[Flashback] A Lost One's Fight for Survival (solo)

[Arros Angerforge]

Timestamp: Fall 26, 503 AV The Unforgiving mountain range that is nestled in the heart of the Kalea region, is a very dangerous place, filled with dead-end valleys and rocky gorges. This wilderness host an array of deadly beasts that stalk its chasms relentlessly and if one is lucky enough to avoid and remain unseen from these creatures, then they will have to suffer the very mountains itself. This is a inhospitable place, which takes the lives of peasant and king alike. Arros had been wondering down the twisting dirt paths that littered the area for three days, his lips were water deprived and his skin and clothes was covered im grime from the journey. He had been travelling with a trade caravan that had been making its way to Alvadas from Sultros, He left the safety of his home due to the constant ridicule he suffered, his decision to leave however, could cost him to endure more than insults. After a week of traversing the perilous canyons with the trade convoy, Arros lost contact with them after a surprise attack from hill barbarians split them up, lucky for him though, he had most of his equipment on him, unluckily for him though, something more threatening than barbarians now stalked his footsteps. Running through the twining chasms, Arros was quickly loosing energy, his muscles ached as every lunge felt like a mile. Roaring in his native tongue, he shouted "Cursed beast! before running into a dead-end ravine that was paved with dead grey rock. Hammer in hand, he turned to meet his assailant. What stood before him was a beast, fur as dark as night, fangs as sharp as blades and eyes that shone as bright as the pit of hell its self. This creature was a lone wolf, a hunter that caught its prey with fear aswell as its powerful jaws. This creature had devoured countless lost souls that had the misfortune to meet its horrific gaze, the real misfortune was however, it wasn't full.. yet. The beast snarled, revealing its unfathomable maw, it was truly a terrifying monster. Slowly arching its back, it began to creep closer, savouring the meal that was to come. Backing up against the uneven stone wall that marked his death, Arros tightly gripped is hammer in his hand, sweat started to seep through his skin on his forehead as panic and desperation settled in. Placing all of his weight on his toes to make a possible dodge more likely, he started uncomfortably at the approaching creature's bright red eyes that gleamed like unnatural jewels. One wrong move and his story would come to an abrupt end and this monster of a wolf would yet again devour his prize. Quickly analysing the amount of room he had to manoeuvre, Arros stood there patiently waiting for the beast to strike. Utilizing his low, coarse voice, Arros gave a quick roar to start the fight for survival. The beast used its powerful hind legs to pounce, its jaws aiming for the neck of its victim. Within a fraction of a second, Arros lept out of the way to the left of the beast with such speed or luck that even shocked him. Giving a roar of defiance, Arros brought his hammer down towards the creatures head, only to hear the dense sound of stone being impacted by the blow, a miss that surely would cost him. It was back to square one as the confrontation between Arros and the monster continued. Again the wolf pounced and again Arros managed to dodge while bringing the hammer down for a second time, another clank resounded through the chasm as he missed the target again, this time however, the wolf retaliated and gave a quick swipe that caught Arros on the upper portion of his arm. A stinging pain latched onto his arm as his dense skin did little to protect him from the blow. His second miss from his hammer attack nearly cost him an arm, if a third miss followed it could very well cost him his life.

[Arros Angerforge]

