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Forums » EVENT - The Grand Tournament » DAY 1: Weapon Crafting

The final event of the day, and one many savants were looking forward too. Would-be smiths also attended this event as many were here to learn rather than enjoy violence. Creating a weapon was art, and it was the perfect closing event for today.

This one took place underneath a thatch roof that was pulled up to protect the smiths from potential rain. Every contender had his own furnace and anvil as well as tools. The assignment was simple: create the best weapon you can and present it to a group of judges who test its craftsmanship, durability and effectiveness.

Among these smiths was a gigantic slender Lizardwoman. Solsa Blackscale from Vos Valkear's finest smithery has come to the Grand Tournament to show just how skilled she was at creating weaponry. With her 'secret ingredient' she is confident she will win today's challenge.
Riyneth Kelesthiel was a Master Smith and Acolyte of Undhar, Lord of the Blade and Forge. He had travelled all the way from his native city of Belendor, a city of forge and ringing steel, to take part in this event, to show off his skills as well as further hone his art. He and his ancestors as far back as he could reckon them had been forgemasters, smiths, and metalworkers, staying true to the proud Pelenim blood that ran through their veins. It was in this competition that Riyneth hoped to show his dedication to his art and the power of the Gift of Crafts of his Bloodline. But even should he lose, he was almost certain that his knowledge of metalwork and bladecraft would be greatly expanded by this grouping of renowned metalworkers and smiths.

His fur was grey, though legend had it that he had once been pristine white in his youth before the forge-fires and smoke had permanently darkened his fur, and his amber eyes keen as he sorted through the various materials he had available. He was confident in his craft, and he had materials of great quality. It would soon be time to show all his peers from far-flung nations just what Terelain craftsmen could accomplish! He would forge a masterpiece today, he could feel it in his bones, and they had never been wrong before!
Drake didn't claim to be a master smith, but during his training in the army he had been taught to forge his own broadsword. And so, that is exactly what he would do this time. He had elected to bring with him his own metal, a sample of steel that he had forged himself before he had departed from Archaia with techniques passed down through the Archaian smiths through the ages. The steel, called Azmerrach in the Archaian tongue, was a curiously blue steel, and it was the metal that composed all archaian officers' longswords.
A smaller fellow wearing strange clothing, an apron and a pair of goggles walked into the circle of artificers and smiths under the thatched roof that would protect the forges in the event of rain that day. All he bore, besides his own clothing was a few slivers of an indeterminable ingot and a scroll. He was promised everything he would need for this activity would be provided for him.

His name was Wicco, he stood at 4'9", had his hair closely shaven on the sides but spiked on the top with a few dreadlocks hanging down over his shoulder in the back. He had slightly muscled arms but nothing bulky like most smiths had, his clothing was a simple tunic with thick leathery hide woven onto the fabric and chapped leather pants that looked a size or two too big for him; and as if to top it all off he looked like a little kid while he wore his goggles.

Wicco passed by each of the other competitors, gave them each a warm smile as he passed and went to his station to set up. He laid down the slivers of ingot and rolled out the plans for his weapon on the table in front of him, drawn down was a diagram for a strange weapon with no blade and no guard.
With everyone in place at last the judges walked in. All three of them were Dwarves, because their smithery was world renowned. Some of the people might even recognized the black bearded one by the name of Staving Rockhammer, who was the champion of last time's Grand Tournament. As soon as they introduced themselves as Staving, Jorna and Adel, the smiths were given the go to create their weapon. They had one hour to get to it. In order to save time they were allowed to bring a basis which they were allowed to temper and carve in.

Solsta has brought the handle and an unkempt head of a gigantic looking greataxe made of a very bright steel. She started heating the steel over the furnace, taking it out from time to time to hammer parts of it flat only to put it back in the furnace. Pretty basic stuff so far.
Wicco smiled at the dwarves who introduced themselves and gave the go ahead to begin. He then pulled from his apron a small rod of similar size and shape as the weapon in his drawing. He took the slivers of strange ingot and placed them inside a ceramic melting cup and placed them in the middle of the fiercely burning fire for melting. Once started on that he placed the rod on top of the drawing and used a piece of finely shaven charcoal to mark down what would be cut where.

