Smelter
Armor of the Smelter Demon, a great mass of iron that was given life.
The Old Iron King was possessed of a great bounty of ore, but was incinerated by a creature that rose from the infernal depths of the earth.
Eygil stood before the Ironhearth Hall bonfire, the warm glow of the flame enticing her, she found herself unable, unwilling to look away from it. Fire was an amazing thing, something that had been a large part of her life every day for so many years now, that a part of her was having trouble thinking of a time before it, before she came under the employ of the Old Iron King.
"Eygil!" came a loud, booming voice from below the iron staircase and into the next room. Tearing her eyes away from the fire and rushed out of the room, and into Ironhearth Hall proper to meet the audience in it. The first person to catch her eyes was the Old Iron King, standing tall over the small gathering of people, nobles and guests from far-off lands, who had been invited to this event as to witness to this great step forward in their work with iron. The soul was a powerful thing that radiated its influence onto its surroundings, including the flesh of those who bore it, one's physical size was determined by their soul, and the more powerful the soul, the larger the person. Eygil herself had a powerful soul, she stood easily at least a foot above the tallest men in the group, but she found herself dwarfed by the Old Iron King, clad entirely in thick and heavy iron armor and crown, a massive hammer of cooled lava rock on his back. His soul was truly the most powerful she had ever seen.
But even he did not have a power she alone possessed. Standing in the center of the room was a giant suit of heavy iron armor, cold and lifeless, the greatest piece of work to have ever been construed in the factories of the Iron Tower with the finest samples of metal, the most advanced forging techniques, and with the more intense fires they could possibly create. All eyes were on her as she took her position in front of the armor, a behemoth of a creation, sharp spikes, deep grooves, thick plating, and giant horns atop a hallowed face. Behind her, she could hear the Old Iron King giving a speech to the others, but right now she did not care, and focused on the space between her hands and created a flame. The flame was bright and hot, and it continued to grow, taking all her concentration to focus on it, and within her chest, she could feel her souls burn hot, and swell. She had done this before, but nothing like this, nothing to this extent, giving automatism to suits of armor was one thing, but this was LIFE, and she needed this to succeed above all else.
The fire in her palms grew larger and larger by the moment, and she could hear yelling behind her, but all she could focus on was this life-giving fire. She then released it, a miniature sun really, and it flew into the empty space in the armor's stomach, and for a moment, nothing happened, but then there was fire, and the armor came to life.
