Within the Forge, The spirit Grows

Within the forge he made his home. In the fires he loved its embrace. The blacksmith made his home within the forges of his home, his life works for many a day. Within these flames and smolder he slaved his every breath into the forging of many blades, some for the betterment of his brethern and some for his own gain. Many imperfect blades laid scattered on the ground, their form and shape were not befitting to the vision the young black smith had envisioned for them. There were times when the mental visions of a blade came to his mind like a spark igniting a fire and he would immediately begin on it knowing that it would become a blade in search of a wielder, his father always telling him that a blade made of a kindred soul found its way to a soul in need.

The words of the wise dragon had reverberated within the mind of the new, and his teachings waved within each strike of his hammer. Here, Siegfried had lived his passion and made his name. In his left hand was a hammer and in his right? The finishing product of a single blade that he had been working on for hours, the clanking of the last three strikes causing the blades subtle edge to finally become complete. Dipping the blade into the charred barrel beside him, the white hair of the male had been pushed to the side as he stood forward and looked to the wall of his achievements, armaments made during his time in training as the black smith of his brethern.

"A sword mirros its owner."

Wise words given to him by his father, and an important friend of his yet what did these words mean to a smith whose life was in all forms...blades? With each sword made a piece of him went into it, with each piece of armor created his heart with it. Dropping the smith's hammer onto the ground, Siegfried stood to his feet and walked into the cold desert night looking into the sky the clear colored eyes staring at the moon with these words vibrating through every thought, every fiber of his being. It was here amongst the silence of the village the knight took a walk through the area he called home, the sand silently crunching beneath the weight of his boots deep in thought on what this saying meant to him.

Within his walk he recalled a previous conversation with his father while he had been in the force. His father hard at work stopped when a younger Sieg walked into the forge holding a crude sword that he had made prior to coming in. While he had been proud of his work, his father had been rather ill in the workings of his own kin. Taking the sword into his own hands, the older male inspected it before hitting it once with his hammer, causing the shortsword to break in front of the child. When asked why he had done such a thing, the older male simply replied with," A weak sword shows weakness within its maker. Within these weapons you pour your all into them, and within this one," he tossed the hilt of the broken sword to his son," you have shown your own weakness. Within our people there is a saying. A sword mirrors its owner. What do you want your swords to say about you when you take my place," the memory echoed through the male as he stopped short of the gates of his home and smiled.

His fathers words and the saying of his family impacted his work causing him to work harder, pouring his blood and soul into each creation of his. Yet he always asked himself one question. What did his swords mirror? The answer wasn't in black in white nor was it clear or dark. The question to him, was simple. His swords mirrored his ambitions, his ideals and heart in tangible form. Where one couldn't see his emotions his creations mirrored this. This must have been what his father wanted him to understand, but his work had yet to be done. With haste he made his way to the forge, lighting a fire that ignited the whole compound could see.

Remember those faithful words he went onward towards his work,  but before his hands could reach for his tools a messenger appeared. Turning back the strands of white fell from their place and covered his face as he looked at the male for a moment. In his single eye he paid attention as the message was delivered. Arthur had called for his appearance in the lands of Hoshi, the call being made and the Black Dragon would ride for his prince and long time friend. His smile turned to a grin as he waved the messenger," Let the prince know that this Dragon rides to the Lands of Hoshi in the time requested, the travel will be rough but I shall adhere to the call to our haven," with his words he pulled his tools into his hands and began the process of forging his namesake, for on this night Siegfried the Black Dragon would begin his work.

877 words

claiming the wc for 4 stats will add more as time goes on

Approved for the time being