When his initial designs were done he brought out a few tools typically used to whittle designs into metal. He clamped the rod in a vice and went to work on it.
Riyneth looked up from his materials when he saw the dwarves arrive, his eyes widening as he recognised the famed Staving Rockhammer. The Terelains smith looked down at his materials and frowned, "I hope this will be worthy of these acclaimed master dwarves," he muttered quietly to himself as he pulled out the two hilts he would be using for this competition.

By ancient tradition stretching back to before the Cataclysm and the Fall of the First Kingdom in the waning years of the Second Era, weapons of legend and renown and power most often came in pairs. Destiny and Fate, the twin crystal-blade of The Oracle of Silisim, Anhuin and Gerenan, Honour and Duty, the ancient swords of the Terelain Kings, Hope and Despair, the ancestral weapons of the Ancient House of Morlan and many, many others all bespoke of this unspoken rule.

Why this was was long forgotten, though it was theorised that these ancient weapons had such powerful magic woven into them that it a twin was required to bear the strain and share the power. whether this was true or not was conjecture, but Riyneth was a very traditional and conservative man and so if he was going to make a masterpiece, then by the Gods he'd forge it right!

Having only an hour was cutting it tight, but Riyneth was confident in his abilities. The hilts, the most intricate part of the weapons that would house the mana crystal pommel stone were already finished. All that he needed to make were the blades of the weapons...

He selected a few pieces of metal, one grey, one blue, one a pale silver-white and began to heat them in the forge. He would smelt these into a single composite blend, an alloy the Terelains called Song-Steel but was also known as Belendoran Steel or White Adamantine. It was a tricky thing to work, but he had made weapons of the stuff before. It was the finest material he could make in the time limit and with the materials he had to hand. The alloy had been an early attempt to recreate a lost Terelain alloy whose name was translated as 'Mithril' by scholars, though it had very different properties than any of the rare metals that went by the name found in the deepest of Dwarven mines.

Though Song-Steel was a failure in replicating the legendary alloy, it was found to keep a sharp edge for a long time and be very resistant to shattering and so was a favoured metal for use in weapons for those who could afford the high prices such craft cost, as only those inducted into the mysteries of the Cult of Undhar were privy to the recipe...

(Question, is low-level magic allowed to be used during the forging process?)
With the long, navy-blue ingot of azmerrach in his tongs, Drake pumped up his forge fire and thrust in the metal. His fire glowed white-hot before Drake even considered the fire close to the right temperature. When he withdrew the metal, it was glowing slightly, and he took it to his anvil. He chose a hammer of medium heft and got to work, ringing out strikes with carefully practiced precision. Each strike produced a chime so sweet that it would seem he was a luthier rather than a swordsmith. If the metal stopped its slight blue glow, Drake thrusted the metal back in the fire for a few seconds. After a short time of this pattern, the azmerrach's color became a light blue, almost a cyan, rather than its original navy. At that time, Drake began stretching it out, making the blade long and wide. As he did this, he took short breaks occasionally to set aside a pile of coals as long as the sword. During this process, Drake created a distal taper, so that the blade was thinner at the tip than at the hilt.

By this time, the blade was quite like the sword that was currently hung up in the Archaian festival tent which was Drake's own sword. Drake, having decided that the sword was in shape, he began the annealing process by heating the blade up. Once it was glowing white with heat, he drew it from the forge-fire and set it down over the coals, so that it would slowly cool to less-than-red-hot temperatures. Drake then sat down and waited, drinking from a flask he had brought with him and reading a scroll from his home for three hours, until the sword was no longer glowing. Then he took it from the coals with his tongs and doused it. When it was cool to the touch, he began grinding.

The wheel spun with ferocity, and Drake took his sword to it to put a decent edge on it. Drake knew that it was unwise to make a simple iron sword with a razor edge, as any metal of a lower grade than steels of the highest order would dull quicker and be more likely to break with a sharp edge than with a simple edge. But Azmerrach was no normal steel, and it could take a much sharper edge, so Drake honed the blade to a fearsome sharpness before he carefully dulled it a shade. With the grinding done, Drake moved on to the next phase: The hardening and tempering.

