Completed Rebuilding the Blade

[Solemn Warborn]

Summer, the 12th, 516 AV Rebuilding the Blade Solemn spent the rest of the day wandering the Holds of Avanthal trying to find the newcomer he had spotted not long ago, wishing he had been paying attention to what Hold he had seen her in. She was unique in a way it seemed no one else in Avanthal was. It was her arm that had caught his attention first, mostly because it was colored purple. Not so young and naïve that he had no idea what tattoos were, Solemn knew this was something different. When he had asked someone about it, they had called her an Isur, and the arm in question was a gift of the God from which they had all descended. It was a sign of the God Izurdin’s blessing and the first mark of his gnosis. All Isur were blessed in that whatever they created could be imparted with a piece of them, and since the Isur were stronger than most, the things they created with their gnosis were equally stronger than the mundane creations of average people. That had been the second thing Solemn had noticed about her: her strength. While the Vantha people were an athletic race, this newcomer had a powerful build like few of the women in Avanthal had. One thing was certain. She was strong, not in a way that was grotesque, but it did give her an intimidating quality. What had interested Solemn the most though was what he had been told about the Isur and their usual professions. They seemed to be creators, one and all, and held occupations such as masons, woodcarvers, architects, and so on, but undoubtedly, what the Isur were most known for was their work with metal. They were said to be the most skilled and revered smiths in all Mizahar. Solemn hoped that this newcomer displayed the same affinity for metal working that the rest of her race was so well known for. Furthermore, he hoped she wouldn’t be insulted by him asking her to repair his blade. If she wasn’t interested in such things, his request and assumption that she was could be taken as ignorance or blatant racism. If she was though, he imagined his request would be well received. Not to mention, iron and steel (and any metal for that matter) were in short supply in the frozen north, so what few smiths Avanthal had were in sore need of practice. But if this newcomer was indeed a smith and if she had come from her homeland of Sultros, she was sure to have had all the practice she needed for Solemn’s blade. It was midafternoon when he finally heard something that might help him. It was the clash of metal against metal, but it wasn’t the typical ring of swords against other swords or shields or armor that had become so familiar to him at the Stadium that morning. No, this wasn’t the sound of war. This clash was industrious, that of fire and force combining and becoming a creative power, that of hammer against heated metal. He had heard it a few times before. This was the sound of a metal smith at work. Looking around, Solemn realized he was in Iceglaze Hold. Step by step, he followed the noise until he found himself standing before a forge. The young woman at the forge was exactly as Solemn had remembered her. Powerful, gracefully so, especially her purple arm as it drove the hammer against bright orange metal. He was impressed with how easy the metal bent to her whim. The woman wore a light tank, so the heat of the forge wouldn’t be too much. Calling out in Vani, he took her attention away from her project, hoping she wasn’t angry at him for doing so. “Excuse me. Excuse me. I was hoping you could take a look at my sword and tell me if it can be repaired. It’s quite battered and bent.”

[Aliana Hilt Terras]

☾ Title and Date ☽

Aliana walked into the forge leaving her jacket at the door as she often did. The heat from the forge would be enough to keep her warm while she worked. There was more to do that day than just crafting. What she had made the day before would need to be sharpened and put on display outside the open doors. Any one interested in buying the blades or in repair would easily be able to find the woman's shop or the Hold's shop any way. Kneeling down she prepped the forge by putting logs and twigs on top of the coals. The woman was certain that by the time work had concluded for the day she would need to clean the ash and soot from the coals.

With the fire going at a steady blaze she got up to let the temp rise. For the moment Aliana walked over to the newly fashioned blades from the day before and grabbed one. Raising it the woman teased the sharpness or rather lack thereof and decided to sharpen it. Putting her foot on the pedal the Isur began pumping it till the stone was spinning at a fast pace. Picking up the first blade the woman touched it to the stone causing sparks to instantly fly. Leaning back just a bit she continued before pulling it away and testing the side. Happy with the results she turns it over and begins to sharpen the other side. The blades Aliana was working with had already been tempered and the grips added to them. All that was left to do was sharpen them and put them on the rack outside. Checking the blade once more she turned it over still facing the same way allowing the bottom of the blade to be sharpened.

