Entry 355
Petros was old, so so old. The fae magics of ice were slowly ebbing from the world and with it his prolonged life. weather skin and cracked ice features held suken blue eyes and a curved spine that hunched with old age and years of working the forge. He sat in the stone walls of his keep on an island far away from the mainland, isolated and alone. After lovers and wives, after children, after the fights and politics of shadowfane, and rebuilding the world after, silence was all he wanted. He had never picked up a sword again and he was happier for it. A kind old soul that would travel to the mainland every now and then to visit his kids, grandchildren and share sweet memories. Now though, he was alone...
He walked from room to room slowly upon bent knees and held up by a cane. To the library where books old and new held knowledge long out of date, about gods now long dead and about gods dead before even them. Books of architechure and smithing, of forging runes, knowledge of all the things he loved. Of trechelian cloths and music, of kordovan ships. He touched them idly with wrinkled fingers and smiled. He straightened a little and stood a little taller, proud of the things he had learned over the years...
The next room was an armory, swords, glaive, spears, shields, tools he had learned to wield for war, all resting against walls and covered in dust. His children, some certainly fought, but he had given them thier own tools, while others chosen a more peaceful way. His hands traced over armor he had worn for years, over leather and steel that had cuts and gouged from blades and claws. He shook his head lightly and then gace a laugh, young in tone despite his age. He could not fathom now how he had survived the things he had, and in return, laughed more as he remembered telling his children stories of the great fights and conflicts, and of the morals and reasons behind them. Some of them had used these to follow politics, others to know why to fight, while others why not to. He nodded lightly and stood taller still, proud of the wars he had fought, and more proud for the reasons he had fought them, and proudest still that his family was strong enough to learn and make thier own choices in the world...
Finally he came to the center of his keep, the front held with great gates of ice and silver woven in vines and spires.. on a pedastal in the middle of the courtyard rested a large and ancient hammer atop a forge of blackened and blasted steel. around it was a faint blue dust that shone and shed an earie light, beautiful but dangerous... His fingers touched and slide along the leather wrapped handle and slowly, with careful effort lifted the heavy hammer, his form almost buckling under the weight... he had used this hammer to smash bonds, to destroy weapons, but more, it was a thing of gloaming to fight against chaos. He sighed a moment as he looked at it and turned it over in his hands. Seven times he had used it in his life, His family was grown, his life long past when it should have ended. He set a scroll down gently on the side of the forge, sealed in ice for the next person who needed to find it.
"I am but a memory, a force against chaos in this life, and in the next. I stood against it until i could stand no more. I bore children, i loved, i lost, i bled, but i love life. And now i give it so that the next soul to find the strength to fight the chaos that tugs at reality, can find some knowledge of what burdon is placed upon them."
After he signed it, he set a single large chuck of blue stone on the top of the anvil.
"I leave this world worse than when I found it. I hope others create a better one than I"
The hammer dropped down, and the blue stone was destroyed in a was that could only be called utter. He set the hammer down as he felt the pull the hammers magics forced through him. He did not fight them this time, and instead simply lay down against the base of the forge. Body of ice and stone stilling slowly, chilled and cracked, a statue of the tired smith resting after great works, and his soul, unable to travel beyond to aralis, is relinquished into the depths of the hammer of gloaming, joining with the wielders ancient and past. Knights against chaos, waiting for the next to join the fray.