The ravine that Arros and the wolf was in, was like an arena, an arena made of grey dead stone that had stood the test of time, Arros almost felt gladiatorial as he faced off against his foe, the setting sun gave the appearance of an array of shades curiously watching the fight, placing bets on the battle-worn combatants.The ravine was circular, big enough for Arros to sidestep and dodge and small enough to restrict the beasts movement, the only bad side to the area was it caused them both to remain in close proximity, this favoured the wolfs strength and power. "I'm going to crush your skull!" he said while clutching his now bleeding arm. The beast snarled that closely resembled a laugh, it was toying with Arros now, Arros was tired, every muscle ached with a thousand promises of pain to come with the first signs of rest. The wolf however was used to the conflict that arose from cornering its prey and felt nothing but malicious content and a cruel lust for the flesh of his victim. Instead of pouncing like its first attempts, the wolf instead began to swipe at Arros with its destructive, dirt covered claws, each blow that connected could mangle the flesh beyond recognition. Luckily for Arros, each blow was fended off. "Back Beast!" he cursed in his native tongue while swinging his hammer towards the monster. Every swipe that the wolf threw was retaliated against with Arros's large hammer. The beast again threw another swipe only to fail being blocked like the other, instead it caught Arros on the leg. Giving out a grunt of pain, Arros saw the blow ripping apart his dirty trousers, blood started to trickle down his leg, with the occasional droplet being absorbed by the ragged, filth covered cloth. Arros was running out of options, he'd have to pull off a miracle to get out the fate that had been layed out before him. The beast filled with an assurance of victory, started to get careless, another swipe followed, only to be evaded by the now hobbling Arros. Having enough of being played with, Arros put all his might into a defiant attack, he roared as he brought his hammer crashing down on top of the wolfs claw. A painful bellow thundered throughout the mountains, echoing a horrific rumble that chilled ones blood. Arros unemotionally grinned as he saw that he had dealt a everlasting wound to the beast, its claws on its paw had shattered under the shear force of the impact. Limping back and reconsidering its actions, the wolf growled with a deep rage that obviously enforced its pain. This was his chance to either kill or be killed. Ignoring all the pain that was present in his body, Arros raised his hand with the hammer and charged forward, roaring as if it was his last sound on this earth, Arros swung his hammer toward the beast, hitting it on the shoulder. Another yelp echoed through mountains as the hammer impacted. This time however, the wolf retaliated with a desperate, heavy blow to Arros's head. Eyes blurring and falling to the ground, Arros felt the warm, putrid stink that was the wolfs breath upon his face. Before he lost consciousness, he heard a distinctive roar. A roar that sounded human.

[Arros Angerforge]

Waking up, Arros found himself in, what looked like a little cottage. Enclosed in stone walls, he was laying down on a soft bed that comprised of a hay mattress and a relaxing pillow almost bursting with chicken feathers. A small neat fire was raging in the corner as the little stone chimney happily sucked up the smoke. There was a old table in the centre of the room that managed to live through the limitless scratches and gouges that littered its wooden surface. Around the table was two chairs, one had half its back broken and the other was covered in a mass of neatly organised animal pelts. The rest of the furniture was typical of what you would see in a little cottage, a black iron stove that contained dying embers, a wooden cupboard that looked like it contained the drinking cups and plates. This cottage was nothing out the ordinary, but where in Izurdin's name was he? Lifting his head and looking down towards his leg, he saw tightly bound bandages around his calf, just over the wound that the beast had inflicted. Blood had managed to find its way through the white cloth and blotched the bandage with red blemishes. Raising up from lying down, he began to closely analysing his position, after a thorough look around he slowly stood up, using the nearby bedpost to propel himself afoot. Trying not to put to much weight and pressure onto his leg that was burdened by the wound, he limped forward, his muscles hadn't ached as much as they had previously promised. Running his hand up the flesh of his shoulder, he felt that the other wound had been stitched up, it stung with the touch. Seeing that his hammer had been placed upon a box at the end of the bed, he quickly grabbed it, pleased that the weapon once again nestled comfortably in his hard, Isur-veined hand. Limping towards the door, he forcefully opened it, the bright sun jabbed at his eyes as if it was piercing his very soul. Upon his eyes sharpening and getting used to the glaring sun, he saw what looked like a little hamlet comprised of about six houses, a stables and a forge. Around each house there was little gardens, that held vegetables and other edibles, there even was chickens and a a few goats wondering about, oblivious to the goings on around the hamlet. "Ah.. your awake!" a grumbling but joyful voice shouted from the direction of the forge. Slowly walking towards Arros was a old man about 6 feet tall, with big muscled arms and a big round belly, his face was covered in a long grey beard that reached his waist in length. "How do you feel my boy!" the man asked as he took off dirty thick leather gloves that was covered in soot. "Fine" Arros replied in a cold, unemotional voice. Signalling with his hand for Arros to follow him, they walked towards the small forge that was blaring with an intense heat, unexpected from a forge of its stature. "Your lucky I heard all the commotion, that beast nearly took a chunk out of your face!" the grizzled man said with a slight laugh. "I had been hunting that thing for days on end, its killed most of our livestock! Damnable thing! Alot bigger than your average wolf, im surprised you managed to fend it off for as long as you did!" he said with another gruff laugh upon reaching the forge and thumping down on a metal stool. "Anyway, you managed to do a fair bit of damage to it, a shattered foot and a broken shoulder bone! The monster practically killed itself when it tried to lunge for me, a good spear to the chest never goes a miss." he pointed at the corner as the words rolled off his tongue. In the corner stood a large spear with the point sharp enough to pierce the very breeze itself. "Nice spear." Arros coldly remarked. "The shaft needs work." he emotionlessly said as he pointed out the blemishes of rust on the shaft. "Don't doubt her, she is the one that saved your Isurian hide! And me carrying your heavy body for two miles back here of course!" he sniggered, showing off his pearly white teeth. "They call me Oryan." the old man nodded as a sign of respect, while stroking his beard with his massive meaty hands. The muscular Isur replied "Arros" but denied Oryan any form of appreciation or the pleasure of a similar respect. The old grizzled man brushed off the impudence and thought nothing of it. As Oryan rose up from the stool, Arros got a good look at his saviour, tough and mighty like the mountains he stood, with warped leather bracer's, rugged leather boots, a sweaty linen vest, blue linen trousers and a large brown apron that was covered in all manner of dirt and grime. "Well lad... I have some things to do, so if you want, you can stay here at the forge and make a few things or get a feel for the hamlet and the folks. There is plenty of iron on the pallet behind you and I see you have your own hammer, good! however some tools are on the table next to the anvil if you need them" he pointed to the various objects. "I expect something good, your an Isur after all."" the old man smiled while turning off to complete is personal business. Sitting down on the metal stool that was heated from the intense fires that raged inside the hearth, Arros scanned the surroundings of the workplace, all the tools were neatly place on the table in a row, tongs, a few caliper rules and various sizes of chisels and punches, there was even a vice attached to a small mound of stone that was used for heavily beating the iron aswell as bending it, a slack tub stood in one of the corners, ready to quench the burning metal. Shoving a bar of iron into the burning fires, Arros ignored all the pain that resounded through his body and began to work.

