43rd of Spring, 515 AV - Midday Terag did his best to try to hum a pleasant tune to himself as he walked between the trees and kept time by hitting the butt spike of his spear into the soft earth beneath him, though the music was really nothing more than repeating a few simple rhythms at the best and at worst it was just a long continuous hum. With music he didn't have a lot of experience but he at least was able to keep the rhythm, years of hitting metal on an anvil had taught him that much. After all, the rhythm of the process made it much more relaxing. He hadn't ventured too far north from the city of Syrliras, but as he turned back to try to see the walls of the city his vision was blocked by the tall trees of the forest. This realization was accompanied with his soft smile turning into a slight frown. It took Terag a couple of minutes to back track enough to see the city again, though the sight was welcomed. "Now how will I make it back if I go farther out? I almost got lost just now. I haven't been here long enough to be okay with going out farther without some sort of guide," he mumbled to himself in Isurian. Looking around at the trees around him, he still was at a loss. To him the trees all basically looked the same except for an extra branch here and there, it didn't help either that he had never really seen trees either until he had left his home for Syliras. After a few moments of using his onyx-colored left hand to stroke the goatee on his face, he had an idea while looking at a few palm sized stones at his feet. "That might just work!" Using his free left hand, Terag leaned down and picked up four rocks and pocketed all but one of them. The spear was set with the butt of the weapon in the ground and the tip leaning against the closest tree so he could use both of his hands for his work. Before he could even feel the stone begin to give way to the power in his left arm he felt a calm come over him. Even something as small of this brought peace to Terag, it felt as right as anything in the world could be. Slowly the stone was pushed and pulled using his left hand, his right hand holding the stone in place as the rock's form was manipulated this way and that. One end of the rock became a crude arrow tip, the rest of the rock elongating until it vaguely resembled an arrow tip and shaft. It wasn't beautiful by any stretch of imagination, but it worked. The shaping was repeated with the other rocks in his pockets, the process going faster as he figured out the movements to make a shape vaguely similar to the first. "Now I have markers!", he nearly laughed as he spoke to himself this time. Again he turned towards the wood and walked forward, picking up his spear with his right hand as he walked by. As soon as he lost sight of the city behind him he set his first marker atop a small cluster of roots with the tip of the rock pointing towards the walls of his new home, trying to make sure the color of the rock stood out against the brown bark of the tree. He repeated the action three more times as he walked deeper into the wood. After the last one he looked around, this spot would be as good as any to start. He had come into the woods in an attempt to find some longer pieces of wood while he was on a stroll, his hopes weren't particularly high but it would be nice to have something to learn to carve with or even make a pole-arm out of. Again he began to hum, a little louder now. It wasn't great, in fact it sounded terrible compared to the other songs he had heard as a child. Regardless his song grew louder and louder, believing he was alone in the forest he stopped humming and finally began to let the music out in full. The song was wordless as it was nothing more than someone attempting his best to follow a rhythm he had heard as a child, and attempting to put everything he had into it. Music and song were just as much a creation as the shields and swords he had made in the forge, and thus deserved as much effort as swinging a hammer and hitting the metal to be shaped into the perfect shape. In the moment he forgot about the wood as the joy of the music overtook him, it was a song he had heard when he first started smithing and it was a song he often hummed to himself as he worked or trained. Picking up on the feeling and heavy rhythm of the music, Terag dropped the tip of his spear and adjusted his grip so he was holding it as if deep in a fight. He put himself through practiced motions to the beat of the song. He imagined a shield on his left arm as he thrust his spear forward and raised his arm up to protect himself from an imagined strike. One step forward, he followed the thrust with pulling back and tucking the pole of the spear into the crook of his arm before making a backwards 'c' in the air into a slash across his pretend-assailant's chest. At the peak of the song he pushed himself harder through the movements, this time trying to alternate between cuts and thrusts with his spear and doing his best to cover whatever opening he could with his left arm. To him the movements felt like perfection, though if he had seen him from the outside he'd be able to tell he still had a long way to go. His form was sloppy, and while his movements had power they lacked finesse. Even his foot placement could have been better as he stepped forward, as he caused himself to nearly trip and fall forward. Another thing to work on for Terag, another thing to work until he brought it to perfection. |