When last we left Nondrick, roughly eighteen years ago, he was faced with a moral dilemma. Stealing a Shepard’s Pie from someone’s home to cure his wolf-born infections (Witbane and Helljoint) was weighing heavily on his soft mind — was it the wrong thing to do? Was it in keeping with his NPC nature? With his back against the wall, would Nondrick fill his pockets with stolen goods?

In a moment of desperation I’d mixed up the ill-gotten curative and stood there, bottle to my lips, debating, worrying, and trying to remember the Alchemist’s Code. What I eventually remembered was that I’d never actually invented an Alchemists Code. So, I invented one.

What I can find is mine. What I can’t find, I can buy. But stealing is kind of a dick move.

Okay, it’s not the most eloquent code ever written. But stealing, along with fighting, adventuring, romance, and writing eloquent codes, just isn’t Nondrick’s thing . I decided, eventually, to leave the potion in the house I’d broken into, along with a trinket or two to make up for ruining someone’s dinner. With that, I trudged out into the night on aching, infected joints, to find where I’d parked my horse a year ago and to continue searching for a cure that wouldn’t involve stealing a baked lamb entree from a stranger’s dinner table.

Of course, this being Oblivion, when the game closes a door it opens a window. Unfortunately, opening a window in Oblivion is a dangerous prospect, because sometimes an enraged pigs rushes through it and tries to kill you. Today, as I travel north atop my faithful horse, Beaker, boars finally make their appearance in the game.

Boars are actually pretty tough: they’re fast, durable, and challenging for any character who hasn’t leveled up properly, and Nondrick’s improved speechcraft and mercantile skills, which certainly help with his career, haven’t left him particularly capable of dealing with boars easily.

Killing a boar requires a lot of blocking, back-pedaling, and just plain running away, while making the occasional swipe with a sword or blast with a fireball. The first boar I encounter drops me quickly to about one-quarter health before I’ve even done him much damage. I heal quickly with my Mara’s Gift spell, then find myself battered down to half-health again before I finally send the little piggy to market.

While I’m carving up the boar, a Timber Wolf leaps snarling out of the woods. I blast the animal with my frost spell and hack him down to size, hoping he doesn’t infect me with yet another disease. My health is now worryingly low, and I don’t have much in the way of curatives. I use my Heal Major Wounds spell, but since I’ve never built up my magic abilities, I can only use it once or twice before running out of gas.

As soon as I’m back on Beaker, I spot a fellow traveler heading my way. He sees me as well, and thrusts a fist skyward. I’m hoping he’s waving hello, but no, he’s casting a spell: a scamp spawns beside him and attacks me. Ignoring the conjured beast, I chase the spellcaster around, trying to smack him with my sword. Cripes, can’t these stupid animals and evil wizards just fight amongst themselves and leave me out of it?

A retarded little parade ensues. The conjurer can run backwards as fast as I can run forward, so it’s a futile chase for a while as I follow him around. Meanwhile, his scamp is chasing me, so the three of us make circles all over the road and through the grass, nobody gaining on anyone. Finally, the warlock runs back-first into a boulder. Pinning him against the rock, I hack away at him while his scamp repeatedly sets me on fire.

Eventually, he folds and his scamp vanishes.

Back on Beaker, I proceed slowly up the trail, gathering ingredients from horseback (somehow). With the city of Bravil in my sights, I spot a plant with large leaves by the base of a tree. My keen eye for plant life tells me this is Mandrake. Wait a second. Wait a second!

I slide off Beaker and yank the Mandrake roots out of the ground. I check the properties in my well-thumbed copy of Mushing Up Plants For Fun And Profit.

There it is. The Cure Disease property! I mix the Mandrake Root with the remaining sample of Elf Cup Cap that has been gently decomposing in my pocket for days. Bam! One Cure Disease potion. I chug-a-lug and check the active effects — all traces of the disease are gone. Hurray! I have rid myself of wolf-cooties!

Wow. I’d sunk pretty low there for a while, but finally managed to complete my personal quest, ridding my body of unwanted canine pathogens. Nondrick was once again complete, and could walk triumphantly into Bravil. Or, if not “triumphantly,” then at least proudly. Well, “proudly” may be overstating it. How about, “not crawling with diseased ticks.”

