[HEADING=1]The adventures of an Orc in Skyrim[/HEADING]
from his point of view by his diary entries...
[hr]from his point of view by his diary entries...
[HEADING=2]Diary of Ag gro-Notch Finest Chef and Master Saucier of Orsinnium and Beyond.[/HEADING]
[hr]
[HEADING=3]Prologue[/HEADING]
Dear Diary, You wouldn't believe what happened, I was almost executed, and then there was a Dragon, and its Souls and Shouts and Nords' and rebellion and? Ugh?
Wait, let's start at the beginning.
Everything was fine last week. I spend my days traveling to Skyrim and perfecting my Art of cooking. I barely remember my fellow Orcs in Orsinnium. My tribe didn't value my gift. They wanted me to become a warrior, or even worse a Shaman. Our Elders told me I have a strong affinity to magic a gift or something. Something in my blood, resonated they said?
Mammots-crap I say!
That is not my true destiny, for my love, the one thing I really crave for. Trying out new recipes and experiment with them. I want to be a Chef. A master of cooking, roasting, barbecuing and make sauces of course.
I want to be known as Ag gro-Notch Finest Chef and Master Saucier of Orsinnium and Beyond.
Granted those fire-spells might come in handy to roast that pork over there and the cold spells help to keep my ingredients from getting spoiled.
Lighting sparks has its used for some fancy deserts, too, but becoming a Shaman?
Preposterous, I don't have time for that, I don't need that responsibility! Give me a well forged cooking pot and my ingredients and you know that I, Ag gro-Notch, the Chef am the most culinary experience for you tongue and your taste.
So I left my tribe in search for greater glory and ultimate flavor-gastic challenges.
But my life changed utterly when I stayed in that little village, that hamlet, collecting ingredients for my new Lizard's stew. It was so small I didn't even bother to find out its name. Close to the borders of Skyrim. There I found two rather big squeaking lizards which I hunted down and skinned to prepare for my meal. Not quite half the a size of an Orc but very lively. Two Argonian's were close but I didn't want to share this prize so I went off to my makeshift home where. I mixed all the other ingredients (I will them to you later, my dear diary, this recipe is a secret until I perfectioned it)
Anyway, the Lizard stew tasted fabulous, but the townsfolk of that village led by those two Argonians came after me with their pitchforks and torches.
The kept yelling at me that I was a child murderer or something. The even spilled my stew and after finding the skin of the two lizards they began to charge at me with a rage as possessed by daedric hate spirits.
Some of the peasants puked after seeing the skins, so probably they have been poisoned. They should have hired me as their cook, yet back then they wanted my death. How insultingly pitiful?
So I ran, and kept running and running without ever looking back. In fact I kept running into an Imperial ambush without noticing?
I was knocked out captured? Being dragged off as prisoner and almost sentenced to death.
Wait, let's start at the beginning.
Everything was fine last week. I spend my days traveling to Skyrim and perfecting my Art of cooking. I barely remember my fellow Orcs in Orsinnium. My tribe didn't value my gift. They wanted me to become a warrior, or even worse a Shaman. Our Elders told me I have a strong affinity to magic a gift or something. Something in my blood, resonated they said?
Mammots-crap I say!
That is not my true destiny, for my love, the one thing I really crave for. Trying out new recipes and experiment with them. I want to be a Chef. A master of cooking, roasting, barbecuing and make sauces of course.
I want to be known as Ag gro-Notch Finest Chef and Master Saucier of Orsinnium and Beyond.
Granted those fire-spells might come in handy to roast that pork over there and the cold spells help to keep my ingredients from getting spoiled.
Lighting sparks has its used for some fancy deserts, too, but becoming a Shaman?
Preposterous, I don't have time for that, I don't need that responsibility! Give me a well forged cooking pot and my ingredients and you know that I, Ag gro-Notch, the Chef am the most culinary experience for you tongue and your taste.
So I left my tribe in search for greater glory and ultimate flavor-gastic challenges.
