A Forgemaster's Folly Part Two

• Posted by Veloth the Prophet September 11, 2015 - 1,255 views

  A Forgemaster's Folly

  Part Two

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  Driven by pure instinct Gothos leaped to the side just as a large hammer came crashing down where he had been standing. He dropped his torch and readied his shield he had strapped to his back as he swung around to face his attacker. A large golden figure loomed out of the shadow, grim expression frozen on it's lifeless face. The figure was larger than Gothos who was already big for an orc and it had a hammer for one hand and an axe for another. Their was no mistaken what this machine had been made for. One word came to Gotho's head as his mind flashed back to all his studying of the ancient Dwemer, “Centurion.”

  He had fought Spiders and Spheres before, and even studied them but he had only ever seen diagrams of these golden golems. The thoughts vanished from his mind as the machine lunged for at him. He knew even one direct hit from this thing would be enough to end this fight in a hurry so he swung his shield up and hoped it would take the brunt of the force.

  The blow sent judders down his shield but it held like he knew it would. With a great roar Gothos used his shield as a ram hoping to put the machine off balance then swung his maul as hard has he could bringing it crashing down on to the Centurions face. Most metal would not have withstood a hit from an Orcish weapon, especially when used by an Orsimer, but Gothos knew the strange golden bronze material the Dwemer used was not most metal. Smith's had been trying to decipher it's secrets for centuries and had never came close so he wasn't surprised when his attack did little but dent it, but it was enough to work with.

  Again he rammed his shield in to the machine to keep if off balance and smashed his maul in to it's face. Suddenly a burst of steam shot out of the Centurion and smothered Gothos, his iron armour protected the skin on his face and chest but the heat was unbearable and it was burning his arms, he dashed back in the hope he would get clear of the steam and his opponent but the heat was still to much, it was cooking head and disorienting him. He threw off his helmet and tried to gasp in air but the Dwemer war machine was on him again, it swiped another hammer blow at him but this time Gothos wasn't fast enough to react. It caught the inside of his shield and wrenched it from his grip, following with a swing of it's axe hand. The axe hit Gothos in the top of his right arm just where his iron armour ended, it sunk all the way down and hit bone. Gothos cried out in pain and anger as he tried to remain on his feet as the Centurion tried to force him to the ground by pushing down with the axe.

  Something snapped inside Gothos. Letting loose a roar of a ferocious wounded animal, he gabbed the maul from his useless right hand and started slamming it into the face of the machine again and again as hard as he could until the metal began to buckle and break. Finally he could see the purplish glow of the soul gem, the Centurion's power source and with one last mighty blow he shattered it.

  The Dwemer construct stopped dead and then collapsed, ripping it's axe from Gothos's arm. The Orc sunk to his knees, dropping his weapon and clutching his wound, which was now soaked with blood along with the whole side of his body. Once his mind became clear and his breathing began to slow he spat at the machine and muttered:

  'No one bests an Orc.'

  Then fell face-first to the ground unconscious.

  ****

  'Shor's beard! Are you sure he's even alive?'

  'Of course I am, whelp. I'm not in business of dragging dead bodies out of tombs, that's Gestor's job. Anyway help me get him to the tent where I can treat him.'

  'But shouldn't we take him to Markarth? I mean this Orc needs to see a proper healer.'

  'This one thinks one of these “Companions” should take him to the city, yes? J'zargo doesn't see what else they are good for.'

  'Listen here cat...'

  'QUITE! All of you! His injuries are too much, he would bleed out before we even got out of these hills. I will heal him my self, the rest of you get back to work.'

  Gothos awoke to the sounds of chattering birds. He was rapped in blankets and strapped down to a cot inside what looked to be a large tent. Looking around he could see light streaming in from the open entrance flap in which a young female Dunmer stood.

  'Master Urag, he's awake!' She called as she dashed out of the tent.

  An Orc entered the tent wearing mage robes, he was old with a shaggy white beard and a bald pate but still large and capable looking. 'Ah so you made it. I thought you would be well on your way to the Garden of Malacath by now.' He grumbled.

  'Where am I and why am I tied down? Also who in Oblivion are you?' Gothos head was throbbing and he was finding it hard to think.

  The old Orc snorted, 'We are beside the entrance to the Dwemer ruins of Arkngthamz. My students found you bleeding all over my research material. And I am the one that saved your backside by dragging you up here and healing you. But you can call me Urag gro-Shub, scholar and master of the Arcaneum at the College of Winterhold.'

  'So you're a librarian?' Gothos asked as Urag visually bristled at the term.

  'Yes' he grumbled through gritted tusks, 'and a damn fine one.'

  'Huh, I thought most of my kin in Skyrim were Stronghold raised, I'm surprised to find someone like you outside of Orsinium.'

  'I left my Stronghold when I was a child'. The old Orc replied flatly.

  'Well Urag gro-Shub, I am in your debt and I will repay it but I will ask you again, why am I tied down?'

  Something flitted across Urag's face that Gothos was unsure what to make of. The scholar then turned round and began rummaging through a leather pack searching for something.

  'Their was some complications during your healing. You were delirious and thrashing and I was unable to work on you so we had to strap you to the bed.'

  Urag turned back around with a key in his hand and a strange look in his eye. He unlocked the straps holding down Gothos and took a few steps back. Gothos tired to push himself up but his right arm wouldn't move. Using his left hand he through off the blankets and looked at his arm but it wasn't their, instead it was just a bandaged stump ending at his shoulder.

  'I'm sorry son, I wasn't able to save it.'