Hey everyone!
I'll post what I have thus far of the books. None of it has been thoroughly QC'd yet, and ideas are still flowing, but if anyone wants to supply input or suggestions, here it be.
Waalx had an idea that his in-character Waalx is a tad crazy. If anyone has ever read the original Dragonlance books, he's a lot like Fizban. So I've peppered them with some absurdist humor in places for flavor, so if anyone has any ideas of too much, not enough, or WTF?? feel free to comment.
(note from waalx: in fact my 'ancestor from another dimension' is a mix of many famous characters. He's a mix of Gandalf way of traveling the world and being known everywhere as he lived so long, he's also alike Leonardo Da Vinci, in that he has been mandated by kings and emperors for his craftmanship and knowledge of the art of swordmaking. He's also a crazy old guy alike the Fizban character, but less crazy than Fizban was 'appearing' to be. And the way his 'speaching' came to my mind was an echo of the great voice of the half-giant Hagrid mingled with a jumble of made-up words to ice the cake. Arnd, ye know? An character Me would've liked ter be mineself.)
The Chronicles Of Steel
Original title: Them Chronicles O' Steel
Hereby follows the Chronicle of Steel, a tome of vast knowledge concerning the various indigenous bladed weapons of the races of Tamriel. It was written by an uncommon Ayleid elf, one of the last of his kind—who some say was kissed by Sheogorath, a “gift” that, among other less savory things, gave the already long-living Elf an even longer chance to walk Nirn—who went against the normal reclusive nature of his people to travel the Empire and study smithing from those who would teach him. His dream was to learn the crafts of all the races. Over the course of the centuries he lived he either traveled the world or hid himself away in his study, which is rumored to be a hidden lair unlike a normal Ayleid dwelling. In his place of reclusion he would replicate what he had learned, perfecting his art to a degree rarely paralleled, and with a fervor in his eye that unnerved those who ever had the luck to have seen him.
He died many years ago, and many of his secrets went with him. Some say the key to finding this forge is the last sentence of this manuscript...but who could find a statue in a tree?
Chronicles I - Khajiit Blades
And lo, did I spend many a moon amongst the Khajiit of Elsweyr. Once you can gain their trust they treat you as one of their own, and their dispositions carry the warmth of their fur on a hot day in the middle of Sun’s Height—or maybe the breath of a frog in heat… My longevity as an Elf gave me the opportunity to visit their sandy, desert-covered barrows over many a long year, and hath given me a chance to learn many of the secrets of metal-smithing that they held in their clawed—yet eternally skillful—hands.
Of all the smiths I encountered amongst my travels in Cyrodiil, the Khajiit proved capable of producing blades that danced in thou hands like nothing I’d ever beheld before! Even the famed and agile curved blades of the Redguards could never match the grace and elegance with which the Khajiit blades could whistle through the air. Their razor-sharp Knucklebow sabers move with an ease in the hand that feels like a natural extension of my arm, and their skill makes our Elven Daitos seem clumsy by comparison.
I wonder, perchance, if the vast amount of Moonsugar I and my Khajiit cohorts consumed whilst we discussed the nature of the blades of Elsweyr had any affect on my judgments as I sit here tonight and write on my parchment? Or maybe the ja-Kha’jay was speaking to me then and whispering in mine ear. It speaks to me now, outside the cave, and just asked me if I would like a cup of tea on the morrow after brunch. I assured it I would call upon it as soon as I completed my current research. The moons can be ever so pesky!
Chapter 1 and 2 - The Rivals of Border Watch
(Editor’s note: Waalx’s reasoning to combine two chapters into one flowing length of text is unknown, and I have never seen the likes of this before, and I doubt we will ever see something like it to come. It is truly the work of a…special mind)
In the small village of Border Watch, nestled in the border between Cyrodiil and Elsweyr, a feud rages that is analogous to the fetid and wet climate. It was mere happenstance that, long ago, two different smiths settled in the town in the same year—the Shotan family and the Stah family. Obviously, two smiths in a town as minor as Border Watch is more than it needs, but the reason for their placement is obvious: caravans traveling from the Imperial City to Leyawiin, and then on to Elsweyr and even Valenwood, go through the highly populated Green Road (Editor’s note: the road is now long untended and lost in foliage) and the tiny village is the last stop in so-called “civilized” country. The small hamlet had access to merchant caravans going in and out, so their wares could be sold to the merchants and widely distributed.
