In the red light of his forge, which once was his masters before him and his master before Him back 19 generations of warrior smiths; the old lycrothrope known as Vash McCloud stands. With a bloodred dragonskin apron covering his much scared body the man once called the Terror of the Spaceways, the Crimson Juggernant, and the Archdruid of the Children of Winter Sect stood; a huge 30 pound hammer in his left hand that he forged himself almost a thousand years ago and in his right a pair of thong that his first wife had made him before her untimly death. And he was tired. Tired of the wars between his clans, the druid sects and his own family which had all been going on since before his birth those five millenia ago.
As the bard hears, faint but clear, the melody and secret harmonies of the song he was about to sing; as the storyteller knows, deep within his bones, the words and phrases of the tale he was born to tell, so the old Lycan, Vash McCloud, knew that the Wolves of the Winter axe was the reason he ever took up the hammer. The axe would be his masterweapon and stood behind every blade, axe and armor he'd ever made, patiently waiting.
When the axe blade was forged, when it came from the fires and the cooling oils, to prestine balance and cold blue beauty, Vash would finally be at peace, knowing that his clan, sect and tribe would all be finally under his gentle hand, leading them to a new path. A path of supreame neutrality, keeping both evil and good in line.
The blade, once forged, would be the last that he would ever make for it would last down the line ever since the first Mirani Blade was broken and thrown into the pits of Mordor as a failure and a evil creation. He now saw that strength at any cost wasn't what was needed to bring the people down his path. A way of rightiousness and tolerance was needed even if his people didn't believe that way....yet.
Vash had gone to the mines himself, to collect the perfect ore for his weapon. He knew, and none knew better the look, feel and bitter smell of perfect ore. He stalked down the short laternfilled mines of the dwarfs, searching for that "right" vein of ore which caled for him. There it was mined by the dwarfs under his supervision.
None saw him for many days after he returned to his smithy under the Crimson Rose Guild Hall, hidden far under the earth below the many factorys, below his technological marvels. Deep within the mountain, he designed the head of the axe he had always known was there in the back of his mind, hidden yet seen so clearily now.
After the ore was brought to him, he had spent three months traveling these lands searching for those perfect gems. From a vampire trader he bought five flawless sapphires. Four were the color of the sky at twilight and the fifeth was the pure, deep blue of midnight and deeply starred. These would be the powerstones for it, giving it it's bite. The finest mithral was found for it's hilt and a lustrous silver to chase it.
The axe conceived, it was now ready to be born. Vash McCloud, assisted by his demonic and angelic apprentices, began to create his masterwork. These were one of the strangest pair to ever be seen working side by side, a Balor demon by the name of Dramious and a woman of the angelic host called Kathrien.
They had came to him many years ago with a task, to bring a balance to the world once more for it had been in flux for too long and both heavens and hells armys were almost depleted. These two had gone against everything they stood for for a chance to bring a third party into the battle, one for neither side who would break the stalemate.
Dramious and Vash built the fire themselves while Kathrien kept the water cool with her magic. They filled the two troughs, one for the water to cool the wrought iron, one for the oil to cool the steel. Dramious pumped the bellows with the slow, steady rhythm Vash had tault him.Coaxing the fire, the Balor Demon watched the orange light slide up the smooth stone walls of the forge. None but these three would be here to witness the birth of the second master weapon Vash had been forced to make in his long life.
Steel is made from the elements of the world. Dug first as ore, it is shaped through the agencies of fire and water into wrought iron. Dramious watched now as Vash made the thick, dark iron. Each of Vash's moves was careful and concidered. Vash, who had a thousand times before made his iron with the unthinking skill of one whose hands move almost without will, took each step of the making as careful as any apprentice first allowed to approach a forge.
Dramious and Kathrien watched their master as though seeing him perform the task for the first time. I will remember this, they both thought. The forge fire pullred the sweat from both their bodys. Always I shall remember the birth of this blade.
And always, they thought as the two divine creatures spoke to each other, they would remember the look in Vash's single eye. It was the look of a man who loved and saw nothing but the thing he loved. They all were silent as the iron cooled for nothing needed to be said. Vash had nothing but the bond between his soul and the elements and his wish for what this blade could represent. When the iron was finally cold and hard, a rough black mass, Vash placed it into a clay jar, itself earthborn and still remember that not so distant kiss of the flames.
