Though he didn't find his Typhoon Warriors, Malakaus did find some of the other crew members who vaguely remembered seeing the Bosmer trying to flirt with another wood elf. They didn't know what happened to him, but regardless Malakaus had them go looking for some of the other crew members so he could tell them where to pick up the their orders. There was too many people spread out around the city for him to even try to hope that one of them can rely the orders or even organize them, so he's just going to round up as many people as he can and divide them up. He knew that he'd be ordering around a lot of the underlings from the other officers, but he didn't care. He was doing his job, while they were off enjoying the city. In a way he resented them for it, but he also figured that as long as he remained as a person who is authoritative but also reliable, the crew would come to respect and differ to his decisions. Sharee might be the captain, but at least Malakaus wakes up in time to make sure the ship is holding together.
Since he hasn't gotten into a fight or took any skooma yet, Malakaus quickly got bored. He supposed he could just head to any old tavern or shop, maybe find that forge and get to work. But he didn't feel for either. Ever since stepping into these lands he felt his sword arm get flabby. He was so tempted to just find someone and killed them. Maybe at least try to find someone in their home, so he had a place to hide them, and maybe rob the place. That was what Serge and Sarel was suggesting, wasn't it? Still... Malakaus didn't know what house here was worth hitting. They all looked like huts with nothing worth looting than maybe their skooma supplies. Than it hit him. "I should find that skooma ship." The prospect of getting his hands on all that skooma, this time not having to ration it, made him turn around and head towards the docks.
Now, it was no doubt that just about all these ships had skooma in it. This was Elsweyr. What he needed to know was which one had the most skooma in it. And the best way to find that out was to hit up a skooma den. Finding those wasn't too hard, at least not for Malakaus. One of the things he hates about the Thalmor was their restrictions on Skooma. While not illegal as far as Malakaus bothers to know about Dominion law, he knew that ever since they started taking a harder grip on the Khajits, skooma prices have gotten higher due to the difficulty of shipping moon sugar. It was much more regulated, meaning that getting it out as skooma was almost impossible, though likely nothing that Khajits haven't already found a way around. Most dens use unique marks, similar to Shadow Marks used by certain thieves guilds, to represent certain locations about Skooma dens. The marks were always scratched into surfaces, either using claws or your nails, so finding them was difficult as the scratches were thin and shallow. Malakaus knew three; one mark basically marked what place was a skooma den. Another mark identified that the location near the mark was where someone would sell skooma or other narcotics. And the last one he knew marked the place as a trap; the guards have either seized or set up a supposed den to find Skooma users. The last mark always superseded any other marks; if you find them first, you don't trust any of the other signs. Usually they're made close to other marks so people know where to look, but at the same time if the trap location knew anything about the marks, they might hide or otherwise fudge the truth. It could get really confusing sometimes, as the marks always have to change as the guards discovered more and more about them.
Malakaus's search did bare some fruit as well. He found many locations were dealers operated and even found one herself. A prostitute by the way she dressed and flirted with Malakaus. Of course, she'd sell him her body or the skooma, as long as he was willing to pay. He considered killing her for the skooma, but decided that he needed the information. Plus if all ends well, he could search her up later and they could share the spoils once the job was done. Her and a few others maybe. The khajit was rather reluctant to tell, but after Malakaus bribed her with a bit of left over septims and an implied death threat, she pointed him in the right direction. He soon found himself in a place that even he knew he didn't fit in at; High Elf Neighborhood. He could tell by the design of the houses, which were vastly different than from what most of the other homes in Khenarthi's Roost. He suspected that the khajit had tricked him, but after finding the building she mentioned, he also found the mark identifying that the location was a skooma den, and no marks suggesting that it was a trap. Still, one couldn't be too careful. He prepared his mind to fight, to be alert and to strike first. He entered the den.
The smell of the burning poison hit his nostrils, a refreshing scent from the bile and salt normally present in the ship. It was dimly lit, but not to the point that you couldn't make out faces if you looked. But most of these patrons likely couldn't their right foot from the left, so it practically made most of them blind. Unlike most dens Malakaus enters, this one didn't look like it was set up by vagrants who stole old worn clothes and stuffed them with wet hay to make furniture. this place had couches made of fine velvet and exported furs, it even had carpets and pillows that showed the highest quality of craftsmanship. A single butt cushion could likely get him at least two bottoms of skooma if he traded it to someone. There didn't seem to be many here, and those who were was fast asleep, or knocked out from their drug use. The attended was sober and present however, and adding to the oddity of the place, she was a redguard. Malakaus tried not to think too much about the absurdity of the situation given the subject matter, though it didn't make him any less paranoid. He walked up to the counter, looking imposing, but the Redguard woman did not show any fear in her.
