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RealSwords WACSHOP • View topic - Book 2 - Orc

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 Post subject: Book 2 - Orc
PostPosted: June 11th, 2007 
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here goes the writings of the second book in the Chronicles of Steel.


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PostPosted: June 12th, 2007 
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So I just thought I'd introduce myself, I am Vocha, and I am Elhazan's backup (as far as I understand, waalx hasn't given me a title as of now).
I'll be posting stories that go into Book II - Orc here. And I'll start by posting the text that got me on this team in the first place. Which is Chapter 1 - A Quandao and a cloven heart.

Critique is a necessity!

Thank you :)


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Chapter 1 - A Quandao and a cloven heart.

It was when my journeys had brought me to the fruitatious corners of the Red Ring Road that I first came across a wonderful statue,
and what a statue it was.
You see, the statue could tell tales. And such gracious whispers of hope, mercy and murder. Of broken love and broken blades.
One story in particular will never leave my heart. (Unless it ruptures of course) The figure holding strings sang of a drama from long ago, involving the great people of the Wrothgarian Mountains.

Oh how I remember dancing on top those hills last time I was there, still clutching what was left of the moon sugar to my chest. And with all those wolves chasing me, I probably should have given them their young back.
And how hospitable the owner of The Lucky Giant Pub in Alcaire was, he even loaned me a fork, so I could catch Slaughterfish in Illiac Bay, but that is a story for another time.

It told me of a poor Orc blacksmith, living in Orsinium. She had a mind filled with designs and creativity. But she lacked the strength and longevity to endure the forge for a full day. And her business went slow.
She had some contracts with nearby Wayrest and the Redguards there, but it was not nearly enough.

Shada gra-Uzgash was the sister of the late Burzum gro-Uzgash, a master blacksmith. They had a very successful shop toghether, she created the design and proposed the function that the blades should serve, and he, using his talents as an ingenious forger developed and improved the blades to accomodate her original thoughts.
Their speciality was cleavers, and they were close to perfecting the design when disaster struck.

Burzum was suppopsed to deliver an assortment of blades to Wayrest an early damp morning, but he never showed up. And three days later, on the 12th of First Seed, a Redguard ship found his corpse floating near the Isle of Balfiera. They suspected he had taken the road through Menevia to avoid the harsh mountainside in the rain, and run across a band of pirates.
But which pirate gang had killed him was anyone's guess.

It was only seven days later, that Shada learned what had happened to her brother, suffice it to say that she was devastated. Not only had she lost the one person in the world that she cared for, as she had no other living relatives nor a husband. But she had also lost her business. Her life had fallen appart in only seven days.

She couldn't sleep or eat, all she could do to take her mind of things was work. And even though she was no blacksmith, she had learned quite a lot watching her brother at work on the anvil. She put all her anger in every stroke of the hammer, all her fury and despair in every flare that erupted when she struck.

And when she was done, she had perfected that which she and her brother had tried to do for so long. The Quandao Cleaver was born.
The secret to the blade was that she had shortened it significantly. Almost to the point where it could no longer be called a cleaver, but still retained it's original shape and ferocity.
The blade was now stronger than ever, and one could lay all one's force on the blade and it would never fail you, but the Quandao's true strength was in that if properly used and with enough force, it could throw even the most proficient of blockers off balance.
It was a blade that even Malauch would happily wield.

On the 28th of Rain's Hand, when she had made enough blades, including the new Quandao. She set forth on the route to Wayrest. With her new design and with her new confidence even after the loss of her brother. She was confident she could continue the buisness she had shared with Burzum. And save his memory.

When she arrived in Wayrest, and had unloaded all but the Quandao on the local smith her blood was tingling with anticipation. But when she presented it to him, she didn't get the reaction she was hoping for. The smith burst into laughter, having never seen such a small cleaver he could not believe his eyes. He gushed forth in comtemptous laughter at the slender Shada, standing there with what seemed to him like a kitchen knife compared to the other cleavers. She was ridiculed and embarrased, but she knew the strength of her weapon. She knew it was stronger than any other cleaver made by any other smith. She had to prove it to him, prove her worth, or she could just give up and go home in despair.

She screamed at him, he was shocked. When he had calmed down she proposed what would later be described as the "test of the Illiac cloven heart".
She knew that a great warrior was in town, for she knew him well. He had courted her when she was younger, but she was stubborn, and only cared about helping her brother, so nothing became of it. His name was Gashk gro-Aggron and was like a brick wall, none could compare with his skill in blocking and heavy armor.

She callously suggested that if she could put Gashk off balance with a single blow by the Quandao, the smith would take back his words and sell the Quandao in his shop. He laughed again, but this time more withdrawn.
He accepted, and ran out of his shop to gather the people prowling the streets down at the docks. And word ran across the Wayrest shores and reached Gashk that he was to block a blow from a woman he cared for deeply, and if he could hold his balance she would be ridiculed in front of entire Wayrest.

Thoughts rushed through the mind of the sturdy Gashk, this was his chance, if he let Shada throw him off balance perhaps she would be grateful enough to reconsider him courting her. But he would have to disguise it carefully, he could not simply pretend to fall off balance, as they would surely see through that. No he would have to use other means. If he exchanged his shield with a cheap counterfeit, the shield would not stand the might of an Orcish woman with a cleaver and he might actually be put off balance for real. He hurried to the general trader.

When everyone had gathered at the shoreline, and Shada stood ready with the mighty Quandao in hand, she debated to herself what Gashk was thinking. And she thought of the time when he was courting her, it was not that Gashk was uncomely, not at all. And he was a proud and stout Orc and she cared for him too, it was just that at the time, she had so many obligations.

Come to think of it, she could not understand why Gashk would court her in the first place, she was scrawny, not like the hardy voluptuous Orcish women that she knew got married quickly. She didn't like to bundle up her hair like proper Orcish women do. And she rarely wore clothes that were more complementing than comfortable. When she thought so thoroughly about it, it might not be such a bad idea to talk to Gashk after whatever happens here.

Her thoughts had put a smile to her face, and just in time, as Gashk approached the shoreline. He was clad in great Orcish armor, and with a bright shield that looked like an alloy between steel and mithril. The crowd awed at the sight of him. The smith proposed that they should get it over with, to deminish Shada's embarrasment, but Gashk interrupted him and briefly told Shada how it was nice to see her again and how he hoped they could meet after. No matter what the outcome was.

She agreed and they took positions, Gashk raising his shieldarm, the shield flaring in the sun blinding most of the spectators. Shada unsheathing the Quandao and bulding up as much confidence she could muster.
At the sight of the Quandao, Gashk had his hopes somewhat lowered, he had thought she would at least bring a descent cleaver, even with the weak shield he could not imagine being put off balance by Shada now.