Dramious lifted the huge vessel, heavy with charcoal dust and iron, and placed it into the furnace exactly where his master directed. His thick muscled scaled arms gleamed with a golden reflection of flame. In this terrible hea the charcoal dust combined with the surface of the wrought iron to creat a hard gleaming sheath: Steel.
The steel came thick from the fire, crimson as the harvest moon, glowing like the sun. Dramious, his beady eyes squinted tightly against the blinding heat, brought the stock to the anvil. Vash, his huge hands gentle now, lifted the hammer. He was ready to begin the shaping of his master axe.
Steel wasn't carved the way wood was, bt drawn by being placed on the anvil and hamered until it had reached the proper size and temper. Though he'd made countless weapons before this one, each of the lycanthropes strokes was a concidered one. Yet the concidering was done almost instantly based on his 5 millenia of knowledge and instinct. In the background Katherien could be heard praying, her soft voice echoing the rhythm of the hammer as she began the long exercise of placing spels onto the weapon as it was being forged.
The anthem of the hammer rang through the hidden smithy, a joyous clamoring which brought all of the three's hearts soaring. It was the song of the gods and the demons brought together this one time for a singular purpose. There were no words to the song but those these three creatures of widly different alliances heard in thier soul. The song celebrated the birth of a axe head which was perfect in all ways. The master began the shaping of it with file and rasp, and the filings fell to the stone floor of his forge like silver dust.
The twin headed axe blade was formed, it must now return to the fire one last time to be tempered. Vash performed the functions of this last heating and final quenching as carefully as all the functions before. In this final heating, the blade was not a shaft of starlight, but a bloody extention of the fire itself. When the lycan finally purged the blade into the oil, Dramious and Kathrien watched the sun-glow cool and fade. Red iron becames silver steel, pure as snow, strong as the mountain itself.
As a soft smile crosses the old warlords face, he gently withdraws the axehead from the trough. He wiped the shimmering oil from the blade with a soft cloth, his strokes gentle caresses and laid the axe on the the face of the anvil the way one would lay a newly born babe upon the brest of it's mother.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Vash motions for Kathrein to
bring him what she held and the soft abstaster angel came over, her pearl colered wings held tight against her back. In her hands she held a black glowing metal cylindeer almost 3 feet long, the shaft for the axe. Taking it from her, the old lycan gave her a soft kiss between the eyes and returned to the anvil. With a twist of his wrist, he place the shaft in the opening he'd left for it in the center of the axe head, it sliding snugly into the steel and locking into place.
Looking down onto the axe, Vash smiles at his handy work, the pure axehead almost glowing with it's distinct curves which gave the image of two wolves favcing each other making the axe head, their backs being the blade and their mouthes open in a growl eating a silver moon sharing it equally.
Backing away slowly, he gives both the angel and demon a small nod and he finally says softly "I shall miss you both. The world needs more like you two." After a few moments, it seemed that the demon and angel were speaking telepathically to Vash for a moment. They smle at each other and clasp their hands together in a lovingly embrace. As the dragonlike Balor pulls the angel into his scally arms and presses his lips to hers, both dramious and Kathrien place their hand on the head of the axe.
Suddenly a sandstorm appears around the axe and the two lovers as they all disappear for a moment, Vash covers his single eye with his iffrit arm. After the storm fades away, Vash drops his hand and see's that both Dramious and Kathrien had disappeared, giving thier life force for the axe, now making in a sentient creature and a place where they two could finally share their love togther for all time. Bending down over the axe, he could see that now on the silver moon was a representation of the two who he called friends,their symbols intertewined like the lovers their were in life.
Picking up the axe in his left arm, the Lycan brings it to his forhead and a small smile crosses his lips as he touches their minds for one last time before they merge into one creature now called K'. He knew instictfully the powers of the axe, how it called apon both the angelic and demonic powers of the two powerful creatures, hiw it was now a bane to all creautures of good or evil allignment.