But my life changed utterly when I stayed in that little village, that hamlet, collecting ingredients for my new Lizard's stew. It was so small I didn't even bother to find out its name. Close to the borders of Skyrim. There I found two rather big squeaking lizards which I hunted down and skinned to prepare for my meal. Not quite half the a size of an Orc but very lively. Two Argonian's were close but I didn't want to share this prize so I went off to my makeshift home where. I mixed all the other ingredients (I will them to you later, my dear diary, this recipe is a secret until I perfectioned it)
Anyway, the Lizard stew tasted fabulous, but the townsfolk of that village led by those two Argonians came after me with their pitchforks and torches.
The kept yelling at me that I was a child murderer or something. The even spilled my stew and after finding the skin of the two lizards they began to charge at me with a rage as possessed by daedric hate spirits.
Some of the peasants puked after seeing the skins, so probably they have been poisoned. They should have hired me as their cook, yet back then they wanted my death. How insultingly pitiful?
So I ran, and kept running and running without ever looking back. In fact I kept running into an Imperial ambush without noticing?
I was knocked out captured? Being dragged off as prisoner and almost sentenced to death.
[hr]
[HEADING=3]Day One - 17th of Last Seed[/HEADING]
Damn headache I had that day...
I awoke inside an imperial carriage, hands bound, next to some overly extroverted and by far too talkative Nord guy who can?t even spell the word ?thief? right. It?s not a dief, you moron...
Behold I Ag? gro Notch with my proud, massive and manly masculine mandible can pronounce Tamrielic better than you - and I have tusks for Talos? sake!!!
Oh the ladyies love my tusks and lower jaw... You now the famous saying: The bigger the Orc?s tusk the more potent his well you know, his magic staff of penetration...
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the Nord gossip girl was making an a** out of himself. But my head hurt so I remained silent and looked around me. On the carriage sat this Nord chatterbox, the even more obnoxious ?dief? and my most likable neighbor, another Nord with a mouth gag. Poor sod, probably had a severe case of bad breath.
If I only had my ingredient satchel, and a cooking pot, I could cook my infamous garlic and charred Skeever hide soup and his breath problem (along with any eczema and skin rash) would have been history. Would have been quite a show, handcuffed, heating the pot with my fire spell while using the rocking of the carriage to stir the broth.
But no ingredients, no magic cooking show... Sorry folks... You don?t ?deservf? it anyway Mr. Nord gossip girl from speech impediment hamlet of not a clue.
Speaking of which:
?A Nord last thoughts should be of home? the Nord gossip-girl rambled,
well thank the divines I?m not a Nord, because I don?t want to think about my tribe and their hopeless dis-appreciation of my genius and their lack of respect for my flabbergasting cuisine.
Oooh, please, gossip-girl, It?s Thalmor, with an th!!! Please, can somebody please put a gag on him as well, please. Oh Deadra Lord Clavicus Vile I implore thee, make me deaf or make him mute...
Finally after what felt an eternity we reached Helgen and went off the carriage, I was so happy that the incessant chatting of gossip-girl Nord stopped that I didn?t realize we were going to get executed in the first place.
Amusingly, the ?horse dief? got killed while trying to flee, he probably couldn?t stand the rambling of gossip-girl Nord any longer and while the Imperial tried to figure out my name, I felt the famous orc rage burning inside me. I was going to use my flames spell to burn the ropes binding me and lunge forward shredding the stupid imbecile of an imperial scribe to to pieces.
How dare he not know my name. I am Ag gro-Notch Finest Chef and Master Saucier of Orsinnium and Beyond.
My next move would be breaking off the the gossip girl?s leg and shove it down his throat while using his body as shield cover. A tricky part but manageable...
If I only can get hold of a makeshift weapon, like a cooking spoon or a iron cast pot or cauldron...
Nothing in range of sight... Only acceptable weapon (aside from the wussy guards with their stupid imperial toothpicks) was the meat cleaver of the executioner. Just need to get closer, just need to have a little diversion so that I can grab that axe... I thought...
Which daedra lord you pray to, if you need a diversion? I thought.
Which of the many Divines is responsible for creating such a red herring. I thought.
Yes, does a real red herring exists in Tamriel? The red fish I mean of course, not the literal meaning...
How does it taste like? Indeed I would need it to be a quite tasty red herring on this occasion - that would be needed here, I thought...
Would a red herring soup or a red herring stew taste better...
Difficult question... Very difficult. I scuffled slowly towards the chopping block.