Yeah, that’ll do.

I reach Leyawiin at nightfall, meaning the shops have closed and I’m forced to peddle my mushrooms and mushroom-related potions at the DragonClaw Inn. This isn’t a huge problem, except that innkeepers generally have a 50 dollar per transaction limit, so selling my 52 Restore Fatigue potions for 13 bucks each is going to take a lot of clicking.

Still, when I’m done buying, mixing, and selling, I’m sitting on over 2,600 septims. Noice! I’ll have to see what a house goes for in this town. For now, it’s off to bed in the Dragon Claw Inn.

In the morning, I hit The Dividing Line, a weapons and armor shop, get everything repaired, and sell off my extras. I’m ditching all my heavy armor — it’s just too slow and clunky when worn by an alchemist who is already far too slow and clunky. Leather armor it is, until I can find something light to upgrade to.

Next, I visit the Great Chapel of Zenithar. Forget what the tour books say:  it’s not that great. It looks exactly like every other chapel I’ve been in. On the other hand, I finally find a priest selling a spell that will allow me to heal my horse, Beaker. It’s called Convalescence, and it costs me about 230 gold. Worth it, though, as now I’ll be able to take care of my beloved horsie.

I visit a few other shops, plus the Mage’s Guild, looking for ingredients to cure my wolf-borne diseases. I’m also looking for some shoes, since I don’t seem to have any for some reason, and a leather helmet to replace my iron one. No luck on either front. I’m also starting to get a bit frustrated about my disease situation. I just need one stinking ingredient with the Cure Disease property, but I can’t find one, or buy one, anywhere. With all these canine diseases in my system, I’m more dog now, than man.

Meanwhile, the hot topic in this exciting new town is focused on one thing: a woman named Rosentia Gallenus and how her house smells.

Well, this is a bit sad.  The game has definitely gotten the impression that I’m not looking for adventure — in fact, I’m actively avoiding it — and it’s stooping so low as to repeatedly invite me to check out a stinky house.

Two things about this.  First off, even as a non-adventurer, it’s just not appealing.  Okay, it doesn’t sound dangerous and thrilling, which is a plus in Nondrick’s book, but it doesn’t sound pleasant, either.  Why not have her house smell like fresh herbs?  Then I might take a peek.

Secondly, if I were an adventurer, running about trying to close Oblivion gates and stave off demon hordes, why the hell would I want to check out a smelly house, either?   Sure, it sounds like there’s definitely a problem in there, but I’m busy trying to save the frigging world.  This seems like a quest fit for absolutely no one.

Okay, that’s a little better.  An adventurer might pop his head in now and see what’s going on.  Still, I ain’t interested.

At the castle, I discover that the house for sale in Leyawiin can be had for only $7,000 bucks. That’s not bad at all. I check out some nearby houses to see what mine might look like, and it’s practically a mansion for your humble alchemist. Beats my one room hovel in Imperial City, though I’m not crazy about the location. Leyawiin is in the very deep south, at the very bottom of the game’s map, and as a gatherer, I need fertile land in all directions to make a living.  I’d better check out the surrounding countryside to peep what groweth there.

I strike out to the west and north the next morning. There’s not much to find in the marshy landscape except more mushrooms. A Khajiit bandit (female, of course) attacks me after I poke my unprotected noggin into Undertow Cavern. She falls with just a two swings of my longsword.  Should’ve spent more time practicing and less time on the complicated hairdo.  Women!

Upon finding Telepe, some Ayleid ruins, I hear a voice yell “Showing your face around here is the last mistake you’ll ever make!” I’m a little confused, since the speaker sounded like he was about a mile away and hollering into a bucket. No one appears and attacks me as I wander carefully around. Eventually, I’m struck by a number of arrows, but I still have no idea where from.

I stroll away, arrows protruding, confused.  I’ve learned my lesson, though, and I won’t show my face in that general area again.