After both sides were completely sharpened the woman put the blade outside with a “Danger! Sharp swords” sign on the top of the rack. Stepping inside once more she sharpened two other swords the same way and placed them on the rack. The three swords varied in length from a small broadsword to an elongated sword. The trio also had different levels of sharpness, but all able to cut an unpracticed hand. With all the sharpening done the Isur walked over to see what orders were piled up. Looking it appeared there was a battle axe and spear in need of repair and a Watch member wanting a new long sword crafted. She figured that he or she rather had not had it brought in for regular inspections and repair. Most do not know that even weapons need to be maintained by a blacksmith. Shaking her head the woman decided to start with the sword first. It would take the most amount of time to craft so Aliana walked over and grabbed the piece of metal she would need to craft. She allowed the metal to heat so that it would bend to her will. A soft voice called to her midstride causing her to stop just before it connected.

“Let me see it,” Aliana said looking the man.

He seemed timid and nervous. Nothing she would expected from a Watch member, the woman figured that the man was in training.

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[Solemn Warborn]

Happy to have her be willing to at least take a look at the blade, Solemn reached for his shashka. The scabbard was attached to a buckled strap on the waist of his parka by a simple metal ring. Unbuckling the strap, Solemn slid the sword and scabbard free and held them up. With one hand on the scabbard near the hilt, he drew the blade and listened to the ring of the metal. It was a young sword, but it had a long story to tell. Anyone could tell that much by the way the reverberation of the blade hung on the air, drawing out its own tale, but it had seen much and had, as few things in the world truly did, a right to boast. It had seen many battles and many more deaths, and of the many deaths it had witnessed, none had been the one who had wielded it. Greater than most of the battles it had taken part of, though, were the many dances it had been in. Solemn’s mother, Dasha, had made the shashka as much a tool of art as it was an implement of death, and due to Dasha’s wanderlust, the blade had learned the many cultural dances meant for its kind, for weapons. The blade had seen much of Mizahar. Solemn smiled as the blade’s song came to its end. It was the blade’s song, but it was also his mother’s as she had worked to make the blade as much a part of her soul as her own Kelvic bond. Wincing at this comparison, Solemn realized he had done little to show that he believed it meant this much to her. At the moment, though, none of that mattered. He was here to fix the damage he had done to the blade with his negligence, and this woman could help him get that done. Twisting the sword so the handle faced the Isur weapon smith, he held the blade by two points on the dull edge. His gloves were still on, protecting the metal from the dangerous oils on his hands as he presented the shashka to her. “This shashka means a lot to me, because it meant the world to my mother. It was hers, and she gave it to me to take care of, but I have let it go to disrepair.” Solemn held it up and peered down its length, shaking his head at the sideways bend near the tip of the blade. “It’s bent, as I said before, and the blade has been dulled and has an obscene amount of nicks. I’m hoping it can be repaired, but I’ll leave that up to your superior judgement.” He went quiet as she took Dasha’s shashka from his hands to inspect it. With how renowned the Isur were for their craftsmanship, he hoped she wouldn’t think less of him for his mistreatment of such a beautifully crafted and meaningful piece.

[Aliana Hilt Terras]

☾ Title and Date ☽

Aliana made a note of how the ring sounded. Young yet much blood had been slipped with it, watching the girl slightly narrowed her eyes seeing the nicks. Soon enough her scowl became a full on glare seeing the blade literally bent sideways. This fool had damaged such a beautiful blade nearly beyond repair. Listening to him she understood a few of the words such as mother, sword, and precious. The woman had to hold back a snort at how the “mother” had entrusted something so dear to her to some child that barely knew how to wield it properly. Taking the hilt from him with her left hand the girl pressed her fingers of her right hand to it and closed her eyes. Running her hand up the blade she listened to the pain of the weapon. Slowly opening her eyes the woman looked at him directly.

“I will try, but this many dents along with the curve here. Does not bode well for repairing it. With this much damage even a master would risk breaking the blade clean in half down the center,” Aliana said looking to him.