Drake heated the forge to hotter than it had been all day, so hot that it was difficult to stand next to it. He placed the sword in the forge, and it was white-hot within the next fifteen minutes. He drew it from the fire and immediately dropped it into the quenching tank, where it was greeted with a massive cloud of steam. The steam died down, and Drake withdrew the sword. When he had withdrawn it, he tested it by striking it softly with a small hammer. It rang beautifully, and Drake knew that that meant the blue alloy was hard and strong. But it wasn't ready yet. Drake cooled the fire down to a much lower temperature and re-heated the sword. After the sword was red-hot, he doused it again. He repeated this process three more times, and when it was done the blade appeared to gleam with the passionate blood-lust that many attributed to Archaian captains. Now it was unsure whether it was the captains or simply their swords that longed for the thick of a fight.

After the tempering was finished, Drake checked to make sure the blade was sharp, and began on the handle. He had brought a cross-piece and a pommel that were undecorated, and the pommel had a hole on both ends: one at the base wide enough for the hilt, and another at the tip just large enough for the peening end of the hilt-steel. Drake slid on the cross-guard and left the sword momentarily on his desk, moving to a wood-working table at the rear of the workshop, where he took two pieces of wood as long as the two-handed hilt of his sword, roughly one-third of the length wider, and just about as thick. With that wood, he began cutting so that there was a small half-cylinder cut out from each piece of wood. These he glued in place over the cylindrical hilt-steel with a strong wood-glue, making sure that the wood was stuck in place so it wouldn't slip. Then, he fitted on the pommel and peened it in place with a hammer. A few tugs confirmed that the pommel would probably never be removed. With everything together so tightly that Drake could not slide a hair between any of the pieces, Drake took some metal-working tools and began working the guard so that it was decorative, but still clearly functional. In the pommel he set one glittering blue stone, a tradition of Archaian swordsmen. The jewel was on the side of the sword, so that is shared a face with the flat of the blade.

Once the glue had dried, Drake wrapped the hilt wood with leather, the inside of which he had coated in a thin layer of the wood-glue, then wrapped the leather in a coarse copper wire. He set the sword down for three more hours, and when that time was done the glue had set, and Drake unwound the copper wire. Due to the relative softness of the leather, the coarse wire had pressed its form into the leather, leaving an easily grip-able texture on the hilt. Drake took a fine file to the cross and pommel and shined them to a powerful gleam, and then did the same to the blade, so that the whole sword gleamed in a perfect polish, ready to slay a score of men or attend a pompous ceremony.

This sword Drake turned in: The Azmerrach for sharpness, durability and strength, almost 12 hours of work for craftsmanship, and millenia of Archaian research for effectiveness.
(It is allowed, but generally frowned upon. Magic is preferred to be kept to the Day of Magic after all. It will lose you some points but not that many.)

Solsa seemed to be the most basic of smiths in her work. As the judges looked on, seemingly impressed by how everyone worked, the Blackscale found the axe head to be heated enough. Finally the steel was getting back into a near liquid form. It was then that she took a dagger made out of dragonglass from her belt. With quick movements while the axe was still on the searing hot coals she started drawing and scratching rune-like images on the blade, seemingly not bothered by the incredible heat.

As soon as that was done, she had to act fast. It was time for her "secret ingredient" to be of use. If she waits too long the axe will be ruined. The sound of bile was running through her throat as suddenly she puked up a glowing green goo that flew straight over the axe head and the coals, producing a sickening and thick smoke that would possibly nauseate the other contestants. While the smoke was still thick, Solsa removed the axe head and placed in a large iron bucket filled with ice cold water. The same stench came from the bucket as the Blackscale took a mop to wipe her mouth. This caused parts of the mop to burn up.

As soon as the steel was cooled about ten minutes later she took it out of the bucket and placed it on her anvil. The ordinary steel had been given an almost glowing toxic green colour. Happy with the crude but effective result, Solsa started to sharped the edges on a whetstone.

Time was almost up, so those who finished could put the final touches on their creations. After all, one of the criteria of the weapon was its aesthetics, something Solsa clearly wasn't going for. The waraxe looked as crude and ugly as the Vos Valkearian people.
The Terelain smith smelted the metals together, murmuring incantations under his breath to sped up the process and help the metals bind together. It was possible to produce Song-Steel without using magic, but it was invariably of lesser quality and took longer to smelt. Soon the metal was ready and Riyneth poured it into two moulds for sword blades.

The molten metal hardened rapidly and soon he was hammering and shaping the blades, listening closely to the sound of ringing metal. Eventually the harsh clanging turned into ringing that resembled the toll of a large bell. Smiling, Riyneth took the blades from his anvil and began the process of tempering them, heating and cooling them repeatedly to strengthen the metal, "Mhm... almost," he glanced over at an hourglass that helped him keep track of time. He was cutting it close.