Taking the 40 pound axe in an exsperimental swing, Vash runs his fingers down the shaft, touching each of the five power gems as he softly plces it into it's blue dragon sheeth. Strapping it over his right shoulder, Vash bows deeply toward the forge as it slowly darkens and heads out of the forge knowing that he would need never a weapon again for this would last him until his death and be buried with him once he was finally dead. The Wolves of Winter would know come to his enemies as a weapon which would be cursed and his allies would speak it's praises.
As the bard hears, faint but clear, the melody and secret harmonies of the song he was about to sing; as the storyteller knows, deep within his bones, the words and phrases of the tale he was born to tell, so the old Lycan, Vash McCloud, knew that the Wolves of the Winter axe was the reason he ever took up the hammer. The axe would be his masterweapon and stood behind every blade, axe and armor he'd ever made, patiently waiting.
When the axe blade was forged, when it came from the fires and the cooling oils, to prestine balance and cold blue beauty, Vash would finally be at peace, knowing that his clan, sect and tribe would all be finally under his gentle hand, leading them to a new path. A path of supreame neutrality, keeping both evil and good in line.
The blade, once forged, would be the last that he would ever make for it would last down the line ever since the first Mirani Blade was broken and thrown into the pits of Mordor as a failure and a evil creation. He now saw that strength at any cost wasn't what was needed to bring the people down his path. A way of rightiousness and tolerance was needed even if his people didn't believe that way....yet.
Vash had gone to the mines himself, to collect the perfect ore for his weapon. He knew, and none knew better the look, feel and bitter smell of perfect ore. He stalked down the short laternfilled mines of the dwarfs, searching for that "right" vein of ore which caled for him. There it was mined by the dwarfs under his supervision.
None saw him for many days after he returned to his smithy under the Crimson Rose Guild Hall, hidden far under the earth below the many factorys, below his technological marvels. Deep within the mountain, he designed the head of the axe he had always known was there in the back of his mind, hidden yet seen so clearily now.
After the ore was brought to him, he had spent three months traveling these lands searching for those perfect gems. From a vampire trader he bought five flawless sapphires. Four were the color of the sky at twilight and the fifeth was the pure, deep blue of midnight and deeply starred. These would be the powerstones for it, giving it it's bite. The finest mithral was found for it's hilt and a lustrous silver to chase it.
The axe conceived, it was now ready to be born. Vash McCloud, assisted by his demonic and angelic apprentices, began to create his masterwork. These were one of the strangest pair to ever be seen working side by side, a Balor demon by the name of Dramious and a woman of the angelic host called Kathrien.
They had came to him many years ago with a task, to bring a balance to the world once more for it had been in flux for too long and both heavens and hells armys were almost depleted. These two had gone against everything they stood for for a chance to bring a third party into the battle, one for neither side who would break the stalemate.
Dramious and Vash built the fire themselves while Kathrien kept the water cool with her magic. They filled the two troughs, one for the water to cool the wrought iron, one for the oil to cool the steel. Dramious pumped the bellows with the slow, steady rhythm Vash had tault him.Coaxing the fire, the Balor Demon watched the orange light slide up the smooth stone walls of the forge. None but these three would be here to witness the birth of the second master weapon Vash had been forced to make in his long life.
Steel is made from the elements of the world. Dug first as ore, it is shaped through the agencies of fire and water into wrought iron. Dramious watched now as Vash made the thick, dark iron. Each of Vash's moves was careful and concidered. Vash, who had a thousand times before made his iron with the unthinking skill of one whose hands move almost without will, took each step of the making as careful as any apprentice first allowed to approach a forge.
Dramious and Kathrien watched their master as though seeing him perform the task for the first time. I will remember this, they both thought. The forge fire pullred the sweat from both their bodys. Always I shall remember the birth of this blade.
And always, they thought as the two divine creatures spoke to each other, they would remember the look in Vash's single eye. It was the look of a man who loved and saw nothing but the thing he loved. They all were silent as the iron cooled for nothing needed to be said. Vash had nothing but the bond between his soul and the elements and his wish for what this blade could represent. When the iron was finally cold and hard, a rough black mass, Vash placed it into a clay jar, itself earthborn and still remember that not so distant kiss of the flames.
Dramious lifted the huge vessel, heavy with charcoal dust and iron, and placed it into the furnace exactly where his master directed. His thick muscled scaled arms gleamed with a golden reflection of flame. In this terrible hea the charcoal dust combined with the surface of the wrought iron to creat a hard gleaming sheath: Steel.
