Sugar gra-Mazog

"Sugar, this reporter from the Black Horse Courier would like to know all about how you came to work at Gweden" said Tsarrina.

The Orc looked down at him with a scowl, or was that supposed to be a smile? She began.

You may have noticed that there aren't many Orcs in this business. That's because we're not the best salespeople in Tamriel. We need a good pimp to handle the negotiating part of the transaction, or we just don't get the price we deserve. Once I take over, I give good value, and I don't get any complaints. Oh I know what you're thinking, but they come back for more, so it's not that.

So anyway, I thought I had found a pimp I could work with. A scrawny llittle weasel that I didn't really trust, but he had the usual Imperial way with words and he got the job done. Trouble was, he got greedy. He wanted a bigger cut of the gold, and I told him he wasn't getting it.

At first, he tried persuasion, including that Charm spell they all seem to be able to cast. Didn't do anyhing to me, so he got mad and pulled out his sword. Now that's the sort of negotiation I can handle, so I replied with my axe, until he saw things my way.

So now I'm without a pimp again. He's off getting his face healed, and I figure he's not likely to work with me when that's done. I move to the Imperial city, where I hoped there might be more potential customers, maybe even a few Orcs that know true beauty when they see it. Turned out that most of my customers were Bosmers, whose eyes never got up to my face.

[At this point the words "copious cleavage" are underlined in the reporter's notes]

I was sleeping in an abandoned hut in the Waterfront during the day and working the Arboretum in the evenings. Darkness seemed to help trade in several ways, and it meant I was sleeping while the others who used the hut were working, and vice-versa. I always took my negotiating axe with me, except for the one day I forgot, and that's when it was stolen.

Fortunately, that was also the day the Champion came by the Arboretum. Of course he was just another adventurer then, and I thought he was there on business. My business, I hoped.

So I start to chat with him, and it turns out he knows my old friend Mazoga. She grew up in my family when we took her in as an orphan. Well, not even that. She was born in our cave where we were all sheltering as refugees from the war. Her mother died in childbirth, and we never even got to ask her who the father was. So we named her after my father Mazog, and that's the only name she uses.

He told me Mazoga had become a Knight-Errant of the White Stallion, no less, down in Leyawiin County, and she was busy hunting bandits for the Count. Had her own home just outside town and all. It was good to know she's on the right side of the law at last.

I told the Champion that it was a good thing she hadn't come to the city, or she'd be hunting down the thief who stole my axe. I just wanted it back, but Mazoga would be after the thief's blood. That's just the way she dealt with things - violently. He nodded with agreement at that.

That's how I came to tell him all about the axe, and the pimp, and everything else. He asked me if I'd consider coming here to Gweden when I got my axe back. Well, of course I would! My own bed, no Imperial pimp to cheat me, what's not to like about it?

When he brought me the axe, he told me all about getting it back. How he'd asked around the Waterfront until one of the beggars sent him to Armand Christophe. I knew the guy slightly, he lived a few huts down from the one I slept in, but I didn't know how much he ran the place. Apparently he has all the beggars in Cyrodiil telling him what's going on!

Someone had seen the thief in Bravil, so the Champion had followed him there. He'd tried to fence the axe down there, but nobody was buying. He'd gone off to some Marauder hideout to try and sell it there. That's where the Champion found him, dead. Still had the axe on him, so it seems the Marauders weren't buying either.

It was always a good axe for me, but I could understand how it wouldn't suit everyone. Heavier than usual, and drains the user's magicka. But it hits hard, especially when I'm using it, and it's durable, too. I still have that axe, though I never need it here at Gweden.

Well, that's not entirely true. I did need it once. After I'd been here a while, the Champ turned up with a bizarre tale about the Dark Brotherhood and a contract to kill me! It was that old pimp of mine behind it, and apparently one of us had to die. I didn't want any killing, but if it was me or Octavius, I knew who deserved it the most.

Champ was going to go off and kill Octavius for me, but I insisted on going along. I found my axe, and put on my armor. That got a few comments from the Champ about a "chainmail bikini", but it does get me noticed, and I'm not going to fight everyone I meet. Got to think about business, too!

We set off for some Inn on the other side of Cyrodiil. The Drunken Dragon, I think it was called. A bit out of the way for an Inn, but Octavuis was still in the pimp business, so a touch of seclusion was what he wanted.

The two sluts he had working the place hadn't seen him in weeks. As soon as they'd pulled in a few coins, he'd gone off to spend them in the city. The legion patrolman seemed to think Octavius had acquired the place a bit shadily, too. Seems the previous owner had been a Dark Brotherhood victim, and Octavius' claim to the property was somewhat doubtful.

We followed my ex-pimp to the city, asked a few beggars, and found him in Luther Broad's. He had an Argonian goon with him as a bodyguard, and they attacked us as soon as we walked in. I'm glad to say I got to finish off Octavius myself, with my trusty axe. Champ had sorted out the Argonian too, before Luther could even get the warhammer off his shoulder and help us.

We gave him the small amount of gold we found on the two as payment for the cleanup. He didn't want to take anything. We'd done him a favor getting rid of them, as they were obnoxious enough to drive his usual customers away. I could see his point.

The Champion and I parted company there in the city and I set off for home here at the farm. Just before I got to Skingrad, I was accosted by a highwayman demanding gold. I told him I didn't have any gold, but I could give him something much better than that. My armor doesn't hide much, and I could tell that he'd noticed.

I pulled him into the bushes and humped him senseless. While he was sleeping it off, I took his weapon, his armor, and everything else he was carrying, and sold it in Skingrad. He probably woke up naked after an hour or so, but I was long gone.I could have just killed him, but that was much more fun! He was lucky it was me and not Mazoga!

So now I keep the axe and armor in the chest at the foot of my bed, and I hope they can stay there. Gweden's a nice safe place. It's far enough from town that the drunks can't make it here without sobering up on the way, and there's the Legion patrolman to keep the peace, too. I like him, and I don't think it's just the discount rate that keeps him spending his spare gold here.

Oh, and my name? It's really pronounced Soo-GAAR, but it's written the same, so everyone gets it wrong. And in this line of work, that doesn't hurt any.