-Mark Jones was one of the artists who worked on this animation. Daggerfall had many artists who worked on the game but Mark was one of only a few who stayed on for the full game development.
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Darkness wrapped around the moorlands like a cloak, a forlorn wind howling through sparse trees. Out there in the wilds, the flicker of a torch was a beacon, illuminating a strange scene.
Two orcs, hooded and cloaked, one a woman with an axe slung over her shoulder, eyes darting distrustfully about, the other a powerfully built man, standing firm and proud as he quietly conversed with a tall breton man, also hooded. Under his arm was a bundle of papers.
"-Cannot guarantee this lands ownership is uncontested. You understand even I have limits in what I can do? The world is not yet ready for what you propose. If I pushed too far, people would ask questions..."
"It's a start." Gortwog grunted, dark eyes focused on the bundle with poorly disguised excitement. "A land I can call my own. A land I can defend...I can work with that, build from there...I owe you, Lysandus."
"Yes, you do." the king said bluntly, as he handed over the papers.
Gortwog smiled and held out a hand, one leader to another. The hands of the king of Daggerfall were silken, nary a callus to mar the skin. The light of the torch threw the handsome lines of his face into sharp relief, shone on the silk of his well-trimmed beard...
Gortwog became aware of the wandering of his eyes, and swiftly took his hand away. Something flickered in Lysandus' eyes, an awareness. Gortwog had not been as subtle as he hoped. The warlord held the gaze and tried not to think of the flush creeping along the back of his neck. The king certainly didn't seem...angry about it...
"Send word when you need the favour called in. My orcs will be at your side. We can promise you much, when the time comes and we are people in the eyes of the law. Soldiers for your army. Weapons and tools from our forge. There is...much we can offer you."
Lysandus smiled.
"Of that, Lord Gortwog, I have no doubt. Good luck."
With the swish of a cloak, the king mounted his horse and was gone.
The other orc relaxed and shot him a look.
"I saw that look, Gortwog. And at some scrawny Breton, have you no shame?"
Her voice was harsh, but her warm eyes betrayed her gentle teasing.
Gortwog chuckled.
"A passing fancy, my beloved." he said, relieved to return to his own familiar language. Cyrodiilic was too fluid on his tongue.
His wife grinned, and he knew he wouldn't hear the end of that for a while. No matter.
He looked down at the documents in his grasp. Somehow, they felt heavy in his hands.
"So that's it? After all this work, it's that simple? Just wave the papers about and the land is ours?" She asked, peering closer.
"It's that simple."
"What strange people...Never thought paper would be stronger than weapons."
"This is not a weapon, beloved. With this, no soldiers can come and kill our little ones, no armies can come and force us off our lands. This...this is a shield. And under it's protection, I can finally build us a kingdom."
He paused, gazing at nothing, before letting out a soft, shaky breath.
"Do you...wish to ride home alone tonight, my chief?"
The papers trembled in strong green hands.
"...Ride ahead, and tell my soldiers to prepare to travel. And have a scout sent to the location and see that we haven't been given wasteland. I will...catch up."
He waited until the sound of her horse faded into the distance, until the wind dried the tears on his face. Only then did he turn to make his way to the encampment, hope riding at his heels.
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Oh...in the lore book "how orsinium passed to the orcs" we know that Gortwog had acquired the correct paperwork to make a claim for the land, paperwork that had all the I's dotted and T's crossed to hold up in court. But it doesn't tell us how he got them...
But we know Lysandus supported Gortwog's push for rights and statehood...