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Evaporating too Fast to Run

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#1Brone Heavyaxe 
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Evaporating too Fast to Run Empty Mon Oct 28, 2024 11:09 pm

Brone Heavyaxe







Brone Heavyaxe



The night was deep when the forge Mahal-Baraz was lit. The snow was heavy, making travel inconvenient, even from the Guild Hall of Paradise Dawn. The tunnel that would lead from beneath the castle-like structure to the forge would still need a bit more time to dig out, which for the moment was perfect for Brone Heavyaxe who was in the forge so he could meditate.

The sound of the hammer against the anvil was rhythmic, though because Brone was at the deepest part, the sound was muffled, even more so through the heavy snowfall. At the last level, his personal section, where he can be alone. No one, other than him can stay in this chamber due to the magma chamber that lay below it, its heat powering the forge beautifully.

Brone stopped his hammering for a moment to stick the sheet of metal into the flames. He watched the flames raise and dance, the coils cracking and smoldering and the metal slab's color slowly shifted from deep red, to orange. The heat against his face was inviting; how he enjoyed seeing the movement and dances of the fire, like a party without the intense noise. It was wonderfully quiet around the crackling fire.

Once the piece of metal turned bright orange, he took it back to the anvil and brought the hammer down upon it, the clanking echoed the chamber, it's vibrations washed over the room and moved through Brone's skin, beautiful touches, that brought him peace.

For some time, the dwarf has been meaning to forge a shoulder guard using the new adamantine ore that he had mined a few weeks earlier. Such a rare mineral with an even greater density and melting point, he needed to work with him. He purified it using the forges in Mahal-Baraz, now he could finally bend it.

Brone looked down at the orange metal, watching the exact spots where his hammer will fall. Clang!... Clang!... Clang! The bright color of the metal and the fire from the forge were the only source of light, leaving everything else like a shadow or silhouette; to not be notice, to be seen, just to be standing in his comforting shadows, surrounded by the embracing heat, this is all he needed right now... this is what he needed.




#2Brone Heavyaxe 
Online

Evaporating too Fast to Run Empty Mon Oct 28, 2024 11:40 pm

Brone Heavyaxe







Brone Heavyaxe



His mind started to wander, something he was use to doing, but not with his mental guard down. He tends to let his mental guard down solely when he's at his forge alone, because when his mind begins to wander, he would think about too many things or stuff that was too personal, or things that makes him regret, something he's not use to. He hates when begins to ponder these things. For a moment, Brone stared at the softened metal, it was altered from the slab it once was, but only after all the pressure the dwarf put on it.

Brone held the piece of heated metal using giant tongs, then dipped it into the quenching tank. The sound of the steam filled the room and filled his ears as well. The steam wafted his face, a warm caress, vanished as quickly as it raised from the water. As the sound faded, he pulled out the metal piece to view his work. The piece was bent well and the outline was clean. He put the piece the side and grabbed another slab, this will be the second part of a three part scale. He looked at the detailing of the slab, making sure that the metal was clean enough before moving forward. Brone then noticed something in the reflection of the metal, he wasn't sure why, but it looked like the old abandoned tunnel from the old mountain back where he used to live when he was a child. The fall was mostly empty, save for granite debris, but it was perfect to him.

He stared at the reflection, the forge silent once again save for the flames. The silhouette of the dwarf would mistaken most to be a statue until a small laughter escaped his lips, but it was cut short, that hint of a smile quickly faded as his eyes pierced down the old hall... Brone finally pulled his eyes away, remembering he had a job to do. He used the tongs to stick the piece of metal into the flames. He was back to the fire, back to seeing it dance erratically. He wanted to smile, but he realized he shouldn't smile, he couldn't hear the dancing, the music, because chose to not hear... just as he chose to be here.

Here he goes again, he pulled his eyes from the fire, the sheet of metal already bright orange. The dwarf brought it to the anvil and began to hammer at it.