The Isur wanted to make it crystal clear to him, that there was really no way of knowing whether it would be able to handle the repairs needed. Now to sharpen it would not cause so much stress to the blade and wounded metal. After so much abuse the metal could barely hold any more tension before finally snapping. Everyone knew there was a lot of pounding, heating, and stress done to any form of crafting material in a forge. That is why many weaponsmiths and blacksmiths stress bringing weapons and such in for regular repairs. Looking at him once more the girl took on as serious a look as she could muster making it quite clear in her tone and attitude, how big of a task this would be.

“Even if I were able to repair this weapon. There is no guarantee it will hold up to the stress of battle or even just a training session. The damage and held stress of the blade is so great that even just heating it up to work the nicks and bend out could very well shatter it. I would suggest you make sure to look around and get a secondary weapon,” Aliana said before waving him off and stepping over to her work station.

Heating the fires the girl slid the blade in and allowed it to get hot. The process would take longer than usual with the amount of damage. After about twenty chimes the woman pulled the blade and turned grabbing her hammer starting close to the hilt. Slowly she began trying to work out the nicks without causing more harm.

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[Solemn Warborn]

Solemn listened to her words, his heart falling at the thought that his blade, his mother’s blade, might be beyond repair, might be beyond the extensive skill of this Isurian smith. Though his heart fell, hope rose in him, soaring higher than his heart ever could. This smith was blessed by the hands of Izurdin himself or by something beyond that. More than just being blessed, one of her arms was the extension of the God himself. If there was any living being who could handle the task at hand, it was her, by the strength of her body and the will of a God. Respectfully, Solemn stepped back as she waved him away but hovered a short distance to watch the work on his most treasured possession, if she’d allow it. “May I watch, even if only for a short while? Please don't take it as mistrust. It’s just curiosity.” While the shashka lay in the unwavering warmth of the fire and the two waited to see if the vicious heat would help to break or rebuild the blade, Solemn looked to the foreigner. “Thank you, for whatever you can do. I’m Solemn, by the way. May I ask your name?” She gave it to him and allowed him some small talk, as she had little else to do until the steel of the shashka had heated through. He asked her of her home, of what had brought her to the far North, a land so different from that of the mountainous Sultros. He asked her of the lands she had seen on her journey from there to here. Mostly though, he asked of her family and who she had been before she had left the City beneath the Mountain. Once the metal was heated though, Aliana became absorbed in her work, her focus on coaxing the metal back to its proper shape rivaling that given by healers to their charges. In the depth of her focus, in her care for things created, it almost seemed as if Aliana had forgotten his carelessness. He was thankful for that much, even if it wasn’t true. Greater than the focus, there was a passion in the way she worked the steel. His own focus drifted, as it often tended to do when he was not at work doing something he loved. Curiosity could only hold his attention so long, and rather than continue to pester Aliana for helping him, he took her advice and began scanning the other weapons that were available, the thought of having to wield another weapon sickening him somewhat. It was his own fault though. He knew that much, so he let his gloved hands glide over the weapons that were for sale. While he let his eyes evaluate all the weapons, he never considered anything but a sword. Though their clumsy balance was difficult for Solemn’s mind to grasp, most swords at least had a similar style of use that his experience with a shashka could help him to use. Having never used a spear or axe and being as slow as he was, Solemn would probably never be good with such weapons. Selecting a stoutly made longsword, Solemn pulled it up and gave it a few lazy twirls in his hands after he made sure he had the room to do so without endangering anyone or anything. The blade was balanced perfectly at the hilt; Aliana knew her job well. However, the balance made the sword feel flimsy in his hand, as if it would break as soon as he struck something with it, though he knew that to be false. Still, it lacked the pulling weight the shashka had, the one that made it feel nearly out of control. Setting the sword back down, he shook his head, turning back to Aliana and the sound of hammer striking metal.

[Aliana Hilt Terras]

☾ Title and Date ☽

“Fine, just stay out of my way,” Aliana said.

The woman looked over to the man as he began bombarding her with questions. A slight twitch in her eyes would be caught as a sign of annoyance if someone was looking hard enough. It appeared that the boy talking to her nonstop did not recognize the aggravation in the Isur's posture. Closing her eyes and centering herself the woman began to answer his questions one at a time while watching the metal.

