An Orc Scoundrel - Part 3

*Note: Once again, apologies for the lack of updates to this story to those who care. I've been working hard and been doing a lot of preperations for a new baby coming in a couple weeks. Found a spare moment, so here's a new entry in the Nameless Orc's story. You can find the prior parts in my blog: Part 1 and Part 2. Quick note, most of the story can be found in the comments!*

When we last left our Orc, he had just finished his quest to find Sam, the drinking game instigator who turned out to be Sanguine, a Deadric prince!

A Good Death

I woke up the next morning in my bed. I couldn't remember how I got there and my head told the story of why. Hangovers are the worst... I smacked my lips and swung my legs off the bed, ready for a large breakfast. Soon enough, I had eaten, was armored, and ready. But ready for what? I briefly recalled another one of those Deadric princes requests... A priest of Boethiah needed killing or some such. I unfurled my map. Sure enough, I had the forsight to mark the location down. Good for me, since I can't remember squat!

I find my horse waiting for me outside and I take off into the horizon. Time for some adventuring!

Heading back out!

After several hours of riding, my gung-ho attitude had been replaced with my typical foul demeanor... these Deadric princes and their "requests"... gets on my nerves. Plus they just keep showing up... Seems like I'd already run across half of the entire Deadric order by now.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed the old Orc on the side of the road hailing me. I glanced over and noticed him standing among a pile of dead bodies.

"What do you want?" I grunted.

"To die," the old Orc rasped. "I seek an honorable death by combat! Do you think you could grant me such a death?"

Knowing the Orc traditions of how they throw out their elderly, I considered for a moment, then nodded, "Alright." He might have some good money on him from all of the folks he'd killed... never know.

Sure, I'll give you a good death, old man...

He nodded, took a breath, and rushed me with a growl. I whipped up my crossbow and threw a bolt down his gaping throat. He gurgled and sputtered, looking at me with surprise and fell over. I think he was expecting a little more. Oh well.

After searching the bodies and finding a few hundred gold, I continued on my way.


After a few days ride, I came upon the camp that held the Boethian priest that I had been sent to fetch for Molag Bal. After fighting through a few swarms of Forsworn, I found him chained up to a post. I used a key I found on his guard to unlock his binds.

"Who are you?"

"A... friend," I muttered. "Came to get you out."

"How... how did you find me? No one knew my location!" The priest eyed me suspiciously. I guess if you're going to be a priest of a Deadric demon, you learn a little bit about paranoia. For good reason, apparently.

I decided to play it up, "Boethiah tasked me with cleansing a shrine of her enemies and sent me to you for your help."

He seemed to accept that. I told him where the shrine was located, sending him straight into Molag Bal's trap. "Very well," he replied. "We can begin as soon as you are ready."

He then walked off, heading in the direction of the stone city. I grunted to myself. That was easy.

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