[Arros Angerforge]

Waiting for the iron bar to become hot and malleable, Arros began practising the motions of the hammer swing that would eventually beat the metal into one of easiest things a blacksmith can create, a horseshoe. A common but much desired item that farmer and knight alike sought after. Striking the anvil that was mounted on a large block of wood before him, he noticed the distinctive sound that it emitted from the impact, it was a dead sound that did not travel through the air far, if Arros wasn't mistaken, he concluded that it was a cast iron anvil, not as good quality as the steel anvils that he had grown up with in Sultros but it still did the job and it was generally so much cheaper, it also didn't produce the clear ring that was so common with steel anvils when struck, this made them much easier on the ears. Poking the fires with a small rake, to let the oxygen circulate and in turn increasing the temperature of the hearth, Arros grabbed the smouldering metal with the tongs he held with a firm grip and placed it on the anvil face, bringing his sacred hammer down, Arros began to strike the red hot metal, a strike and another strike followed as he started to loosen up the metal and get it ready for bending. Once the bar had been beaten, Arros put it back into the fire to re soften as it started to cool, taking the bar back out with the tongs, Arros felt the extreme heat causing the sweat that was present on his brow to evaporate. A dangerous business smithing if one got careless, but rewarding if practised and made into a profession and exploited. Putting the bar in the vice, Arros began to crudely cut the bar into two with a dulled shear, two horseshoes is better than one after all. placing one half of the bar back into the fire, Arros placed the other onto the horn of the anvil, getting ready to shape in into anything that remotely looked like a horseshoe. Striking the metal around the horn, it began to slowly bend as each blow from Arros's hammer forced it to grow further into shape, until it was only necessary to give it little taps to get the form finalised. Prodding the fire again and heating up the fledgling horseshoe, Arros placed it back onto the anvil to flatten it out. Every blow sent sparks flying as he drew the soft metal apart. Finally finishing up, shaping the shoe from the hammering, Arros took the shoe over to the punch that was resting on the end of the table, using a caliper rule to measure the distance between the nail holes that would soon pierce the burning metal, Arros then put the shoe into the punch and created six holes, one or two were a little off mark, but otherwise a good attempt. Pleased with his work, Arros forcefully dunked the scorching horseshoe into the slack tub, causing the whole forge itself to be engulfed in a strong metallic tasting smoke, the water sizzled as the bright redness of the blistering hot metal vanished, only to be instantly replaced by a dull but still warm black iron. Placing the now finished horseshoe onto the anvil, Arros began to admire his handy-work, a few bumps here and there on the metal, easily enough filed down to a smooth, rounded surface and slightly uneven but never the less, still a fine piece of work for the skill level he was. Taking off the shoe and placing it to the side, Arros returned to work, a horseshoe is a good starting point but boring. A weapon of some sort was begging to be made from the other part of iron that had been left in the intensely hot fire.

