II
Training

I spring out of the icy cold lake, my body chilled by the water. I then start running up the slope to the forge that lay in the Forgotten City. When I had explained to Kulkarverk what I was trying to achieve with the early morning swims and runs, he had wholeheartedly approved.

My feet set up a rhythmic pace as I suck in oxygen in through my nose, my jaw firmly shut. I push myself harder, causing my breath to shorten, causing my lungs to burn. My legs shook with the effort of putting a foot in front of the other.

By the time I reached the forge, I was ready to collapse, but urged myself to go and stand at the furnace and check the state of the metal plate I had placed in the forge, reinforcing it with carbon. From what I could make out, I had aluminum and titanium. Into this mix, I threw in wood charcoal for carbon. The powder clung to the blank I had created by practically smashing the two metals into powder, then melting them till they were liquid, then using one of the molds, I had a block of metal alloy. Then I chisel off one third of the block and kept hitting it with a hammer, until the metal began to heat from the friction. Which, mind you, wasn't easy. But what I intended to make it into would be worth it.

By that time the metal was a sheet and cherry red. All my breaks, other than meals and relieving myself, would comprise of long runs and swims, building my strength and endurance.

Now, came the culmination of three months of hard work. I saw the metal was a gentle orange. I use the tongs to pick it up, then take it to the water butt and dunk it in. Immediately, the water flash boiled, steam billowing all around me. The hot steam warms me up, curing me off of my shivers.

I then take the still cooling metal to a bench and use the file to cut it in half. With a metal brush, I used a compendium on the ancient language to painstakingly carve runes. I summon energy from my body and guide the static charges, using them to power up the runes.

Wards of strength. Wards of sharpness. Wards against extreme heat and brittleness. Wards to allow, on feeding a small fragment of energy, to create a coat of plasma on the cutting edge.

Leaving out the centre of the blade, I trace out all these runes. I then trace out, in the centre, a kanji representation of the word 'Storm' (嵐) on the left hand sheet. On the right, I trace out 'Shadow' (影). I then pick up the mallet, bend the sheet in half and start hammering at the side it was bent. As it begins to bend, I then start hammering the edges. I then stick it into the forge, heating it just enough, then taking the mallet and beating the edges together. I then continue this process another 100 times, slowly giving shape to the left hand blade. The right hand sheet in the mean time was being kept warm in an oven, allowing the metal to remain easily workable, without losing any of its inherent strength.

I finally finish forging the blade, and with a flourish, cool it down in the water butt. With an explosion of steam, the blade cools from a cherry red to a even grey. Taking it out, I dry it with a cloth then place it next to the files, grinding wheels and other instruments I will use to sharpen it into a weapon. I then move on to the right hand sheet and repeat the process.

As I begin, my mind wanders back to what Kulkaverk said to me, three months ago when I had awoken...

'It has been many centuries when the mad King Palancar and his hordes descended on us, our kingdom, far in the north in the mountain range you humans call The Spine' he said, his voice grim and weary with unspoken centuries 'But we fought them off, chasing them back to their valley from whence they came. We were content to let them remain in peace. After all, the humans disposed off the Mad King after his foolish foray in challenging the elves'

'And during that time, I united the Urgalgara, creating a kingdom for us. I united the clans under one banner. Though there were few who disagreed with me. But, the rest, they were content. And that is when I found you, a wee bairn, abandoned in the snow for the wolves. And I brought you to my hall and adopted you as my son. My own boy, a strapping four year old was happy to have a brother, even if he did not have horns. But this action set the backs up of those who opposed me'

He sighed, 'Despite everything, there will always be those who cast aside the greater good for their own petty ambitions. A society, that would elevate our people to the level of elves and dwarves. But, it was not to be'

'An Urgal Ram by the name of Nar Azeroth, struck up an alliance with two of my opponents. He then set up an ambush for a Rider and his dragon. The Rider's name was Eliara, a female elf, newly graduated from the Order. They killed her dragon with a stolen elf weapon, a spear that could kill a dragon. Then, using the shock of her partners loss, they struck. After three weeks, her savaged, defiled body was found in Ceunon' a dark growl coloured his words, his anger making the air shimmer with heat.

'The Riders and elves fell upon us. No quarter was given or taken. I and my fellow clan chiefs were brought forth before the elven Queen Dellanir by her lieutenant, Evandar. I was dying at that point from untreated wounds, but as my last act, I requested the Queen, as one monarch to the other, to enter my mind and find out the truth of what happened. I had found out the actions of Azeroth and clique's actions from one of the Urgals who was there and who grew a conscience' he huffed in amused disgust.

'Dellanir granted me this request, and when she found the truth, her fury was a thing to behold. She ensured that the traitors were executed. But Azeroth succeeded in his goals. He broke us, broke the Urgalgara. No more were we a united people. You, Jän, you are to unite us again. As one people, one race. We are the sword and shield of Alagaesia, as she herself commands it of us. No more will we be the monsters of the dark night! And you, you, will achieve this goal. As your King, I command you!'

I finish the 100 folds of the right hand blade and set it on the bench, moving to begin making Storm a blade.

I will succeed I think grimly, as sparks fly from the grinding wheel as I sharpen the blade, revealing a line of crackling electricity on the edge of the blade to my eyes.

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