I was beginning to ponder this most grave conundrum, when all of a sudden the most unexpected, enormous, terrifying, extremely scaly and almost but not quite red herring like diversion appeared out of thin air...
I wasn?t really minding my surroundings, my blood was boiling and raging like a living mudcrab boiled alive in a large saucepan filled with juicy bubbling Fire Atronach gravy.
But then it struck me like a giant cast iron cauldron - in the face...
A Clannfear-f*cking dragon. A huge, flying, deliciously looking, fire spitting, monstrous, scaly muscular juicy tenderloin of a flying reptile. My dream and pinnacle of cooking. The one thing that needs to end up on my menu, the magnum opus of cuisine needed for me to transcend mere mortality and achieve the first and foremost godhood of cooking itself.
But alas, the monstrous and most tasty beast wasn?t really ready to be awarded with the privilege and honor of getting gutted and filleted by magnificent self. Sadly I lacked even the most basic cooking equipment and spices and in addition it was breathing fire, shouting wildly while decimating the little town of Helgen. So quite dazed I ran off to the next shelter...
I awoke inside an imperial carriage, hands bound, next to some overly extroverted and by far too talkative Nord guy who can?t even spell the word ?thief? right. It?s not a dief, you moron...
Behold I Ag? gro Notch with my proud, massive and manly masculine mandible can pronounce Tamrielic better than you - and I have tusks for Talos? sake!!!
Oh the ladyies love my tusks and lower jaw... You now the famous saying: The bigger the Orc?s tusk the more potent his well you know, his magic staff of penetration...
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the Nord gossip girl was making an a** out of himself. But my head hurt so I remained silent and looked around me. On the carriage sat this Nord chatterbox, the even more obnoxious ?dief? and my most likable neighbor, another Nord with a mouth gag. Poor sod, probably had a severe case of bad breath.
Didn?t you wonder why he was gagged, the first time you played the game, I didn?t figure it out, did you?
But no ingredients, no magic cooking show... Sorry folks... You don?t ?deservf? it anyway Mr. Nord gossip girl from speech impediment hamlet of not a clue.
Speaking of which:
?A Nord last thoughts should be of home? the Nord gossip-girl rambled,
well thank the divines I?m not a Nord, because I don?t want to think about my tribe and their hopeless dis-appreciation of my genius and their lack of respect for my flabbergasting cuisine.
Oooh, please, gossip-girl, It?s Thalmor, with an th!!! Please, can somebody please put a gag on him as well, please. Oh Deadra Lord Clavicus Vile I implore thee, make me deaf or make him mute...
Finally after what felt an eternity we reached Helgen and went off the carriage, I was so happy that the incessant chatting of gossip-girl Nord stopped that I didn?t realize we were going to get executed in the first place.
Amusingly, the ?horse dief? got killed while trying to flee, he probably couldn?t stand the rambling of gossip-girl Nord any longer and while the Imperial tried to figure out my name, I felt the famous orc rage burning inside me. I was going to use my flames spell to burn the ropes binding me and lunge forward shredding the stupid imbecile of an imperial scribe to to pieces.
How dare he not know my name. I am Ag gro-Notch Finest Chef and Master Saucier of Orsinnium and Beyond.
My next move would be breaking off the the gossip girl?s leg and shove it down his throat while using his body as shield cover. A tricky part but manageable...
If I only can get hold of a makeshift weapon, like a cooking spoon or a iron cast pot or cauldron...
Nothing in range of sight... Only acceptable weapon (aside from the wussy guards with their stupid imperial toothpicks) was the meat cleaver of the executioner. Just need to get closer, just need to have a little diversion so that I can grab that axe... I thought...
Which daedra lord you pray to, if you need a diversion? I thought.
Which of the many Divines is responsible for creating such a red herring. I thought.
Yes, does a real red herring exists in Tamriel? The red fish I mean of course, not the literal meaning...
How does it taste like? Indeed I would need it to be a quite tasty red herring on this occasion - that would be needed here, I thought...
Would a red herring soup or a red herring stew taste better...
Difficult question... Very difficult. I scuffled slowly towards the chopping block.
I was beginning to ponder this most grave conundrum, when all of a sudden the most unexpected, enormous, terrifying, extremely scaly and almost but not quite red herring like diversion appeared out of thin air...