“It's Aliana Hilt. I am from Sultros, and I left to see what I could accomplish on my own. My father was renowned now it's my turn to show my stuff,” Aliana explained looking at the metal.

Sliding on one glove she grabbed the hilt and brought the blade out. Holding it straight across the girl put her hand under the weapon feeling the heat it acquired. Nodding happy with it the woman put the blade against the anvil and began her work. She wanted to try and work out the kinked before getting the twist removed. If the twist was not hammered out right then the blade would break. Bending some the woman's back popped making it easier for her to stay bent over longer. After working half way down the blade the woman noticed the lack of balance in the blade. With a sigh the woman put the blade in the barrel of water letting it cool the metal. After a few seconds she pulled it out looking at the metal as it was noticeably less bent. Humming some the woman traced the thumb of her right arm up the blade listening to the sound. Such a beautiful weapon made the girl smile softly, walking over to fire returned it to the heat.

Putting her foot on the handle to the bellow she pushed up and down getting the fire flared up once more. Allowing the blade to heat up once more she smiled seeing the heat. Using the tongs to pull the blade from the blaze the woman looked at it closely. The bend was just beginning to fold out with the help of the loosened metal. Grabbing her hammer the girl raised it up and slammed it down against the hot metal. With a resounding clang the material began to bend. With each hit the blade straightened on more and more. As it cooled though the Isur could feel it beginning to harden. Picking it up Aliana turned and put the item in the cold water. Steamed instantly began to billow out of the barrel and into the air. Leaning her face back some the woman knew that the steam could be just as dangerous as the actual metal or water. Pulling the weapon from the liquid the girl looked at it as close as she could past the still rising steam.

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[Solemn Warborn]

“My father was renowned. Now it’s my turn to show my stuff.” That was a sentiment Solemn could get behind. In a way, he was doing the same thing. His mother had been an adventurer and a warrior of incredible ability and skill, so much so that she had earned herself a place in the hearts and homes of several Holds. When she had left her shashka in his care, she had left him her legacy as well. It was no small responsibility, and he had very large shoes to fill. So Solemn understood wanting to prove one’s self. There might have been a connection in that, but there was something in Aliana’s response that distanced him more than some vague connection could draw him in. To him, her answers felt cold, perhaps a little indifferent, and though he didn’t let it affect him, he had seen the flash of annoyance in her eyes. Living in Avanthal, one learned to watch others’ eyes. Somehow, in some way, he had pressed a boundary more than he should have. Still, he had no doubt that he could make it right, and being a sloth made Solemn very well-acquainted with patience. As long as it would take, Solemn would weather through this and, at the very least, become a welcome acquaintance to the Isur. For now though, he thought his silence would be most welcome, so he stepped back and continued to observe. And it was in his watching that he discovered a newfound respect for Aliana. It didn’t come for some time, as the work laid out before the woman was a long and daunting task, but as she heated the metal and worked it, she came to a point where she had to cool the metal to monitor her progress. As she pulled the cooled saber from the water, she traced a thumb up along the blade, drawing a gentle ring from the metal which in turn drew a smile from her. She heard it. It was something that had eluded Solemn his entire life, though his mother had tried to demonstrate it to him many times. The song of the shashka. Her warrior and predator spirit insisted that every weapon had a song, some cold yet beautiful, some warm and full of life, some eerily haunting. For the life of him, though he tried with every fiber of his being, Solemn couldn’t hear it. Later in life, his sister had reiterated the point by telling him that every created thing had a voice, one that sang. And here, this woman, who had never been instructed by his mother or sister, heard it, knew it existed. Rare were the people who could acknowledge the song, and Solemn found it to be a feat of immeasurable skill and depth of spirit. Aliana understood something he could not, and for it, his admiration of her grew. Solemn faded deeper into silence, if that was possible, and tried to become as unnoticeable as possible as he continued to observe her steady efforts bend the blade to her will. Again, cold steel was returned to the forge’s fire until it remained cool no longer. Hammer blow after hammer blow fell, and the ring of metal against metal filled his ears. A different sound, the hiss and spit of water as it turned to steam, came as she submerged the blade. When she lifted up the shashka to evaluate it once more, Solemn could contain his curiosity and his silence no longer. “Earlier, you hummed when you listened to the ring of the metal. How do you hear it, the song that the weapon makes? And what does it tell you?” Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she didn’t hear it. Maybe he was just trying to create things in people that weren’t really true. Maybe… But he would never know if he didn’t ask.

