06-11-2017, 01:54 AM
(This post was last modified: 06-11-2017, 09:59 AM by King Ghidorah.
Edit Reason: Missing words, sundry details.
)
Pinay knelt beneath the hide awning of a lean-to, ensconced beneath the shade of a hoary old oak near the edge of her people's latest encampment. Sweat glistened in her emerald dreadlocks, shining upon the beads and bangles woven within. It trickled down the golden expanse of her forehead, furrowed in concentration as she moved her delicate hands carefully along the length of a damaged blade. The short, curved sword, its edge notched and blunted by vicious abuse, lay upon a flat slab of polished granite.
She was stuck doing the mending again.
Pinay didn't mind the work, exactly. There were no longer any Primes among the Oskinder wood-elves, so damaged weapons and equipment had to be repaired either by hand or by spell; the maid was talented with both. Her people rarely forged weapons using heat, preferring to shape metal with magic, coaxing it to find its function in the same way that a sculptor might find the shape within a stone. She'd been studying the process for nearly a century before her tribe was summoned to the Omniverse, and for all that it was taxing, Pinay also found it calming. There was, however, a fine line between 'calm' and 'bored', and there were other things she'd rather be doing; She was a watcher before she was a mender, and after seven hours spent re-weaving frayed plant fibers into wearable garments and reshaping sundered blades, the elf was getting restless.
The metal flowed beneath her fingers, softening and congealing, smoothing over cracks and fissures on the surface, soothing the symptoms of brutal stress that lay deeper within the blade. On the next pass, it began to form an edge.
Pinay sat back and sighed, breathing the cool scents of soil and stone and wiping her brow. The next part of the process was the hardest, and could be done almost as well using a whetstone - and in either case, she simply didn't have the mental energy for it right now. She stood up, brushing the dirt from the knotted grasses of her sleeveless smock, and retrieved the charms and bracelets that made up her Legend from the low table in the back of the hut. The accustomed weight of them was a small comfort that she missed while working, and it felt good to have them back.
Behind her, a familiar voice chimed in, friendly and half-teasing.
"I feel like there's something clever I should say about dull blades and you doing the mending again, but it's just not coming to me."
Pinay turned, her mouth half-open for a retort, expecting that the next several minutes would be filled by flirting with Jushap, who was kinder than he seemed, and pretty enough to make up for his other shortcomings.
Instead, she witnessed the end of the world.
There was Jushap, standing tall and proud of himself, silver-haired, muscular, and dressed for a patrol with his spear resting jauntily against one shoulder - and backlit by an eruption of bright orange-white flames. A wall of sound washed over them both, riveting their attention as the burning cyclone expanded, grew, and solidified into the largest living creature either of them had ever seen.
Three golden heads, wedge-shaped like those of snakes, each with a fan of ivory horns behind its jawline gazed joy and madness from atop long, sinuous necks. Bone spurs ran down the length of its multiple spines to a massive, muscular, armless torso graced by a pair of glorious, leathery golden wings. Powerful thighs flexed as it shifted its weight atop a set of catlike hind-legs, and two long tails thrashed.The entire beast was covered in scales of gold and bronze, shimmering, even in the overcast gloom.
It was taller than the trees, much taller. For a moment, it filled Pinay's entire world.
She grabbed Jushap's hand and ran, nearly pulling the larger elf off his feet as she dragged him behind her. The mender didn't know where she was going, and in the back of her mind part of her knew she was panicking, that she should be ashamed for not doing something productive - anything - to help, but every instinct she had was screaming: 'Escape! ' As she plunged into the forest, one among a veritable tide fleeing the three-headed beast, she heard a mighty crack: the sound of enormous wingbeats, followed closely by explosions, screaming, and a warbling cackle, like the titanic laughter of a cruel child.