I wasn?t really minding my surroundings, my blood was boiling and raging like a living mudcrab boiled alive in a large saucepan filled with juicy bubbling Fire Atronach gravy.
But then it struck me like a giant cast iron cauldron - in the face...
A Clannfear-f*cking dragon. A huge, flying, deliciously looking, fire spitting, monstrous, scaly muscular juicy tenderloin of a flying reptile. My dream and pinnacle of cooking. The one thing that needs to end up on my menu, the magnum opus of cuisine needed for me to transcend mere mortality and achieve the first and foremost godhood of cooking itself.
But alas, the monstrous and most tasty beast wasn?t really ready to be awarded with the privilege and honor of getting gutted and filleted by magnificent self. Sadly I lacked even the most basic cooking equipment and spices and in addition it was breathing fire, shouting wildly while decimating the little town of Helgen. So quite dazed I ran off to the next shelter...
[hr]
[HEADING=2]Its the simple things that matter, that add up in the end...[/HEADING]
Dragon seemed angry, maybe hungry. So I ran inside the next guard tower but to my dismay the Nord "gossip girl" was there too, together with Mr. Bad Breath as well, but now he is no longer gagged.
You now, just like those horrible family reunions, The old Dragon is outside spitting fire like the uninvinted and insulted aunt while inside the awkward relatives try to paper over the cracks by blantly gossiping and having obnoxious small talk.
I'm not in the mood for family reunions and before those Nords start kissing and hugging each other I'm running up the tower, still bound mind you, idiots didn't even notice that. I don't care, as far away from that illiterate Nord as possible, I don't care?
Halfway up the stairs - Bam - Dragon bites of the half the tower and stares at me?
No you don't! Don't look at me like that! I never lose a staring contest, never. I will stare you down?
So tell me, are you looking at your dinner or am I looking at mine? I wanted to ask the dragon but he flew off.
Pah, told you I that I never lost a staring contest. Now before I eat my nostrils because of those disgusting Nords catching up with me, I have to get off this tower, I thought, so off I go: Jump, Run, Jump?
all with my hands cuffed and a dragon burning down the entirety of this hamlet. I must have been quite a sight, unfortunately nobody watching probably survived.
Anyway, Dragonfire is so crudely? You can't really find the right temperature. Every chef knows that to successfully flambé your main dish you have to carefully manage the flame so that you don't make a mess of some charred left over remains.
Once the meat crust changes color and concistency you quickly need to turn down the flame otherwise you end up like that charred fellow I saw over there. What a waste of imperial meat. Not that I would ever eat an Imperial, far too unsavory, unctuous and fatty, but the Dragon seems to have found an interest - though he seriously lacks any signs of true cooking potential.
Yes, indeed, a true barbaric glutton without any sense of cuisine that dragon is.
Meanwhile I found a nice Imperial around and we met that Nord Gossip Girl again where I had to made the choice in either following him or the Imperial.
Wow, I never ran that fast...
As if chased by a dragon I followed the Imperial. Well actually I was really chased by a dragon, yet the prospect of spending even more time together with that Nord was more disgusting than being the barbecued snack of some wildly incompetent monster Dragon-roaster without the slightest hope of redemption.
Anyway, inside the garrison I was finally cut loose. The imperial wanted my to check the chest for some gear but I finally found a bowl and a ladle?
This is serious!
A wooden bowl and a wooden ladle. Just lying there in the cupboard.
At long last after all this time without I have finally got some form cooking equipment.
It's not much, it's barbarously crude and not very refined kitchen acessory but I really thought I was going to die and meet Malakath or Talos or Hircine without any form of cooking equipment. How dreadful thought that was?
Now I just have to skin and roast that dragon outside and I can meet my forefathers with pride. Oh I am excited - Transcendent godhood of cooking awaits and it started with very humble beginnings?
A crude, unboiled dragon and some crude and simplistic wooden ladle and bowl.
I still tremble writing this.
I never thought I could be ecstatic about such barbaric kitchen tools but there you go, in times of need even these small things are appreciated.
I would have never fathomed to use these, but you know dark times require sacrifices...
Elatedly I thought I'm was fire. No not literally, not because of the dragon scorching the place?