#3Brone Heavyaxe 
Online

Evaporating too Fast to Run Empty Tue Oct 29, 2024 12:20 am

Brone Heavyaxe







Brone Heavyaxe



Clang!...Clang!...Clang! He worked at a steady pace, taking deep breaths to remember where he was. It would be a waste to dream of someplace else instead of enjoying the time where he actually was, the chamber though spacious enough to hold a dozen workers, felt as if Brone reached out, he could touch both ends; it was comforting, and yet... suffocating.

He saw the old tunnel again in the heat of the metal. It's walls were too close and the ceiling was too high. This was where he would go to escape, and where he wanted to entrap himself. He would rush to reach it, wanting it's comfort to hide from everyone... everything... but once he arrives, he was trapped, stuck between wanting to flee, and wanting to stay and escape the world; two sides of him trying to pull the other to their decision. Sometimes he would struggle for so long, he would cry, sometimes he would cry heavy.

Clang! Brone struck the metal, distorting the image of the Old Hall, bringing him back. He continued to bang at the piece, exhaling a harsh breath upon striking, gripping the handle as if trying to keep the sweat from his hands from losing his grip... but he didn't sweat easily, he's not the same dwarf anymore.


And what does that mean? That's he's better? Not truly, he's still the same dwarf, the same Shield of Dawn, the same Uncle... the same young dwarf from the Old Hall. He may not get paralyzed anymore, but he still locks up... like right now.


He blinks, remembering where he was, then Clank! strikes the metal roughly. The color of the hit went to bright red, he wasn't paying attention, losing track of time; he sucked his teeth, upset with himself.


Nothing new
.

"Come on, wake up" he told himself as he continued to bring the hammer down. Annoying memories, those that aren't worth making into stories; he began to think of other stories he had made along the way: Meeting his niece for the first, seeing her cast magic for the first time. Then there was Yuurei and their elven friend. They traveled together, questing and having fun; their most intense quest involving going up a mountain, where trouble came; Kailani dropped into Yuurei's hands and the elf took off to the sky above him. Brone looked up at them confused; then a sound called out to him, he turned around and a wave of snow came crashing down upon him, burying him with intense force and pressure.


Brone was confused, Thurik and Kharla were running, it was so sudden, but they didn't mention why they were running. As he turned, he was able to see the wave of gravel strike him against the wall, burying the same. He didn't know how long he was under there, but he could remember feeling hopeless, useless, pathetic.


Yuurei pulled him out of the snow, that memory allowed him to pull himself back to the forge, he was hammering Clank!ClankClank! down upon the piece of metal, cooled back to it's normal gray color, but the dwarf was hammering and hammering without rhythm, without accuracy, just with frustration. Yuurei pulled him, he said with a sigh.

Brone opened and closed his fist, then wiggled his fingers, reminding himself he isn't buried. He looked at the metal, it wasn't entirely ruined, but he did undo some work. It was possible to get it right again. "I Like it!".


""Izkhar tûrun, ghâr... muzganâl, dûmanul?"


Brone felt a bead of sweat coming down as he hurried to the fire. The moment he stuck the metal piece into the flames, the drop of sweat hit the coals and sizzled. The heat embraced him, comforted him. He wished he could stay here forever... but he can't, the metal needed working.




#4Brone Heavyaxe 
Online

Evaporating too Fast to Run Empty Tue Oct 29, 2024 1:02 am

Brone Heavyaxe







Brone Heavyaxe



He didn't want to leave the flames, he now had small dread in returning to the anvil, but like all the other moments he hesitated, he would force himself to jump at it, not a second thought, no time to think about it, there was no need, otherwise he'll be stuck with either his thoughts or his fears.

He was hammering at the heated metal. Each clang, he heard it, yelling, too close to him, too close to his face, but what could he do? What could he say?


"Go!"


Another strike, but this time he didn't react, his eyes were tired, he was tired.


"Just let it burn!


His body wanted to jerk forward and swing his hammer, but he allowed his other thought to pull him away from that before he even moved a muscle.


"Destroy it! and Let it ring 'till their ears bleed!"


But Brone continued to hammer, hearing everything he was yelling, but too tired to do anything, "There's no point, let it be" he whispered.


"That's why you don't have the medal! Because of your weakness, and Thurik knew this! Kharla knew this! That's why they're not here!"
The echo was harsh.

