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Ah, Orokin. The woman whose name is on everyone's lips. In case you didn't know, the entire guild seems to be holding its breath, waiting to see which side you'll come down on. The popular opinion is that you're ready to take up with Blanstyr.
I have no such concerns, of course. Had you resolved to distance yourself from me, we would not be having this conversation. But that does not change the fact that your allegiance remains a subject of public debate─one which threatens the unity of the guild. I propose you dispel our colleagues' unfounded anxiety by demonstrating your affiliation in a manner that none may doubt or dispute.
Specifically, I would have you accept the commission of a valued client on my behalf. That, I think, would serve as proof of both my faith in you, and of your support for the guild's present course. Tell me, how would you like to try your hand at crafting a suit of steel chainmail?
The order comes from a resident of Costa del Sol─an extremely wealthy and discerning gentleman who will accept nothing less than the finest-quality armor. As you may imagine, his patronage is of great value to the guild. I need hardly add that I would not entrust this commission to an armorer in whom I had aught less than the utmost faith. The client's maidservant, Nortyrwyb, will supply you with the finer details of the order. She should be here in the city, conducting business at the Fishermen's Guild as we speak.
Ah, down to the fishing guild we must go. I’ll be covering the Disciples of the Land after all of the Hand, so Fisher will be our eventual capstone.
Greetings and salutations! What an honor it is to meet another of Limsa Lominsa's famed artisans! ...I'm sorry? A commission? Oh dear, there seems to be some confusion… I have already entrusted my master's commission to a veteran craftsman of your esteemed organization.
You are acquainted with Blanstyr? H-His reputation precedes him, you see, and I saw little reason to doubt that a man of his experience should be assigned the task... Oh, b-but I do not mean to suggest that you─ Ahem. I merely sought to justify my own misapprehension.
Regrettable though this situation may be, I would hesitate to shame your colleague by stripping him of his commission─given all the sterling work he has done for us in the past, I mean… Yet I can well imagine that you are loath to return to your superior empty-handed. Hmmm... Assuming the finished armor is of exceptional quality, my master will provide full remuneration regardless of the hand that forges the links. Mayhap it would be best for all concerned if you discussed the matter with your fellow armorer.
Bah, seems the old bastard cut in before us. Let’s go back and give him a piece of our mind.
Well, if it ain't H'naanza's lapdog. Aye, I heard about yer little show of allegiance. Hmph. I s'pose Nortyrwyb told ye I snatched that commission from right under yer nose, did she? Heh. Seems we got ourselves a thorny little predicament, don't it? Well, I ain't about to hand the job back to ye on a silver bleedin' platter.
...But that don't mean I want ye to give up, neither. Don't ye see? This is the perfect chance to find out who's the better armorer─to see which of us has walked the right an' proper path. I'm talkin' about a contest o' skill, girl. Whichever of us crafts the finer suit o' chainmail gets the job.
But remember: this bloke pays good coin for a reason. He wants the best, an' he ain't about to settle for less. Not that he'll have to, o' course─yer armor'd need to be bloody flawless to be better'n mine, so our mate'll be gettin' his money's worth whatever happens. Once yer ready, bring yer armor back here an' we'll lay it out next to mine. We've both got our pride, so I reckon we can judge the results fairly for ourselves. Now bugger off!
...How many times do we have to teach you this lesson, old man? It’s a lot.
More steel ingots made into rings, and some weaved cloth made from flax. ARR recipes are mostly very simple… which won’t always be the case.
Well? Pressure too much for ye, lass? Or have ye finally finished puttin' that chainmail together?
<frowns, holding up her work>
Right then─let's have a look, shall we?
<gulp> By Byregot's beard! Where'd ye learn to forge links like that!? It's...it's bloody perfect! Rhalgr Himself would struggle to stick a dagger through that steel. An' look at that luster... Strength an' beauty in equal godsdamned measure!
H'naanza should be praisin' the Builder for droppin' a gift like yerself in her lap. Ye won fair an' square, Orokin. I'll not bother to lecture ye no more. I'll take yer beauteous bloody chainmail to Nortyrwyb meself an' let her know who it was as crafted it. That's an old tradition among us armorers, 'case ye didn't know. The loser o' these contests gets the job o' deliverin' the victor's goods.
...Bah! Gloat while ye can, lass. Ye just joined H'naanza at the top o' me list. This ain't over─not by a long shot.
Bring it on, Blanstyr. Oh, and as a sidenote: Did you know that Tataru’s top is one that was available to players in 1.0, but not since? The Steel Chainmail is one of the closer models to matching it, but obviously it’s not quite right.