[Aliana Hilt Terras]

☾ Title and Date ☽

Aliana turned hearing the man suddenly reminded her that she was not alone. Staring at him the woman tried to understand his question. Was he truly not able to hear the song the blade sang to the girl. Watching him quietly the dark haired girl began to think on how to show him to hear it. Putting one hand on her chin the girl decided to try something. Placing the blade on the anvil she dug through a chest of tools. Making a face she finally found a little hammer with a ball on one side. Motioning him over the girl took a deep breath.

“The song she sings is not something that you cannot learn over night. But there is something you can start doing to hear her. Close your eyes, stop thinking and just listen to the world around you, listen to her not with your mind but with your heart,” Aliana stated.

Once he appeared to be listening to her at least some the woman gently tapped the metal with the ball side of the hammer. A soft light ring sounded around the pair making her smile at the sound. The beauty was becoming all that she could. Just a little more working and balancing then the beauty would be ready to return to her owner. Placing the hammer down the black haired beauty picked up a small knife and ran it down the middle of the blade. When the knife ran across the metal a totally different song rang out. It was one of violence and power; which was a contrast to the soft and delicate chime from before.

“Listen to her song, every time you fight more is added to her story. Each blow to her metal will cause her to sing for you. Not only of pain and the blood that has been shed with her, but also of her happy and at peace,” Aliana explained gently.

A part of her hoped that the young man understood what she spoke of. There were some even of her own kind that had never heard the beautiful songs that metal could sound off. Watching the girl put the blade under the fire one last time hoping it would not have to be put under after that any longer. All that would be needed from there was to sharpen and test it before returning it to the young man. Putting her hand on her chin the woman wondered if the man would like to pump the bellows. Helping work the blade allowed others who would not normally hear the song feel much more connected. Once a proper connection had formed it would help the wielder know when to bring it in for repairs. At least before it had gotten to such a state. Stretching out the woman popped her neck in both directions before taking a deep breath. She repositioned the blade so that it would take the heat right into the bend at the end.

“Would you like to pump the bellow?” Aliana asked and moved back motioning for him to step up if he wished.

hello
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[Aliana Hilt Terras]

☾ Title and Date ☽

Aliana turned hearing the man suddenly reminded her that she was not alone. Staring at him the woman tried to understand his question. Was he truly not able to hear the song the blade sang to the girl. Watching him quietly the dark haired girl began to think on how to show him to hear it. Putting one hand on her chin the girl decided to try something. Placing the blade on the anvil she dug through a chest of tools. Making a face she finally found a little hammer with a ball on one side. Motioning him over the girl took a deep breath.

“The song she sings is not something that you cannot learn over night. But there is something you can start doing to hear her. Close your eyes, stop thinking and just listen to the world around you, listen to her not with your mind but with your heart,” Aliana stated.

Once he appeared to be listening to her at least some the woman gently tapped the metal with the ball side of the hammer. A soft light ring sounded around the pair making her smile at the sound. The beauty was becoming all that she could. Just a little more working and balancing then the beauty would be ready to return to her owner. Placing the hammer down the black haired beauty picked up a small knife and ran it down the middle of the blade. When the knife ran across the metal a totally different song rang out. It was one of violence and power; which was a contrast to the soft and delicate chime from before.

“Listen to her song, every time you fight more is added to her story. Each blow to her metal will cause her to sing for you. Not only of pain and the blood that has been shed with her, but also of her happy and at peace,” Aliana explained gently.