Also obvious is that, not long after the smiths moved in, they began a rivalry that exists to this day, many generations later. Both families claim they were there first, and due to Khajiit’s notoriously poor methods of record keeping (the most efficient practice I have found them undergoing involves making notes on bottles of skooma— as they know, without a doubt, that they will come across the note again in the very near future. Unfortunately during the imbibing of the drug the bottles are most often lost in the grass, crushed under paws, or eaten altogether if the contents were of a particularly heavy dose), we may never know which really WAS here first. But the most important things were handed down by word of muzzle, and so I will relay the story of one of the families of smiths, the Shotan.
The first Khajiit of the Shotan family is affectionately called First-One (as I mentioned, Khajiit record keeping…) by his descendants. What is remembered about him, while his name is lost to time, is that he had a penchant for adventuring in his youth. Through many a place the young Khajiit traveled, going as far north as Dragonstar in Hammerfell and as far east as Necrom in Morrowind. What he did in those adventures are not remembered (Groba-Stah, of Border Watch, swears he was a bandit, but I think the Stah family may be quite biased and untrustworthy in regards to any member of the Shotan clan), but what was important is what he brought back. When he retired from adventuring and settled in Border Watch, the first blade he began working on vigorously—to distinguish himself from his rival—was a wonderful specimen of blade-making called the Lionclaw saber.
He was influenced by great beasts he encountered in Hammerfell, he would swear, that were like Khajiit but walked only on all fours, and were only dwarfed by the Senche-tiger of Elsweyr. While obviously distant cousins of Khajiit, they only roamed the arid lands of Hammerfell’s western reaches and Alik’r desert, near the area of Sunkeep and the Hegathe peninsula.
It is the talons of this fierce creature that he formed the Lionclaw. Ever since First-One’s days he made the pommel and guard golden, a color he said reminded him of the Alik’r, as well as the sands of his homeland. The blade itself is wicked cutter, shaped like a claw and twice as sharp. In the generations since its creation the design has remained fundamentally the same. Some smiths of his family choose to use steel or silver for the fittings, and would occasionally make the blade of ebony. Those changes are rare, however, and even though they cannot remember the smith’s name, they choose to honor the wishes and traditions that they do remember.
Another blade attributed to First-One is the Archer Sword. Made for an old companion of his who was (presumably) an archer by trade, the straight bladed design is common amongst the Breton Archers that, when they were traveling through Hammerfell, they no doubt met during a skirmish or two between High Rock and the Redguards. What First-One did was change the crossguard to a wicked shape that made even itself into a formidable weapon, with a wide flair that could be effectively pressed into the eyes of an attacker (an, as I myself discovered after dinner one night when I stayed with them, it’s quite effective at getting mutton out of my teeth!). The old acquaintance was impressed, and traveled with the blade as a sidearm enough that other adventurers he met came to Border Watch to ask for one. Thus, the Archer Sword was born, and it is still in production to this day.
A few generations later, after the Shotan family became wealthier and First-One’s legacy began to garner attention, a descendant came up with another popular design. Foshan Shotan was forging a crossguard to a Lionclaw saber one night when he made a mistake that rendered the metal he was shaping useless for that style. Instead of melting it again and starting over he went with it, straying from time tested tradition and forging something new. After he liked what he had made, he changed the pommel around and bent the grip in ward further, and thickened it at the bottom.
He stood back, admiring his own work. His contemporary rival from the Stah family wandered over sneakily (as, apparently, he was wont to do) and snuck a peek at what the young cat was doing. The grunt of approval he made in spite of himself caused him to be discovered, and Foshan hissed and grabbed the nearest object he could find—a long piece of metal he was heating to shape into a blade—and chased the cat halfway through town until the Stah got to his family’s domicile. Hissing and snapping, Foshan angrily thrashed the piece of glowing metal against the side of the Stah hut. The warm metal bent at the tip from the impact, and as he looked at the work and snarled at what he would have to do to fix it properly, an idea came to mind. Smiling ferally (I have yet to meet a Khajiit whose smile was anything but unintentionally menacing—I think it’s the teeth!) the cat ran back to his own side of town and set to work.
He took the inspiration of the crook in the tip of the steel and the crossguard and pommel he had been working on earlier and set to work combining the two. Soon, after days of perfecting the design and reworking certain aspects to properly reinforce the bent tip, the Knucklebow saber was born. It was a marvel of steel, sharper than most other Khajiit blades, and shaped to compliment the hand of the average warrior. It can meet the speed the fastest of blades and can cut as lethally as any, and is one of my most favorite specimens.
Currently the family remains in Border Watch where they spend most of their earnings on more material, meaning they never felt the need to spend their family’s money on opulent mansions or elaborate forges, but to improve their output. They remain in the town out of respect for tradition and the fact that the current Shotan, Fat-Belly, is too lazy to move.