Greetings, Orokin. I hear word you bested Blanstyr in an armorer's contest of skill. An impressive feat, and one of which you should be proud. But I'm afraid you've made a most troublesome enemy, for he is both persistent and vindictive. As you well know, I speak from bitter experience on that matter. Rather than dwell on this unpleasant rivalry, however, I would have you focus on your craft. Ready your hammer and pliers, Orokin─there is much and more to do!
Master Lyngsath over at the Bismarck has commissioned a new steel frypan. And, as one might expect of the head of the Culinarians' Guild, he accepts only the finest of wares. Now, compared to pounding out thick, protective plates of armor, cooking utensils─being generally smaller and lighter─require a somewhat more delicate touch. You must bring all of your concentration to bear, lest you risk ruining the entire piece with a single misplaced blow.
In light of recent events, which have no doubt left your mind scattered, I believe a task that fully engages your faculties will prove beneficial. Let us not keep Master Lyngsath waiting, Orokin. To the forge with you.
It’s time for a little breather: the local master chef needs some cookware from us. Culinarian is an odd duck among crafters, and I look forward to showing it off. (The frypan itself is just some more steel and a piece of oak lumber for the handle.)
Where is that frypan, Orokin? It is true that you are no longer some rank novice, but do not think your posterior safe from the toe of my boot if you choose to dither and dally!
Truly, another consummate work. I can find no flaw with its weight or balance; it is not so heavy as to be a struggle to lift, yet it remains sturdy enough to endure the frantic pace of the Bismarck's kitchens. I trust at this juncture that you comprehend in full my earlier warning─to produce a frypan of this quality would most certainly have required your undivided attention. And I can tell this item received just that─the consistency of the metal's thickness is all the evidence one needs.
This type of precision should not be undervalued. In this case, should the frypan be poorly forged, the heat of its cooking surface will be uneven...and such flaws are unacceptable to an exacting culinarian such as Master Lyngsath. Even the sturdiest of utensils, however, rarely last him more than a few seasons. It is a struggle to find armorers who can meet his demanding specifications when he turns to our guild for replacements.
I had long intended to assign this commission to you, but your encounter with Blanstyr had me doubting your ability to concentrate. This is one of those rare occasions when I am happy to be proven wrong. Your uncompromising attention to detail continues to be an inspiration to your colleagues. Ah, and speaking of details, there is one that remains untended: delivering this frypan into Master Lyngsath's hands. I trust you do not need directions to the Culinarians' Guild.
For those that do: It’s north of here, through the Drowning Wench.
Lyngsath is this imposing gent standing watch over the busy Bismarck kitchen.
Ye've come to deliver me new frypan, 'ave ye?
Indeed I have!
Well, now, ain't she a beauty! With this pan, I'll be able to whip up all sorts o' dishes an' not fret about burnin' the middle or undercookin' the edges. Ye say this was yer work? Only the forgemaster 'erself 'as ever been able to make utensils what I'd consider worthy o' the Bismarck. Seems like I finally got me another craftswoman I can trust. Yer welcome in me kitchen any time, lass.
I’ll take you up on that in a little while, chief.
And with that done, it’s time to get back to the action.
I hope you're feeling competitive, Orokin, for Blanstyr has submitted a formal challenge. It seems he means to recover the pride you cost him with your previous victory. <sigh> He is as an overgrown, sulky child who sees his fellow colleagues as naught more than rivals. In his tiny world, all that matters is who is the best, who is the brightest, and who is the most able to provide immediate value to the guild.
Now, I would be lying if I said I did not also take such factors into account; you well know my demand for excellence. But the methods we take to reach it differ vastly. Blanstyr would run a guild of exclusion, one in which an adventurer like yourself would have been unwelcome. The lack of sense in that is clear. He may be my equal in skill and technique, but it is this narrow perspective that weighed the balance against him in our contest for the guildmaster's chair.
I won, and he lost. That simple fact plays an enormous role in the enmity that now lies between us. And I'm certain that past defeat is no small part of what fuels Blanstyr's present desire to prove himself your better. I regret that this ridiculous feud has drawn you into its bitter maw. But if it means seeing that stubborn old dodo put in his place, then I'm just childish enough myself to encourage you to accept. Blanstyr awaits you in his usual haunt. Go to him, and show you've the steel to pick up the gauntlet he's thrown down.
