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I received a rare invitation from the reclusive Morkul Clan. According to the master of their forge, I am the first outsider permitted to gaze upon the forge where they create their greatest works, deep beneath the Wrothgarian Mountains. In my first day alone I have witnessed many wonders of which I never thought Orcs to be capable. I decided to document my experience before I return to the College.
I am struck by the secretive nature of these Orcs. Even the entrances to their great forge are carefully concealed, invisible if one does not know their presence. As if that were not enough, some paths only seem to open for those of their own bloodline, or perhaps those who prove themselves in some way. I shall have to inquire further.
The forge itself was breathtaking. I must admit, I had my doubts—these are Orcs, after all—but it is indeed a magnificent sight. I made no mention of it, but it was clear the forge was not created by the Orcs. True, they have done much work on the exterior to conceal its origins. But the inner workings, the meticulous design? There is Dwemer brilliance beneath the Orc stone. Of that, I have no doubts.
The Orcs boast proudly of the forge, and work it with a variety of implements, but say nothing of the forge-hammer itself. Do they even know what they have? The forge is special, true, and my senses are keen enough to recognize the Dwemer had good reason for constructing it here. Yet the forge-hammer is older, and stronger still. What such a tool could do in my hands instead of theirs!
Perhaps an opportunity will arise. For now, the forge-master showed me to a side chamber for rest and drink. The heat from this place is sweltering and clouds the mind. More after my head clears.