A day of forging

By: Sasiya Posted on: August 20, 2010

Keen, feline eyes stared silently at the lumbering troll, their sapphire gaze scrutinizing and judging the young man, searching for imperfections in him as they had searched the many bars of steel that had been examined the very same morning. She could find nothing brittle or soft about the Runewarden apprentice, nothing that would unexpectedly snap or break under pressure and heat of battle. Still, he was both willing and eager to learn, ready to be shaped into something more than he was now. Just like the steel. "Remember," the tiger-like woman suddenly said, her voice coming in a drawn-out purr, "As with combat, preparation is essential. Blade, falcon, and bow are the tools of a Knight, whereas a blacksmith relies on metal, anvil, and hammer. You must be meticulous in your work, for a single bad blow of the hammer may plant the seed of weakness into your weapons. A warrior whose blade is so frail that it shatters in combat will not live to see the next sunrise."

Pausing briefly, she bared her teeth in a feral smile. "Come," she urged after a moment, motioning for the troll to follow her as she stepped further into the forge. "Preparation is only one part of a successful forger," she explained patiently, continuing the lesson as they moved towards a small annex, "Patience, skill, and yes, even luck plays a part when making weapons or armour." Her companion did not respond, but she was certain that he was paying attention. Although a bit slow at times, he was definitely not stupid. Together, they entered an area separated from the rest of the forge. Stopping next to a small altar - a square slab of stone upon which a black anvil had been placed - the rajamala knelt to the ground, mumbling a silent prayer. "Please, accept my gift," she whispered respectfully, placing a sizeable pouch of gold next to the altar. A venerable silence fell in the room, lasting for but a few moments before being disturbed by the distant hooting of an owl. A sign, perhaps, that the Divine had accepted her offering. Slowly rising to her feet again, the woman turned once more to face the troll. "This is a shrine to Lord Phaestus, Patron of all craftsmen upon Sapience. He is also known as The Smith." A hint of amusement glittered in the depths of her eyes and her lips curled into yet another smile. "You see, I prefer to make my own luck. Perhaps this small bribe of mine will appease Him," she concluded with a soft purr.

The two of them made an odd duo, she thought to herself as she fired up the forge and started to work the bellows. Trolls were perfect combatants, strong and sturdy, fearless and loyal. Her own kin were smaller, more agile, relying on speed rather than brute force, yet equally lethal in battle. However, things were completely different in the forge: a lone stray ember could set her fur on fire if she was careless, and she knew that trolls' flesh were vulnerable to flames as well. She shook her head and inhaled deeply, her chest expanding slightly as her lungs filled with air. Calmly, she exhaled again, a look of utter focus settling upon her features as the air slowly wheezed past her lips. "Alright, pay attention now. Today, I will teach you to make rapiers," she said, reaching for her hammer. Ever so carefully, she began to pound the metal, shaping, molding it into a thin length of steel. Once satisfied, she started the painstaking process of refining the piece of weaponry, sharpening and balancing the sword for optimal performance in combat. Upon completion, she removed the blade from the forge using a set of tongs and then proceeded to cool it in a barrel of water, causing the weapon to harden.

Over the course of the day, she guided her apprentice, reprimanded him when he erred and praised him when he succeeded. They were both weary when the last fires in the forge flickered and died away. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the room, heralding the oncoming night. "We are done for today," she declared, reaching for one of the finished swords, "This is my gift to you, yet it comes with a final lesson." She quickly retrieved three pellets of fine, purple powder from her rift, beginning to sketch strange runes along the blade of the rapier. The first, a large hammer, was soon joined by the symbol of a dirk, and finally by a long, slim blade, each of them accompanied by a brief description, "Lagua increases the damage you inflict with your weapon, whereas lagul makes it strike its target more often. Finally, laguz makes your attacks faster. They will only last for a single day, until you learn how to empower a runeblade. As Runewardens, we have the ability to take ordinary weapons and improve them to point where they will match or even exceed that of artifacts. This is one of our greatest strengths, one that should not be underestimated." They discussed the many aspects of Runelore, totems, and runeblades for a short while longer, before getting ready to leave.

As she headed home, the woman thought with satisfaction that it had been a good day.

A day of forging.