Fetid Corruptions of Orcs, or so the fanciful historical parchments would have you believe, goblins have run unchecked in marauding tribes throughout the lands. Not feeling the need to communicate except with a series of grunts and loud yells during combat, our prisoner seems to have carried the tattered standard of a warchief, which was duly discarded when our guild members met and slaughtered his confused band of dirt scrabblers. After he was chained in our prison pens, willfully resisting our attempts at befriending, our Khajiiti champion faced him in the pit and was easily victorious.
Astute armory scholars may recognize the spoor-stained breastplate and punctured graves of this repellent specimen, for Goblins have no breadth of craftsmanship or clarity of vision: These are stolen pieces, no doubt scavenged from a backstabbed hunter. Smaller daggers seem to be terribly primitive imitations, formed in forges without the proper bellows and heat, and the results border on the disastrous: rather than piercing flesh, one sword shattered during battle against one of my men. This piteous mass idly waved an axe at us, another purloined piece from a higher race, poorly cared for, rusting, with rotting straps and filth spread across every surface. It is kinder to burn such armaments than offer them for repair.