"Welcome to the Lazy Kitty. Are you here for drink or for company?"
"A bit of both. I'll take what this gets me."
Malakaus handed the redguard woman a small bag of coins. it did have a sum of septims in it, but also a(n Empty) vial of skooma. She took it and made no indication that she was aware of what he had did, though she did show him to his booth. It was a fairly small one, could fit maybe four or five people. Malakaus sat down and nearly melted out of his armor. The seats were warm, but not that awkward warmth like someone had just been there for a long time, or that it has been baked in the sun. It was a warm that came after a summer's breeze, to remind you of the duality of hot and cold, that it's not an option between pleasure or pain but a choice of either/or. Also the air was filled with smoke from the skooma, so Malakaus was a bit baked at the moment. Soon a skimpily clad human (He didn't really notice any outward signs of if she was Imperial, Nord, or Breton) came by with a platter. She laid the platter onto a small table near the couches, and she herself took a seat next to Malakaus, curled up near him. She didn't seem to mind the fact that he was still in full armor, though it did prevent him from feeling her breast pressing against his arm, regrettably.
"You're the first client to come in today. A strong manly orc like you must have come from far away to come visit us. How may I serve you?"
"It has been a long way. I've come to get something to ease the weary and... Find a job. But first..."
~Sometime later~
Malakaus came out of the den, uncertain of how long he's been there. He walked with a slight limp, not due to any injuries, though occasionally he shifted his undergarments for some reason. His time spent in there was pleasant, even though he didn't get to take as much skooma as he wanted. He needed to remain sober so he could remember the location of the vessel with the large shipment of the skooma. While he didn't get any names, he knew that: It was always a different ship bringing in and out the skooma, the Skooma itself was packed in fish and cheese barrels, and that the crew were not mere ship hands, but often seasoned pirates. Even the youngest amongst them have at least been on the seas for five years, most of them have been sailing the oceans their entire lives. The ships, while different, are also usually regulars; it's unlikely for newly made ships to be sent on illegal skooma runs, and older ships who have built a more noble reputation makes it easier to ship out the skooma since they don't have any records of smuggling. And lastly, they chose to smuggle the skooma in trade goods that are neither in high demand or rarely brought, preferring an average amount of shipping. This allows them to actually make a side of legitimate sales if for some reason they can't sell the skooma. He still didn't know much of the finer details, like who would captain the ship, what it was called or looked like, or even if that ship was here. Presumably it was since Sharee brought them here.
Malakaus wandered through the streets aimlessly, forgetting his current task to enjoy the view of the high elf architecture. While he hates the Thalmor and it's Aldmeri Dominion, he still has respect for High Elf craftsmanship. While he'd never admit it while sober, he knows that the idea of a lighter alloy who's durability could content with heavier metals are typically superior. Mainly due to the Durability/Mass/Weight scale. Elven metals like the ones that the High Elves use are less durable than Orcish, but are lighter, thus can be used in higher amounts to cover more area. And while Orcish metals can be sturdier by equal weight, they're often either less in quantity or spread thinly, lowering quality. And if numbers were to come into play, min-maxing comes onto play; Malakaus absently minded thought that armor quality could be judged by it's armor rating. For some arbitrary reason, he considered 567 to be the max amount of "Armor Points" a given set of armor can give. With this in mind, the obvious goal between the battle of Light and Heavy is who can reach that goal most efficiently. To Malakaus, he thinks this answer is light armor; either due to because that, with the possibility of infinitely improving a set of armor, doing so on a lighter set would be more efficient than heavier armor, unless weight is somehow beneficial, but often it's not. Even if there was a certain cap to which Light Armor cannot surpass, it still is more efficient, it will become "Good enough" for means of convenience. Sure it doesn't hit 567, but if that Elven Armor could hit 547, that's still much higher than your standard military officer armor. And unlike heavy armor, it probably won't weigh three times your body weight. Maybe half.
As he was wandering around higher than an adventurer defeated by a giant, Malakays ran into trouble. Thalmor trouble. These weren't agents like their Justicar; just rank-and-file soldiers who were on patrol. And they didn't seem to take kindly to the fact that an orc was in their part of the city. Malakaus knew this because of the look on their faces and the gleam off their swords. Malakaus smiled and cracked his knuckles. "This will be fun..."