Times to Come: A Dream

[Crylon Stonecraft]

45 Summer 518 :1st Bell There was a ring of sound, the peal of a hammer striking an anvil. Upon the anvil he was striking upon a piece of metal, a dull gray substance that did not appear to be any particular metal or material. This did not occur to Crylon however, who continued to pound on the lump of something. After a few more strikes, he plucked the object up and cooled it off. This oddly enough only took a few moments, a fact which also did not seem odd to Crylon's mind. When it had cooled he pulled out the finished product, a full sized sword with a wooden hilt and cross guards made out of some odd wood with a sheen. Grabbing another lump of material from the stack which was suddenly beside the anvil, Crylon began banging out another form. The peal of the hammer striking the material and anvil, again as he struck. Crylon continued to work from his personal forge. As he glanced up he saw it was quite large, vaulting ceilings and stone everything from floor to arched ceiling. No windows, just a single door made out of a dark brown wood. The room was filled with various finished products, spread out across tables which were also suddenly there. Sword, shields, armor, all immaculate and of fine make from their looks. Pausing in mid swing Crylon struck with a half hearted blow, dropping the hammer and walking over to the tables. The hammer made no sound as it struck the ground, forgotten as it left his hand. His eyes settled onto a breastplate, which had some odd squiggles and lines forming a shape which made sense to his current mind. It was of course his personal rune, not his family one, implying he had a personal rune and made fine enough things to earn one. Unnoticed before Crylon could hear murmuring from afar. As a smile cross his lips he realized it was patrons, customers, people waiting outside to buy his wares when he opened. He could not make out any words, but he knew they carried a positive tone of expectancy. With a grin Crylon headed back to the anvil, picking up the hammer where he had surely left it on a table sitting just beside said anvil. A table that surely had been there the whole time. With a few more strikes, he finished he next item, a spear with a long wooden handle and an arched tip. With a few small motions he added his personal rune. With a frown he turned to the last item, the sword... To find it also had his rune on it. With a shrug he continued, setting his spear aside to grab up another piece of material. WC: 458

[Belugnir]

Eight men at his side, eight men under arms, in mail and tabard crested with the mark of a cracked copper coin. They strode a street through which the dry wind carried idle dust and the faceless gazes of figures that passed by. They bore horses and carts with them, heavy with spoil and plunder, furs and meat and raw ore torn from the hard soil in abundance. For days and weeks did they prowl the outdoors, beyond wall and hearth fire, hunting, taming and conquering the wild lands, and for no others’ glory and profit but their own. And the nine seemed to revel in the whispers of their Coinless Company, echoed among the passers-by as they advanced through the city.

''Master.'', Einar heard his right hand man speak up to him. An able bodied lad, shaven of head and chin he was, tanned and hardened from endless exploits under sun and rain.

''What is it?“, Einar heard his own voice, raspy but stoic, old, as though produced from stone, for he had grown cold to the unexpected and unaccounted for.

''I know we have only just returned, and realize there is no cause for haste on this matter, but we shall need repairs to our armaments, or outright new ones.''

''I am aware, yes.'', Einar replied with a lack of interest, setting his gaze ahead again, to the dragging, windy path.

''Shall I find a smith and see to it, then?“, his prodigy was persistent.

There was a brief quiet.

''Nay.'', Ein spoke up. ''See to the unloading of this haul. And I shall find a blacksmith myself.''

''...And will you join us at the feasting table afterward? ...To celebrate?“, his fellow seemed to almost plead...

There was no answer. Ein took the first turn out of the broad street and began to wander. The purpose of doing so seemed lost to him a moment. Then he entered a workshop. A smithy. There were no sign posts and the crowd of two dozen gathered in front simply parted. They recognized the grey-maned leader of the Coinless Nine by his grayed mane and beard, his mantle of black wolven hide, and the broch that kept it hanging about his neck. Shaped as a cracked coin bearing the emblem of a poleaxe upon it.

Now he stood in a vast armory, rich in arms and armaments as his carts were in plunder. And there he stood with a single other fellow who worked his smithy away, short yet fierce in his stature.

He would toss a chunk of ore which shone a shimmer of silver and blue into the Isur’s view. There was no cause for pleasantry and etiquette. No cause for introduction either.

‘’Will you be able to conjure worthwhile armament should I provide you this a hundred times over?”, his inquiry to the smith was delivered with a first glint of emotion he’d displayed within weeks… months. Expectation. A trace of hope.


WC: 494

[Crylon Stonecraft]

Crylon continued at his work, hammering away on another bit of work. The pile on the table where he placed his wares was continuing to grow, lines of similar items set out to show his work. This was only interrupted when a man entered, shoving his way through the crowd outside. Or more to the point walking through them as they parted. Though if from fear or respect... Crylon could not say. The man walked up, and tossed down a chunk of metal ore of silver and blue. Blue reminding him of his own flesh, the silver and blue merging and separating throughout the material. The man got right to the point, focused on getting what he needed and not pleasantry. Crylon was okay with that, preferring to focus on his craft and building. Stopping in his work, Crylon picked up the material of unusual origin to give it a closer look. “Of course, I can forge what is needed, once the ore is processed into metal. My name is my bond, if it can be done I will do it and make something none could do finer. Though I must ask, where did you find this? I have not seen its like before. I will need to test it, before I can work with it.” Crylon turned to pick up his hammer, thinking to give the ore a simple strike to test it, to find that it was larger than when he had laid it down. As was the anvil larger than before, not towering over him but not as short as before... Looking about the smithy, he found the building seemed bigger, and by comparison himself smaller. Almost as if he had shrunk then and the rest of the things there had staid the same. “Did you see... Never mind. Let me test it, and then we can see about getting it smelted.” Taking up the hammer in his right hand, Crylon struck the ore once a light blow. In doing so the hammer flew out of his grip as if bounced from a great height. “Well... Thats new. Where did you find this?” Turning back to the human, he saw that the man had grown. Or were they had been the same height when he had entered, like the rest of the smithy he had stayed the same while Crylon had shrunk. WC: 395