He cooled the blades one last time and set them next to the hilts, taking a powder from a pouch as it belt he sprinkled it over the two halves, murmuring quietly once again as he invoked the blessings of his patron god, the Lord of Blade and Forge, Undhar. As he did so he grabbed the first blade and began pushing it against the hilt of the first sword. For a long moment nothing happened and then the metal seemed to turn to fluid as the blade sank into the hilt. There was a faint click and he let go, the two pieces of metal seamlessly joined together, "Mhm... good, resonance was right."

In the same way that the mana crystals commonly used amongst Terelains resonated with each other in a manner that was still poorly-understood, so too did Song-Steel. Each individual instance of the metal resonated slightly differently from every other instance of the metal. Matching these resonances was integral to making items from Song-Steel since the combinations of different similar resonances could produce different effects on the metal, though if they were two dissimilar then two pieces of Song-Steel being forged together might corrode or warp. One useful application of this is that if two pieces of Song-Steel aligned nearly perfectly with each other they could fuse together, which is what occurred with the blade and hilt of the sword.

Riyeth repeated the process with the second sword and pushed the two halves of it together to form a seamless whole. Grunting with satisfaction he put away his more cumbersome forging tools and produce a set of very tiny knives and scalpels and other precision instruments as well as a whet stone. With the time remaining to him he carved a complex Terelain glyph into the guard of the swords where the blade and hilt met. This was Riyneth's personal sigil, his maker's mark.

With that done he began carving fine inscriptions up the length of each sword with High Terelain glyphs. Not only would these glyphs name the swords, but they also doubled to shape and channel the magic of the mana crystal pommel stones in the hilts. He only had a very few minutes left, so he set to sharpening the swords to make them ready for the tests.

Riyneth wiped the sweat from his hands on a rag and breathed a sigh of relief as the last of his time ran out and he pulled the stone from the edge of his second sword, "They're done... just. Mhm, would have liked to fancy-up the blades a bit more. Inlay some electrum into the inscriptions to help with the mana channelling and make it look prettier... eh, but I can do that after the competition I think."

Riyneth took the swords to the judges, "The best blades I've forged in so short a time. Yeru-Myana, Metal-Song, and Siima-Nurr, Bright Silence. I hope they meet with your approval, Master Dwarves."
Wicco had been hammering chunks off of the rod as the metals he had placed in the fire melted into a brightly glowing molten liquid. When the rod had taken the shape he desired he removed if from the vice's clamp and placed it on the blazing coals to heat it.

Wicco pumped the bellows to further raise the temperature of the fire, as the chiseled rod began to glow white he extracted it and brought it to an anvil to beat it into the exact shape he wanted. As he pounded away for the next few minutes the rod took a more geometric shape, the metal slowly loosing the heat it had received from the fire with each hammer fall. Wicco picked up the shaped metal with a pair of tongs and took a closer look, "Nearly there..." he said with a smile. He carried the unfinished weapon to a grinding stone and began to run the metal across the rotating stone, alternating between the coarse and fine sections to further whittle the excess metal down.

Wicco stood up from the stone and walked over to the molten metal in the ceramic cup with the still warm unfinished weapon in tongs. Wicco held the unfinished piece above the molten metal for a moment before submerging it half way, the liquid metal instantly clung to the weapon as if it wanted to become a coating. Wicco then dunked the coated half of the weapon in frigid water, steam issued from the weapon as it rapidly cooled - strange marking began to crack along sections of the coated weapon. Wicco repeated this process for the other side making both sides of the weapon fully coated in the strange metal.

The artisan looked over to where the time was being kept, the hour glass had just under 15 minutes left. He took the nearly finished work and rapidly heated and cooled the unfinished work for the next few minutes until the marking grew more and more apparent. All the while muttering - chanting something in a strange language under his breath. It was almost a cadence as he worked rhythmically over the weapon. Wicco looked peered over one last time to see he had less than 3 minutes left he took his chisel and hammer to further carve out the faint markings on the weapon.

