The Pre-Orsimeric-Armor
Just a little finger exercise from an german author, translated in Englisch (Yes. I am Back). Hope you like it! It is about the difference between the Orcish-Armor in Morrowind and Skyrim/Oblivion!
"It looks different!" Said Gornag, looking at the ancient armor of his producer Dul. "She is not green at all, but silver."
Dul straightened up from his chair, the piercing pain in his back was frightening for him. He was old. Maybe too old. Does he have to make a duel soon, just to confirm what he already knows? That he was no longer a chieftain? Soon Gornag would want a duel. The world had become a different one than Dul had yet remembered. The world was a different one.
"Do you want to distract me, Brat?"
"No!" Gornag stamped on the floor and looked at his producer angrily. "I just want to know why the armor looks so different."
Dul stood beside Gornag in front of the armor and looked at his war equipment. He had to restrain himself, not to shout at his begotten, or "son," as he is now called, in this new World. The stamping on the ground was the war tactics of children. But he was already almost adult, and yet this new, changed world seemed to compel him to accept his behavior.
The world was a different one. "Other than what?"
"Unlike the armor of the other Patriah."
He stroked his dark beard. "Yeah, you got that well, boy. What you see here is an armor created according to the pre-Orsimeric tradition, when we were formless thoughts, shortly after Trinimac's
liquidation."
The boy with a tooth gap opened his eyes, grinned, and took a deep breath. "Before Malacath? May I touch the armor, or is it too old?" Dul grinned and took the helmet down. "It is never too old and never breaks." As he held the helmet in his hands, his eyes on the pig-like face, his blood rush awoke.
Thundering drumming of the tonal drummers sounded in his ear. The tingling of magic filled air was felt all over his body, and the taste of the blood of his enemies was delicious. He remembered the battle against the Redguards, where he got Kundran, his present house-slave. He was still a youth at this time.
The world was a different one.
He handed Gornag the helmet and looked at him with wide eyes. "It's beautiful." Gornag stroked the helmet like an ancient relic, which it was. The mixing of quicksilver and orichalcum is one of the many forgotten wonders of the pre-Orsimeric culture.
"Yes. It belongs to you as soon as you are the chief. "
"For real?"
"Naturally. This is the tradition."
Gornag threw the majestic helmet into the air and Dul followed him with his Exe. As if it were his child he was trying to catch the helmed, but Gornag's knife was already racing into his chest. The helmet fell to the floor, and Dul, with his hands on the staking knife, sank back into his chair.
"Leave the helmet, father. He is mine now, and he will not be broken if it is dropped."
Dul was dizzy and he closed his eyes. He had now been defeated as a chief. Through the hand of an almost-child and by a sneaky attack. No honorable duel. Just murder.
The world was a different one. But not better.