Shada drew a final breath, planting her front foot hard in the sand, and charged. The blade shimmered in the light from the hot morning sun, as it cut through the shield and into Gashk's chest, it entered through his shoulder and as deep as his spine cleaving his heart in two. Gashk fell to his knees, and the sand underneath him turned maroon. He drew his last breath and dropped to the side, forcing the Quandao out of the hands of the shocked Shada.

The children amongst the spectators screamed in disbelief and torment by the sight of Gashk's lifeless face. Cowered in blood and in a blank expression of anguish.

From that day, Shada swore she would never make another cleaver nor any blade for the rest of her life. She died a gardener in the local graveyard, tending to the graves there, including those of her dead brother and lost love.
Forever being reminded of what she had done.

I was so intruiged by this story that I simply had to find a Quandao Cleaver and the secret of how to make them. So I asked the peculiar statue where I could find such a blade, or someone who knows how to make it. At first the statue neglected to say a word, but after I took a fresh dose of Skooma, courtesy of my newfound friends in Bravil which I visited in Hearth Fire. The statue became as talkative as ever. It told me that there was one living realative of Shada gra-Uzgash living to the East in the City of Cheydinhal named Borba gra-Uzhash.

I bade the statue farewell, and it said something back although I can't seem to remember what it was, something about me knowing a friend of it's or something like that. Not important, I hurried to Cheydinhal to see Borba gra-Uzgash as fast as I could carry my backpack filled with Imps.
I arrived on the West side of Cheydinhal just as the 13th of Frostfall came around the corner. And i scurried to the local Inn so I would be rested when meeting the related Uzgash. My flesh simply shivered across my bones at the thought of actually holding a Quandao Cleaver in my hand!

Four hours later, a Frostfall morning in beautiful Cheydinhal, the air filled with the cold scent of the river. And my nose filled with the smoke from my new tobacco pipe, bought at the Inn from a very clever Redguard woman.
I ventured towards the shop where I could find the Uzgash, Borba's Goods and Stores. I entered with great expectations, but did not find quite what I expected. This was not a blacksmith at all, but a normal trader. None the less I spoke with Borba, asking in lengths about her family and heritage, and occasionally about the Quandao.

She told me, that she had indeed heard of the Quandao and of Shada, but more known in her family was the story of what followed that tragedy. You see apparently Shada had a younger brother Dulg gro-Uzgash, unknown to her. And when he found out that he had a sister, he traveled across High Rock from Glenumbra Moors to Wayrest, only to find that she was already dead, and buried there.
He did however, as the only heir to the Uzgash family, inherit the smithy that used to belong to Shada and Burzum.

And in it, he found all the notes and paperwork of the designs that Shada had created, amongst them, that of the Quandao Cleaver. Dulg was, unfortunately not as brilliant as his sister Shada, and considered the cleaver flawed. He attempted to improve the cleaver by elongating the blade, turning the hilt around, and making it slender and slightly more curved. Thus eliminating the strength the Quandao had become famous for.

But in his stupidity, Dulg had invented the first Orcish blade, that actually handled almost as well as a Khajiiti saber! And although it was not the strongest, nor the sturdiest of blades, this in itself was an accomplishment.
He called it the Brokeback Saber the 'broken' curve of the blade symbolising the rolling hills over Wayrest, that ended in the Wrothgarian Mountains.

He re-opened Shada and Burzum's shop in Wayrest, and sold out his stock of Brokeback's every week. And since that day, the Uzgash family has prospered and spread as far as the Dragontail Mountains in the North and Cyrodiil in the South.

I was enchanted by this extraordinairy story of tragedy and luck. Or was it the tobacco that had driven me off in a daze of thoughts. No matter, I had to know more, and where I could get my hands on an Orcish saber!

She told me of the thrilling heights of the Dragontail Mountains, where most of her family now resides. And it is there that the now great legacy of the Uzgash is brought forth, they are in the process of creating cleavers and sabers for all Tamriel to see. And mightiest of them all is the Dragonclaw Cleaver inspired by both the Brokeback Saber and the Quandao Cleaver it possesses both the strength and durability of the Quandao, and the handling of the Brokeback, at least considering it's size. It is the pride of the Uzgash family proper.

When she told me that she had brought with her a supply of these puissant cleavers and sabers alike I nearly dropped my pipe and bit my tongue. And so after purchasing and after hours on hours discussing the secrets and marvels of the blades created by the Uzgash family. She invited me to stay the night and showed me another few secrets of the women of the Uzgash breed.


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PostPosted: June 12th, 2007 
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Just to clarify, waalx has expressed concerns to me that my story might not be correct in terms of Tamriel geography.

I have taken every precaution so that my story is correct both in terms of timeline and geography.

Here are two maps that show most of the locations in my story.
Prominently those of Hammerfell and High Rock.

With these you can accurately follow the story as it progresses.

http://www.uesp.net/tamriel/image.shtml?geography/images/illiacbay.jpg

http://til.gamingsource.net/maps/minibigmaproadslore31gv.jpg

There are also several Easter Eggs in the text, see if you can find them :shock:


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PostPosted: June 12th, 2007 
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Ok, so I couldn't sleep, because apparently my mind was to busy contemplating the text I'm going to write tomorrow. So I figured I might as well post the updated Chapter 1 - A Quandao and a cloven heart. Note that it has not been edited yet, but has been added the unique brainchild of Waalx. The way the character "Waalx" talks/thinks/writes. And it has made the text quite an entertaining read, enjoy :)


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PostPosted: June 12th, 2007 
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Chapter 1 - A Quandao arnd a cloven heart. (Waalxified)

It wos when mine journeys had brought us ter them fruitatious corners o’ them Red Ring Road that We first came across a wonderful statue,
arnd what a statue it wos.
Yer see, them statue could tell tales. Arnd such gracious whispers o’ hope, mercy arnd murder. O’ broken love arnd broken blades.
One story in particular will never leave mine heart. (Unless it ruptures o’ course) Them figure holding strings sang o’ a drama from long ago, involving them great people o’ them Wrothgarian Mountains.

Oh how We remember dancing on top those hills last time We wos there, still clutching what wos left o’ them moon sugar ter mine chest. Arnd with all those wolves chasing us, We probably should have given them their young back.
Arnd how hospitable them owner o’ Them Lucky Giant Pub in Alcaire wos, het even loaned us a fork, so We could catch Slaughterfish in Illiac Bay, but that is a story fer another time.

It told us o’ a poor Orc blacksmith, living in Orsinium. Sher had a mind filled with designs arnd creativity. But sher lacked them strength arnd longevity ter endure them forge fer a full day. Arnd hert business went slow.
Sher had some contracts with nearby Wayrest arnd them Redguards there, but it wos not nearly enough.

