The world was set ablaze; fire rained from the skies and the seas boiled, forests were razed to ashes and kingdoms melted away into nothingness, and the only thing that withstood the hellish flames of the raging inferno was a single man. He was colossal, head nestled amongst the clouds and his body rivaling the size of mountain ranges. A thick, lushes smoldering beard hung from his face down to his ash coated chest. His frame rippled with muscles that roared of this giant's incomprehensible strength. But this titanic being's most notable feature was undoubtedly his eyes which burned twice as intensely as the hell scape that they looked over. In front of him stood an equally as massive anvil, the metal structure burning red hot within the flames the engulfed the world around it.

  It seemed like an eternity as the chaos and carnage ravished the land and the towering figure did nothing but loomed over the destruction, but seemingly in an instance he sprung to life. Gripping the hammer that was hung from his belt the living mountain raised it far above his head, it and his gargantuan arm being lost among the clouds. It was a split second later that the hammer was brought rocketing down from the heavens and down onto the anvil, the impact sending out an ear piercing clang of metal and causing the very earth to shake. The giant raised the hammer again and brought it down for yet another soul shaking strike. Over and over this colossus struck the anvil, causing the earth the tremble, but with each blow the scorched wasteland began to change.

  The mounds of ash and the rivers of fire began to fade and to be replaced with a glorious golden city. It was a kingdom fit for the gods themselves; countless beautiful buildings of such intricate design no mere mortal could of dreamed of them lined the streets, the roads themselves were paved in silver and gold, and numerous glowing towers reached up towards the heavens. The city grew with each and every hammer strike to the anvil until the ruined world that once stretched as far as the eye could see was nothing more than a bitter memory.

  As the giant continued his work new and more fantastic creations began to fill the world. One of the giant's strikes brought fleets of chariots into existence, these brilliant machines were able to pull themselves without the aid of any beasts of burden. Another blow birthed an army of bronze armor clad figures, not made up of men of mere flesh and blood but rather beings born from the hammer of a smith and driven forward by the fires of a forge. Yet another strike caused the skies to be littered with mesmerizing ships that sailed through the air on golden sails.

  The world only grew more full of the enormous being's magnificent creations as he continued his work, but as more inventions came into existence the brilliance turned blinding. The machinery began to over take the earth, all the simplicity of nature was eventually replaced by cold and soulless metal work. Once there was nothing left of the world that once was that was when the giant ceased, stepping back to look over his work. But without the guiding hand of its creator this new world was purposeless and without direction. The glorious cities and otherworldly machinery left aimless began to falter; buildings began to crumble, ships crashed from the skies, and the bronze army began to turn on itself. The chaos and destruction turned the once heavenly world into a wasteland of fire and ash, mirroring the one that it was born from.

  The giant figure looked over the wasteland yet again, eyes still burning brighter than the flames that ravaged the world ever could, before he took his hammer back into his hand and raised it towards the skies and brought it down with the same earth rattling force as before.

  [color=darkorange][b]"By the gods!"[/b][/color] Cal's voice escaped him as he desperately took in air in an attempt to try and recollect himself after the dream he just had, unfortunately for him he didn't have too much time to collect his bearings. Just as soon as the young lad got his wits about him he realized that he was no longer in his own bed, but rather he was at his workstation at the forge with his hand completely submerged in the flames. Panic raced over his body as he instinctively recoiled, the fires still coating his broad forearm. [color=darkorange][b]"SHIT!"[/b][/color] Cal exclaimed as he practically pounced onto the trough of water near by, plunging his blazing arm straight in.

  [color=darkorange][b]"Not again..."[/b][/color] A slight sigh escaped Cal as he slowly pulled his arm from the water, revealing it to be completely unscathed. This wasn't the first time that he had woken up to this situation, for the past few weeks almost every night he would be plagued with the same dream only to awaken to find himself working at his forge. His eyes moved to the still roaring fire of his forge then to the water trough next to him. He let out another sigh before plunging his hand back into the water and pulling out a glimmering piece of metal. [color=darkorange][b]"Another one."[/b][/color] Cal's voice resonated with annoyance as he looked at the shining object in his hand. Turning it over a few times Cal figured that it had to be some sort of perch for a bird, but what really caught his attention was the detailed carvings that decorated the entire piece of silver. The most prominent of the designs was the clear symbol of the god of craftsmen himself, Hephaestus.

  [color=darkorange][b]"I don't even have any silver in the damn shop."[/b][/color] Cal spoke half aloud as he placed the perch onto a table and took a seat in a chair next to it. His amber eyes stared the his small creation down as his mind recalled all the other random bits and pieces he found himself waking up to. He had created a quite the assembly of metal work in his sleep; such as quite the breath taking tiara laced with small sapphires, a massive claymore with a intricate battle scene engraved into its blade, and even a full suit of golden armor. All of which had one thing in common, being marked with the brand of Hephaestus.

  His late night smithing however was only part of Cal's problem however. Around the same time the dreams started Cal began small sparks would appear around him, even when he wasn't working the forge. Next the fire in his forge would spring to life whenever he had the mere thought of crafting something. Occasionally the food in his mouth would turn to ash. Eventually one night Cal awoke to find his entire bed on fire, with him still in it. He was able to jump from the flames and put them out before the spread, but what concerned Cal was the fact that he didn't even have the slightest of burns on him from the fire.

  Being so wrapped up in his own thoughts about the events of the past few weeks Cal barely even noticed the raven that had flown in threw his window and settled onto the freshly crafted perch as if it was made for this very bird. Cal's initial thought was that some noble was asking him to craft some sword to hang up on their mantle and never use, this idea was quickly thrown away as he read the letter.

  Someone out there knew what was going on with Cal and maybe even knew how to stop it. Cal didn't know what to make of this whole chosen thing, he never considered himself anything special and he defiantly didn't count himself as a devote to the gods. All Cal knew was that whatever was going on he needed it to stop.

[hr]

[center][h3][b][i][u]May 15th[/u][/i][/b][/h3][/center]

  Hiring transport from his village to the border wasn't too hard, most carriage drivers in Haventis would take passengers across the entire country for the right price. As he arrived Cal couldn't help but be reminded of his childhood as he watched the string of drunkards march both in and out of the tavern. [color=darkorange][b][i]"Glad to see people are the same no matter what country they are from..."[/i][/b][/color] Cal thought to himself with a shake of his head as he headed inside of the building.

  Cal didn't know what he should of expected, but from the letter and the bizarre things he was going through a normal night of revelry at the tavern was far from his mind. He watched as numerous groups of men downed their drinks and cheered, barmaids scurry to and fro dispensing drinks and evading the wandering hands of drunkards, and as a older bartender skillfully poured drink after drink to try and appease the ever growing thirst of the crowd.

  The blacksmith didn't really know what to do so in an attempt to blend in he took a seat at the bar and ordered himself a drink, which the bartender had poured and delivered to Cal in almost an instant. Cal wrapped his massive hand around his drink and brought it to is lips, the substance hitting his tongue prompting a slight grimace to his face, the man wasn't much of a drinker. Setting his glass aside Cal scanned over the crowd again with only one question on his mind. Who in this place could possibly know what he was going through?