Adam glared at the facade of a workshop, the fiery orange of the twilight sky reflecting off the twisted tal and stone that ford its surface. Whoever built this was a madman—that’s the first thing he thought. The second was that the builder was a misunderstood genius. How else could this aberration stand?
Now that he focused on it, he saw past the twisted tal, realising they should represent the horns of a beast. The caved-in part of the facade should have been a mouth, and the stones jutting out its teeth. An ambitious project, no doubt, but without the technical skill to achieve it. The builder likely ended up favoring practicality over style. What a mistake. Style first, always. No matter how many tis the building crumbles, you start over.
Shaking his head, he followed Zul’Gora inside. A blast of hot air t him first, then the scent of coal, and lted tals. Hamrs showered sparks each ti an orc flattened a piece of scalding ore over anvils brought to their height by stacked bricks beneath. Flas roared from the furnaces as he walked past soot-faced crafters. He nodded at rough bone hilts being studded to uneven blades and axes.
They returned, if not his nods, curious gazes, until the forge chief stumbled toward Zul’Gora. He held himself lower despite being two good heads taller. He smoothed his half-ruined apron as if his tanned hands could erase the knife marks and burns.
"Welco to my forge, shaman. These ugly bastards don’t deserve your presence, not to ntion their sll after a day’s work. Co. I’ll lead you sowhere you’ll be able to breathe freely."
Adam followed the orc through to the back of the room, climbed a spiralling staircase lit by crackling torches to the second floor, then sat on a wooden stool in a large display room. Fresh wind blew from the window, washing the scent of the forge away.
The forge chief plucked rough hay models as if they were flowers and planted them in front of Zul’Gora. They were equipped with leather harnesses, gloves, or helts of all shapes and forms.
"What would the shaman need? A new weapon for his champion, or to replace these ugly tassets. Armor should be your priority. No champion looks so... about to commit a cri against decency. I bet we can see your butt when you move, perhaps even the front." He waved his little finger with an amused grin. "I hope it’s big, or we’ll rember you not for your glorious victory, but the size."
"You should have seen the females during his fight. They almost jumped into the ring after glimpsing it." Zul’Gora chopped every word with a lodious chuckle.
Adam rolled and widened his eyes at the sa ti. Why were two old n talking about that? No worse!
"They saw the front, too?!"
"Hehehe. A worthy spectacle. Anyway, show your best armor. We need sothing flashy, but resilient." Zul’Gora curled his fingers, asking to see better than what was in front of him.
"Definitely for such a virile orc." The forge chief rushed to his desk, crouching beneath until Adam couldn’t see him anymore. Sounds of planks scraping against stone echoed for a mont before the chief returned with a heavy chest hoisted on his shoulder.
"My secret creations. They might not reach the standards of the capital’s craftsn, but I’m proud of each piece." He placed the chest before them, caressing the lid as if it were a treasure.
He pushed the lid open, his voice rumbling. "I present to you this village’s best items!"
Adam leaned forward, eyes sparkling. Would he see orcs’ enchanted items, or perhaps armor forged from the finest magical tal?
What he saw inside forced his eyes wide. He didn’t see enchantnts or feel even the faintest trace of engraved mana. Instead, heavy pieces of armor filled the bottom of the chest.
He gestured for permission, and upon receiving the chief’s nod, he took out a pair of leather boots. One had plates of red tal from which grey spikes jutted out like claws, while belted white fur and bones gave the other a feral charm. Not bad. He took the pants out.
It felt rough to the touch. The stitches connecting the leather were visible, unpretentious. But it made him smile. So far, he had seen no orcs wearing pants, not to ntion that they would fix his problem perfectly. Thinking about pants with such fondness... He couldn’t believe himself and giggled as he pulled out leather gloves reinforced with layered red plates like the boots. The plates were arranged and carved like a fanged maw, while white fur lined the interior.
The next piece was a pauldron. Fur cascaded down the leathery base, lding comfort and feral aesthetic. A belted broad plate offered protection, but also orcish circular patterns.
Finally, he took out the piece that had drawn his gaze: a belt that would cover half his abs, crowned in the middle with a layered tallic skull. He brushed the broken chains cascading down with a firm nod. They embodied the chief’s belief that orcs would never be slaves.
But to him, the armor was just very stylish!
"Mhh." Zul’Gora frowned beside him. "Too fierce. I want sothing more delicate to elevate his handsoness while displaying his muscles. Pants won’t do, and the rest is... It’s fierce, likely decent for a war, but too much weight to carry in duels."
Both Adam and the chief twisted their lips. Between the cultural symbolism and the style, Adam doubted they’d find anything better. And the pants. The pants!
"I think it’s pretty good." Adam coughed, his fingers tightening around the belt. "We should take it."
"Shaman..." The chief’s voice echoed like a distant murmur. "Your champion has good eyes. I spent decades working on it... It’ll be my utmost honor if he reaches Thaur’Gorath wearing it. But Zul’Morak said it was too heavy as well..."
Zul’Gora tucked his fingers around his chin. For a mont, silence. Then, he patted Adam’s shoulder. "Do you like it that much?"
"Yes!" Adam cradled the belt, feeling the cold tal on his chest.
"I guess I’ll take it then." Zul’Gora turned toward the chief, sighing as he handed the orc a clinking pouch of coins. "I’ll never understand males’ aesthetics..."
Adam grinned before the last word struck him. "Males?" His voice quivered. "A-Are you—"
"I never said I wasn’t." Zul’Gora pulled her hood down, revealing grey braids framing the wrinkly face of a female orc. Darkness engulfed her mischievous smile as she put the hood back on. She shooed Adam to the door. "Go put it on."
Adam scrambled out of the room, as much from impatience as from the flustering revelation. His fingers played with the armor’s many belts before he was even out.
Bao’s eyes burned with each piece he put on, and once he was down, she growled sothing Adam understood as: "You’re the most stylish orc."
"Because you doubted it?"
Chuckling, Adam strolled inside, white fur fluttering from his shoulder, gloves, and boots, light catching on the red plates. He liked the armor more with each step. Far from heavy, its design didn’t hinder his movents. Great craftsmanship, he admitted, miles away from his, but great nonetheless.
The chief drumd on his right chest four tis, his back straight and head held high.
Zul’Gora begrudgingly nodded. "Doesn’t look that bad. Actually, it leaves room for imagination. She retrieved tusk rings and a leather hair wrap from the chest. "You forgot these. We can’t let you hide your face with your hair since all we can see is your chest."
A drop of cold sweat ford at Adam’s temple. Hidden by his hair, Bao trembled. "I’m not into excessive decorations."
"With this attire?" Zul’Gora’s eyes curved. "Or does it have sothing to do with the right side of your hair? I find the way they never sway fascinating, as if sothing held them in place."
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