27th Of Fall 513 AV
With a grand total of twenty daggers layed neatly in a row on his bed, it was time to sharpen up his steel and put some fine edges on his tools of misery and mayhem. Bouncing daggers off the stone wall might have been great fun and an overall good learning experience but it also did a number on them.
Admittedly it was one of those mind numbing chores that everybody who ever owned a sword swore they did but rarely ever took the time to do it.
Without further adou he picked up his first dagger and held it close but kept that nasty point away from himself. The whole purpose was to refurbish the edges to a scalpel finish, the kind of fine razor sharpness one could shave with.
Now his tool was all to simple a brick of wetstone that he just held in the other hand. All Morvale had to really do here was angle the edge and skim it across the stone. It's made a real high strident noise as course stone ground metal filing away blemishes and straightening the edge with every passing.
It was a musical kind of shimmying as metal swipped across the brick. Morvale rotated the dagger to started working on the other edge. Real painstakingly nit picky fussing over the angle as he flattened the edge and honed it down. Too much he could ruin the edge and have to start over to little and nothing got done.
The real test when finishing his first dagger was to put it against skin and scrap up if the edge was able to part hair then the task was complete. Hoozah his prize came in the form of another dagger.
Double edges were swell until you really had to work on them, four times this process had to be done in order to complete just one dagger. Time consuming is what it was but a dull dagger was about as useful as wielding a letter opener. But when complete he'd have a real nice edge, no point really just being sloppy and moving as fast as you can either.
Real slow and steady, methodical in both application and process it was good for clearing his mind with the spare time he'd aquired. His left arm felt like shyke, and it throbbed on occasion. There wasn't much he could do accept hope he could make it as an apprentice and get himself fixed.
Things like that seemed to stew in the mans mind as he processed his weapons one by one. Separating good finished ones from the pile as he hummed along on his task.
That noise seemed therapeutic at times as it opened thoughts of a razor sharp finish cutting an uppity wizard to ribbons. Those mages were all alike they always looked down on him, but he'd show them. Show them all just how terrifying he truly could be, the rhythmic noise like war drums leading an army to battle as he applied spit and finish to his handy work.
Time past as dagger after dagger rowed across the wetstone, each stroke was a step closer to perfection and with every passing he came closer and closer still towards the ultimate goal. Morvale was on his grind, working through hard steel as he pursued his dream of sharper cutlery.
What started in the early morning was almost finished that evening he was tired but still relentlessly pursued those razor edges.
Nice and sharp for fast clean cuts.
