An Orc’s Life, Day 2: Of Jerks and Men

It’s a frigid second day in Skyrim, and my hypothermia mod is definitely not letting me forget it.

Below is my narration of this entry. Hope you enjoy.

Upon waking up, I decide that the nearby coastline might have a few resources I can gather to sell in town. I’d like to be able to hunt some today as well. I can turn the animal pelts into armor or gold, but I need both if I’m going to make it to Solitude alive. I leave the inn to go sell off my Quicksilver Ingots, but nobody in town is awake, including Rustleif, who I am in need of once again. I bet he’ll rub it in when he finally does emerge. So, to pass the time, I walk around town gathering more Snowberries, and harvesting some firewood from the local trees. An hour later I have just sold all of my ingots and now have enough money for my second meal, so I go back up to the Inn to buy breakfast, refill on water,  and procure lunch for my afternoon roaming.

Literally the second I step foot outside of town, I am accosted by a sneaky jerk who shoves magic bracers in my tunic, and says if I tell anyone, he’ll kill me. Having no patience for the ever growing population of idiots in Skyrim, I don’t even hesitate to tell the hunter who comes looking for the jerk, “he went that way.” The hunter thanks me, and runs off, hot in pursuit. True, I could have given the bracers back to the hunter, but after all, he did only ask me if I’d seen a guy run past. And how do I even know that these bracers belong to the hunter? That guy was such a jerk, he could have had countless other people wanting to kill him. During the time I was rationalizing, I was watching the hunter chase the jerk around, peppering him with arrows, until he hunched down, apparently having given up. This hopeless tactic doesn’t throw the hunter off for long, and two more arrows later; the jerk is dead. Wow. Life can end so quickly. I start to feel remorse over my complete indifference to the hunter killing a person right in front of me. He did involve me with his stupid thievery and problems, but does that mean he deserves to die?


Who knows? I finish stripping his corpse, and leave his body for the wolves. Well, I may not be too broken up about his death, but I’m more than happy to relieve him of his gear. I walk away with Hide Armor, Fur Boots, 10 gold, and a Steel Mace! Now I can club the next jerk in the head who thinks it’s funny to line my garments with stolen goods. Before I continue to the coastline, I try to determine what kind of magical bracers I have just “inherited.” I divine that they are bracers designed to increase my archery skill. How do I know that you ask? It’s written on the back of the bracers. Moving on.

I turn a corner to start heading down to the coast, but as I do, I hear an odd throaty growl. I tense, thinking that it sounds like a bear. My senses fail me, as I am unable to locate the source of the growl, but then right before my eyes, a Frost Troll comes tearing out of a clearing, very intent on removing my limbs.


[By this point, my own heart was literally pounding, because I could see that troll pounding Grawnk into a pulp, and this blog being over before it really began. It’s definitely much more exhilarating playing with no reloads.]

I try to run, but my legs don’t seem to want to work [I still had Caps Lock on for walking]. My survival instincts kick in, though [I press caps lock] and I run the hell away as fast as my legs can take me. Convinced I’ve put a fair amount of distance between the troll and me, I duck behind a large stump. I peek my head out and can see the great beast still looking for me.

Cowardice may not have worked for the jerk, but it just saved my green ass.

The troll has its back turned, though, so I decide to step out and make another run for it. The troll instantly sees me, and yet again, I am forced to flee for my life, this time up a steep rock outcropping. I wait for what feels like hours, watching the troll search for me, but it tires eventually, and disappears. It’s only noon, but I already feel like crawling back into bed. This is not how I pictured my second day in Skyrim. I was so optimistic last night, but already today I’ve watched someone die, and almost died myself. I am reminded of Solitude, though, and it renews my resolve. And hey, maybe once I become a bard I can compose a song about my “heroic” duel with the troll; embattled for hours till I overcame the vicious brute by caving in its ugly head with my mace. What? A little embellishment never hurt anyone.

Feeling more confident after imagining myself felling that frost troll, I check to make sure I haven’t wet myself, and continue on to the coast with dry, but cold pants. As I get closer, I notice a campfire in the distance with some people standing around it. If they’re hunters, maybe I can pawn some of the jerk’s gear off in exchange for some pelts. As if Skyrim can hear my thoughts, a rabbit comes dashing my way. Poor little bugger. It never stood a chance.

Grawnk: Beater of Bunnies, Harrier of Hares, Ridder of Rabbits, The Cony Killer, annd I’m out.

Turns out rabbits don’t really have much by way of a pelt. No matter, though. I was able to get one of its legs, which will make for a decent meal later. I see a woman from the campfire running my way, no doubt coming to propose to me on the spot, won over by my wicked kill. Her proposal is a bit unorthodox, though, in that she TRIES TO KILL ME! Yeah, those people by the campfire? Not hunters: bandits. While I’m fending off blows from my ex-fiancee, I’m simultaneously having to dodge arrows from a wussy bandit. Come on! Face me like a man! I’ll do to you what I did to that rabbit! I should probably focus on one foe at a time, though. Turning my attention back to the female bandit, I feel this rage building inside me, no doubt the product of my Orcish blood, and I hurtle my mace through the air, connecting with the bandit’s head, dropping her immediately.