<grins, nods, punches palm>
One jaunt around the corner later…
I've had just about enough o' H'naanza's coddlin' ways. She's raisin' a generation o' slackjaws what look like armorers, but ain't fit to wipe the soot from a proper craftsman's backside. Before ye know it, folk'll start losin' trust in the trade itself. Years o' pride an' tradition are crumblin' to dust around our feet!
'Course, ever since ye bested me in our little competition, me words don't carry the weight they once did… Seems like I've got to take ye down a few pegs afore I can start puttin' things aright. Aye, the world needs to know that ol' Blanstyr's not to be beaten by one o' H'naanza's lot─even if it were her prize pup!
We'll settle this the old-fashioned way: a three-round contest o' skill. There ain't no point in draggin' this out, so let's get straight to the challenge for the first round─the finest mythril cuirass ye can forge! Since I'll be choosin' the tasks, we'll leave the appraisal of our work to yer precious forgemaster. I'll be takin' me armor to her directly. Once ye've shown H'naanza yer own cuirass an' heard her decision, ye bring the piece to me so's I can see it for meself.
So here we have it, a nice simple best-of-three competition for… well, I guess the fate of the guild? It’s not really under immediate threat though, so I’ll pass on dinging the counter.
Ah, mythril and electrum. Mythril Ore is way down in the southern-eastern most part of Southern Thanalan, while Electrum Ore is just a bit south of Camp Bronze Lake in Upper La Noscea. I’m a fan of how this particular piece looks.
Blanstyr has already been here to submit his work for appraisal. You have a mythril cuirass prepared as well, I trust?
This is superb craftsmanship, Orokin. It seems the pressures of this challenge have done naught to cloud your eye for detail. In fact, you may have produced your finest piece yet. It is superior to Blanstyr's in every respect. You think me biased? Yes, it is true that I despise that self-centered windbag, but I mean to judge this contest fairly. And the Roegadyn's armor was indeed forged with his customary quality.
But it is thus that the brilliance of your cuirass shines all the more brightly for improving on the work of a master artisan. Mythril is a notoriously difficult material to shape, yet see the gloss of these plates! Not a single imperfection to mar the surface. I have cast an eye over many a suit of armor, but it is refreshing to know that I can still be impressed. The first round goes to you. I only wish I could be there to see Blanstyr weep when you show him the masterpiece you have created.
Ice cold, H’naanza.
So, H'naanza chose yer armor over mine, did she? Tch, surprise, surprise... Come, then, pup, let's see this bloody work of art.
Huh... Well...ye've not been neglectin' yer craft, that much is certain. I can't rightly disagree with her decision. But the next round'll be a different story─ye can be sure o' that!
He may be a stubborn old fool, but at least he recognises Orokin’s talent, I’ll give him that much. Next!
Blanstyr has notified me of the challenge for the second round of your contest. Defeat in the first round has humbled him not a whit, it seems. You may have gained an early lead, Orokin, but keep your focus sharp. As I have said before, complacency can be your downfall. And a man like Blanstyr is at his most dangerous when his pride is on the line.
Now, according to the wishes of our vindictive veteran, for this next round, you are to craft several items...and you must do so within a reasonable time frame to “reflect the pressures of an actual commission.” He fails to mention what he considers to be “reasonable,” so I suggest you work with dispatch. The challenge requires you to forge a pair of mythril-plated caligae, a reinforced mythril elmo, and a pair of mythril sollerets, all of the finest-possible quality.
Naturally, every one of these items requires an abundance of mythril ore... See how he deliberately chooses the same material as before? Such is Blanstyr's confidence in his ability, and his certitude that he cannot be beaten twice under similar conditions. This is your chance to unravel that obnoxious self-assurance, and end this contest with a second-round victory. If anyone can quench the fury of that insufferable aurochs, Orokin, it is you. Bring your submissions to me once you are satisfied with your forging. Take no shortcuts─I expect to see armor of unsurpassed quality.
H’naanza isn’t joking; it’s probably too small to read, but that is a lot of mythril. Also a couple of different types of leather, and some sinew in the footwear.
Do you have the pieces required for the second round? I need to see a pair of mythril-plated caligae, a reinforced mythril elmo, and a pair of mythril sollerets─all of the best quality you can muster.
Well done, Orokin─your work is flawless. I would declare you victor this very moment, except…
I need you to relinquish this armor to the guild. As for the why, it concerns a potentially dire loss of trust and reputation.
Orokin recoils in shock at this development, and remains that way for several moments. I choose to believe it’s entirely out of sarcasm, because it could never be that easy.
