Rise Of The Scourge

The Adventures of Caegrin I

The Adventures of Caegrin I

Caegrin hammered away endlessly on the sword. He thought something classic, and simple would be easier to do. Should be easier to do. But as many times as he tried forging the blade just right he failed. He would then toss it aside after inspecting it and start a new one. He didn't even have to wait for it to cool down to know it wouldn't meet his father's expectations.

He grabbed a new sheet of metal once more to start again. Precut into the dimensions and ready to be forged and crafted into a brilliant weapon. He had the tools, the resources, and the training, yet try as he would Caegrin could not forge a sword of greatness like lord Okrin expected of him.

The blades he made were battle ready for dwarf, elf, and man alike, yet he knew they wouldn't pass Okrin's test for him. If he had been forging just steel or iron alone he could do it. Even with dwarven magic, there was only so much you could do with base metals such as those.

He didn't care about blacksmithing, it was the family's legacy, but he was the fourth son. The legacy would continue with his brothers. Still, his father refused to let him go see the world, to explore, like he was meant for unless of course, he could successfully craft what was deemed an 'appropriate weapon or armor'.

The problem was that he lacked the talents his brothers had to meet their father's expectations. Try as he might he couldn't forge a sword crafted with an edge of magic to enhance it. He had been at it for near eighteen hours now. He only had nine more until he would have to present his work to lord Okrin.

Caegrin took a short break while the new piece of metal baked in the forge. He took a deep drink from the water bucket. Didn't even bother grabbing the ladle, just put his face in and began gulping down as much water as he could. Then with what was left he splashed it all over himself.

Then he put the thick firen-salamander leather gloves back on and grabbed the white hot chunk of metal from the forge. After a few layers, and some spellbinding mixed in, those gloves would allow him to hold the white hot metal indefinitely without being burned.

He placed the metal on the anvil, picked up the hammer, and hammered away at it; beginning to shape it into a basic double-edged sword fashion. Not long after the metal had its shape did a voice call out to him between the rings of the hammer. Caegrin stopped and turned to see his eldest brother Brazek approaching him.

Brazek was average height for a dwarf, coming in at four feet and five inches. He wore his thick black hair in a braided tail behind his back. And like Caegrin, kept his beard short trimmed. He was dressed in casual trousers but otherwise went without clothes.

Like most blacksmiths his chest and shoulders were broad, and his arms were bulky. He even had the lean muscle of a warrior on his abdominal region, but it was mostly covered with his thick body hair. Overall Brazek was very handsome, and not for the first time Caegrin found himself a little envious of his brother's blessed looks.

Caegrin wasn't ugly by any means, but he didn't stand out very much to the ladies. Not that he cared too much, a lot of the dwarven girls had more hair than he thought a girl should have. It was the beauty of the elves that caught his eye, but everyone, except Brazek and his mother, thought him weird for lusting after elves.

He put the hammer down and hugged his eldest brother. He hadn't seen Brazek for days, his brother was working non-stop helping their father craft something secretive and unknown.

When they broke the embrace Brazek looked over at the anvil, and then to the pile of tossed swords. "Not going so well then?"

Caegrin sighed, then asked, "How about that secret project you and father been working on?" He was desperate to take his mind off his exceedingly impossible task.