That’ll teach you to toy with an Orc’s heart.

No time to dwell on my first kill. My life is still in danger. I charge at the archer, weaving in and out of the arrows he is constantly firing. I finally cut a path to him, and before he has time to switch his bow out, I bring my mace crashing down on him as I’m still running. It’s a solid hit, and it staggers the bandit, but not for long. He switches to a dagger and makes a half-hearted jab, but I block it, and accessing that same rage from a minute ago, I break his face with my mace.

I don’t know what he was thinking bringing a knife to a mace fight.

I step over the crumpled heap of dead bandit and race towards the last one, who had also taken to firing arrows at me. Not even caring that I’ve just been struck by an arrow, I start battering her with my huge hunk of steel till she too falls dead.

3 for 3

Remember: It’s always important to carry mace for protection.

Damn. I may be scrawny, but I just kicked some serious ass. I didn’t know I had that in me: both killing people, and killing them efficiently. My rage and battle-haze finally subsiding, I start to process what’s just happened. I jut killed three living, breathing people. This was life or death, so I don’t condemn myself for what I did. In fact, while it was happening, I even took pleasure in dispatching them with the ease that I did. Fighting runs deep in the blood of an Orc, and even though I grew up knowing nothing of violence myself, I find it comes easy once I’m thrust into it. Even still, it feels odd being their cause of death, and not a hunter, or a pack of wolves, or a frost troll.

Maybe when this blog becomes wildly popular (ha), some modder can put this in.

The time for scrutinizing my morals is over. Now it’s time to see what kind of loot those bandits have. The last two bandits I fought had hide and fur armor, but my dead ex-fiancee had a whole set of iron armor, which will hopefully protect me from future love interests. I head back over to their camp. While changing out of my hide armor to my new set of iron armor, I finally notice that I am really cold, so I take a few minutes to warm up by the bandit’s campfire. Having regained feeling in my toes, I poke around the camp to see what useful supplies I can find. Mainly fish and stale apples. Still, I line my deceptively spacious pockets, intent now on finding a pot to cook all the raw food in.

Wow, the coastline sure is beautif- Friggin’ Wolves!

Have you even seen me? There’s not much flesh to eat.

Much like the rest of this day, something has come out of nowhere to attack me, for whatever reason. Is Skyrim racist towards Orcs? Am I an unlikeable fellow? Does the universe just want me dead? The wolves aren’t talking…or doing anything else, because they’re dead. But not without leaving their mark. It would seem as if I have contracted Rockjoint from one of the fleabags. A fun little disease that decreases the effectiveness of my melee attacks. Attention wolves everywhere: You have just made my shit list. Congratulations. Forgetting about the wolves, and the fact that I am now diseased; the coast really is lovely, in a melancholy sort of way.

The coast in front of me. Dead wolves behind me.

The coast is pretty uneventful compared to the rest of my day. I fend off a couple of mud crabs that are guarding a small wooden boat, and I am surprised to find a cache of some semi-valuable items underneath it. Among others things, I find a scimitar, clothing, and two books.

The resting place of the S.S. Mud Crab.

I’m starting to feel pretty good about the items I’ve been amassing. Assuming I can pawn most of it away, I should make some decent gold. I head up the beach a little further but stop when I see some familiar shapes in the distance. There are three wolves close to 100 feet away, and they haven’t seen me yet. It’s about time I’m the one catching something else unawares. I take out a hunting bow I procured from one of the bandits, nock an arrow, and take aim. My first couple of shots miss, but then I’m able to zero in on them, firing once, killing one, firing twice, killing the second. By this point, the last wolf has figured out where I am, and races over, but I’m able to kill it with a couple of arrows before it makes it to me. Hm, there’s something to be said for this sneaking around stuff. For a minute, I briefly picture my life as Grawnk: Orc Assassin. Sneaking around the countryside, assassinating roaming packs of wolves, making Skyrim safer one dead wolf at a time. What? You didn’t think I would daydream about killing people did you? Certain that I’ve seen all the coast has to offer, I start heading back to Dawnstar the way I came. I stop by the bandit camp again to warm myself by the fire, and to eat a couple of the stale apples I found. Not a good idea.

Better out than in I always say. Oh wait. That’s another green somebody’s saying.

That was not pleasant, but lesson learned. Stay away from stale food, too, unless I’ve no other choice. Back in Dawnstar, I head to my best bud Rustleif’s house. I sell off most of the bandit armor and weapons as well as the contents of the boat cache, and make several hundred gold just like that. [After selling all that junk my speech goes up, causing Grawnk to progress to level 2! I decide to spend my first skill point in smithing.] I look around the forge for a grindstone and workbench to improve my weapons and armor, but there’s only a tanning rack. Ugh. Yet another reason to get to Solitude. It’s kind of early, but maybe I’ll go ahead and turn in for the night. I’m about to turn to walk into the Windpeak Inn when I notice something in my peripheral vision. At the edge of town, there is a dead guard lying in the snow.

