“I don’t care who laughs at me; I know what I saw, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind. There’s necromancy happening on the island, plain and simple, but no one will take me seriously. Just because I mistook the Wayshrine for a portal to Oblivion during that huge storm doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about. And, look, anyone seeing that rock on the cliffs against the sun like that would’ve run back to town screaming ‘Daedra!’ I mean, it looked exactly like a monster!
I know for a fact that I saw bones walking; I heard that horrible chanting coming from the cave and saw the moonlight on a bare, chattering skull! There’s no way I’m wrong this time, ‘excitable’ imagination or no.”
To witness Orcs preparing for battle is a fearsome sight indeed, especially for one used to the strictly-regimented organization of my fellow Bretons. I recently had the “honor” of viewing their preparations while traveling alongside traders. Their drinking, burning of offerings to Mauloch, clashing of brutal weapons on shields, and guttural, violent chants whip them into a blood-crazed frenzy. This is a war-chant they repeated over and over, getting louder and more bloodthirsty with every recitation:
"Blood! Honor!
Steel and bone!
Gore! Glory!
Mauloch’s Throne!"
“I caught Lagabesh lurking around the forge and asked her what she thought of the helm I just finished. She stuck out her tongue and scurried off giggling. She’s that age where she wants to rebel against anything her mother likes, but I see her stalking around the forge more and more when I work, watching me craft good, strong weapons and armor for our warriors. I even caught her admiring the axe I forged for the chieftain’s oldest, running her fingers over the blade and tracing the engravings. She’s not quite ready to do more than simple tasks around the forge, but she will make some Orc a fine Forge-Wife one day; I can already tell.”
My sojourn has only just begun, and already trials present themselves to my blade. The merchant ship I travel with took to port at the island of Betnikh after a fierce storm damaged the rigging, and I hardly set foot onto the docks when I heard of trouble with giant flying insects. Eager to challenge myself against a new foe, I set off right away into the woods to seek them and aid the people of this island. This land seems much softer than what I am used to in Hammerfell, with its lush forest and cool breezes, but I must remember my training and stay on my guard. This will be but the first of many challenges. If I truly wish to master the ways of the blade, I must study, practice, and seek new foes to test myself against, just as Frandar Hunding teaches us.