The steel came thick from the fire, crimson as the harvest moon, glowing like the sun. Dramious, his beady eyes squinted tightly against the blinding heat, brought the stock to the anvil. Vash, his huge hands gentle now, lifted the hammer. He was ready to begin the shaping of his master axe.
Steel wasn't carved the way wood was, bt drawn by being placed on the anvil and hamered until it had reached the proper size and temper. Though he'd made countless weapons before this one, each of the lycanthropes strokes was a concidered one. Yet the concidering was done almost instantly based on his 5 millenia of knowledge and instinct. In the background Katherien could be heard praying, her soft voice echoing the rhythm of the hammer as she began the long exercise of placing spels onto the weapon as it was being forged.
The anthem of the hammer rang through the hidden smithy, a joyous clamoring which brought all of the three's hearts soaring. It was the song of the gods and the demons brought together this one time for a singular purpose. There were no words to the song but those these three creatures of widly different alliances heard in thier soul. The song celebrated the birth of a axe head which was perfect in all ways. The master began the shaping of it with file and rasp, and the filings fell to the stone floor of his forge like silver dust.
The twin headed axe blade was formed, it must now return to the fire one last time to be tempered. Vash performed the functions of this last heating and final quenching as carefully as all the functions before. In this final heating, the blade was not a shaft of starlight, but a bloody extention of the fire itself. When the lycan finally purged the blade into the oil, Dramious and Kathrien watched the sun-glow cool and fade. Red iron becames silver steel, pure as snow, strong as the mountain itself.
As a soft smile crosses the old warlords face, he gently withdraws the axehead from the trough. He wiped the shimmering oil from the blade with a soft cloth, his strokes gentle caresses and laid the axe on the the face of the anvil the way one would lay a newly born babe upon the brest of it's mother.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Vash motions for Kathrein to
bring him what she held and the soft abstaster angel came over, her pearl colered wings held tight against her back. In her hands she held a black glowing metal cylindeer almost 3 feet long, the shaft for the axe. Taking it from her, the old lycan gave her a soft kiss between the eyes and returned to the anvil. With a twist of his wrist, he place the shaft in the opening he'd left for it in the center of the axe head, it sliding snugly into the steel and locking into place.
Looking down onto the axe, Vash smiles at his handy work, the pure axehead almost glowing with it's distinct curves which gave the image of two wolves favcing each other making the axe head, their backs being the blade and their mouthes open in a growl eating a silver moon sharing it equally.
Backing away slowly, he gives both the angel and demon a small nod and he finally says softly "I shall miss you both. The world needs more like you two." After a few moments, it seemed that the demon and angel were speaking telepathically to Vash for a moment. They smle at each other and clasp their hands together in a lovingly embrace. As the dragonlike Balor pulls the angel into his scally arms and presses his lips to hers, both dramious and Kathrien place their hand on the head of the axe.
Suddenly a sandstorm appears around the axe and the two lovers as they all disappear for a moment, Vash covers his single eye with his iffrit arm. After the storm fades away, Vash drops his hand and see's that both Dramious and Kathrien had disappeared, giving thier life force for the axe, now making in a sentient creature and a place where they two could finally share their love togther for all time. Bending down over the axe, he could see that now on the silver moon was a representation of the two who he called friends,their symbols intertewined like the lovers their were in life.
Picking up the axe in his left arm, the Lycan brings it to his forhead and a small smile crosses his lips as he touches their minds for one last time before they merge into one creature now called K'. He knew instictfully the powers of the axe, how it called apon both the angelic and demonic powers of the two powerful creatures, hiw it was now a bane to all creautures of good or evil allignment.
Taking the 40 pound axe in an exsperimental swing, Vash runs his fingers down the shaft, touching each of the five power gems as he softly plces it into it's blue dragon sheeth. Strapping it over his right shoulder, Vash bows deeply toward the forge as it slowly darkens and heads out of the forge knowing that he would need never a weapon again for this would last him until his death and be buried with him once he was finally dead. The Wolves of Winter would know come to his enemies as a weapon which would be cursed and his allies would speak it's praises.