No officer, it wasn’t me, I swear! I was killing somebody else at the time of this murder. Whoops.

It looks like I wasn’t the only one having a bad day. I wonder what could have killed her? My money’s on the frost troll. Probably angry it couldn’t find me, it came into town and pounded the first unfortunate soul it came across. That, or a roving band of wolf-bandits: wolves that walk on their hind legs, wear armor and carry weapons. What do you mean those don’t exist?  Of course, idiot over-exposure could have also finished her off. Malacath knows there’s enough around here to do the trick. I briefly debate on whether to strip the guard, and sell all the equipment, but decide I probably shouldn’t. Well, I’m hungry, thirsty, and tired. To the inn I go. Walking up to the counter, I notice that Karita seems to be brushing up on her air-lute skills. That, or she forgot she’s not holding her lute.


I buy and eat my supper, and am about to turn in when I realize I don’t feel like going to bed quite yet. I’d only wake up too early if I did. What can I do to pass the time?

Put on a fashion show for the inn.

Continue to put on a fashion show for the inn.

Stare at a dead spider.

Gossip with my boy Jarl Skald.

During my time-killing, a band of Khajiit have shown up. Very fortunate. Now maybe I can sell the rest of the junk I couldn’t hock at Rustleif’s. I’m in luck. I get rid of everything I don’t have a use for, and now have a total of 632 gold, making today worthwhile after all.

Pay no attention to the background.

Dawnstar’s been good to me

Well it’s been fun

I’m ready to get the hell out of Dawnstar, and make my way to Solitude. I have armor AND gold now, and even more importantly: confidence. I travel at dawn.

Be sure to follow me on twitter, and here on WordPress, to stay up to date with Grawnk and this blog.

Next Post     Previous Post     First Post


23 thoughts on “An Orc’s Life, Day 2: Of Jerks and Men

  1. One does not simply walk into Solitude…
    Great work, man :D. Can’t wait until the latest instalment. I shall spread the word about the courageous, green-skinned hero, Grawnk.


  2. Still gripped :O I can’t wait to read about those first awkward orcy steps toward Solitude. It seems misfortune’s fortune does favor the bold (over 600 gold for 1 day’s stroll, not bad at’ol). Great character development – his thoughtfulness makes him likeable. “Harrier of Hares”, haha!
    Also digging the abundance of screenshots, espesh the many taken of Grawnk standing over felled, or simply stumbled upon, bodies; adds an air of hilarity I can’t quite explain. The tombstone was also a nice touch. Skyrim beware! The scrawny shall rule you all …if he feels threatened by you and you are not bigger than him.


  3. Nice! reminds me so much of nordrick,also i got some of the mods from your list so i could do somthing like this.Nice work,Cant wait for next episode 🙂


  4. i actualy got an idea of making my own blog with a similar play style,hope you don’t mind,but with so many people wanting to do it,i thought i might try my luck.i’ll still read yours,as i don’t expect to get many (if any) readers.


  5. “My survival instincts kick in, though (I press caps lock) and I run the hell away as fast as my legs can take me.”

    I’m having my own writers block so I’m rereading the few Skyrim fan fictions I bother with for some inspiration. 🙂


    • Thanks for bothering with mine! I am hoping to be able to start work on another post in the next week, but we’ll just have to see.

      Best of luck with your writer’s block. I definitely agree immersing yourself with more Skyrim is the way to go. When I had brief moments of it, I’d either play the game myself, or watch others play it.

      If you’re into the whole Let’s Play genre of Youtube videos, I recommend Gopher’s Gaming Mods channel in my Links section. He ropleplays as his character and it’s awesome.


      • I like your fan fiction, it cracks me up and doesn’t mess with my own head canon. I played today and I went and did the quest I’m going to write about in the next chapter and it actually helped. I thought I was the only person in the world who enjoyed watching other people play. I also like to act as a kind of back-seat driver when my husband is playing his Kahjiit, Adam West. I’m sure it annoys the crap out of him, except sometimes he appreciates it when I tell him he’s about to die.


  6. “How do I know that you ask? It’s written on the back of the bracers. Moving on.” This cracked me up, I can just imagine it! Great post, glad to hear Grawnk’s getting outta Dawnstar as well, I think he’s exhausted all the things to do in that cold and lonely town. You’re writing is very funny, a lot funnier than my few attempts at humour, I’m looking forward to catching up.


    • I was tempted once to explain how I knew who someone was without talking to them, by saying he was wearing a name tag, but I decided against it. However, such awful reasons as that make me laugh when trying to roleplay why my character could ever know such meta details.

      I’m really glad you like the humor. Without it, I don’t know how I would have been able to start writing this blog.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s