In a small settlement called Water’s Edge, I let myself into the home of Jolie and Eduard Retiene, a pleasant couple who have chosen to spend their day standing and silently contemplating one of the walls in their home. Guess they’re waiting for TV to be invented.

I’m so desperate for finding a curative ingredient that I break one of my rules and raid their garden, picking all the vegetables and examining their properties. No dice. Feeling guilty for stealing from these humble, gently retarded farmers, I drop a silver cup and a couple repair hammers in the garden I just molested, as a form of payment. It’s sort of like in a movie, when a mobster smashes a reporter’s camera and then chucks some bills from a roll of hundreds on the ground, only not even remotely as cool.

A little further up the road, I find the settlement known as Border Watch. It’s sizable, with several homes and a cluster of citizens all standing around talking to each other about horribly boring things. I stop at the Border Watch Inn, where the owner has – get this — a cheese collection.

How awesome is that? That’s way better than my collection of silverware I’ve pulled out of wolf rectums. Way better. I’m insanely jealous.

I step back outside, and chat up the locals. One of them has a cool black cloak and hood. Again, I’m jealous. Nondrick would look great in a hood like that.  At least from the back.  I’m starting to hate Border Watch – it’s making me feel inadequate. These NPCs are much cooler than I am.

I approach a house and, since it’s unlocked, let myself inside. It’s totally trashed. Weird.  In a busted crate, a potion of Cure Disease mocks me. The game itself is mocking me, I decide. As I chose to snub the overflowing adventure it constantly attempts to drown me in, it has chosen to make my own personal quest, to cure my own diseases with my alchemical skills, impossible. I’ll never cure my diseases. Not without having to resort to theft. Not without breaking my rules.

I’m beginning to feel like a failure of an NPC. I don’t have a kickass cheese collection and for all my time spent picking ingredients and mixing potions, I’m still crawling with canine parasites. And I don’t even have a pair of shoes or a nice hood. No wonder I never score with the honeys.

I wander around the town for a bit. There are several sheep walking about. Maybe it’s the wolf parasites infesting my system, but I consider killing one of the sheep. Mutton might have some curative properties, after all. No one is around. I’m desperate. I hack at a sheep, which takes considerably longer to fall than the female bandit from earlier.

I kill it, and open it up to see what’s inside.

This sheep, somehow, is completely empty.  Mutton-free. I guess it was full of air.  Goddamn discount sheep.

Despondent, I let myself into another house, which is also weirdly trashed. I spot some shoes on a table and consider taking them. Why not? I’ve raided a garden. I’ve murdered livestock. The game is clearly denying my the few things I want and need, and it’s turning me into a crazed, thieving, half-wolf NPC.

I also spot a Shepherd’s Pie on the table. I pick it up to examine its properties.

Bingo. It’s the ingredient I need to cure myself. And all it will take is an act of theft.

Is it really theft if I leave something as payment, like I did in the garden? Am I being un-NPC-like? Am I failing in my goal in playing as a benign alchemist? Am I betraying my inner-Nondrick by killing air-filled livestock and swapping near-worthless items with unknowing NPCs?

Screw it.  I mix up my Cure Disease potion. One part purchased Elf Cup Cap, one part stolen Shepherd’s Pie. The deed is done. I drop a couple repair hammers as payment and walk outside.

I can cure myself right now. Right now!   But should I?  My one self-driven quest is at an end, but it meant buying one ingredient and stealing another, and then smooshing them together in a cup.  One sip, and I’m cured.

But can I do it?  Should I do it?  Should I belt back this bitter beverage of betrayal? Should I deviously down this dirty drink of disappointment?  Should I peevishly partake of this perverse potion of something starting with p?

In the interest of keeping this blog a bit more lively, I’m going to try something several people suggested: post more often but with shorter posts. That way, I don’t feel like I have to write a book every time I sit down to play and blog, which hopefully means I will play, and blog, more often.

Anyway. Cheydinhal. I made it in early this morning, and as a result, Nondrick doesn’t manage to crawl out of bed until afternoon. Not much on the roster today except to sell the loot I accumulated during the trip — the many bits of weapons and armor I took off the people who forced me to kill them. Also, if you remember, Nondrick contracted Helljoint, a disease carried by wolves. Gonna have to do something about that, too. It’s a family motto of his: “Undiseased joints are better than diseased joints.” Not the snappiest motto, but they were poor and it was all they could afford.