Shada gra-Uzgash wos them sister o’ them late Burzum gro-Uzgash, a master blacksmith. They had a very successful shop toghether, sher created them design arnd proposed them function that them blades should serve, arnd het, using hist talents as an ingenious forger developed arnd improved them blades ter accomodate hert original thoughts.
Their speciality wos cleavers, arnd they were close ter perfecting them design when disaster struck.

Burzum wos suppopsed ter deliver an assortment o’ blades ter Wayrest an early damp morning, but het never showed up. Arnd three days later, on them 12th o’ First Seed, a Redguard ship found hist corpse floating near them Isle o’ Balfiera. They suspected het had taken them road through Menevia ter avoid them harsh mountainside in them rain, arnd run across a band o’ pirates.
But which pirate gang had killed hist wos anyone's guess.

It wos only seven days later, that Shada learned what had happened ter hert brother, suffice it ter say that sher wos devastated. Not only had sher lost them one person in them world that sher cared fer, as sher had no other living relatives nor a husband. But sher had also lost hert business. Hert life had fallen appart in only seven days.

Sher couldn't sleep or eat, all sher could do ter take hert mind o’ things wos work. Arnd even though sher wos no blacksmith, sher had learned quite a lot watching hert brother at work on them anvil. Sher put all hert anger in every stroke o’ them hammer, all hert fury arnd despair in every flare that erupted when sher struck.

Arnd when sher wos done, sher had perfected that which sher arnd hert brother had tried ter do fer so long. Them Quandao Cleaver wos born.
Them secret ter them blade wos that sher had shortened it significantly. Almost ter them point where it could no longer be called a cleaver, but still retained ther original shape arnd ferocity.
Them blade wos now stronger than ever, arnd one could lay all one's force on them blade arnd it would never fail thou, but them Quandao's true strength wos in that if properly used arnd with enough force, it could throw even them most proficient o’ blockers off balance.
It wos a blade that even Malauch would happily wield.

On them 28th o’ Rain's Hand, when sher had made enough blades, including them new Quandao. Sher set forth on them route ter Wayrest. With hert new design arnd with hert new confidence even after them loss o’ hert brother. Sher wos confident sher could continue them buisness sher had shared with Burzum. Arnd save hist memory.

When sher arrived in Wayrest, arnd had unloaded all but them Quandao on them local smith hert blood wos tingling with anticipation. But when sher presented it ter hist, sher didn't get them reaction sher wos hoping fer. Them smith burst into laughter, having never seen such a small cleaver het could not believe hist eyes. Het gushed forth in comtemptous laughter at them slender Shada, standing there with what seemed ter hist like a kitchen knife compared ter them other cleavers. Sher wos ridiculed arnd embarrased, but sher knew them strength o’ hert weapon. Sher knew it wos stronger than any other cleaver made by any other smith. Sher had ter prove it ter hist, prove hert worth, or sher could just give up arnd go home in despair.

Sher screamed at hist, het wos shocked. When het had calmed down sher proposed what would later be described as them "test o’ them Illiac cloven heart".
Sher knew that a great warrior wos in town, fer sher knew hist well. Het had courted hert when sher wos younger, but sher wos stubborn, arnd only cared about helping hert brother, so nothing became o’ it. Hist name wos Gashk gro-Aggron arnd wos like a brick wall, none could compare with hist skill in blocking arnd heavy armor.

Sher callously suggested that if sher could put Gashk off balance with a single blow by them Quandao, them smith would take back hist words arnd sell them Quandao in hist shop. Het laughed again, but this time more withdrawn.
Het accepted, arnd ran out o’ hist shop ter gather them people prowling them streets down at them docks. Arnd word ran across them Wayrest shores arnd reached Gashk that het wos ter block a blow from a woman het cared fer deeply, arnd if het could hold hist balance sher would be ridiculed in front o’ entire Wayrest.

Thoughts rushed through them mind o’ them sturdy Gashk, this wos hist chance, if het let Shada throw hist off balance perhaps sher would be grateful enough ter reconsider hist courting hert. But het would have ter disguise it carefully, het could not simply pretend ter fall off balance, as they would surely see through that. No het would have ter use other means. If het exchanged hist shield with a cheap counterfeit, them shield would not stand them might o’ an Orcish woman with a cleaver arnd het might actually be put off balance fer real. Het hurried ter them general trader.

When everyone had gathered at them shoreline, arnd Shada stood ready with them mighty Quandao in hand, sher debated ter herself what Gashk wos thinking. Arnd sher thought o’ them time when het wos courting hert, it wos not that Gashk wos uncomely, not at all. Arnd het wos a proud arnd stout Orc arnd sher cared fer hist too, it wos just that at them time, sher had so many obligations.

Come ter think o’ it, sher could not understand why Gashk would court hert in them first place, sher wos scrawny, not like them hardy voluptuous Orcish women that sher knew got married quickly. Sher didn't like ter bundle up hert hair like proper Orcish women do. Arnd sher rarely wore clothes that were more complementing than comfortable. When sher thought so thoroughly about it, it might not be such a bad idea ter talk ter Gashk after whatever happens here.

Hert thoughts had put a smile ter hert face, arnd just in time, as Gashk approached them shoreline. Het wos clad in great Orcish armor, arnd with a bright shield that looked like an alloy between steel arnd mithril. Them crowd awed at them sight o’ hist. Them smith proposed that they should get it over with, ter deminish Shada's embarrasment, but Gashk interrupted hist arnd briefly told Shada how it wos nice ter see hert again arnd how het hoped they could meet after. No matter what them outcome wos.

Sher agreed arnd they took positions, Gashk raising hist shieldarm, them shield flaring in them sun blinding most o’ them spectators. Shada unsheathing them Quandao arnd bulding up as much confidence sher could muster.
At them sight o’ them Quandao, Gashk had hist hopes somewhat lowered, het had thought sher would at least bring a descent cleaver, even with them weak shield het could not imagine being put off balance by Shada now.

Shada drew a final breath, planting hert front foot hard in them sand, arnd charged. Them blade shimmered in them light from them hot morning sun, as it cut through them shield arnd into Gashk's chest, it entered through hist shoulder arnd as deep as hist spine cleaving hist heart in two. Gashk fell ter hist knees, arnd them sand underneath hist turned maroon. Het drew hist last breath arnd dropped ter them side, forcing them Quandao out o’ them hands o’ them shocked Shada.

Them children amongst them spectators screamed in disbelief arnd torment by them sight o’ Gashk's lifeless face. Cowered in blood arnd in a blank expression o’ anguish.

From that day, Shada swore sher would never make another cleaver nor any blade fer them rest o’ hert life. Sher died a gardener in them local graveyard, tending ter them graves there, including those o’ hert dead brother arnd lost love.
Forever being reminded o’ what sher had done.

