Posted by Civilian Seamus McKenzie (Future Citizen) in Earth - Midnight Calls and Mayhem Introductions.

Posted by Civilian Ragna Idun McKenzie (Future Citizen) in Earth - Midnight Calls and Mayhem Introductions.

Posted by Civilian Seamus McKenzie (Future Citizen) in Earth - Midnight Calls and Mayhem Introductions.

(snip)

Oddvar didn’t even blink at the ember. Hazard of the work. He worked the brass and just rolled his eyes at the woman as the metal went into the coals for the third time. Youth…always had to open their mouths. Oddvar worked long into the night combining the steel and brass , then sperating into two pieces. The hand guard came first as he worked it into shape and then he placed it on the anvil. The first side he took the runic punches and hammered the phrase “I den mørkeste timen kjemper vi sammen (In the Darkest Hour, We Fight Together).” Then he heated the piece again and on the other side with the Gaelic punches was “Tha mi nam sheasamh airson cagailt agus an dachaigh (I stand for Hearth and Home).” Next came the tricky part. Heating the brass again Oddvar placed the cross piece over the anvil and then using a chisel hammered I to the hot metal creating an opening for the sword to slide through.

It was the pommel that took the longest, It was near down when he started and it would take him all day to slowly hand etch, chisel, and hammer the combined crest into both sides of the piece. “Terje! Get over here and keep shaping this for me.”

Oddvar moved over to the forge Terje had been working the bellows on and got to work casting and then making a mold. He was making Mike a weapon that would suite him. Once that was done he set Terje to create more brass for him while he continued to work the design into the pommel. “Hey Blaire!” He looked up and she was IN IT. He took a deep breath and only as a black smith and a man with massive lungs could “BLAIRE!” Once getting her attention. “I need to make sure the hilt fits on the blade before I quench it so let me know when you’re ready for me to do that.”

Oddvar

Blaire grinned and said “C’mere!” excitedly. As she spoke, she hefted a massive blade, nearly a full hand’s width wide. To an outside observer, it looked like a glowing red piece of industrial metal. To a skilled smith? It looked…

Amazing.

Picking up the hilt he walked around the central fire, Oddvar’s gaze was rivited, “Lass that is breathtaking. I have no doubt it surpasses the work of Brokk and Sindri.” Blaire was young and obviously very talented. And she was a beast at the forge too.

“Of course it is.” and she grinned and gave him a wink. Cocky, absolutely. But there was an appreciation for the art that simply radiated out of her.

As Oddvar came over, she put the piece in the coals and said “”Blade’s ready for quenching. But I need your hand.” She pulled a wicked looking blade from her belt and ran the edge over her palm. A red line appeared on her skin and she made a fist over the oil bath. She squeezed, and a small trickle of her blood ran down her hand and dripped into the oil. She spun the blade and held the handle to Oddvar. “McKenzie blood, Edman blood. Sword for the ages. First Blade of Clan Unification.” and she nodded once at him.

Blaire McKenzie

Oddvar took the blade and having to press a bit harder than Blaire, having more years of callouses to his hands, ran the razor sharp edge across his palm. He made fist over the oil bath and squeezing blood ran down his palm and into the oil. “Like the Hammer and Anvil our chiefs will shape our new clan into something better than it was before.”

“Two become one. Metal to stand the test of time.” She looked at Terje and whipped her head, the gesture sending him scurrying to her side. She grabbed his wrist, turned his hand over and pricked his palm with the knife. “You worked on it, you bleed for it. Besides… when you are ready to learn more ways to smith, you’re coming to apprentice with me.” She dropped a few drops of blood into the oil and then let go. She then took her tongs and picked up the now almost white-hot blade and, inspecting it one last time with the blade only inches from her eyes, and then plunged it into the oil and blood, sending a white and blue fire up to the rafters. As the blade was cooled, Blaire said words softly in Gaelic. “Bho theine gu raon a ’bhlàir, bho sguab gu nàmhaid, is dòcha gum bi an oir agad dèidheil agus nach fallas do ghreim gu bràth.” (From fire to battlefield, from sheath to foe, may your edge be keen and your grip never falter.)

Oddvar nodded quietly in approval. Terje had no idea what she said and would ask Oddvar later. He was, understandably, honored and nervous at being included by the visiting black smith. Oddvar watched the flame rise to the roof, his eyes reflecting the power and significance of what they had created.

Waiting respectfully for the two smiths to complete their ritual Terje then walked over with large mugs of cool water. “Master Oddvar, Mrs. Kirsten told me to tell you both to drink it all. She’s heard the forge going all night and she doesn’t want either of you in the clinic from heat exposure. She also said if you didn’t she’d send Runa over to ‘play’.” A deep rumbling to full blown laughter issued from the massive older man. He took the mug and handed one to Blaire, “Aye Terje, a threat indeed. Now go check that mold for me.” Terje nodded and hurried around to the far side of the forge. “Tell me Blaire, have you ever acid etched a blade? I understand it is Scottish custom to place the Chief, or Marshall’s, mark or symbol at the top of the blade. I think it would be fitting to give Mike Kenaz because it represent Bragi the god of poetry and music.”

“I have, but I suck at it. If you’d care to do the honors, I’ll watch.” she said matter-of-factly.

Oddvar nodded and let her get the blade cleaned up while he went back to work on the pomel, “Terje get that hilt headed so we can get it quenched.”

“I also have a second weapon going for him. A new set of brass knuckles, much more his style. Here’s the hilt, let me know if it fits and if it is I’ll quench.”

She eyed the hilt and nodded. “Aye. That’ll be a fine fit indeed.”

Oddvar returned to his anvil, and despite the long hours his hammer continued to ring out with consistent power and flow. Oddvar might be old, now, but he and the forge seemed to be one breathing entity.

Oddvar

Blaire McKenzie

Once ready Oddvar walked over with a roll of narrow painter’s tape. “Alright so we’re going to take this and write the rune in tape.” He tore of strips and laid them down at the flat beginning of the blade right below where the hilt would sit and created Kenaz on both sides of the blade, then he picked up a large paint can and laughed, “Nail polish.” But instead of a tiny brush this was a large can using a full sized paint brush. “We’re going to paint both sides in it.” Once finished and dry Oddvar carefully took the tape off leaving the area exposed. “Now we dip this in the acid.” He grabbed the tongs, holding the blade by the tang and walked over to the acid bath, opened the lid and carefully lowered the blade into it. “Bragi, gud for wisdon, poesi og musikk. Gi inspirasjon slik at han bærer dette sverdet, kan veve en bedre verden. (Bragi, God of wisdon, poetry, and music. Giver of inspiration so that he bears this sword may weave a better world.)”

He pulled the blade out letting the acid carefully run off and then laid it on a protected surface. He gave Blaire protective gloves, a towel and acetone, “Use this to remove the nail polish.” Then Oddvar was running around to remove the brass knuckles from the mould. “Terje, I want you to heat this and then I’ve laid out the punches in the order I want them. Left to right, one set on the left and the other on the right. Use the c-clamps to keep it steady while you punch.” He pulled the pommel out of the fire and started on the last section of the design.

Oddvar