It was just as the final grain of sand fell that the weapon was completed, Wicco had also finished with his mutterings and picked up the warm weapon with his bare hands. He could feel a slight tingling in his fingers as he held it, he brought it over to the dwarvish judges for their inspection. "My esteemed judges, I present to you my latest masterpiece. Sadly I cannot name it until my Gods give me the name by which it shall be called. But I have a sneaking suspicion that Amamaniliztli, The thunder dragon has found this weapon to be favorable to him." Wicco said as he held the weapon for them to see more closely. It began to glow a pale greenish-blue energy as it started to draw in the ambient energies around it, small areas of Wicco's hair began to stand on end seemingly on their own accord.
((I have made some rolls in the background to judge who would become the final victor. It was pretty hard to decide otherwise))

When everyone was done, it was time for the weapon to be tested. The Dwarves would first accept Drake's sword as Archaia was the first to finish.

"Fine lookin' blade, lad." Staving said as he took a magnifying glass to look at the blade."Smooth too. It's excellently crafted indeed." The Dwarf said as he turned to the table. Three objects were placed to test the durability. A pumpkin, a large wooden stump and a large stone. The sword cut through the pumpkin cleanly. That part was easy. On the next part the sword could easily cut through nearly half of the stump with a simple swing. Staving seemed impressed. And finally Staving swung the blade for the stone. It made a loud "clank" sound but couldn't quite leave a dent in it. However, the blade didn't seem dulled by the hard swing."Very sturdy too. This blade is expertly crafted. Clearly this young man is gifted!" Drake was given an applause.

Next in line was Terel'Liren's blade. Staving took the dual blade and flung it around a little."Metal-Song 'n Bright Silence, eh? Fancy blades, lad. I expected nothin' less o' you Terelians. Let's hope they prove their worth, eh?" With that, the dual blades struck through the pumpkin, slicing it in four in a very cleanly manner."Aye, it's graceful alright." Next was the stump. Metal-Song and Bright Silence had no problem cutting through the better part of it. Then finally was the rock. With a loud "thwang" the blades struck the stone, chipping a bit of it away. Staving felt over the edges. That dulled the blade ever so slightly."Aye, 'tis good blade. I'd be givin' this to a prissy elf instead o' a Dwarf, but one can't question quality."

Next was Wicco's blade."Another dual blade, eh? This has some materials I haven't even seen yet, 'n I've been working with strange materials fer me entire life, lad." He said as he felt the heat emanating from the blade."Feels like there's magic coursing through it, though. Not a fan o' that. Let's see how it works."

The pumpkin was sliced in four halves. The cuts were messy, but oh so satisfying to see the pumpkin's meat burst everywhere. It was not a delicate weapon, but an effective one. Next up was the stump, which got damaged quite a bit. The blade didn't cut as deep as the other weapons, but it left an amazing impact on the stump none the less. Finally, the dreaded stone. The twin blades hit the stone, chipping off multiple pieces, but just like Terel'Liren's blade, it got dulled ever so slightly."Lovely blade, lad. I'll be wantin' ta know what ore ya used, fer I've never seen anything like it. It's interesting!"

"What do ye bring to the competition?" Staving asked Solsa. Finally it was Vos Valkear's turn."A waraxe." Solsa replied as she handed over the crude and venomous looking axe that was twice the size of the Dwarf."Just a waraxe? Does it not have a name?" Solsa shook her head."It's a weapon. Weapons don't need a name. They need a purpose. This one's purpose is to kill." Staving felt the steel and quickly retracted his finger as it started burning."Brutal thing you've made."

The pumpkin exploded into many bits as soon as the axe hits its mark. Nothing remained of it, and it made the Dwarf laugh. Next was the stump. The axe didn't cut through the wood more than it obliterated all it touched. Luckily the cut didn't go deep at all, or the whole thing would've been turned to splinters. Finally, the rock. The waraxe cut out a firm chunk of rock, the most of any weapon so far. However, this dulled the waraxe quite a bit. It didn't seem like it was built to last.

After a short discussion of the Dwarves, Staving stepped forward."It was a close call, smiths." He said eventually with his hands behind his back."These weapons were all fantastic 'n would do well in any lord's hall. But there can only be one winner here today. He won only by a fraction, but our winner today is Archaia's Drake! His blade was deemed superior in the end!"