So as celebration I decided to prepare my fire spell, reserved for special cooking events (You know, using magic is fun but a true chef doesn?t need it) and probably roast myself some livestock and have a barbecue party. And while cooking I might ponder to come up with all details necessary for my godly menu featuring dragon as main dish.
The chest hold nothing a value, some mishappened imperial kitchen knife barely appropriate to cut anything and some ridiculously looking Imperial gear.
Seriously Imperium, by the love of the Nine, I can't figure out how you could rule all over Tameriel for aeons while wearing such unfashionable and ridiculous equipment, I'm not touching this, I rather stay in my prisoner's outfit as I don't want to look as ridiculous as the next imperial?
I'll take it with me just because you asked nicely, so let's go to the next room?
Oh look two Nords wearing their own ridiculous traditional costume, I wonder if they wanted to be my guest of the upcoming barbecue I'm planning?
Two dead Nords later:
No, they didn't, they really preferred to get roasted alive by my firespell?
Morons, ungrateful barbarian peasants without any proper tastes at all. They deserved death for declining my invitation?
Well at least I should think about enforcing some dress code, these outfits are blasphemous. I'll just take them with me to show the others how bad they are?
Hold on, wait a minute?
What was this Nord carrying,
a premium sized meat mallet. I can't believe these brute barbarians had actually some kind of basic understanding how to tenderize their steaks. Well it's not refined and of the wrong material but it's truly some sizable little kitchen helper. Oh well, according to the dents and scratches it had been used as a makeshift Hammer rather then for it intended purpose but you can?t have everything, right... Right???
Happily wielding my new kitchen accessory we continue to delve into deeper into the keep.
We finally found a storage room, with two obnoxious little Nords attacking us on sight.
Well dear meat mallet, prepare to meet Nord?s meat!
Any you my dearest Nords, prepare to get yourself tenderized...
Such basic lessons in cooking and preparing meat are best experienced hands on. Granted, just like those two Nords most of the apprentices don?t survive their first cooking lessons but then again the future gourmand god of gallant cooking does demand his sacrifices paid in blood.
After helping myself with all ingredients found in that storage room I finally had some time to have write these first diary entries down in some book I found along the way and having some crude but yet very satisfying diner. (What a stupid book. Seriously. On Mixed unit tactics? Whoever needed that crap, horrendously written I say. Not one inkdrop of understanding literature the author had. Next time he will tell me that Vampires sparkle in the sun, what an idiot skeever banging douchebag. The best thing she did was to leave some empty pages so I could write this diary)
Anyway, I was almost starving... The whole trip and all this excitement got me quite hungry. So I didn't really make something special, just a quick snack consisting of rabbit legs, potatos, apples, cabbage and some pheasant roast.
Thankfully the Imperial didn?t chew my ear off with his miserable story of futile existence, so after some brief time we set forth to finally leave Helgen and this Dragon alone, at least for the time being. You will land on my plate, Dragon by the blood of my ancenstors I will swear you this...
Ag gro-Notch is back and this time he is angry hungry
[hr]
So after a this satisfying but ultimately utterly unrefined Brunch, we devled deeper into the keep. My new companion, Hadvar by the name suffered from the same speech impediment of gossip girl but he was way more polite and sometimes what he said almost made sense.
We came across the torture chamber where we found an ongoing fight. I reluctantly joined the side of those with smaller weapons but we won with ease.
The main torturer, a wrinkled old man was very impolite, I found myself hard pressed not to butcher him on the spot. But I didn't want to abuse my new meat mallet, it has already been through so much. But instead I unlocked all his cage doors, opening them wide, just to be a nuisance to him. Found finally some decent looking robes and even a hood. Even found a spell book of sparks. While I'm not very fond of studying magic, the recent events and my expansion into a new field cooking suggested that I learn that spell. Might come in handy. We move on, leaving the old idiot behind but followed by his assistant.
We found some other quite ugly dressed Nords and after dispatching them with fire. (Poor meat mallet needs to rest, too you know) we entered cave. The assistant already left us while we were facing spiders. Giant monster spiders. Ugly, hairy and quite poisonous. Reminded my of my ex-lover. She used to bite more than them though. Been glad that ***** decided to fell into the mining chasm while mining orichalcum rather than nagging all day and complaing that I care more for cooking than becoming chief shaman of our tribe. I would have poisoned her dinner anyway, but at least this spared me the pain of sacrificing the ingredients. I hate if good food is going to waste.