"They were wrong!! Brone shouted as he slammed the hammer down upon the piece of metal, flattening a good piece of it and causing sparks to scatter and light the room, "They were all wrong!! I always doubted myself because of what everyone thought they were right about, but they were all idiots!! I was the one who was right, and yet I'm the one who suffers!?" at the last one, he slams the hammer down against, destroying the metal piece, sparks flying to light up the room again and reveal to the dwarf for a split second that he was the only one who was there.


"...That's why you're weak, because of your dumbass mistake in trusting what others say, giving everything you had to those who look down on you... that's why you're stuck in the Old Hall... and I took a nation"
.

Brone slowly looked over to the tank, and on the surface of the water was his reflection standing before the anvil. The reflection turned to him and leaned over the tank... it wasn't Brone's face... at least... it wasn't the Shield of Dawn, it was the Bastard from the other world.


"Those who looked down on me are dead, those who pretended to care, and those who openly mocked me because I they thought I was weak... they thought wrong and they realized it at the last second... Thurik begged... pathetic... Kharla pleaded and even apologized... then after that... I took over Iceberg" The Bastard stared into Brone's eyes, though the Shield of Dawn tried to pull away, but he couldn't, sweat was beginning to form on his brow, he needed to get to the fire, but the other wouldn't let him, "No one met my eyes unless I said, no one spoke unless I said... even the mountain moves out of my way, no snow... no gravel... nothing dares to hold me down...


Something snapped... the rope that was holding Brone back, keeping him from making any mistake, keeping him from accidently hurting someone again.

He woke again, seeing the tankard was destroyed and his fists were bloodied. Something dripped and hit the hot metal that fell onto the floor and it sizzled. At first Brone thought it was blood, but then felt sweat rushing down, so he rushed over to the fire just in time for it to hit the coals and sizzle.

He stood there... staring at the flames, angry at both Brones, angry that his other self killed so many and destroyed his home... angry at himself for never doing what the other did. He was angry that he couldn't do anything, he couldn't lash out... for what? At whom? No one but himself... so ... he stood still, like a statue, like the little boy in the Old Hall... the abandoned tunnel. Not fighting... not defending... just paralyzed.

It was fine, he told himself this. He needed to see his labor, to prove he wasn't doing nothing, that he was amounting to something. He needed to feel the sweat rush down his face, but the sweat was evaporating too fast to run... so he stood there... waiting for the fire to die down, eventually he would start to feel the build up...

A stream of tears ran down his face and he remembered.

"Oh right... I can't sweat" he wanted to at least fake a laugh, but he was too tired to do anything else but stand there and let his tears run. When the flames finally died out, he burst out into tears, crying upon the floor, wailing as loud as he could, not caring if the sound traveled to the Guild Hall or to the valley.

His voice went sore and it wasn't until the coals were entirely cold that the dwarf fell to sleep on the floor.




#5Brone Heavyaxe 
Online

Evaporating too Fast to Run Empty Tue Oct 29, 2024 7:35 am

Brone Heavyaxe







Brone Heavyaxe



Cool, cool stone. When the family were at each other's throats, and everything became too overwhelming, a young Brone, barely with a stubble on his chin, would go to his room and lay upon the stone floor. Sometimes it was cool, especially when he needed it after helping his father near the magma pools, and sometimes it was warm after he came in from the mountaintop with his uncle. He would stare at the ceiling, with the stone supporting his back. This would be the first time he called out to the Stone, thanking it the way his mother would thank the Stone for everything it provided. It was his solitude, his foundation.

Brone Heavyaxe would wake up, finding himself laying upon his back, his eyes upon the ceiling of the forge and the coolness of the floor on his back despite the magma chamber below. He didn't know what time it was, but given he didn't hear any working coming from the floors above him, he figured it was sometime before noon, maybe even before dawn. The quiet was peaceful...

He began to think about the fit he threw, about the thoughts that ran through his head, yes, including the other Brone. How he took the world with his own hands, how he went down the other path, and demanded respect through blood and dominance, causing quakes so everyone knew not to step in his way... and yet he fell before the Shield of Dawn.