We wos so intruiged by this story that We simply had ter find a Quandao Cleaver arnd them secret o’ how ter make them. So We asked them peculiar statue where We could find such a blade, or someone who knows how ter make it. At first them statue neglected ter say a word, but after We took a fresh dose o’ Skooma, courtesy o’ mine newfound friends in Bravil which We visited in Hearth Fire. Them statue became as talkative as ever. It told us that there wos one living realative o’ Shada gra-Uzgash living ter them East in them City o’ Cheydinhal named Borba gra-Uzhash.

We bade them statue farewell, arnd it said something back although We can't seem ter remember what it wos, something about us knowing a friend o’ it's or something like that. Not important, We hurried ter Cheydinhal ter see Borba gra-Uzgash as fast as We could carry mine backpack filled with Imps.
We arrived on them West side o’ Cheydinhal just as them 13th o’ Frostfall came around them corner. Arnd We scurried ter them local Inn so We would be rested when meeting them related Uzgash. Mine flesh simply shivered across mine bones at them thought o’ actually holding a Quandao Cleaver in mine hand!

Four hours later, a Frostfall morning in beautiful Cheydinhal, them air filled with them cold scent o’ them river. Arnd mine nose filled with them smoke from mine new tobacco pipe, bought at them Inn from a very clever Redguard woman.
We ventured towards them shop where We could find them Uzgash, Borba's Goods arnd Stores. We entered with great expectations, but did not find quite what We expected. This wos not a blacksmith at all, but a normal trader. None them less We spoke with Borba, asking in lengths about hert family arnd heritage, arnd occasionally about them Quandao.

Sher told us, that sher had indeed heard o’ them Quandao arnd o’ Shada, but more known in hert family wos them story o’ what followed that tragedy. Thou see apparently Shada had a younger brother Dulg gro-Uzgash, unknown ter hert. Arnd when het found out that het had a sister, het traveled across High Rock from Glenumbra Moors ter Wayrest, only ter find that sher wos already dead, arnd buried there.
Het did however, as them only heir ter them Uzgash family, inherit them smithy that used ter belong ter Shada arnd Burzum.

Arnd in it, het found all them notes arnd paperwork o’ them designs that Shada had created, amongst them, that o’ them Quandao Cleaver. Dulg wos, unfortunately not as brilliant as hist sister Shada, arnd considered them cleaver flawed. Het attempted ter improve them cleaver by elongating them blade, turning them hilt around, arnd making it slender arnd slightly more curved. Thus eliminating them strength them Quandao had become famous fer.

But in hist stupidity, Dulg had invented them first Orcish blade, that actually handled almost as well as a Khajiiti saber! Arnd although it wos not them strongest, nor them sturdiest o’ blades, this in itself wos an accomplishment.
Het called it them Brokeback Saber them 'broken' curve o’ them blade symbolising them rolling hills over Wayrest, that ended in them Wrothgarian Mountains.

Het re-opened Shada arnd Burzum's shop in Wayrest, arnd sold out hist stock o’ Brokeback's every week. Arnd since that day, them Uzgash family has prospered arnd spread as far as them Dragontail Mountains in them North arnd Cyrodiil in them South.

We wos enchanted by this extraordinairy story o’ tragedy arnd luck. Or wos it them tobacco that had driven us off in a daze o’ thoughts. No matter, We had ter know more, arnd where We could get mine hands on an Orcish saber!

Sher told us o’ them thrilling heights o’ them Dragontail Mountains, where most o’ hert family now resides. Arnd it is there that them now great legacy o’ them Uzgash is brought forth, they are in them process o’ creating cleavers arnd sabers fer all Tamriel ter see. Arnd mightiest o’ them all is them Dragonclaw Cleaver inspired by both them Brokeback Saber arnd them Quandao Cleaver it possesses both them strength arnd durability o’ them Quandao, arnd them handling o’ them Brokeback, at least considering it's size. It is them pride o’ them Uzgash family proper.

When sher told us that sher had brought with hert a supply o’ these puissant cleavers arnd sabers alike We nearly dropped mine pipe arnd bit mine tongue. Arnd so after purchasing arnd after hours on hours discussing them secrets arnd marvels o’ them blades created by them Uzgash family. Sher invited us ter stay them night arnd showed us another few secrets o’ them women o’ them Uzgash breed.


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PostPosted: June 12th, 2007 
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If you permit I will modify this text further a little bit later, as many words I use for that way of 'speaching' have changed..in instance I was saying Yer for you, and now you is ye, and your is yer.

and writing some messages I was adding some moreof these twisted words as well..


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PostPosted: June 12th, 2007 
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My text is your text. I will be going to sleep now though. It is 03:16 AM here... So I'm a bit tired, and I am supposed to get up at 06:00 AM and start writing the next chapter in the series (I work better in the morning).
So just PM me whatever changes you have made or whatever desires you might need fulfilled in terms of the text. Later.


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PostPosted: June 13th, 2007 
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Elhazan sent me a PM with my text edited and with all my feral typo's revealed. So After I soaked in all the mistakes I had made and fixed them and several other mishaps this is what came out the other end.

Note that this is the text I originally wrote, and edited for the first time by Elhazan, it does not contain the "Waalxified" element and is probably not nearly finished.

Once again, thank you Elhazan for your hard work, and I am looking forward to reading more of your writings!


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Chapter 1 - A Quandao and a cloven heart.

It was when my journeys had brought me to the fruitatious corners of the Red Ring Road that I first came across a wonderful statue,
and what a statue it was.
You see, the statue could tell tales. And such gracious whispers of hope, mercy and murder. Of broken love and broken blades.
One story in particular will never leave my heart. (Unless it ruptures of course) The figure holding strings sang of a drama from long ago, involving the great people of the Wrothgarian Mountains.

Oh how I remember dancing on top those hills last time I was there, still clutching what was left of the moon sugar to my chest. And with all those wolves chasing me, I probably should have given them their young back.
And how hospitable the owner of The Lucky Giant Pub in Alcaire was, he even loaned me a fork, so I could catch Slaughterfish in Illiac Bay, but that is a story for another time.

The curious sculpture told me of a poor Orc blacksmith, living in Orsinium. She had a mind filled with designs and creativity, but she lacked the strength and longevity to endure the forge for a full day. Her business went slow and so she grew further and further into depression for each day that went by. She had some contracts with nearby Wayrest and the Redguards there, but it was not nearly enough.

Shada gra-Uzgash was the sister of the late Burzum gro-Uzgash, a master blacksmith. They had a very successful shop toghether, she created the design and proposed the function that the blades should serve, and he, using his talents as an ingenious forger, developed and improved the blades to accomodateher original thoughts.
Their speciality was the cleaver, and they were close to perfecting the design when disaster struck.