Thinking of my ex got my angry again.
Bad thing about me being angry is that I'm getting hungry.
But luckily Hadvar found a bear just ahead in the cavern, he suggested to sneak by it, or killing it with bow, I thought it might be much tastier roasted and served still smoking. That's why I know this fire spell.
"Not the sneaking type?? asked Hadvar,
?no, not really ? especially when I'm just hungry. Wanna a bite?? I replied
I skinned the rather signed fur, collected the claws (they make excellent ingredients) and feasted until all sirloin was eaten, Hadvar just stood there looking quite unsettled. Probably the whole dragon thing got him a little, well, as I said, unsettled.
He brightened up after I finished lunch and we finally exited the cavern and found our way out into Skyrim.
He apologized about me being executed and pointed me to his uncle the blacksmith of the hamlet of Riverwood. I had some bad experience with hamlet and they rather fickle mood lynching me without reason but maybe they need a cook and maybe I could finally find a place to settle down and get on with my glorious task of dragon cooking.
Even my spirits were high as we trod down the road towards Riverwood. I saw an ancient ruin on top of the mountainside and wondered what kind of food was once served there.
Hadvar told me that I should join the Legion, he even apologized that I was almost executed but I never blamed him, he can be happy the dragon saved him, and all the others there from my Orcish wrath. I'm still a little upset he didn't new my name but anyway I have more important business to do than to hold a grudge against him.
Speaking of grudges, we found three guardian stones on our way. The stone of the warrior, thief and mage. Hadvar suggested I pick one but I was furious no stone of the cook was found anywhere.
Grudgingly I touch the stone of the mage. Doesn't really matter, when I find the stone of the cook I finally have a place to worship.
I roasted two wolves on the way. Didn't eat them. To skinny, their meat was too dogged, or should I say wolved? Anyway Hadvar didn't want any wolf barbecue either so I skinned them and found a shiny garnet inside one them. Good thing I gutted them otherwise this little treasure would have been lost. Poor wolfi, must have been a pain to swallow a garnet and having it digested. Good thing I released you from your pain, forever...
We finally reached Riverwood and Hadvar introduce me to his uncle. He even said I saved his life, well he is overreacting a little I think. The dragon actually saved his life. I would have torn everyone to shreds. But then the Dragon came swooping down just in time...
Oh lucky Hadvar.
Anyway, the smith was very friendly, in the evening his wife offered me another warm meal and it wasn't that bad. I didn't puke afterwards. She might become a good chef some day. Would take about 70 years or so... Do Nords get that old anyway?
I got some spare clothes, even some jewellery and potions from them. They are really nice. I think I should stay here for a while. They asked my to go to Whiterun though. I somehow feel compelled to go there. Considering their friendliness and hospitality.
Since smithing is my hobby, you know, Orcs and a smithy, that's just how it works...
I might be able to enjoy myself here. So finally, I had a cooking pot I could use.
I just need to check the ingredients I have collected thus far and I was able to cook some formidable apple cabbage stew.
Since I'm no longer hungry I might offer this delicacy to someone in Riverwood as token of my appreciation. Hadvar and the Blacksmith's family didn't seem interested in my cooking, so probably I help them with some smithing. Strange though, with the wife's mediocre cooking they should lust for my lavished and opulent meals.
After all this stress I finally got a chance to sleep in a warm bed in a friendly hamlet for a change. So while I'm writing these words I just hope I will dream of my epitome of dragon barbecue that awaits me in the future. Good night dear diary, pleasant dreams...
[hr]
So after a this satisfying but ultimately utterly unrefined Brunch, we devled deeper into the keep. My new companion, Hadvar by the name suffered from the same speech impediment of gossip girl but he was way more polite and sometimes what he said almost made sense.
We came across the torture chamber where we found an ongoing fight. I reluctantly joined the side of those with smaller weapons but we won with ease.
The main torturer, a wrinkled old man was very impolite, I found myself hard pressed not to butcher him on the spot. But I didn't want to abuse my new meat mallet, it has already been through so much. But instead I unlocked all his cage doors, opening them wide, just to be a nuisance to him. Found finally some decent looking robes and even a hood. Even found a spell book of sparks. While I'm not very fond of studying magic, the recent events and my expansion into a new field cooking suggested that I learn that spell. Might come in handy. We move on, leaving the old idiot behind but followed by his assistant.