The audience cheered loudly for the Archaian. This was an interesting competition!
((Actually I should've done this sooner but I completed the specs for Wicco's weapon. It is meant to be used more like a blunt force weapon for breaking instead of slashing (though in the right hands it can form a lightning whip), so it wouldn't really dull as much as it would become dented or scratched like most matured Ahuachtlite weapons do. Here is a link to what the completed view of the weapon looks like from different veiws... >>LINK<< Again, so sorry it took so long. ^^'))

Wicco watch eagerly as his weapon was picked up after the first two had been used, "Another dual blade, eh? This has some materials I haven't even seen yet, 'n I've been working with strange materials fer me entire life, lad." Staving said as he felt the heat of the electricity circulating through and warming the weapon. "Feels like there's magic coursing through it, though. Not a fan o' that. Let's see how it works."

"Actually sir, it is predominately a blunt force weapon to be used to crush and break what it comes into contact with." Wicco said, his voice was very soft and adolescent sounding but tempered with humble intellect. "It does have a divinely given gift, yes but it would be far from correct to call it ordinary magic. I apologize but all our weapons carry a slight trace of 'magic', it is carried naturally within the ores my people use." Wicco added but his voice was so soft he didn't seem to be heard. So all the artificer could do was follow as the unnamed weapon was taken to the testing area.

The pumpkin was sliced or rather was crushed into four quarters. The cuts were messy, but it was oh so satisfying to see the pumpkin's meat burst everywhere, a faint smell of ozone mingled with the smell of raw pumpkin. This would not be a delicate weapon, but it would hopefully prove to be an effective one. Next up was the stump, which got damaged quite a bit. The blade didn't cut as deep as the other weapons - mostly due to the blades only being as long as a small dagger on either end but it left an amazing impact into the stump nonetheless. Finally, the dreaded stone. Both sides of the twin blades were struck against the stone, chipping off multiple pieces, but just like Terel'Liren's blade, it got dented ever so slightly on the tips and along the edges and flat surfaces. Wicco was actually pretty surprised that the stone hadn't shattered when struck by his weapon, perhaps Staving hadn't hit the stone hard enough or maybe the stone was as dense and hard as refined Tragdinite - the chief material all Ahuachtlite weapons were made from and that his weapon had been coated with. "Lovely blade, lad. I'll be wantin' ta know what ore ya used, fer I've never seen anything like it. It's interesting!" Staving complimented as he set the blade back down before leaving to test the next weapon.

Wicco bowed low as Staving spoke, "Thank you sir, it is a culmination of my life's work. Simple yet resilient. The ores ised in its creation are very plentiful in our lands, I would love to introduce you to Envoy Tez to perhaps speak more about possible trading in... The... Future...?" Wicco said, but as he rose from his bow and looked around to see that Staving had already left - it was all Wicco could do but play it off and join the others as the demonstrations continued on.



After a while and after a short discussion with the other Dwarves, Staving stepped forward. "It was a close call, smiths." He said eventually with his hands behind his back, Wicco beamed when he heard that it meant they actually held his creation on par with with the other craftmens' works of art. "These weapons were all fantastic 'n would do well in any lord's hall. But there can only be one winner here today. He won only by a fraction, but our winner today is Archaia's Drake! His blade was deemed superior in the end!" Staving announced, the crowd that had gathered for this cheered. Even Wicco himself cheered with them, he too had been very impressed with Drake's blade - he would have to remember later to discuss with the man some of the finer aspects of his blade making process.
"Fine lookin' blade, lad." Staving said as he took a magnifying glass to look at the blade."Smooth too. It's excellently crafted indeed."

Drake smiled. "Thank you, sir," he replied, then watched as the three objects were taken out. Drake grinned as he heard the satisfying hiss of the blade slicing through the pumpkin. As the stump presented itself, Drake thanked the gods he had chosen a longsword for his blade; the extra heft was most certainly half responsible for the ease with which the sword split through the stump. Staving seemed impressed, and Drake was growing more excited. And finally Staving swung the blade for the stone. It made a loud "clank" sound but couldn't quite leave a dent in it. Drake was confident that the Azmerrach would stand the test of the stone, and it proved true that the blade didn't seem dulled by the hard swing."Very sturdy too. This blade is expertly crafted. Clearly this young man is gifted!" Drake was given an applause, and he bowed deeply.

Through the rest of the competition, Drake watched, impressed, as the blades from Terel'Liren were tested. Drake was impressed by their graceful style, a trait that he knew the warriors of that country shared. He also studied, with some interest, the style of the Ahuachtlite's weapon. It was a curious weapon, and the color bore a similarity to his own Azmerrach. He would have to remember that for when he spoke to Gahlerek back home. And when the Vos Valkear smith came, Drake watched in respectful critique as the war-axe, though big and heavy, clearly did not have the sort of durability of the previous three weapons.