The other family of smiths in Border Watch, the Stah’s, have a better affinity for records-keeping. Thus they know the name of their original smith—Klow-Stah. She was an odd Khajiit in that she seemed to have a great admiration for Elves of all types (Harumph…I don’t know what’s so odd about that, but apparently these Khajiit think that strange). Her weapons reflected this odd infatuation, as the blades took on the petite, slender curves of Elvin high-artistry.
The fittings have been darkened steel (and still are, to this day), and unremarkable except for being very efficient for both counter-balances and effective tools in a fight. The blades of her Elvin weapons are the keystones of her creations. The Elvin Saber has a delicate curve, reminiscent of Ayelid architecture, and is as lethal as it is beautiful. The sword also whistles as it glides through the air, and the Stah smiths like to say it is the air crying as it is cut by their superior blades (silly kitties—they all know the shriek is made by invisible babies of Nirn!).
Other designs Klow-Stah introduced were the Elvin Cutlass and Elvin Knife (after she died her descendants, for some reason, didn’t love Elves as much as she did…not that I can imagine why. But they say that they retain her original names out of respect for their ancestor). Both sport similar fittings to the Saber, but with the proper variations made. The cutlass has no doubt found its way into many a pirate that traversed this part of the Niben (Fat-Belly-Shotan swears it’s true and that they should be arrested by the Count for aiding the criminal underworld, but I’ll leave that to the proper authorities). But no matter who wields it, and blade is an effective cutter and wicked thruster, and a fine specimen of how strong a blade can be while being balanced enough to feel as if the wielder was holding a feather.
The knife is a companion to both—or neither! It cuts like a tooth of a nix hound, and I happen to know this first hand. The other day, whilst making my way through Blackwood looking for Alocasia Fruit (they say they don’t grow here, but I’ll prove them wrong…oh yes, I
will prove them wrong), I came upon a swarthy looking Redguard who asked if I had any money. I told him I had a few coins but that I was saving them for the Alocasia Fruit I’d find (I owed one of them some money), and I asked if he would like a piece of yarn and some lettuce instead. He looked at me queerly, as if I had said something strange, and then ran at me! And what did he pull out of his belt but an Elvin Dagger, made by my friend Groba-Stah himself! I marveled at the blade, my delighted expression waning only a little as he gutted me with it. I exclaimed “Oh, how wonderfully sharp!” and laughed with glee and admiration. And wouldn’t you know it—he was apparently such a nice man that he let me keep it in my stomach! He ran away flailing his arms and looked so happy that he had given me this gift. What a nice Redguard…once this wound heals I should really find him and thank him. I heard the locals mention a cave…Milk something, Milk Rock, Milky Rocks, or Milk on the Rocks…that he would probably be staying at. I wonder if Alocasia Fruit grow there?
Chapter 3 - Shalioma The Black
It is by a strange twist of destiny that the young Khajiit Shalioma was introduced to blade smithing. His mother died when he was born, and his father, a traveling merchant, was almost never at home. So the young cat, blessed with unnaturally dark fur that made him stand out in most any crowd (thus was his namesake "Shalioma the Black"), was put into the care of his father’s friends, the neighbor family, the Twitsy's. Twitsy was an Argonian smith, and he had a son, Ka-Twitsy, that was around the same age as Shalioma. Despite their difference in race, they became as close as brothers.
The years passed, and Ka-Twitsy became old enough to start learning his father’s craft and honor his family. As Shalioma and Ka-Twitsy were always together before these lessons begun, Ka-Twitsy’s absence made Shalioma very moody, and he was soon hissing at everyone in the house. This quite unnerved the lizard-folk, as their own tongues were good only for picking on one another (at least, that it is what I was told). Seeing the state the trouble youth was in, and after discussing it with his wife, Twitsy decided to train Shalioma alongside his friend.
Soon the two “brothers” began competing with one another, trying to out-do one another and please Twitsy. They worked hard, for long years, and Twitsy humored their game, but was never unfair to young Shalioma, always instilling the same level of perfection in him as he did his own son.
When they not only perfected what Twitsy could teach but also began coming to him with ameliorations to the existing line of weapons, he knew they had gone beyond the master himself. I’m certain the old lizard cried, much like I did when I stubbed my toe the other day, but there was more to come!
Ka-Twitsy naturally chose to work with his father, but the Khajiit was starting to feel that he would forever be alienated from his foster-family. The welcome, as nice as it had been, he felt was over, and he began to want to leave his friends and find his own path.
In the beginning of spring that year, I passed by the Twitsy's as was my custom when my wandering was leading me near the region. I was impressed by the progress the two youngsters had made, and I lingered longer than I had meant to, marveling at their work and at their ingenious improvements to the craft.
