Post by prime on Oct 19, 2006 21:20:01 GMT -5
"Aaaaaaaaah!" Prime sighed, leaning back into his chair. He'd spent the whole d**n day in the forge, with his father. He didn't like it too much, he wanted, more than anything, to invest more time in the martial arts. But it wasn't a perfect world, and you had to work for a living. Even magic wasn't a short cut, assuming you could learn it. "Hey son!" Erik called. "Yeah, what!?" Prime hollered back, irritated. "Don't take that tone with me boy, get your *** out here and help me with this anvil!" He yelled. "Oh ****." Prime mouthed. "Not the ****ing 300 pound one again." He scowled, and walked tiredly out of the house.
His father was, indeed, standing under the smithy roof. Trying, once again, to move the 300-pound anvil. "Dammit Dad, why don't you stop with that bloody thing? No one even uses sword's that big." He said. Erik shook his head. "Its a lost art son, some one has to maintain it, or it'll fade away into the ages." Prime rolled his eyes. "Then write a friggin book, and stop making me move this ****ing anvil." He said harshly, picking up the anvil and walking around the back of the house with it. "You shouldn't complain when your so d**n strong!" Erik yelled. Prime set the anvil down, shifting his weight onto it. The last thing he wanted to be reminded of was his physical strength, which seemed so much greater than other peoples. It wasn't something he could help really; he was just born with it. He heard he'd actually killed his mother during pregnancy because of his strength.
He tried not to dwell on it, but he was reminded every day. Villagers who wanted a hand, the village elder reminding him that this was atonement for his sin against Orcnas, the god of life. "**** this ****." He whispered, looking around. No one from the fields was paying him any mind, and his father had gone back inside. He crept slowly, silently across the yard, and slipped into the forest brush. "Yes!" He whispered triumphantly, he could easily avoid anyone now that he was in the forest, so he decided to take a walk up the mountains.
He walked for a considerably long time, thinking of nothing in particular, carving things out of branches idly, just to pass the time. His ultimate objective, of course, was to reach the top of Mount Ragnin, the more prominent geological feature of this area. Prime lived in a humid rainforest, filled with pines and oaks. But the only hill, or mountain to be seen was Ragnin, named after the long lost warrior from ancient times, who fought the evil gods on even ground, not even allowing his own humanity to stand in his way. Prime was fond of the image, though Ragnin was a dark figure. He always appeared in legend, covered in dark, black obsidian armor. Which isn't something you see every day, as it was now the trademark of the Nor'roka empire. Those who follow the god of war, and attempt to follow in Ragnin's footsteps. Prime didn't have a very high opinion of them, as their culture almost forced them to go to war.
Prime was fond of the martial arts, and greatly loved the idea of protecting his friends and colleagues. But he didn't believe people should ever have to suffer and die, and most of all, he hated the gods, because they were the ones who forced it the most. And make no mistake, gods walk Ignos. They walk the land and sea's and skis, and wage their war until the stars go out and the sun turns black. And oh how Prime wished for a blade, with which he could fight them, to carve them asunder and leave them broken and useless on the ground, as they had done to so many humans.
Prime looked out over the expanse from the top of the mountain. Granted, it had taken a while for him to get all the way up, but it allowed him some time to relax and think. It would be quite a while before anyone from the village came up there looking for him, as he was the only one who didn't loath climbing it. He examined his surroundings; the peak was still a few meters above him. He'd never climbed all the way up; the ledge he stood on was quite a comfortble place. Over the years he'd actually worn away the rock in one of the faces, creating a bit of a soft rock bed. He imagined it was only because of his great strength that he could do that.
He walked over to it, and was about to settle himself in before he looked back at the peak of the mountain, a sudden curiosity settling over him. For some reason, he found himself wanting to know what was up there. He shrugged, and gave into curiosity, climbing up the rock face. "What the hell..." He said, looking around the peak. He'd never noticed before, but, when he climbed onto the peak, he could clearly see a large gate, framing a staircase. It lead steeply down into the mountain. "Now that's odd, I've never heard of this before." He walked through the gate, and took a peek down the staircase. "Its dark...Hmmmm." He looked around, but their weren't any torches about. He didn't really want to climb all the way back down the mountain to get some tinder and some flint either. He scowled at the stairs. "Ah f**k it." He said, walking down the stairs, using the wall for guidance as he forged deeper and deeper into the depths.
Eventually he neared the bottom, and he could see light around the corner. It was a faint red light, almost unidentifiable to his eyes. He turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, and tried to discern the source of the light, but was unable to do so, as the huge cavern in front of him was, in fact, the source of the light. It radiated from the walls, filling the cavern with warmth. Prime could just barely see something at the center of the cavern. He walked out across the cavern, to get a closer look.
As he approached, a sword slowly became visible. It was about three and a half feet long, and slowly curved to a sharp tip. The blade was red, and the handle quite black. It was laid on an old, and quite rotten velvet cushion, with an inscription in the stone in front of it. He read it aloud. "Here lies the sword of Ragnin, the weapon with which he fought the gods. Also known as the Madness Blade, it drove him mad in the end." Prime's eye's widened. The sword of the world's oldest hero, he wanted nothing but to reach out to it. But it seemed as though that would come at a terrible cost. He looked around the room, and suddenly realized why there was red light everywhere. It was the sword itself that produced the light, but there were mirror finished weapons lining the walls, armor and shields and things Prime didn't even recognize.
