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| Up | From Wrothgar to Lilmoth: A Smith's Tale | ||
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I'm just an old Orc weaponsmith, and weapons are my life. When I was just a nub-tusked whelp, I would sneak into the great forges of Orsinium to watch the masters at work. In time I became an apprentice, dragging slag from one end of the forge to the other. Then a journeyman, coated head to toe in soot and sweat. Eventually, I took my place as one of the great forge masters. In all my years of folding iron and hammering steel, I never once considered the possibility that we could use something other than metal to craft our weapons. Sure, we used mammoth leather and the like for binding and lacing. Sometimes the silk-born dandies would demand an inlaid gem or two. But metal was the heart of my craft. Imagine my surprise when I encountered the weaponsmiths here in Lilmoth.
I'd always meant to see the south of Tamriel eventually. Once the war broke out, I figured, why not now? I could make a killing selling my wares to the Covenant quartermasters, sure; but something about Black Marsh always piqued my curiosity.
I'd heard tales of these lizard-folk wielding wooden clubs and such in battle. I imagined hissing savages with turtle-shell helmets and crude leather greaves. I don't mind admitting that I was dead wrong. These Argonians use methods and materials that I never could have imagined, and the results are extraordinary. I've been taking notes, but I doubt they'll do me any good. Half the materials are found only in Black Marsh, and after decades of pounding metal, I doubt these old mitts would be worth a damn on the finer details. Still, a smith who refuses to study isn't worth spit in a snow-storm. So here I am. I thought I could teach these lizards a thing or two, but it looks like I've got a lot to learn.