We found some other quite ugly dressed Nords and after dispatching them with fire. (Poor meat mallet needs to rest, too you know) we entered cave. The assistant already left us while we were facing spiders. Giant monster spiders. Ugly, hairy and quite poisonous. Reminded my of my ex-lover. She used to bite more than them though. Been glad that ***** decided to fell into the mining chasm while mining orichalcum rather than nagging all day and complaing that I care more for cooking than becoming chief shaman of our tribe. I would have poisoned her dinner anyway, but at least this spared me the pain of sacrificing the ingredients. I hate if good food is going to waste.
Thinking of my ex got my angry again.
Bad thing about me being angry is that I'm getting hungry.
But luckily Hadvar found a bear just ahead in the cavern, he suggested to sneak by it, or killing it with bow, I thought it might be much tastier roasted and served still smoking. That's why I know this fire spell.
"Not the sneaking type?? asked Hadvar,
?no, not really ? especially when I'm just hungry. Wanna a bite?? I replied
I skinned the rather signed fur, collected the claws (they make excellent ingredients) and feasted until all sirloin was eaten, Hadvar just stood there looking quite unsettled. Probably the whole dragon thing got him a little, well, as I said, unsettled.
He brightened up after I finished lunch and we finally exited the cavern and found our way out into Skyrim.
He apologized about me being executed and pointed me to his uncle the blacksmith of the hamlet of Riverwood. I had some bad experience with hamlet and they rather fickle mood lynching me without reason but maybe they need a cook and maybe I could finally find a place to settle down and get on with my glorious task of dragon cooking.
Even my spirits were high as we trod down the road towards Riverwood. I saw an ancient ruin on top of the mountainside and wondered what kind of food was once served there.
Hadvar told me that I should join the Legion, he even apologized that I was almost executed but I never blamed him, he can be happy the dragon saved him, and all the others there from my Orcish wrath. I'm still a little upset he didn't new my name but anyway I have more important business to do than to hold a grudge against him.
Speaking of grudges, we found three guardian stones on our way. The stone of the warrior, thief and mage. Hadvar suggested I pick one but I was furious no stone of the cook was found anywhere.
Grudgingly I touch the stone of the mage. Doesn't really matter, when I find the stone of the cook I finally have a place to worship.
I roasted two wolves on the way. Didn't eat them. To skinny, their meat was too dogged, or should I say wolved? Anyway Hadvar didn't want any wolf barbecue either so I skinned them and found a shiny garnet inside one them. Good thing I gutted them otherwise this little treasure would have been lost. Poor wolfi, must have been a pain to swallow a garnet and having it digested. Good thing I released you from your pain, forever...
We finally reached Riverwood and Hadvar introduce me to his uncle. He even said I saved his life, well he is overreacting a little I think. The dragon actually saved his life. I would have torn everyone to shreds. But then the Dragon came swooping down just in time...
Oh lucky Hadvar.
Anyway, the smith was very friendly, in the evening his wife offered me another warm meal and it wasn't that bad. I didn't puke afterwards. She might become a good chef some day. Would take about 70 years or so... Do Nords get that old anyway?
I got some spare clothes, even some jewellery and potions from them. They are really nice. I think I should stay here for a while. They asked my to go to Whiterun though. I somehow feel compelled to go there. Considering their friendliness and hospitality.
Since smithing is my hobby, you know, Orcs and a smithy, that's just how it works...
I might be able to enjoy myself here. So finally, I had a cooking pot I could use.
I just need to check the ingredients I have collected thus far and I was able to cook some formidable apple cabbage stew.
Since I'm no longer hungry I might offer this delicacy to someone in Riverwood as token of my appreciation. Hadvar and the Blacksmith's family didn't seem interested in my cooking, so probably I help them with some smithing. Strange though, with the wife's mediocre cooking they should lust for my lavished and opulent meals.
After all this stress I finally got a chance to sleep in a warm bed in a friendly hamlet for a change. So while I'm writing these words I just hope I will dream of my epitome of dragon barbecue that awaits me in the future. Good night dear diary, pleasant dreams...
