Online:Crafting Motif 130: Exile's Revenge Style

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Book Information Crafting Motif 130: Exile's Revenge Style
ID	8250
Prev.	Hircine Bloodhunter	Next	Militant Monk
Collection	Exile's Revenge Style
Crafting Style	Exile's Revenge Style
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Crafting Motif 130: Exile's Revenge Style

by Eliana Albus

A guide to crafting armor and weapons in the Exile's Revenge style

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My son's words, left behind in his many journals, are all I have left of him. From these, we will make the vestments of our army of exiles. His words and memories will live on in our conquest. In hopes that someday we see an end to this war.

AXES

On the road, we met a farmer beset by bandits. We gave her what supplies we could spare, and I tried to impart to her my hand axe, a gaudy heirloom made in the style of Imperial Champions. But she refused and hefted a far more lethal and symmetrical two-handed axe, saying it was all she needed to send those bandits running.

BELTS

I often wonder if Saint Alessia could sense the first night in her empire that passed without pain or bloodshed. I long to know such peace, so keenly sometimes that it manifests like a pain in my stomach. To sleep, I'll imagine gathering that pain and shaping it to a diamond affixed at my waist, so it becomes a guiding star in my path to peace.

BOOTS

I can traverse the hills of Cyrodiil easily in boots or sandals. I'm hard-pressed to remember the last time I stubbed a toe, but my shins are my weak spot. Under that leather, they're a tapestry of bruises that I'd be embarrassed for anyone to see.

BOWS

With no shortage of gold, we hired a local Wood Elf to hunt for our traveling party. Some in our number had doubts about the bow she carried, which was a plain recurve likely foraged from local wood. Simple and elegant. Thankfully, our hunter came back in short order with enough food to quiet the naysayers. We all stuffed our faces the rest of the night.

CHESTS

Our parting was heartbreak, but not enough to move me to poetry. She said that if she were to pry open my chest, she'd find a red diamond in place of my heart. I corrected her that there would more likely be two—one for Saint Alessia, and one for Belharza to come. She didn't understand me, but then again, she never did.

DAGGERS

I am in awe of a knife I saw at a traveling market today. It was quite long for a dagger, with no fuller to distract from the most marvelous leafed blade I've ever seen. Mother has always urged me to keep a small blade for self-defense. I've decided if it's still there tomorrow, it will be mine.

GLOVES

The beggar quaked like an aspen tree. I gave him my bedroll, for my cloak would be enough to keep me warm on the ride and overnight besides. And I gave him my gloves, armor and all. I knew the road home, and I knew my mother was at the end of it, waiting to wrap my cold hands in hers. Wherever that beggar is now, I hope he is warm, if not by my gloves, then by someone's loving hands.

HELMETS

Van writes that most mages in the Battlespire wear helmets of hardened leather or metal, with reinforced protection for the bridge of the nose. I don't know why I always imagined hoods to be the fashion of battlemages? But it seems I'll have to think of another gift for him, beyond the red diamond adornment I plan to send along.

LEG GREAVES

The junior envoy from the Covenant had made no shortage of japes about our Legion wearing 'skirts' when he was in his cups the night before. In the heat of the following day, we urged him to try a spare set of greaves we had in the old-fashioned style. He reversed his stance at once. I hope it's a good sign for the future of our diplomacy.

MACES

I dreamed of Saint Alessia. In her hands, she held some sort of bludgeon. It was a fearful mass, all edges like the crown of the White-Gold Tower. It was matted with blood. Whose blood, I do not know. Her eyes were sad as she raised it and let it fall. I woke when it hit the ground. I don't know what such a dream could mean.

SHIELDS

Gus passed today. The oldest of our castle guard. I remember when I was small, he kept the ornamental weaponry high on the walls so I couldn't reach them and hurt myself. Desperate to play war games, I stole a broom to be my sword and that heavy chest plate of his to be my shield. He and the rest of the guard were laughing too hard to ever teach me to spar. I'll miss that old man.

SHOULDERS

Van wrote home asking for gold for to buy new shoulder armor. The old hand-me-downs we sent him off with apparently won't do. He thinks working shoulders are important for combat and casting, and he wants something that might protect everything above his elbows. I was more than happy to oblige.

STAVES

I've decided to commission a staff for my father. Something simple and elegant. Adorned with golden laurels and, of course, a red diamond. A gift of gratitude for nourishing my vision of peace in Tamriel. And perhaps something he might pass to Van one day. I thank the divines that my cousin became a mage. Giving him the student I know father always wanted to take under his wing.

SWORDS

My last night at home. Father pressed his old Legion sword into my hand and insisted I take it with me. I had to remind him yet again that it wouldn't do to bring so unsubtle a blade on a mission of diplomacy. I've half a mind to take it anyway, if just to assuage his worry. I see it as a token of his love, but others will just see a sword.