“Just look at me. I’m the picture of perfection. Look at these nails. Do you kno

“Just look at me. I’m the picture of perfection. Look at these nails. Do you know how much I had to pay those filthy Hlaalu manicurists for these? Look at my flawless complexion, the ideal proportions of my body. Do you think the gods created such an image of majesty for the purpose of blacksmithing? Certainly not, my very naive friend. Clearly I am destined to become an adventurer.

"That’s right. I’m too good for this place. Slaving over a hot forge is a job best left to the plebes. I mean, look at old Bols over there with his torn, sweat-and-saliva stained shirt, his head like a giant, corprus-infected melon, and that faltering gait of his like a guar with venereal warts. It’s a wonder he even remembers to put his pants on in the morning, it really is. Now, compare him with me.

"Do you mock me, plebe? I aspire to heights greater than you’ve ever dreamed of. Do you think monsters and evil men will stand any chance when they behold this majestic specimen of humanity striding toward them? No! They will quail and faint at the sight of me. I will wave their corpses aside with a swipe of my hand. My greatness is inevitable. In fact, I believe I will start on my adventuring just today. Mark my words, Dunmer – next time you come around, you won’t find me here.

"You heard what I said, you insignificant wretch.”

–Ilnori Faustus