An armory? Now, that was interesting. The forest elves were rumored to be spineless cowards, hiding away in their forest. Most thought they had a few soldiers, but nothing to warrant a standing army. An armory would prove otherwise...the elves produce enough weapons to need a separate storage for them. Not that it was too surprising. By the look of Mel's swords, they had clearly figured out how to forge weaponry. The steel wasn't fine enough to be dwarven make and he doubted highly that they would do business with the humans. That left precious few others to provide them with weapons. He had always assumed these forests would discourage any sort of forge from being used, but it seemed he may have been wrong in that assumption.

As he was introduce, Nathe stepped forward, a wince coming as he felt his wound irritate again. Despite his earlier provocative comments, his knees bent and he all but collapsed to the ground, keeping himself upright on one knee, his other bent a bit too much to be a proper kneel. "Your..." He paused a moment. "My apologies. I don't know what you call yourself now. It is a pleasure to meet you, though, leader of the elves." It was said in a pained voice, clearly having trouble keeping this stance with the wound in his side.