Brone smirked, the first chuckle of the day, and it lifted his heart. That's right, despite what he boasted, despite any monster, vampire, dragon, whatever, they fell before the dwarf, frustrated while the Shield of Dawn bellowed with pride and joy as the battle echoed in his memory.

The dwarf slammed his fists upon the floor as he swung his arms open, the hit shook him, getting the blood flow going as he jumped up to his feet. If it wasn't for his artificial heart, he would feel the thrumming of his heartbeat. He walked over tot he forge at the center of the chamber and pulled the level that opened the vent, allowing the heat from the magma chamber to warm up the bed of coals. Then he would grab the bellows and squeeze, causing large blows of air to ignite the flames and set the heart ablaze both in the forge and in Brone's heart.

A long note escaped his lips, almost sounding like his father's. He took the misshapen piece of metal he ruined last night with his bare hand and stuck it into the flames, dropping the note and began to sing Dhurain's name. The heat was intense as usual, warming the metal and changing it's color, brightening and softening it, all the while, the dhain dwarf's hand took in the heat, though it was intense, he withstood, testing his resolve, feeling his strength return to him, remembering his body, his spirit... and his mind were fortified, strong as steel. No.... as strong as the adamantine in his hand. Once the metal's color became bright orange, he felt the metal bend beneath his fingers like clay.

He brought it to the anvil and grabbed his hammer from the floor and began hammering down onto the warped metal, using his hand to hold it and mold it, bettering his chances on saving the piece. His heart surged, flowing blood through his copper veins, energizing him, fueling him. The hammering seemed lighter, the heat from the molten metal was bearable and powerful, like an energy trying to gnaw at the dwarf's tough skin. Brone found himself grinning as he hammered aware, in full control of the forge, of the chamber, of the mold of this piece. He thought about Thurik and Kharla, they were on his mind last night, and truthfully, he had lost contact with them two decades prior, but wherever they may be, wasn't an issue to him. He didn't hate them, though he remembers how they hurt him, their last words before they departed were formal apologies, and for that, the dhain should hold no grudges to them; it was his younger self who was inexperienced, not fully grounded... not like he is now.

Eventually, he reformed the metal piece to become the second scale shard, though it had warped markings that he can't get rid of, he chuckled realizing that most of the works that had imperfections, said imperfections were made intentionally, albeit it subconsciously. Nothing was perfect, not even him; he wasn't part of a prophecy, not a chosen one like in the stories, not born with abnormalities that made him special... he was a regular dwarf that had imperfections of his own. But through time, work, pressure, he was able to forge himself into who he is now, a protector to his people, his kin, a shield as durable as Urdurain, the shield of Dhurain himself. Despite any of the warped markings on his armor, his weapons, they usually outlast other works not of his make, despite their beauty.

The last sheet of metal went into the fire, Brone forgot to use the tongs, he held the heated metal with his hand as he smiled, thinking about his accomplishments. The enemies he defeated and the kin he made, the kin he saved, and his niece that he saw like a daughter of his own, not his blood, but yes his blood. How she spread her wings to show him the world is within reach, and even though he hates to fly, when he is with his kin, he feels as if he can fly indeed.

The hammering rang as he continued to sing, not noticing that others were above him, entering Mahal-Baraz, and being welcomed by the singing from down below. They all knew it was Brone, for he was the only one who normally had access to that chamber.

As the song came to a finish, he ended it off while humming; he looked at the last piece, now bent and detailed. This was his peace and his strength. He didn't know much about meditation, but he knew that this place was his sanctuary, where he can lower his guard, pour everything out and reflect... he needed to understand. Now that he looked at last night from a different spot, he remembered how tall he stood despite his size. He stood where he desired to, and if someone looks down upon him, it matters not, for he cannot control other's thoughts about him, but he was sure of one thing: they could not move him.

He eventually finishes the shoulder guard. It glimmers in the light of the flames, beautifully made, especially with the warped middle section, a mark of Brone. The sun had dipped into the afternoon at this point as he walked out of the forge and into the inviting snow up above, and the dwarf had found the answers he sought, except for one question: "How is it that he claimed a nation... but I'm the one feels as if I've claimed the world?" he bellowed a laughter that traveled through the tundra.




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