Do you recall the time you aided one of our novices with an order of bronze hoplons? Well, I'm afraid young Swithin has failed to deliver once more. He has improved much in his craft─spurred on as he was by your example─but again the lad accepted a commission he could never hope to honor. And one does not break a promise made to the Maelstrom...
I could drop full responsibility for this failure onto Swithin's unreliable shoulders, and cast him out of the guild. But what worth is a guild that does naught to support its own members when they truly need it? Blanstyr is a harsh man, but not entirely without reason. If you explain the circumstances, he may grant you a few extra days to forge your submission anew. What say you, Orokin? Will you yield your work to the guild?
I’m willing to bet every gil I have that Blanstyr will screw me over on this, but sure.
Byregot's blessings upon you, Orokin. Swithin! Come over here and show some gratitude!
I don't know how to repay you for saving my neck yet again. I'll never forgive myself if it costs you your victory over Blanstyr… But the compassion you and the forgemaster have shown me this day will not be squandered, this I promise you. I'll work twice as hard! Three times, even!
Don’t worry, I’ve got this. But don’t bite off more than you can chew in future!
We are in your debt. I'll arrange to have these pieces delivered to the Maelstrom quartermasters immediately. Meanwhile, you should hurry over to Blanstyr and explain the delay in your submission.
What's this now? Ye let the guild have yer armor to make up a missed order!? Hahahaha, what'd I tell ye? Those fumble-fingered parasites're holdin' ye back at every turn. Ye was meant to honor the terms of our contest, no matter the circumstances. Now, ye've neither the gear ye crafted to show for yer effort, nor the time to forge a new submission. This round goes to me!
I knew it.
I'd grant ye this ain't the kind o' victory a man looks for, but rules is rules, lass, an' failure comes with consequence. So, I don't want to hear no excuses for the final round. Ye just bring yer best work to the table, and we'll let the results stand for 'emselves.
I’ll hold you to that…
One more quest left, as Orokin runs back past Not-Lara Croft there. (You can do better than that; the shorts aren’t even the right colour.)
I must thank you again, Orokin, for sacrificing your time and effort to help our guild with that order for the Maelstrom. It behooves us not to fail clients such as they, no matter the reason. But, as is our fate, we are rarely afforded a respite from the flames of the forge.
I have recently been informed that Admiral Merlwyb will be inspecting various organizations─our own Armorers' Guild included─and their roles in promoting Limsa Lominsa's trade with the East. The impressions made during this inspection will have a direct influence on whom the Maelstrom chooses as the provider of its equipment and other sundry supplies. Blanstyr, in his usual arrogant manner, has proposed that we seize this opportunity to have the Admiral herself serve as arbiter for the final round of your contest.
Naturally.
Ugh, imagine how that bastard would crow if you were to suffer defeat before the commander of Limsa Lominsa's Grand Company. The credence such a public failure would lend to his arguments would spell the end of the guild as we know it. You must not allow this to come to pass. Success in this third and final challenge hinges on your ability to forge what might need to be the most exquisite cobalt haubergeon in the realm. And, as you'd expect, it is one of the more demanding pieces of armor a student of our discipline can attempt.
While I harbor not the slightest doubt that you will produce a haubergeon of surpassing quality, let us tip the scales in your favor by augmenting it with materia─a heavens' eye materia of the third grade should do the trick. Once your armor is complete, deliver it to Sergeant Zwynberk at Hawkers' Round and he will see it passed along to the Admiral.
Excellent. I’d love to hear what Merlwyb herself thinks of my work!
The armour itself is mostly the same thing we’ve seen before, except for one higher-level Weaver material: Undyed Felt. That’s an annoying one, because it requires Fleece from Karakuls in Coerthas, and also Snurble Tufts from the Golden Fleece enemies in Eastern Thanalan. It’s always a pain when weaving wants monster drops.
Anyway, the guy we want is in the middle of Hawker’s Alley, next to a Company Chest I suspect nobody ever uses. (It’s used to access the shared bank of a Free Company, but any land-owning FC will have one in their house somewhere.)
Orokin Reactor? Ah, you have a cobalt haubergeon for me, then? It would not do to keep Admiral Merlwyb waiting.
Right here, ready for inspection!
Consider your submission accepted. I think you'll enjoy the Admiral's, uh, methods of appraisal.
And on that intriguing turn of phrase, we once again move to cutscene land.
And immediately get a very Reservoir Dogs shot of the Admiral and her men arriving.
...Height differences are a bitch, huh?
Orokin. Blanstyr. This, the final round of your contest, will decide victory or defeat. May the best armorer win!