Burzum was suppopsed to deliver an assortment of blades to Wayrest one early damp morning, but he never showed up. And three days later, on the 12th of First Seed, a Redguard ship found his corpse floating near the Isle of Balfiera. They suspected he had taken the road through Menevia to avoid the harsh mountainside in the rain, and run across a band of pirates.
But which pirate gang had killed him was anyone's guess.

It was only seven days later that Shada learned what had happened to her brother. Suffice it to say that she was devastated. Not only had she lost the one person in the world that she cared for, since she had no other living relatives and had no time for love, but she had also lost her business. Her life had fallen appart in only seven days.

She couldn't sleep or eat, all she could do to take her mind off
things was work. And even though she was no blacksmith, she had learned quite a lot watching her brother at work on the anvil. She put all her anger in every stroke of the hammer, all her fury and despair in every flare that erupted when she struck.

And when she was done, she had perfected that which she and her brother had tried to do for so long. The Quandao Cleaver was born.
The secret to the blade was that she had shortened it significantly. Almost to the point where it could no longer be called a cleaver, but still retained its original shape and ferocity.
The blade was now stronger than ever, and one could lay all one's force on the blade and it would never fail you, but the Quandao's true strength was in that if properly used and with enough force, it could throw even the most proficient of defenders off balance.
It was a blade that even Malacath would happily wield.

On the 28th of Rain's Hand, when she had made enough blades, including the new Quandao, she set forth on the route to Wayrest. With her new design and with her new confidence even after the loss of her brother, she was confident she could continue the business she had shared with Burzum, and save his memory.

When she arrived in Wayrest and had unloaded all but the Quandao on the local smith, her blood was tingling with anticipation. But when she presented it to him she didn't get the reaction she was hoping for. The smith burst into laughter, having never seen such a small cleaver he could not believe his eyes. He gushed forth in comtemptous laughter at the slender Shada, standing there with what seemed to him like a kitchen knife compared to the other cleavers. She was ridiculed and embarrased, but she knew the strength of her weapon. She knew it was stronger than any other cleaver made by any other smith. She had to prove it to him, prove her worth, or she could just give up and go home in despair.

She screamed at him roaring with all the might her voice could carry, he was shocked and could not believe she would go to such lengths because of a simple joke. When Shada had calmed down she proposed what would later be described as the "test of the Illiac cloven heart".
She knew that a great warrior was in town, for she knew him well. He had courted her when she was younger --but she was stubborn, and only cared about helping her brother-- so nothing became of it. His name was Gashk gro-Aggron and was like a brick wall, none could compare with his skill in blocking and heavy armor.

She callously suggested that if she could put Gashk off balance with a single blow by the Quandao, the smith would take back his words and sell the Quandao in his shop. The smith grunted to himself.
He accepted, and ran out of his shop to gather the people prowling the streets down at the docks. Word ran across the Wayrest shore and reached Gashk that he was to block a blow from a woman he cared for deeply, and if he could hold his balance she would be ridiculed in front of entire Wayrest.

Thoughts rushed through the mind of the sturdy Gashk; this was his chance! If he let Shada throw him off balance perhaps she would be grateful enough to reconsider him courting her. But he would have to disguise it carefully --he could not simply pretend to fall off balance-- as they would surely see through that. No, he would have to use other means. If he exchanged his shield with a cheap counterfeit, the shield would not stand the might of an Orcish woman with a cleaver and he might actually be put off balance for real. He hurried to the general trader.

When everyone had gathered at the shoreline, and Shada stood ready with the mighty Quandao in hand, she debated to herself whether or not Gashk would show, and how he would react to seeing her again. She thought of the time when he was courting her, it was not that Gashk was uncomely, not at all. And he was a proud and stout Orc and she cared for him too, it was just that at the time, she had so many obligations.

Come to think of it, she could not understand why Gashk would court her in the first place. She was scrawny, not like the hardy voluptuous Orcish women that she knew got married quickly. She didn't like to bundle up her hair like proper Orcish women do. And she rarely wore clothes that were more complementing than comfortable. When she thought so thoroughly about it, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to talk to Gashk after she had proven herself to that imbecile of a blacksmith.

Her thoughts had put a smile to her face, and just in time, as Gashk approached the shoreline. He was clad in great Orcish armor, and with a bright shield that looked like an alloy between steel and mithril. The crowd awed at the sight of him. The smith proposed that they should get it over with, to deminish Shada's embarrasment , but Gashk interrupted him and briefly told Shada how it was nice to see her again and how he hoped they could meet after, no matter what the outcome was.

She agreed and they took positions, Gashk raised his shieldarm, the shield flared in the sun and blinded most of the spectators. Shada unsheathed the Quandao and built up as much confidence as she could muster.
At the sight of the Quandao, Gashk had his hopes somewhat lowered; he had thought she would at least bring a descent cleaver. Even with the weak shield he could not imagine being put off balance by Shada now.

Shada drew a final breath, planted her front foot hard in the sand, and charged. The blade shimmered in the light from the hot morning sun, as it cut through the shield and into Gashk's chest, it entered through his shoulder and as deep as his spine, cleaving his heart in two. Gashk fell to his knees, and the sand underneath him turned murky crimson. He drew his last breath and dropped to the side, forcing the Quandao out of the hands of the shocked Shada.

The children amongst the spectators screamed in disbelief and torment by the sight of Gashk's lifeless face, covered in blood and in an expression of anguish.

From that day, Shada swore she would never make another cleaver nor any blade for the rest of her life. She died a gardener in the local graveyard, tending to the graves there, including those of her dead brother and lost love, forever being reminded of what she had done.

I was so intrigued by this story that I simply had to find a Quandao Cleaver and the secret of how to make them. So I asked the peculiar statue where I could find such a blade, or someone who knows how to make it. At first the statue neglected to say a word, but after I took a fresh dose of Skooma, courtesy of my newfound friends in Bravil which I visited in Hearth Fire, the statue became as talkative as ever. It told me that there was one living realative of Shada gra-Uzgash living to the East in the City of Cheydinhal named Borba gra-Uzhash.

I bade the statue farewell, and it said something back although I can't seem to remember what it was, something about me knowing a friend of its or something like that. Not important, I hurried to Cheydinhal to see Borba gra-Uzgash as fast as I could carry my backpack filled with Imps.
I arrived on the West side of Cheydinhal just as the 13th of Frostfall came around the corner. I scurried to the local Inn so I would be rested when meeting the related Uzgash. My flesh simply shivered across my bones at the thought of actually holding a Quandao Cleaver in my hand!

Four hours later, the air filled with the cold scent of the river, I found myself enjoying a Frostfall morning in beautiful Cheydinhal. My nose was also filled with the smoke from a new tobaccoa pipe that I bought from a very clever Redguard woman at the inn.
I ventured towards the shop where I could find the Uzgash, Borba's Goods and Stores. I entered with great anticipation, but did not find quite what I expected. This was not a blacksmith at all, but a normal trader. None the less I spoke with Borba, asking in length about her family and heritage, and occasionally about the Quandao.

