed at the scaled corner of its forehead. With one brutal pull, the animal's skin was torn from its face. It began to scream in agony and horror, but only briefly, as that same hand drew a dagger and slit the lizard's throat, spilling green blood everywhere. The gargling corpse was dropped on the floor, revealing a stained, smiling Samatar.
"Second time I've saved you. Get up."
"Where's Njada?"
"Dead. Come on, we need to go."
Samatar pulled Ogrumbumph up and they ran across the deck to the lifeboats. All ablaze. Just then, the fire in the ship spread to the cargo hold, which must have been carrying fire salts, as it caused a huge explosion. The ship broke in two began to fill with seawater. Before either of them could react, one of the crew of the cutter abreast them fired a crossbow bolt at Samatar, piercing his stomach and forcing him back. The power of the shot had him recoil and lose balance, falling down the newly created gap between the two parts of the ship. Ogrumbumph called after him, to no avail.
Samatar fell down into the sea, the rough waves claiming him as their own. His wounded body was carried away from the burning wreckage of the Marie Helena, his fate now out of his hands.
A ruder welcome to a nation of the East there has never been.
A/N: Dun dun dun. So Samatar's dead and Ogrumbumph has a sword in his shoulder on a burning boat. Is this the end? Find out in the second chapter, which kind of proofs that it isn't but oh well.