Post by The Great Other on Aug 25, 2012 2:10:26 GMT -5
Fire and blood. Old words for an old house. But long before that house there was something more ancient, a land of mysteries, where an empire was forged and a land united. We had scarce heard of the ancient empire, for we were people of stone and wood and bone. Metal was not something we found until after the summer folk came with their crab plates and their gleaming blades. We learned though. Stone cannot bend. It breaks and shatters, and we lost to them again and again. We accepted our lot. And we learned. We learned through blood of this power over rock, and as sons of the stone we chose to reclaim our birthright. Where before we were mere stone, we passed through the flames of defeat and bent our knees to the wolves. The ore was found, exploited, and used. The stone island has changed now. Because of this, they who control the forge control the land. My family are the Crowls of Skagos. Our words are our weapons, Steel and Flame. We have lasted for over a hundred years against the savages that rise every moon. I have served at the forge since I first spoke. Flames do not lie to me, and with them I change stone to steel. I have come to this city to discover secrets long hidden. What is lost can be found again, and I will forge the fabled steel once again. By fire, and blood.
With the Grand Maesters permission, he entered into the archives of the red keep. Felric frowned. Old books, dusty tomes, and heaps of scrolls. He could be here a lifetime and find nothing. But a road must have a starting point. He read of the history of the swords that had been lost, recovered, and lost again. Great, bastard, long, and short the swords all had gathered a mythical place in history. But that was not why he was here. Their histories little interested him, only their origins. All seemed to trace back to the Doom. He moved onto anything he could find of forging. There, his knowledge began to grow at last. Of Qohor he found many references, how they could blend any color they wanted into the steel, without any paint. They would create mechanical birds so lifelike, you would swear they could fly. Then a chance. A boast from an old Qohorian smith named Tobho Mott in his memoirs “Though the fires have been lost to create the blades, I could reforge them anew.” Mott did not appear in any of the older chronicles, how had he not heard of him before? He read through the records again and was astounded. Mott had lived not a hundred years ago. He was an armorer who had lived in this very city and been succeeded by… a knight? Gendry Bull it said. Who passed the shop onto a man named Tobias Grail. A name, an oppurtunity. Felric left the archives in a rush, intending to take whatever he could.
Tobias was a thin man, who seemed too small to be working at a forge. But the pieces he had on display… they were work Felric knew he could not beat. Not yet. Felric explained why he had come, and waited for the laughter. Tobias looked at him with tired eyes and Felric knew. “Why should I show you anything small stone? You come to me with no demonstration of skill, with nothing to your name but a tale and a hope. Why should I teach you what I know? Most come to me with a letter of commendation, or carts full of riches, and you have nothing.” Felric took the package from his back, and slowly unwrapped the bindings, speaking as he worked. “I have no letter, and I have no riches, but what I do have Master Tobias is a promise. Throw me out, and I will be nothing more than a good blacksmith. Good is not enough. Take me in, train me, show me how to reforge the blades, and I will be a student such as never before seen in this land. I will work day and night, I will throw myself at any task necessary, and I will bring the knowledge back.” Placing her on the table, he knelt before the master. Tobias looked at him for a long time. He looked at the fusion of bone and steel on his table. Then he turned, and looked at the flames for what seemed like eternity. “Then we shall see that you keep your promise small stone.”
(Felric is one half the way to Master Metalworking)
With the Grand Maesters permission, he entered into the archives of the red keep. Felric frowned. Old books, dusty tomes, and heaps of scrolls. He could be here a lifetime and find nothing. But a road must have a starting point. He read of the history of the swords that had been lost, recovered, and lost again. Great, bastard, long, and short the swords all had gathered a mythical place in history. But that was not why he was here. Their histories little interested him, only their origins. All seemed to trace back to the Doom. He moved onto anything he could find of forging. There, his knowledge began to grow at last. Of Qohor he found many references, how they could blend any color they wanted into the steel, without any paint. They would create mechanical birds so lifelike, you would swear they could fly. Then a chance. A boast from an old Qohorian smith named Tobho Mott in his memoirs “Though the fires have been lost to create the blades, I could reforge them anew.” Mott did not appear in any of the older chronicles, how had he not heard of him before? He read through the records again and was astounded. Mott had lived not a hundred years ago. He was an armorer who had lived in this very city and been succeeded by… a knight? Gendry Bull it said. Who passed the shop onto a man named Tobias Grail. A name, an oppurtunity. Felric left the archives in a rush, intending to take whatever he could.
Tobias was a thin man, who seemed too small to be working at a forge. But the pieces he had on display… they were work Felric knew he could not beat. Not yet. Felric explained why he had come, and waited for the laughter. Tobias looked at him with tired eyes and Felric knew. “Why should I show you anything small stone? You come to me with no demonstration of skill, with nothing to your name but a tale and a hope. Why should I teach you what I know? Most come to me with a letter of commendation, or carts full of riches, and you have nothing.” Felric took the package from his back, and slowly unwrapped the bindings, speaking as he worked. “I have no letter, and I have no riches, but what I do have Master Tobias is a promise. Throw me out, and I will be nothing more than a good blacksmith. Good is not enough. Take me in, train me, show me how to reforge the blades, and I will be a student such as never before seen in this land. I will work day and night, I will throw myself at any task necessary, and I will bring the knowledge back.” Placing her on the table, he knelt before the master. Tobias looked at him for a long time. He looked at the fusion of bone and steel on his table. Then he turned, and looked at the flames for what seemed like eternity. “Then we shall see that you keep your promise small stone.”
(Felric is one half the way to Master Metalworking)