He couldn't bring himself to take Ragnin's sword, it was too dangerous, to much of an unknown, far to powerful. He walked to the caverns wall, and instead chose a sword of the same make as Ragnin's, silver blade and a hilt with a half moon motif. He carefully fastened the sword around his waist, and sheathed it. He bowed to Ragnin's only remains as he left the cavern, unaware of the fate, which had just taken hold of him.
His father was, indeed, standing under the smithy roof. Trying, once again, to move the 300-pound anvil. "Dammit Dad, why don't you stop with that bloody thing? No one even uses sword's that big." He said. Erik shook his head. "Its a lost art son, some one has to maintain it, or it'll fade away into the ages." Prime rolled his eyes. "Then write a friggin book, and stop making me move this ****ing anvil." He said harshly, picking up the anvil and walking around the back of the house with it. "You shouldn't complain when your so d**n strong!" Erik yelled. Prime set the anvil down, shifting his weight onto it. The last thing he wanted to be reminded of was his physical strength, which seemed so much greater than other peoples. It wasn't something he could help really; he was just born with it. He heard he'd actually killed his mother during pregnancy because of his strength.
He tried not to dwell on it, but he was reminded every day. Villagers who wanted a hand, the village elder reminding him that this was atonement for his sin against Orcnas, the god of life. "**** this ****." He whispered, looking around. No one from the fields was paying him any mind, and his father had gone back inside. He crept slowly, silently across the yard, and slipped into the forest brush. "Yes!" He whispered triumphantly, he could easily avoid anyone now that he was in the forest, so he decided to take a walk up the mountains.
He walked for a considerably long time, thinking of nothing in particular, carving things out of branches idly, just to pass the time. His ultimate objective, of course, was to reach the top of Mount Ragnin, the more prominent geological feature of this area. Prime lived in a humid rainforest, filled with pines and oaks. But the only hill, or mountain to be seen was Ragnin, named after the long lost warrior from ancient times, who fought the evil gods on even ground, not even allowing his own humanity to stand in his way. Prime was fond of the image, though Ragnin was a dark figure. He always appeared in legend, covered in dark, black obsidian armor. Which isn't something you see every day, as it was now the trademark of the Nor'roka empire. Those who follow the god of war, and attempt to follow in Ragnin's footsteps. Prime didn't have a very high opinion of them, as their culture almost forced them to go to war.
Prime was fond of the martial arts, and greatly loved the idea of protecting his friends and colleagues. But he didn't believe people should ever have to suffer and die, and most of all, he hated the gods, because they were the ones who forced it the most. And make no mistake, gods walk Ignos. They walk the land and sea's and skis, and wage their war until the stars go out and the sun turns black. And oh how Prime wished for a blade, with which he could fight them, to carve them asunder and leave them broken and useless on the ground, as they had done to so many humans.
Prime looked out over the expanse from the top of the mountain. Granted, it had taken a while for him to get all the way up, but it allowed him some time to relax and think. It would be quite a while before anyone from the village came up there looking for him, as he was the only one who didn't loath climbing it. He examined his surroundings; the peak was still a few meters above him. He'd never climbed all the way up; the ledge he stood on was quite a comfortble place. Over the years he'd actually worn away the rock in one of the faces, creating a bit of a soft rock bed. He imagined it was only because of his great strength that he could do that.
He walked over to it, and was about to settle himself in before he looked back at the peak of the mountain, a sudden curiosity settling over him. For some reason, he found himself wanting to know what was up there. He shrugged, and gave into curiosity, climbing up the rock face. "What the hell..." He said, looking around the peak. He'd never noticed before, but, when he climbed onto the peak, he could clearly see a large gate, framing a staircase. It lead steeply down into the mountain. "Now that's odd, I've never heard of this before." He walked through the gate, and took a peek down the staircase. "Its dark...Hmmmm." He looked around, but their weren't any torches about. He didn't really want to climb all the way back down the mountain to get some tinder and some flint either. He scowled at the stairs. "Ah f**k it." He said, walking down the stairs, using the wall for guidance as he forged deeper and deeper into the depths.
Eventually he neared the bottom, and he could see light around the corner. It was a faint red light, almost unidentifiable to his eyes. He turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, and tried to discern the source of the light, but was unable to do so, as the huge cavern in front of him was, in fact, the source of the light. It radiated from the walls, filling the cavern with warmth. Prime could just barely see something at the center of the cavern. He walked out across the cavern, to get a closer look.
As he approached, a sword slowly became visible. It was about three and a half feet long, and slowly curved to a sharp tip. The blade was red, and the handle quite black. It was laid on an old, and quite rotten velvet cushion, with an inscription in the stone in front of it. He read it aloud. "Here lies the sword of Ragnin, the weapon with which he fought the gods. Also known as the Madness Blade, it drove him mad in the end." Prime's eye's widened. The sword of the world's oldest hero, he wanted nothing but to reach out to it. But it seemed as though that would come at a terrible cost. He looked around the room, and suddenly realized why there was red light everywhere. It was the sword itself that produced the light, but there were mirror finished weapons lining the walls, armor and shields and things Prime didn't even recognize.
He couldn't bring himself to take Ragnin's sword, it was too dangerous, to much of an unknown, far to powerful. He walked to the caverns wall, and instead chose a sword of the same make as Ragnin's, silver blade and a hilt with a half moon motif. He carefully fastened the sword around his waist, and sheathed it. He bowed to Ragnin's only remains as he left the cavern, unaware of the fate, which had just taken hold of him.