Just down the street from the hotel, I find a weapon and armor shop. There I sell the axes and armor cluttering up my inventory. I stroll out with about 900gp.

Considering how badly I’ve been getting pounded lately, I decide I need to beef up my defenses. So long, leather cuirass. So long, newly acquired iron cuirass. I’m moving up to steel, baby. It costs a pretty penny, but the assorted bandits, brigands, and beasties outside the cities are toughening up, and I’ve got to keep stride.

I go with the steel cuirass, iron greaves and boots, trade in my leather shield for an iron one, and nab an iron helmet. Naturally, after selling the armor off my back I forget to put on my new purchases, and wander around outside half-naked for a little while.

Eventually, I realize my mistake and check out my new duds.

Eh. Kinda badass. Too bad the helmet doesn’t cover more of the face, though. The face remains a problem.

I’m going to spend the day in town, and I don’t want to clank around the whole time, so I head to a trade goods shop for some street clothes. I also mix and sell some potions, as is my M.O. After all the selling and spending, I’m around 550 gold.

There. Lookin’ like an alchemist again. I hit up the Mage’s Guild, too, hoping to sell some potions and maybe find a ‘Heal Other’ spell I can use on Beaker the next time bandits turn him into a pin-cushion. No luck. The mage on duty has a few affordable spells, but nothing to heal a hurt horsie. I buy some ingredients and mix ’em, winding back up around 900 gold again.

I come across an abandoned house as I’m wandering around. Hmm. If there’s a bed in there, it’d be a free place to sleep while I’m in town. The door is locked, but my psychic powers clearly identify the house as being abandoned… it’s a little against type, but I pick the lock and slip into the house. Harmless enough.

The place is pretty trashed. Cobwebs, broken furniture. No bed, but I find a couple souvenirs for my own home: a couple mugs, a bowl, a plate, a broom. A real find is crammed under a shelf: a book!

It’s called Waters of Oblivion. It’s worth 75 gold, but I think I’ll keep it.

I said keep it. Not read it. Snore!

In the basement I find a huge ancient evil talking door.

Plus, in a crate, I find a burlap shirt and some shoes. Sweet!

Back outside, it’s a crummy day. Raining, pretty dark. I meet a drunk, a couple beggers, and a guy who threatens to have me arrested for some reason. Nice town, I guess? Not feelin’ the love. I also meet a hot elf chick who really likes dogs.

Well, heck, I’ve got a disgusting dog disease. Does that do anything for you, sweet thing?

Speaking of which, it’s already gotten a bit late, and that disgusting dog disease still needs curing. It’s draining my speed and agility, plus, I’m feeling the urge to lick my own butt.

In this game, you can get any disease cured for no cost — Oblivion is practically Canada in that respect. You just have to visit a chapel and get your pray on. There’s someone already standing at the altar, so I patiently wait in line. Nondrick is a gentleman.

While I’m standing there, though, waiting for the lady in front of me to finish whatever the hell she’s doing, I realize something. I don’t think Nondrick is really much of a praying man. He just doesn’t strike me as religious. I don’t think he opposes religion, but, let’s face it, the only reason I’d visit a church is to hit on a priestess or get my body cleansed of canine filth.

Besides, aren’t I somewhat of an alchemist now? I’m not really supporting the trade if every time I get the sniffles I go running to the Gods for a hankie. I’m a man of science. Dammit, I’m not going to pray for a cure. I’m going to cure myself.

I leave the church and head back to the hotel to bed down for the night. That’s it. I’ve wanted to find a quest, a personal quest, I mean, for Nondrick to undertake. Ever since I met that weirdo obsessed with tomatoes I’ve wanted for Nondrick to have some sort of personal goal for himself. I think this might be it.

Look, if Oblivion had achievements, surely this would be one. “As an alchemist, cure a disease using a potion you created from ingredients you gathered.”

Screw the church. I’ll cure what ails me.