Finally, Staving stepped forward.
"It was a close call, smiths." He said eventually with his hands behind his back."These weapons were all fantastic 'n would do well in any lord's hall. But there can only be one winner here today. He won only by a fraction, but our winner today is Archaia's Drake! His blade was deemed superior in the end!"

Drake bowed deeply, a smile playing on his lips, as the crowd shot into applause.

THIS would be an honor he would never forget.
Riyneth looks disappointed as the Dwarves announced the Archaian's victory, but he got over that rather swiftly. No use dwelling on it now, and it had been close. The Terelain was confident he'd at least come second or third, and there was no shame in that. At least he would be able to finish off his swords now.

The Terelain walked over to Drake and smiled, careful not to bare his sharp teeth to the human, bowing shallowly, "Congratulations on your victory, Drake of Archaia. You forged a fine blade, the metal is... quite unique. I do not think I have seen the like before," he glanced down at the sword with a thoughtful expression, "The Ahuachtlites also use strange materials I have never before seen in their craft. I will have to see about procuring sample of these metals, the Master Smiths of Belendor are always searching for new catalysts, metals and reagents for their craft. Who knows, perhaps one of these exotic new materials might be the missing component we need to rediscover the formula for Mythril..."

The Terelain smith trailed off, eyes distant before he shook his head and came back to himself, "Ah, my apologies, my thoughts tend to wander over such things," he held out a hand to Drake, "I hope to see more of Archaia's craft in the future, I know that my own people will be taking note of your victory this day. It's always good to keep an eye on the capabilities of the Younger Races after all."
Drake accepted the hand in his roughly kind way, and shook it.

"Pleasure competing against you, sir, and I'm sure King Gahlerek would be happy to give your people samples of Azmerrach."
The Dwarves clapped in a friendly manner, but Solsa didn't seem impressed. She scoffed and stayed behind everyone, seemingly unable to share in the handshaking without having to suffer her defeat. Instead she simply stayed put.

From behind the forges rolled a cart, with on it Angus Heidman, riding a pony towards the winner. On the cart was a big chest."Mister MacKeely." He spoke with a smile as he got off the cart and shook the smith's hand firmly."It does my heart many pleasures to meet with such a fine craftsman. I have here your prize." He said as he handed a little golden trophy in the shape of a smith's hammer. It seemed pretty small in comparison to what was given in the other events."May you cherish it forever, but, this is not all you receive."

The lord walked over to the chest and opened. Inside were loads of strange ores. Ores no one has ever even seen. The Dwarves only smiled as they saw it."With the help of my Dwarven friends here, I have managed to dig to the core of the earth, where we gathered an ore we don't believe has been discovered yet. In honor of your winning today, we shall name these precious stones Drake Ore. And this chest is for you to take home. May you experiment well with this." He said in an enthusiastic manner."And may you share your discoveries with the world as well."
As Drake beheld the wonders in the chest, he was absolutely (for lack of a better word) stunned.

"Thank you! This is more precious an award than ever I could have imagined." Drake bowed deeply to Angus. "I will take this, knowing that the work I will do with it will be shared for the good of the whole world. I will not let this ore become the tools of war to be turned on any here. These gifts are of peace, and their products ought to reflect this heart of peace, though swords they shall be. I feel that this ore will make fine blades." Drake grinned as he accepted the gift.

Shortly after this, he approached Solsa.

"You forged well," he said in greeting. "I would hate to find myself under such a weapon as you brought forward."
Wicco was waiting in line to be the next to congratulate Drake on his amazing win when a scout appeared seemingly from thin air and whispered in his ear. Wicco's focus was taken away from Drake and directed towards what the scout was telling him, "Oh dear..." Wicco said when the scout had finished and disappeared again.

"A magic draining item? For a normal individual of our lands that would be fatiguing to say the least, but Tez?! That could potentially kill him... I need to go." Wicco said to himself as he looked up to see Drake speaking to Solsa. "I guess speaking with Drake will have to wait..." Wicco with a worried tone as he left the grounds and made his way over to the sword fighting area.

((For all intents and purposes Wicco has left this forum.))

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