A sudden gust of gale-force wind knocked the fleeing elves off their feet, bringing with it an oppressive miasma of ozone and rot. It sent the pair sprawling hard atop a knot of tree-roots. The last thing Pinay saw before the heat and force of a golden gout of cosmic lightning hammered the awareness from her body was Jushap, pushing himself dazedly to his knees with the palms of his hands. He was illuminated so brilliantly by the monster's fire that she could clearly make out the shape of his skeleton; It shone black behind the halo of his burning skin.
When she finally woke up, it took her almost an hour to stop screaming.
She was stuck doing the mending again.
Pinay didn't mind the work, exactly. There were no longer any Primes among the Oskinder wood-elves, so damaged weapons and equipment had to be repaired either by hand or by spell; the maid was talented with both. Her people rarely forged weapons using heat, preferring to shape metal with magic, coaxing it to find its function in the same way that a sculptor might find the shape within a stone. She'd been studying the process for nearly a century before her tribe was summoned to the Omniverse, and for all that it was taxing, Pinay also found it calming. There was, however, a fine line between 'calm' and 'bored', and there were other things she'd rather be doing; She was a watcher before she was a mender, and after seven hours spent re-weaving frayed plant fibers into wearable garments and reshaping sundered blades, the elf was getting restless.
The metal flowed beneath her fingers, softening and congealing, smoothing over cracks and fissures on the surface, soothing the symptoms of brutal stress that lay deeper within the blade. On the next pass, it began to form an edge.
Pinay sat back and sighed, breathing the cool scents of soil and stone and wiping her brow. The next part of the process was the hardest, and could be done almost as well using a whetstone - and in either case, she simply didn't have the mental energy for it right now. She stood up, brushing the dirt from the knotted grasses of her sleeveless smock, and retrieved the charms and bracelets that made up her Legend from the low table in the back of the hut. The accustomed weight of them was a small comfort that she missed while working, and it felt good to have them back.
Behind her, a familiar voice chimed in, friendly and half-teasing.
"I feel like there's something clever I should say about dull blades and you doing the mending again, but it's just not coming to me."
Pinay turned, her mouth half-open for a retort, expecting that the next several minutes would be filled by flirting with Jushap, who was kinder than he seemed, and pretty enough to make up for his other shortcomings.
Instead, she witnessed the end of the world.
There was Jushap, standing tall and proud of himself, silver-haired, muscular, and dressed for a patrol with his spear resting jauntily against one shoulder - and backlit by an eruption of bright orange-white flames. A wall of sound washed over them both, riveting their attention as the burning cyclone expanded, grew, and solidified into the largest living creature either of them had ever seen.
Three golden heads, wedge-shaped like those of snakes, each with a fan of ivory horns behind its jawline gazed joy and madness from atop long, sinuous necks. Bone spurs ran down the length of its multiple spines to a massive, muscular, armless torso graced by a pair of glorious, leathery golden wings. Powerful thighs flexed as it shifted its weight atop a set of catlike hind-legs, and two long tails thrashed.The entire beast was covered in scales of gold and bronze, shimmering, even in the overcast gloom.
It was taller than the trees, much taller. For a moment, it filled Pinay's entire world.
She grabbed Jushap's hand and ran, nearly pulling the larger elf off his feet as she dragged him behind her. The mender didn't know where she was going, and in the back of her mind part of her knew she was panicking, that she should be ashamed for not doing something productive - anything - to help, but every instinct she had was screaming: 'Escape! ' As she plunged into the forest, one among a veritable tide fleeing the three-headed beast, she heard a mighty crack: the sound of enormous wingbeats, followed closely by explosions, screaming, and a warbling cackle, like the titanic laughter of a cruel child.
A sudden gust of gale-force wind knocked the fleeing elves off their feet, bringing with it an oppressive miasma of ozone and rot. It sent the pair sprawling hard atop a knot of tree-roots. The last thing Pinay saw before the heat and force of a golden gout of cosmic lightning hammered the awareness from her body was Jushap, pushing himself dazedly to his knees with the palms of his hands. He was illuminated so brilliantly by the monster's fire that she could clearly make out the shape of his skeleton; It shone black behind the halo of his burning skin.
When she finally woke up, it took her almost an hour to stop screaming.