A part of her hoped that the young man understood what she spoke of. There were some even of her own kind that had never heard the beautiful songs that metal could sound off. Watching the girl put the blade under the fire one last time hoping it would not have to be put under after that any longer. All that would be needed from there was to sharpen and test it before returning it to the young man. Putting her hand on her chin the woman wondered if the man would like to pump the bellows. Helping work the blade allowed others who would not normally hear the song feel much more connected. Once a proper connection had formed it would help the wielder know when to bring it in for repairs. At least before it had gotten to such a state. Stretching out the woman popped her neck in both directions before taking a deep breath. She repositioned the blade so that it would take the heat right into the bend at the end.

“Would you like to pump the bellow?” Aliana asked and moved back motioning for him to step up if he wished.

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[Solemn Warborn]

She turned to him, considering him and his question. Then, setting his blade on the anvil, she sifted quickly through her tools, finally pulling a small, odd hammer with a ball as one side of the head. With a wave of her hand, she motioned him over. A deep breath preceded her first demonstration, heralding it as something to take very seriously. As intense and focused as the mood had become, the following words lacked any of the previous annoyance he had thought he’d heard. His curiosity, this time it seemed, was well placed. “The song she sings is not something that you can learn overnight. But there is something you can start doing to hear her. Close your eyes, stop thinking, and just listen to the world around you. Listen to her, not with your mind but with your heart.” She? Her? This was a new concept to Solemn. Every time someone had spoken of a blade before, they had spoken of it as just that, a sword, a piece of metal, but Aliana spoke of it- no, not it- of her as if she was a living being. She. So he had a sister, one he hadn’t realized existed, one born of his mother. And just like Solemn, their mother had left this child unnamed. To Dasha, names were extraneous. She saw them, her sword and her child, for what they were. Her love for them was not in what she called them but in how she cared for them. And so it was left to the siblings to name each other. Just as Hiberna had given Solemn his name, Solemn would have to give the sword hers. He’d have to give that some thought. Still, knowing that she was a living being made it easier for Solemn to appreciate her voice, though whether or not she could sing remained to be seen. With this knowledge, he was willing to listen and closed his eyes. Metal struck metal and produced a clear ringing tone that Solemn was sure was the hammer striking the blade. Next, came the scrape of metal across metal, a harsher sound that lacked the gentle purity of the first. There was doubt that these were notes, but just because there were notes didn’t mean there was a song. Not for lack of effort, Solemn couldn’t hear the song, but he was listening now. That, he hoped, would eventually make the difference. If she had a song, he would hear it. “Listen to her song. Every time you fight, more is added to her story. Each blow to her metal will cause her to sing for you, not only of pain and the blood that has been shed with her but also of her happy and at peace.” That had been his mother’s favorite part: peace. Though it was war that had given Dasha her name, the times between the fights were what made her her. These times were what she was most passionate about. Aliana moved the shashka, returning it to the forge’s heat, and with that, the lesson was over. Though he hadn’t heard the song, he was still grateful to Aliana for her efforts. He hoped his disappointment didn’t show in his voice, that his hope outshone it, as he said with true sincerity, “Thank you.” Aliana offered to let Solemn work the bellows, and he happily accepted the offer. He hadn’t yet removed his parka since entering the forge, and he didn’t bother doing so now. Though he had been born into this world of perpetual cold, he wasn’t built for it. Originating from warm climates, his sloth form did nothing to protect him from the cold. It was a soft creature meant for a soft climate. The heat that would stifle most people made Solemn feel comfortable. Granted, his lungs and skin weren’t accustomed to such heat, and Solemn soon found his skin drying and his breath difficult to draw. Not to mention, the work he thought would be easy- pumping the bellows- proved to require power and endurance than he had thought. Setting his hand on the lever, he allowed the weight of his body to compress the bellows, driving life-giving air into the fire of the forge. Rather than pump as quickly and as vigorously as he could, he took the task as he took all things, slow but steady. Despite his leisurely pumping, his muscles soon became tired and sore, but he would continue until Aliana told him to stop. He was proud to be taking a part in the mending of his sister. “Aliana,” he asked as he continued to work, “when the blade is whole again, would you show me how to sharpen and polish her?” If there was one thing Solemn didn’t want, it was to return to Aliana with his blade in the same state as it had been earlier today.