Then, one night, Shalioma came to me and talked of his intent to travel in search of his own people, to seek the customs of his own furry-folk. I explained to him what I had learned about Khajiit blades, but it was not enough for him. As I was heading south toward Leyawiin, I offered him a chance to come with me, and I would introduce him to the Khajiit craftsmen of Border Watch.
I left him there with the other cats as I perused that part of the Niben for new blades of all kinds. I stopped by from time to time, glad to see that the lad learned quickly, and he learned from both of the smiths that inhabited Border Watch at that time. The two smiths had a rivalry that had been going on for generations (I mentioned them more extensively in the previous chapter), and soon young Shalioma gave them a new source of grief as each tried to influence him in their own way. From what I hear the two Khajiit tried to brawl on the muddy streets one night over the boy, each with their respective masterful blades in hand, and whispers of the K’Sharra went among the spectators who watched their sheep with worry. But the moons rose higher and fish was put on the fires over at the tavern and the two Khajiit grew hungry as they started one-another down, and decided to settle their differences over a bottle.
Alas, this was a portent for a time of sorrow between Shalioma and his old friend, Ka-Twitsy.
Though I was not there to witness all the following at the time (I was bathing in Niben bay that month to get all the trees off my skin) the word was that the Dark Brotherhood was in the market for new blade, in honor of Sithis. They tried a few different smiths, but a dark-robed messenger (no doubt he was in shadows a lot, too, and looked suspicious and was probably mean!) bearing the commission happened to visit both brothers, asking each to design a blade to serve the Night Mother. Both became intrigued by the offer, and so they each went to work, unbeknownst to the other, on the same contract, pitting them against each other once again— except, instead of trying to please Twitsy, they were trying to please the Primordial State of Chaos. The parallels are staggering, dear readers.
After spending weeks perfecting his ideas, Shalioma was so excited he decided to travel back to Ka-Twitsy to tell him the news and share his new blade, the Panther. Alas, when they realized that had been working on the same commission and Shalioma saw Ka-Twitsy’s Angular Kriss blade, they gazed upon each other’s work not with mutual admiration, but with jealousy. Shalioma left in a rage, the friendship between the two broken.
Each worked harder on their blades, hoping to defeat the other in a battle o’ skill and steel and fire and blood (and bears, oh my!). The result was not what either had in mind, however. When the same dark messenger returned to gaze upon their work, he gave each the sorrowful news that the Night Mother had discovered that the Listener had commissioned the work and ordered it—and the Listener— cancelled at once. When Sithis discovered the plot, though, he [Editor’s note: my benefactor’s at the Nine Divines has censored this section of the book that was to be distributed in Cyrodiil. In order to read Waalx’s original entry on this matter, you must find a Morrowind edition, published in Mournhold]. But it was decided that the Blade of Woe remain in its rightful place in the Brotherhood, though I doubt that the Night Mother ever used it in just THAT way ever again.
The two brothers were in despair, over the loss of their contract and over the loss of their friendship. After a time they reunited, ashamed of their behavior (though I think Sithis himself had a hand in their demeanors before!), and willing to work together once again.
The resulting blade was the famed Barbed Leaf blade. Shalioma used his newfound knowledge of the ways of Khajiit smiths and drew the leaf shape. Ka’Twitsy influenced the barbs on the blade, giving the blades a truly fearsome appearance. The blade also had the telltale horn-shaped pommel that graced both the Barrow and the Panther.
Ka-Twitsy’s Angular Kriss is an interesting blade by itself, its sordid origins notwithstanding. It was based on a design that originated from another famous blade, the Angular Broad Kriss, made by one of the most famous Argonian smiths, the great Hazadir (Editor’s note: the ancestor of the eventual victor in the legendary Armorer’s Challenge). Ka-Twitsy improved on the design and, ironically, made a blade thicker than the original. His decision on the ironic name, though, hints at his humor.
And my, could that Argonian laugh! It was unfortunate that when he did he sounded like a lizard trying to cough up a deer. His laughing was funny even to him, and so he laughed even more. It was a vicious cycle, really, and woe be the one who starts it happening, but he could tell very good jokes. My favorite was about the Argonian Priest and the Dunmer Temple master who discussed theology one day while visiting Red Mountain. But, wouldn’t you know it, I forgot the punch line! I know you’re here for my Argonian jokes, so I’ll make sure I tell you, gentle reader, about it later.
Shalioma’s masterpiece design, the Panther, was changed slightly in the form of the Barrow sword. The elegant leafblade has more graceful lines than its dark cousin, and the metal was polished to a brighter sheen that dances in any light. I saw it cut once, and let me tell you that it cuts almost as viciously as the Panther. Doesn’t meow nearly as loudly, though. All the butterflies drown it out.
Oh right, I remember the punch line now! The rat was throwing up Scrib jelly! Ahhh, gets me every time.