She told me that she had indeed heard of the Quandao and of Shada, but more known in her family was the story of what followed that tragedy. You see, unknown to Shada, she had a younger brother named Dulg gro-Uzgash. And when he found out that he had a sister, he traveled across High Rock from Glenumbra Moors to Wayrest, only to find that she was already dead, and buried there.
He did however, as the only heir to the Uzgash family, inherit the smithy that used to belong to Shada and Burzum.

In it, he found all the notes and paperwork of the designs that Shada had created, amongst them that of the Quandao Cleaver. Dulg was, unfortunately not as brilliant as his sister Shada, and considered the cleaver flawed. He attempted to improve the cleaver by elongating the blade, turning the hilt around, and making it slender and slightly more curved, thus eliminating the strength the Quandao had become famous for.

But, in his ignorance, Dulg had invented the first Orcish blade that actually handled almost as well as a Khajiiti saber! And although it was not the strongest, nor the sturdiest of blades, that in itself was an accomplishment.
He called it the Brokeback Saber; the 'broken' curve of the blade symbolising the rolling hills of Wayrest that ended in the Wrothgarian Mountains.

He re-opened Shada and Burzum's shop in Wayrest and sold out his stock of Brokeback's every week. Ever since that day the Uzgash family has prospered and spread as far as the Dragontail Mountains in the North, and Cyrodiil in the South.

I was enchanted by this extraordinairy story of tragedy and luck; or was it the tobacco that had driven me off in a daze of thoughts? No matter, I had to know more, and find out where I could get my hands on an Orcish saber!

She told me of the thrilling heights of the Dragontail Mountains, where most of her family now resides. And it is there that the now great legacy of the Uzgash is brought forth. They are in the process of creating cleavers and sabers for all Tamriel to see. Mightiest of them all is the Dragonclaw Cleaver inspired by both the Brokeback Saber and the Quandao Cleaver. It possesses both the strength and durability of the Quandao, and the handling of the Brokeback, at least considering its size. It is the pride of the Uzgash family proper.

When she told me that she had brought with her a supply of these puissant cleavers and sabers alike I nearly dropped my pipe and bit my tongue. So after purchasing several blades and after hours on hours discussing the secrets and marvels of the blades created by the Uzgash family, she invited me to stay the night and showed me another few secrets of the women of the Uzgash breed.


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PostPosted: June 13th, 2007 
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Vocha wrote:
....and I am looking forward to reading more of your writings!


me too :P


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I will rework the text later as I'm still in the process of discovering 'key words' in Waalx 'speaching'. And while it's simple to replace the words, it's still not just click and go. I have to think about what is being replaced first as Waalx say things like 'my' for 'me' and these are sometimes getting fucked up if I don't change them in the right order.. I had to redo one of the two previous text from scratch because I made a mistake like this.

now I'm back on Redguard. I'm done playing with my new server.


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PostPosted: June 13th, 2007 
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I am now done with chapter 2 of Book II. It is entitled "The ash that cleanses"... And it is very different from my first text, yet somewhat similar. Unfortunately it is almost as long as chapter 1, I have serious issues with shortening it. Please tell me if there are parts I can leave out.

Critique at will! :)


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Chapter 2 - The ash that cleanses.

In "The Pig Children" an absolutely fascinating and appaling book, written to inform the citizens of Tamriel about the threat Orcs posed to society at that time, Bane writes that "By all rights, the civilized races of Tamriel should have been able to purge our land of their blight eras ago, but their ferocity, animal cunning, and curious tribal loyalty has made them inevitable as leeches in a stagnant pool." Well, I do not quite agree with Tyson Bane on this matter, as I have thoroughly inspected several Orcish women, and I can assure you there was no blight anywhere on them.

What I can say, is that I have heard many a tale on the bravery and beauty of several Orcs, but none can compare with the story that was told to me when I spoke with a healer in the Great Chapel of Julianos during my pass through Skingrad last Sun's Dusk as I travelled Cyrodiil.
Now it is true that I did not witness any of this, nor have I spoken to anyone related to the people involved directly, but the Breton woman I spoke to had such a beautiful smile so I can only assume she is not lying. And therefore, by process of elimination I can only conclude with that everything about this story is the undefiled truth.

The tale takes place far away form the Seat of Sundered Kings, in the vicinity of what is now Nova Orsinium, but directly after what can only be compared to the Ra'gada of which the Redguards take their name. When the original Orsinium fell to the fury of the other races in 1E980.
In the ruins of Orsinium, along the Bjoulsae River, an Orcish child was born into the rubble of corpses and cleaned in the fetid river spoiled by the dead and the remnants of their lives. This child would never know his mother or his father for he had been abandoned just as soon as he was birthed, like so many Orcish children during that time.

However this ankle biter was not like other children, he inhabited the curse of being disfigured. He was brought forth by birth with a deformed right arm and several blemishes on his face. Yet with this constant strain to his survival, and even without a mother or father to aid him, he survived the cold weather and rough mountains over what used to be Orsinium in the Wrothgarian Mountains.

After living for sixteen years in the farthest and most remote heights of the Wrothgarian Mountains, where the only food was wolves and the only water was the ice that dropped from the sky, he started a journey across the mountains towards Evermor. Why he traveled all that way after staying at the same place for so long is unknown, but maybe it was instinct, the instinct to discover new places or the instinct to find a mate that we all harbor.

It is irrelevant, for on his way there he fell unconcious from the cold. He had not eaten in three days, for there were no wolves in sight, neither had he seen any other animal. The birds were to fast for him and he feared the few insects that inhabited the mountains, for they were vicious spiders hiding in small holes in the rock walls and inside caves. He had been stung by them on many occasions and it was pain like he had never felt before even worse than when he was mauled by a wolf protecting its young.

When he came to he found himself warm again, in fact he was warmer than he had ever been before. The wolf fur he wore around his neck was wet with sweat, and his heart was thumping so heavily he could see his green skin bulging up and down when it stroke. He heard bright yet hard noises, repeating themselves. Something was being struck, but the sound it made was nothing like anything he had ever heard.

He was paralyzed with fear, he could do nothing but lay still, and when he looked up there was no sky to see. What he saw was brown like on the branches on the small rugged bushes he used for cover to ambush animals when hunting for food. He could not feel his feet anymore, and he grasped immediately to the right, squeezing something with all his might as he panicked.

He heard a great growl as the huge Nord standing very close to him forcibly grabbed his hand. Pulling the young Orcs grip off his thigh and lifting him up on his feet. The tall Nord looked upon the Orc, thinking to himself and wondering what kind of creature he was. He had heard of greenskins in Hammerfell, but not in Skyrim, and certainly not as far North as Solitude. It was unheard of and he had also heard that Orcs could speak the common tongue, which this greenskin could not.

