Mechaman (mechaman) wrote in ezekiels,
Mechaman
mechaman
ezekiels

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Prelude: Freydis

*stamp*

*stamp*

*stamp*

Her heavy boots reminded her well of the sound of her hammer on the forge, her foster Harald allowing her time alone to work on her journeyman test. An old rusted sword Thorolf had brought back from his recent excursion was the materials to be made into a new dagger. Proof of skills, and a useful item to have, even if Thorolf had been teaching her to use much larger blades in her spare time. But working a dagger was no small feat, and her heart had been in the task.

*stamp*

Working on the blade, melting it down had been an act that had touched her heart, even as her sentimentality for old blades generally didn't get that emotional. The ochre color of the molten metal had run well, and had taken to her tools exquisitely. And as she worked it, she felt her focus tighten, the image of what the metal should be coming to mind all the more. Her tongs and hammer teasing the shape, bending and folding it... images of the blade slicing through the air, moving in deft strong strokes, fitting into a well calloused, yet supple hand....

*stamp*

Of course, when she came out of that forge-dream, she looked at the results with a mixture of priide and dread. Pride because the sword in her hands was quite finely made; far better than anything she'd ever made to that point. Dread because she could see on her brow a shinining holow circle, with rays of light spreading from it. She'd been staring at the mark a moment when Harald had come back in, and her reaction was near instinctive, like almost remembered skill. He had paused and held up his hands, a moment. When she had lowered the sword, he smiled wanly. "I think it's time for all three of us to talk."

*stamp*

It warmed her heart that her fosters trusted her well. There wasn't any doubt from them over her becoming a 'monster'. At the same time, all of them agreed. If she stayed, she'd be found out, and that would ruin them all. So provisions made, and sword on back, she started down the road, alone. No forge, no ties, nothing but what she carried.

*stamp*

The first night, snugged against the cave, however, came a dream. Or perhaps it wasn't a dream, as she didn't recall falling asleep...

The crackling of a fire sounded from outside the cave she'd moved into for some small shelter from the winter winds. Hints of firesparkle came close, even if not a whit of heat was felt. There was the sound of whistling from out there, even though she was sure she'd heard no one approach.



And here we start off. If anything feels off, feel free to correct it.
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