[Arros Angerforge]

Arros decided that it was time to make his first blade, he had seen his father forge excellent blades countless times, until it was pretty much imprinted into his memory. The blades his father created could cut metal as easy as the flesh. The weapon smithing involved a length process that without proper attention was so easy to mess up. The iron core was made first. A piece of iron, about the size of a brick, was heated in the forge until it was softened. Arros then used the tongs to transport it to the anvil were it was then hammered until it became slightly elongated, the sparks from the impact, brushed up against his dense hide and caused a warm sensation that tickled the skin. At the point when the iron became lengthened, Arros began to fold the blistering metal in half, he then repeated the action about five times. The process of heating, hammering, and folding drove out impurities that was present in the iron from the stage of smelting the ore. After these steps were completed, Arros heated the core and hammered it into the shape of a long, thin metal strip. This was then set aside while Arros began to prepare the jacket of iron that would cover the core and inevitably become the blade. For the jacket, Arros carefully began to heat the iron which needed to be far softer than the core. Again, a piece about the size of a brick was repeatedly heated, hammered, and folded over upon itself. The jacket then underwent this process many times more than the core this was to make the edge far easier to sharpen. Arros reheated the iron and then proceeded to fold the burning metal, he used the nearby vice as a support. This was an extensive process that took a while but the end result would hopefully be glorious. When the two parts of the blade had been completed, he finally reheated them both for the finally time, as soon as the metal became bright red, Arros pounded them together with his hammer. As soon as they fused, he quickly dunked it into the slack tub, the smoke once again emitted from the evaporation of the water. Picking up the sword, it now needed to be sharpened. Placing the stool next to the pedal driven grindstone that rested on the outside wall. Spinning the grindstone to optimum speed, Arros ran the blade up and down, the sparks signalling the growing keenness of the edge. Wrapping the makeshift hilt in a long strip of leather, it was time to test it out. Upon striking a nearby tree, to Arros's amazement, the iron blade shattered into a thousand pieces, the tiny shards glittered in the sun as they flew through the air. Roaring in anger, Arros punched the side of the forge in fury, his dense bone and skin protecting the hand from the impact. The blade hadn't been folded enough this weakened the blade and caused it to break. Thumping down, Arros loudly sighed, showing his disappointment.

[Arros Angerforge]

Arros smashed his hand into the ground as he sat there behind the forge, he watched his father countless time make swords, what went wrong? Could of been the iron to blame? Could it of been his level of skill? It never made sense to Arros, nothing was ever simple in his life. A flush of anger rose deep with in him, but it soon disappeared after he heard a familiar voice call out. "Arros.. my boy where are you?" Oryan's face popped out from around the corner, his beard rode the wind as it blew each individual white hair. "You've been working for ages!" he laughed with a genuine smile of kindness. Oryan was covered in tiny sports of dirt must like from his chores he was completing. "You must a hard worker, I like that. Anyway lets go and get some grub, I bet your starving, you must be, I can hear your stomach from here!" Oryan let out another cheerful laugh that echoed through the whole hamlet. Signalling again with his hand, he motioned for Arros to follow him, they both began to walk back the little cottage, that Arros first awoke in. By this time, the golden yellow sun was slowly setting causing the surrounding air to grow colder. A breeze picked up, making the grass and tree that was dotted around the little quiet hamlet sway and brush with the movement of the calm, cool wind. Arros wiped his hand over his head, tiny beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and flew as they were brushed away. The cool air kissed at his chest and neck, giving sensations of a wintry delight. Upon walking throw the door of the cottage, a smell of pork, potato's and herbs clogged up Arros's noses, the smell was delicious. Arros sat down at the table, with a bare emotionless face, the pain that was present in his arm and leg disappeared as his muscles relaxed from the relieved pressure. The smells was gorgeous, the surroundings beautiful and the people friendly but Arros remained there with the same face that lack expression. Was there anything that could change this Isurian husks attitude.