The Nords name was Olav Bjorkeskjegg and he was the tallest and strongest of the Nords in the village of Solitude, he was a blacksmith of some renown, but he was most famous for his beard since it was the harshest and massive beard one could ever imagine. Olav once said, that he did not have such a long beard because it suited him, it was simply because he had yet to find a razor that could cut through it. And whenever he stepped too close to the forge, he would smell the scent of burnt hair, rather his beard than him so to speak.

Since that day when Olav found the young Orc lying in the snow on the Northwestern border of Skyrim, the young Orc lived with Olav until one Middas, 4th of Morning Star. The now twentythree years old Orc had lived with his disability for over 20 years, but he was tired and frustrated, for every year that passed his arm became harder to move and it took more and more effort to get through the day.
The grown Orc never learned to speak nor write, but he was a superb warrior and hunter, even with his liability he was just as strong; perhaps even stronger than most of the Nords he hunted with. The only thing that kept him going with his condition was the strive to perfection, to be better, faster and stronger than anyone around him. So that in his mind they would not notice his horrid appearance or his struggle to use his arm.

Of course Olav paid no attention to the Orcs challenged features, over the years he had become like a son to Olav, despite his inability to express emotions through language Olav knew that the Orc felt the same way. He especially treasured the evenings they spent toghether when Olav taught the Orc the ways of the anvil. At least as best he could without saying anything.

Olav and many of his peers considered it quite curious how the Orc had not learned how to speak even after all those years living with Olav and the other Nords in Solitude, but Olav simply concluded with that the Orc chose not to. Olav was renowned for thinking that the simplest explanation is often the most logical and therefore often the thruth and so customarily chose to answer questions he did not know the answer to in that manner.

When Olav was visiting the tavern during the mid day, the Orc began working on the anvil, he had helped Olav in making the swords and hunting daggers he normally sold to the community in the village, but that was not his intent this time. As the years had passed, the Orcs palm on his right hand had become more and more bent, when he was young it didn't matter, because his hand was so small. But now it had become a serious problem as he could no longer poperly grasp the handle of a sword, dagger or knife, so on that day he after spending six hours on the anvil. He had created a sword that lay almost perfect in his hand and handled so that he could properly swing it without much pain.

It was a wonder of ingenuity, the blade was thicker on the end than by the hilt, so he would need less force to swing it and its handle had a bulge in the center, so he could grasp with great vigor. He felt empowered, by no means was the blade painless to swing, but it was nothing compared to what he had to endure when hunting with a dagger. He remembered all the words Olav had used to express what the different blades were, but he could remember none that fit his sword, he did however remember that Olav had used the word scimitar when describing the tavern women. She handles almost as well as a desert scimitar he would say, so that's what he named it the Scimitar.

After almost seven hours at the forge and after spending quite some time practicing with the Scimitar and thinking about how Olav would react when seeing it he felt exhausted and fell to the floor on top of a pile of rabbit furs.

Late in the evening that Middas after awaking from his nap, the Orc found himself utterly depressed, he had just spilled a cup of Belladonna tea [Editors Note: Belladonna is famous for the green residue it secretes through its berries, because it is almost impossible to remove if it comes in contact with clothing, tapestry etc.] on the bear-rug that Olav treasured dearly, it was the last bear he felled before the death of his real son. Olav almost never spoke of it, but the Orc knew he would be devastated when he found out that it was destroyed.

The Orc looked around him in great distress, knowing that Olav would return from the tavern shortly as was his custom during Middas evenings. In the Orcs mind, he saw no other way out, he could not bear seeing the look on Olav's face when he saw the rug [Editors Note: It is obvious from this story that it is a very emotionally distressed Orc in question, most likely because of his childhood.] so he did the only thing he could do, run away, into the wild where he belonged.

He grabbed his clothing and threw a wolf pelt over his shoulders, sheathed the Scimitar lying by the forge and ran out the front door, the freezing Morning Star snow gusted against his cheeks like a punch to the face as he ran up the hills to the West. When he had gone so far that he could no longer see the village in the distance he stopped, fell to his knees and started crying. He had not cried since as long as he could remember and his tears frose before they could even leave his chin.

Turning into small droplets underneath his lips, at that moment the snow under his legs turned to ash, and the air smelled like rotten eggs.
A huge figure approached him, speaking in a deep tone of voice that seemed to echo even when the Orcs own cries did not. The figure spoke briefly, he explained that he had been watching the young Orc, ever since he was born on the riverside in Orsinium. He had seen the Orcs suffering and now had come to aid him, by giving him the greatest gift he could give to the Orc. He took the Scimitar from the scabbard that was lying in the ash next to the Orc. And with but a tear from the figures eye it changed, shifted into something else.

When the great figure spoke the mountains shivered and the clouds rained ash and soot, the Scimitar was corrupted, just as the figure was once corrupted and as the Orc was corrupted at birth. It was now the Miscitar, for it was Scimitar torn apart and put back together again. The figure gave the Orc the blade, but the Orc could not understand, he was given a much smaller blade. It was not even as powerful as the Scimitar was, but when he grasped it with his right hand he could feel no pain and as he swung it it almost flew through the air causing him no discomfort. Yet the Orc was enraged, he had thought he would be relieved of his disfiguration, that he would give him the greatest gift he could hope for, like the figure had said.

Then the figure turned his back to the Orc and started to walk away, the Orc shouted, screamed, whimped, but could not say a word. He tried to run after the figure but he could never catch up with it, no matter how slowly it was walking, the figure briefly halted and explained to the Orc, the one that longs for everything he does not have, is the one that loses all which he has. You were disfigured at birth, but was given great strength, you never learned how to speak and in turn you never needed to, you never had a father so one was given to you. How much of what you had have you been grateful for? You were given a home and someone that cared about you, but for seemingly nothing you ran away from it. You were given a gift of talent, so you could smith your own blade, but it was not good enough for you. The blade was improved so you could wield it without pain, but you discarded it as not enough.

At that moment the Orc drew a dagger from his belt, it was a dagger unlike all others, one he had forged long ago, when he first came to live with Olav. It was a dagger made to induce a wound that would bleed very fast, so that one thorough stab would be enough. It had an irregular shape with pointed edges at both sides of the dagger and it was much thicker at the starting of the blade near the hilt, than at the end. He held the dagger up it the sway of the torrent of ash around him with his left hand, and then in brought it to his right shoulder burying it deep inside the hand he hated so much. He ripped the dagger from his flesh and fell on his back lying in a cloud of ash and blood.

