[center][h1]Ferrum[/h1][/center]


The heavy blows of his hammer against the heated metal currently in his care, the heavy striking with expert placement to shape the metal to his will, the Forge ringing with every impact, the sound almost musical to his ears, drowning out the hatred he felt for why he was making this weapon.  Remaking would be a better wording, for this weapon was one he had crafted many centuries before, before the devastation of the rebellion of Kovar, a weapon he had shattered and damn near killed himself.


Vatra soared over his head, a wash of fresh, invigorating heat flowing over himd as he worked, his avatar soaring to take its perch atop the Forge itself.  He smiled, his hands never stopping the work before them, he had spent nearly six months restoring this weapon, his mind running through the countless weapons forged through his hands in his life, fixed on the long spear, almost nagatina-style weapon, it was a deadly weapon, the scar on his chest was tantamount to that, and here he was remaking a weapon that could kill him, and others of his somewhat argumentative family.  With a quiet sigh he pushed the cooling metal back into the forge, the blade had to be perfect again, the haft was completed, down to the engravings etched painstakingly with the same detail he had placed in it all those centuries before.


“Father,” came the soft voice of his daughter, Siani, stepping into his sanctum from the worlds of gods and mortals, none could enter without his permission, the temper of the Forge itself was not something to be taken lightly, and to trespass was a severe tempting of fate.


“What is it, daughter?” he said, pulling the metal from the Forge and placing it upon the anvil.


“The Guardian calls us, to choose a new King, all are summoned,” she said, keeping her distance from her father.


“Find your brother, I’ll meet you at the Mouth of the Forge,” he said, continuing to beat the metal into what his mind was picturing it to be.


It was a rare thing that would make Ferrum stop what he was making, and Siani knew in her heart, despite all the hate and death dealt in the war, the loss of the King, Ferrum’s own father, cut deep into him, piercing deeper than any blade could, a wound that no armor could prevent.  He was focussing on something to keep the pain of it away, despite the side he choose during the Rebellion, he did love his father.  The heavy blow was a little much, even she saw that bubbling of frustration in how tense his muscles became, the hissing of the metal telling her he thrust it back into the heat to correct it.


She left without another word, but Ferrum could feel the eyes of Vatra upon his back, the great fire bird was still perched above him, staring at him when he looked up at her.  She stretched her wings and let him take in her full glory before settling again and looking up to the skies above.  Ferrum smiled as he pulled the steel from his Forge, beating the imperfection out of it quickly and precisely, the ringing of the strikes becoming quick and almost musical as he worked, forgetting the world around him as he finished forging the metal to his will, leaning up some hours later with the finished piece in his grasp.  He stepped over to the haft he had remade for it, the moment the base of the steel touched the haft he felt the almost shocking charge of the connection, of a weapon that knew it was to be whole again.  He didn’t need to fix the pair together, the steel slid easily into the haft, the neck constricting suddenly to hold it in place, a wave of fire cascading over the blade and down the haft as the powers it once held were once more held into creation.


“Father!  We must go!” called Siani from the great gate to the Forge, Krixis, her bearded brother standing at her side, a full two feet taller than his sibling.


“I know, was just finishing an old mistake,” said Ferrum, wrapping the weapon in a sheet of cloth bearing the sigil of his Forge and realm.  He carried the weapon as though he revered it, passing it to Krixis as he reached them.


“[i]Wyrm’s Tooth[/i] is a creature of pride, she won’t allow me to hold her completed form for long, not after the last time,” he said, seeing Krixis take the weapon carefully in his hands.  The weapon was almost as tall as he was.


Ferrum turned and gripped his own weapon, [i]God-Smiter[/i], an immense war hammer crafted by his brother, Aesis, the weapon was perfectly balanced, a masterpiece created by one other than the God of the Forge, a fact that Ferrum readily accepted.  With his weapon in hand, he lead his children to the mouth of the Valley of the Forge, an almost sullen silence between them as Siani wanted to hold the weapon as well.


“I’ll have something for you to carry in the future, daughter, but the fires within that weapon are beyond even your control, I do not wish to tempt fate with your life,” he said as he noticed the looks Siani gave her elder brother.


At the mouth to the Valley, overlooked by the fortifications of Corinth, as well as the two largest golems that Ferrum had ever crafted, was a small dais, raised from the stonework that led through the Valley, and with four large pillars set in a perfect square, the dais was Ferrum’s choice to leave his realm for another, it was an ancient design, before the Dwarfs had mastered the use of hammer and chisel, placed there by the King himself when Ferrum first began to forge his land and people from the wilds they had once been.  He looked up to the sky as he placed the head of his God-Bane into the slot, twisting it and watching the fires of the Forge suddenly fill the slight gaps in the stonework, the great flames casting a swirl of sigils and ancient words.  With an almost thunderclap of sound, the world around the trio changed.


No longer were they stood in Corantha, the great mountains surrounding them, the open sky above and the great golems watching over them.  The stood in the King’s realm now, the beautiful architecture was something that even the God of the Forge was unable to equal on such a scale, Ferrum hefted his God-Bane to his shoulder, running his hand along the great columns as he passed them, stepping into the great hall, two people were already present, the ancient Guardian, and the enforcer of the Gods, a momentary feeling of hatred boiled within his heart, the humiliation of the punishment given to him for his part in the rebellion, and the loss of one of his closest brothers threatening his control of his fiery nature.


“Oksana, first as always I see,” he growled, a voice like granite, grounding from his chest as he stepped past his throne, the monster of shaped iron and stone, with no backrest, it was practically a large anvil, with arm rests of marble at the sides.


His children said nothing as they stepped to either side of the throne, Siani’s temper flaring almost beautifully to Ferrum’s eyes, while Krixis was as cold as metal, his expression giving nothing of the feelings he bore to the Goddess of the Storms.  He stepped towards his sister, hammer still at his shoulder, inclining his head slowly before looking to the body of his father.


“Even in life he looked peaceful,” he said, sighing lightly.  “You’d think he was just asleep,”

Turning away he stepped to his seat, placing his weapon across it, his silver hands untarnished by any sign he had worked a Forge at any point in time.  He looked to the other empty thrones, his eyes settling on the War God's throne, Kovar would never take that throne again, it would remain empty until the sins of the father had passed from memory, but with this family, those sins would burn for a long time yet.