Two men wearing haubergeons step forward…
...and pose, much to Blanstyr’s apparent confusion.
Admiral? Who are these gentlemen? Where are the mannequins?
I find little can be learned from insipidly lifeless models, so I've decided to take a different tack. My men here will wear your armorers' submissions instead.
I see. Do you intend them to take on varying poses for your inspection?
In a manner of speaking. We wish to determine the quality of the armor, do we not? I prefer the direct approach.
And when the Admiral says the direct approach…
She damn well means it!
Byregot's beard! What kind of appraisal is this!?
Ye really that surprised, H'naanza? No finer way to test yer gear than in the heat o' battle.
Using flesh and blood warriors is hardly necessary! What of the risks of injury?
A new man runs in.
And unleashes an Overpower strong enough to sandblast the entire area.
Heh, me armor was built to withstand far worse'n this. If those blokes get hurt by them oversized hatchets, then I ain't got no business bein' here. Ye agree on that score, don't ye, Orokin?
...Ha, I’ll give you that one.
As the soldiers all stand down, the two testers are still standing strong. No visible signs of damage to either set.
Well, well, it appears your claims to excellence are more than empty boasts. Let's raise the stakes, shall we?
Well, time to see who can survive a shot from Death Penalty!
H’naanza and her underlings are understandably shocked.
Admiral! You go too far!
Such expensive equipment is of little use to us if it cannot stop a bullet.
Admiral Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn, folks.
And lest you think me reckless, my men were never in any real danger─I quite carefully inspected the sturdiness of both haubergeons before we began. You are not the only one with an eye for quality, dear Forgemaster.
In any case...it appears we have a winner.
The man wearing Blanstyr’s armour clutches his side, and then goes down like a sack of bricks.
I don't... I don't believe it... The shot punched through me links? What's so damn different between your armor an' mine!?
The healthy tester flexes, as the wounded one picks himself back up.
Perhaps the reason you cannot answer that question, armorer, is the reason you just lost to your colleague.
I─ Bloody hells.
This was a most educational─and entertaining─experience. When the Maelstrom next finds itself in need of replacement equipment, I believe I know just the sort of armorer to whom we shall turn.
Thank you, Admiral.
Blanstyr snarls and starts to walk away with his wounded pride.
Congratulations, Orokin! It was a close contest, but you've struck a telling blow here today nonetheless.
Swithin, Granae and Drystwyda cheer us on.
The question is, does Blanstyr yet realize his folly? It would be best for you to seek him out to learn where we now stand.
...Aye, alright.
Well, time to make our way back to the guild…
...A procession of Lalafells in ghost costumes all named Blorp Blorp. Never change, Limsa.
Come to see me beaten an' broken, have ye? Ye've made a bloody fool out o' me.
Now, what was that you said… “If ye've the time to wallow in wounded tears, ye've the time to examine yer own mistakes. There's no room in this world for craftsmen as can't criticize their own handiwork. So learn how to gauge yer failin's an' correct 'em, or hang up yer bloody hammer.”
Bah, I've made a fool out o' meself. I was just too thickheaded stubborn to see it comin'. Reckon I ought to steer clear o' guild business fer a time─get me some distance to think on all o' this. But ye tell that harpy H'naanza that she better not let this place fall to pieces─I'll still be watchin'.
Ha, I don’t doubt it. Best of luck with your self-reflection.
How very like Blanstyr to have the last word. At least now he seems to have grasped the idea that his way is not as absolute as he believed.
After all, the greatest source of innovation is found in our connection with others. For instance, did you know that “kobold” was the original pronunciation of “cobalt”? It was through trade with those beastman miners that we first encountered, and subsequently refined, the use of cobalt ore. Without such contact, it is unlikely that the armor you forged for the last round of your contest would even exist today.
There is only so much an armorer can achieve on her own. It is mutual respect─and a healthy dose of friendly rivalry─that truly spurs the improvement of a craft. Blanstyr's gravest mistake was to see his rivals as enemies. By walling himself off from his peers, he denied himself the knowledge of techniques which you were grateful enough to receive. His defeat was inevitable.
And it was your determination and skill that taught him the dangers of stagnation. You embody everything I stand for, Orokin, and the guild is richer for your presence.
...And with another mention of the kobolds to which Limsa owes its metallurgical prowess, just as the blacksmith’s receptionist did, we have a neat little bookend to these two arcs. I hope you enjoyed our time with the bulky hammers of the forge; next time will be the delicate hammering of a goldsmith instead. Hope to see you then!