The figure left him at that moment, and as the ash turned to snow and the snow almost covered him the Orc died with a smile on his face.
On Fredas two days later, the Nords of Solitude found his corpse, lying in the snow half buried covered in soot. Next to him was the Miscitar and the dagger he had used to take his life, on that day Olav gave his Orc son a name, so that he would be given a name not in birth, but in death. The Nords that were present there named him Malachi [Editors Note: meaning Malacath-small, or son of Malach/Malauch]

To this day, Malachi floats in an eternal storm of ash, forever beautiful, forever perfect. It is said that the Nord smith in Solitude named the dagger the Tetela Dagger, Tetela was the name of his Nord son.

When I asked the Breton woman that told me of this marvelous Orc if the story was truly as true as her lips suggested, she replied simply that she did not know if all the details were correct after so many years of telling it, but if you you ask an Orc blacksmith to forge you a Scimitar he will know what it is. And if he spills a tear whilst forging it... It is not a Scimitar that will appear when he pulls it out of the fire.


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I like it. I see some mistakes though as you said yerself.

one big one is that he couldn't logically forge a whole weapon in 7 hours. it takes much longer. I would suggest here that he was working on this blade in secret from Olav, over a certain period of time. Each day Olav went out to drink he would take out his work out of it's hidden place, and work more, until that fateful day he finished it.

Who is the mysterious figure that cry over the scimitar (and that smell like rotten eggs)?


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Waalx wrote:
I like it. I see some mistakes though as you said yerself.

one big one is that he couldn't logically forge a whole weapon in 7 hours. it takes much longer. I would suggest here that he was working on this blade in secret from Olav, over a certain period of time. Each day Olav went out to drink he would take out his work out of it's hidden place, and work more, until that fateful day he finished it.

Who is the mysterious figure that cry over the scimitar (and that smell like rotten eggs)?


I will rewrite the part about him forging the Scimitar and the Tetela Dagger, they were one of the gripes I had about my text initially I am glad you share the same oppinion :)

The mysterious figure is the Daedric Prince Malacath "whose sphere is the patronage of the spurned and ostracized, the keeper of the Sworn Oath, and the Bloody Curse" his realm is Ahspit (hence all the references to ash in the story). He is very important to my story because he is so similar to "the Orc/Malachi" in that both of them are disfigured, as "the figure/Malacath" hints to when talking about the Miscitar. Since Malacath was originally the Aedroth Trinimac, but was devoured by Boethia and turned into Malacath he is corrupted just like Malachi is (in that his arm and face is fu**ed up).

The end and the beginning of my text hints to that Malachi actually IS Malacath's son, but since most sources from Oblivion says that Daedra can't bear children... Well you'll have to interpret it the way you want to :)

And of course (just like in my last text), there are several easter eggs :)


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Vocha wrote:
Waalx wrote:
I like it. I see some mistakes though as you said yerself.

one big one is that he couldn't logically forge a whole weapon in 7 hours. it takes much longer. I would suggest here that he was working on this blade in secret from Olav, over a certain period of time. Each day Olav went out to drink he would take out his work out of it's hidden place, and work more, until that fateful day he finished it.

Who is the mysterious figure that cry over the scimitar (and that smell like rotten eggs)?


I will rewrite the part about him forging the Scimitar and the Tetela Dagger, they were one of the gripes I had about my text initially I am glad you share the same oppinion :)

The mysterious figure is the Daedric Prince Malacath "whose sphere is the patronage of the spurned and ostracized, the keeper of the Sworn Oath, and the Bloody Curse" his realm is Ahspit (hence all the references to ash in the story). He is very important to my story because he is so similar to "the Orc/Malachi" in that both of them are disfigured, as "the figure/Malacath" hints to when talking about the Miscitar. Since Malacath was originally the Aedroth Trinimac, but was devoured by Boethia and turned into Malacath he is corrupted just like Malachi is (in that his arm and face is fu**ed up).

The end and the beginning of my text hints to that Malachi actually IS Malacath's son, but since most sources from Oblivion says that Daedra can't bear children... Well you'll have to interpret it the way you want to :)

And of course (just like in my last text), there are several easter eggs :)


he could be Malacath's, as in almost every mythos there's a god that come down and fornicate with a mortal. so that doesn't mean he's directly his son, but he could still be part his...


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PostPosted: June 13th, 2007 
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That is true, and the Daedric Prince Molag Bal actually came to Nirn and raped a Dunmer woman, that woman turned into the first Vampire, and that is the origin of the Vampire disease Porphyric Hemophelia in Tamriel.

So there are examples of Daedra fornicating with at least the Dunmer race. (Now it should be said that the woman died from whatever injuries she obtained from Molag Bal and that Molag Bal has many nicknames one of them being "The Raping God") But there are no evidence of Daedra ever having being pregnant nor any race of Nirn being pregnant with a Daedra.

But like I said, one can interpret the text the way one wants, that's one of the things that are so beautiful about writing :)


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PostPosted: June 13th, 2007 
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so ye want more don't ye? We think ye do...

Lo them rest o' them book.

Them wood sword's them oldest Orc blades. its survived up till present days, cuz ther weapons o' ritual passage. Them orcs had ter do they, as its wos them warrior initiation ter be able ter do one.
Somehow thi custom survived them tribal ages, arnd even modern orcs o' present days will need ter do one, ter be considered an real warrior by hist peers. One great legend wos known about them wood blades...what wos its...ah yeah! thast right Wood, its wos thast one. (Wood is rather fond o' theses wood swords....go figure, Yer not meant fer each other We speached himst once, them part mineral, arnd yer only an overgrown hard veggy! Next thing Me remember o' thast conversation wos waking up with an big bump on mine head.)

them other two, them base cleavers, are from one family. But Me think ye knew that don't ye?

as fer them brokenhead, We will tell ye later, mine memory is taking an nap.


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Waalx wrote:
so ye want more don't ye? We think ye do...

Lo them rest o' them book.

Them wood sword's them oldest Orc blades. its survived up till present days, cuz ther weapons o' ritual passage. Them orcs had ter do they, as its wos them warrior initiation ter be able ter do one.
Somehow thi custom survived them tribal ages, arnd even modern orcs o' present days will need ter do one, ter be considered an real warrior by hist peers. One great legend wos known about them wood blades...what wos its...ah yeah! thast right Wood, its wos thast one. (Wood is rather fond o' theses wood swords....go figure, Yer not meant fer each other We speached himst once, them part mineral, arnd yer only an overgrown hard veggy! Next thing Me remember o' thast conversation wos waking up with an big bump on mine head.)

them other two, them base cleavers, are from one family. But Me think ye knew that don't ye?


I'm not sure I'm understanding you right here, but you want me to write the last two stories in the book right away?

One being the story about the Wood Sword and how it is used as a rite of passage?

And another about the Huruk and the Meyer Cleaver from one blacksmith family?

:)


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