[Arros Angerforge]

Arros smashed his hand into the ground as he sat there behind the forge, he watched his father countless time make swords, what went wrong? Could of been the iron to blame? Could it of been his level of skill? It never made sense to Arros, nothing was ever simple in his life. A flush of anger rose deep with in him, but it soon disappeared after he heard a familiar voice call out. "Arros.. my boy where are you?" Oryan's face popped out from around the corner, his beard rode the wind as it blew each individual white hair. "You've been working for ages!" he laughed with a genuine smile of kindness. Oryan was covered in tiny sports of dirt must like from his chores he was completing. "You must a hard worker, I like that. Anyway lets go and get some grub, I bet your starving, you must be, I can hear your stomach from here!" Oryan let out another cheerful laugh that echoed through the whole hamlet. Signalling again with his hand, he motioned for Arros to follow him, they both began to walk back the little cottage, that Arros first awoke in. By this time, the golden yellow sun was slowly setting causing the surrounding air to grow colder. A breeze picked up, making the grass and tree that was dotted around the little quiet hamlet sway and brush with the movement of the calm, cool wind. Arros wiped his hand over his head, tiny beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and flew as they were brushed away. The cool air kissed at his chest and neck, giving sensations of a wintry delight. Upon walking throw the door of the cottage, a smell of pork, potato's and herbs clogged up Arros's noses, the smell was delicious. Arros sat down at the table, with a bare emotionless face, the pain that was present in his arm and leg disappeared as his muscles relaxed from the relieved pressure. The smells were gorgeous, the surroundings beautiful and the people friendly but Arros remained there with the same face that lacked any expression. Was there anything that could change this Isurian husks attitude?

[Arros Angerforge]

"Go on lad.. get this stuff down you." the grizzled old man said as he placed a bowl of this stew infront of Arros. "Made it my self! I call it "Oryan's Body repairer" as it fixes one's muscles after a hard days work!" he finished before tucking into what seemed like a greatly made meal. Arros peered out the windows with a blank stare, the sun was nearly gone as it slowly fell behind the rolling foothills that was just the start of the Unforgiving range. The sky was a golden, orange colour that could fill even the toughest man with emotion, however not for Arros, it only reminded him of the countless days of ridicule that he suffered in Sultros, side by side with his abusive father, banging the smouldering metal in the forge that emitted a similar color to the evening sky. "Come on.. its good for you!" Oryan said, using his hands to gesture him eating the stew. "Its made from fresh pork, potatoes, some ripe carrot, roasted tomatoes with a sprinkling of herbs.. All bundled together in a pot to mellow with the gravy." The old man went on about how to get the tomatoes expertly cooked from using oil made out of chicken fat, Arros wasn't interested however, he just kept staring at the sky that grew darker and darker. Eventually Arros tucked in, the flavours exploded in his mouth as each taste provided a mixture of all the ingredients that blended fabulously together, this old timer could cook. Arros loved the meal, loved it so much infact that he even asked for more, but he didn't show it, not in his deep voice, not in his actions and especially not in his expressions. Arros as a boy was brought up in a hard family that discouraged any real emotions, happiness was never given to Arros as his father worked him ragged every day and enforced only temper and fury in his actions, his mother was the only one that showed him anything in the ways of emotions but to to her fruitless attempts, his fathers ideologies, overbearing attitude and behaviour had all ready been implanted into his mindset. Anger had been his only emotional discovery, anger had been his only friend, anger was the one that had allowed him to withstand such a harsh childhood, without it he was nothing. Asking to be excused, Arros slowly walked outside and leaned against the stone wall that was the exterior of the small cottage. Looking up at the now appearing stars that glimmered in the sky, Arros thought to himself, "Where do I want to be?", "What do I want to do?". Signs of his power-hungry nature started to appear as the final thoughts came swirling into his mind, "I want Mizahar". End

[Gossamer]

. Character: Arros Angerforge Experience: Hammer +2, Observation +2, Blacksmithing +1, Cooking +1, Weaponssmithing +1 Lore:. Encountering aggressive animals in Kalea’s Unforgiving, Making Imperfect Blades Additional Note: Okay, we definitely need to talk about this thread. You broke several cardinal rules here. First and foremost, do not make up locations in Kalea. You must get them approved via a kalea storyteller. The chances of a small cottage in the middle of nowhere is pretty much slim to none, redoubling that is the probablility that the cottage would have a forge and a ready supply of metal the owner would let you use to make something like horseshoes when horses are rare in Kalea. You write well and are imaginative, but I think next time you should consider maybe a flashback thread in Sultros which would have more realism to it.. maybe at your father’s forge or a mentor’s place… whomever taught you blacksmithing and weaponsmithing. Sultros is open for flashbacks. . .