Chapter 2: Polished Metal, Sharpened Steel
"I hate you! I hate you ALL! I don't want this anymore! I’m SICK of it! I was not born to serve as your free of charge farmhand! I am done working my ass off in this shithole you call home! This place will NEVER give you anything else then dust and death!"
Words that echoed so clearly in her mind. She heard them whenever she was deep in thought about her past. It was a milestone in her life, if perhaps a sad one. Or so would others say. For her, it was the moment when she stood up for her own freedom and convictions. The moment when she took arms... Maybe a little too literally. Giving in into the thoughts, she sat down in the large room that would one day soon be the furnace. Between crates filled with metals, anvils and blacksmith gear, she had a weak smile on her lips.
She reached out to a nearby open crate and pulled something out that appeared to be a decorational shield that would adorn the wall soon. It was a simple work, a hoplon made of polished brass and copper. It was a cheap, if beautiful, piece of work. It would never hold for more than a few hard blows before the copper plate would dislodge itself and make the shield practically useless. She was no blacksmith, but she knew a few things about shields. Yes, it was... just like this day back then.
"Don't be ridiculous child! We need you here; you can't just pack up and GO! You should show a little mor-"
The imposing miqo'te man was cut sort, as his young daughter swiped her arm over the table, almost flipping the frail looking wooden table over, her multicolored eyes burning with hate, disgust and defiance. "Don't you DARE to tell me to be grateful! Ever since I was old enough you had me work my back off in these fields that will NEVER grow enough to make a decent living, much less make any sort of profit out of it! Don't you ever DARE to tell me how I should behave! You lost every SCRAP of right to dictate a single thing about my life you pathetic slave driver!"
Wood shattered as the table was eventually flipped over for good, the young girl staring up to her father. While he was almost twice her size, she would rather die on the spot then backing off ever again. She would make her stand here and today. Her father was not exactly a man of great words. Actions tend to speak louder than stern words.
Nothing that Hiname wouldn't see coming though. She knew all too well how her father tends to deal with disobedience. She knew the way he swings his hand, how fast and how hard.
A dull, smacking sound as Hiname's arm gets between her face and her father’s hand, deflecting the blow at the wrist, she couldn't stop it fully, as the man in front of her was easily twice her size in almost every dimension. But it was enough to prevent her from taking the full blow to the face what would have easily forced her to her knees, if not the ground in total.
"Yes, this is your way, is it not... This is the language you understand, if someone doesn't comply with your view." In a rage-fueled motion, Hiname spun around, swiped the broken table's plate from the ground, held it like a large shield while swinging around and colliding, with full force and velocity, against her father’s front, smashing the solid wood against his stomach. Hiname was not helpless; she was strong enough to fight for her own. Maybe the only thing she was grateful that life of work had done for her.
The sound of the hulking man crashing onto the ground was one of the most satisfying sounds she ever heard in her life.
"I’m done with you. I’m done with this place."
Still holding the makeshift "shield", she walked past the groaning man, into her room and picked up the backpack she was holding ready. It contained everything she had she could call her own. She refused to take everything with her that wasn’t hers. She passed a painting of the family tree. She simply growl, walked up to it and scratched her name and picture from the painting on the way out.
The rising sun was greeting her, creeping over the mountainside. Slamming the door behind her, she looked grim up to the mountain ridges, though she could not help a light smirk as she did. It felt good, to be finally free, to be greeted by the rising sun on what seemed to become a calm day. A good start. "And where do you think you're going, young lady Adaman?" The voice of her mother that was working outside while she was arguing with her father. That woman had the tendency to add this name when she wanted to sound most intimidating. As usual, she failed at it. Hiname simply gave her a freezing stare of spite and disgust.
"Who? .. My name is Dawnpride."
Back in the furnace, the young miqo'te smiles lightly, putting the decorative shield back into the open crate and got back on her feet. She never looked back. She never missed home. She never returned. Nor will she ever do. "Hmm.. well. Maybe one day. To simply buy the place and build something useful on it." She said to herself with a sly grin and then took a peek into the other crates. Swords, shields, lances, select pieces of armor.. The furnace sure would look a bit like an armory eventually. She picked up a matching pair of metal shield and sword. They felt heavy, but well balanced and well crafted. It felt comforting.. While she was not the adventuring type, she learned how to fight with these things. But that was a memory for another day.
[Next up: Chapter 3: Of gold, silver and dedication.]
"I hate you! I hate you ALL! I don't want this anymore! I’m SICK of it! I was not born to serve as your free of charge farmhand! I am done working my ass off in this shithole you call home! This place will NEVER give you anything else then dust and death!"
Words that echoed so clearly in her mind. She heard them whenever she was deep in thought about her past. It was a milestone in her life, if perhaps a sad one. Or so would others say. For her, it was the moment when she stood up for her own freedom and convictions. The moment when she took arms... Maybe a little too literally. Giving in into the thoughts, she sat down in the large room that would one day soon be the furnace. Between crates filled with metals, anvils and blacksmith gear, she had a weak smile on her lips.
She reached out to a nearby open crate and pulled something out that appeared to be a decorational shield that would adorn the wall soon. It was a simple work, a hoplon made of polished brass and copper. It was a cheap, if beautiful, piece of work. It would never hold for more than a few hard blows before the copper plate would dislodge itself and make the shield practically useless. She was no blacksmith, but she knew a few things about shields. Yes, it was... just like this day back then.
"Don't be ridiculous child! We need you here; you can't just pack up and GO! You should show a little mor-"
The imposing miqo'te man was cut sort, as his young daughter swiped her arm over the table, almost flipping the frail looking wooden table over, her multicolored eyes burning with hate, disgust and defiance. "Don't you DARE to tell me to be grateful! Ever since I was old enough you had me work my back off in these fields that will NEVER grow enough to make a decent living, much less make any sort of profit out of it! Don't you ever DARE to tell me how I should behave! You lost every SCRAP of right to dictate a single thing about my life you pathetic slave driver!"
Wood shattered as the table was eventually flipped over for good, the young girl staring up to her father. While he was almost twice her size, she would rather die on the spot then backing off ever again. She would make her stand here and today. Her father was not exactly a man of great words. Actions tend to speak louder than stern words.
Nothing that Hiname wouldn't see coming though. She knew all too well how her father tends to deal with disobedience. She knew the way he swings his hand, how fast and how hard.
A dull, smacking sound as Hiname's arm gets between her face and her father’s hand, deflecting the blow at the wrist, she couldn't stop it fully, as the man in front of her was easily twice her size in almost every dimension. But it was enough to prevent her from taking the full blow to the face what would have easily forced her to her knees, if not the ground in total.
"Yes, this is your way, is it not... This is the language you understand, if someone doesn't comply with your view." In a rage-fueled motion, Hiname spun around, swiped the broken table's plate from the ground, held it like a large shield while swinging around and colliding, with full force and velocity, against her father’s front, smashing the solid wood against his stomach. Hiname was not helpless; she was strong enough to fight for her own. Maybe the only thing she was grateful that life of work had done for her.
The sound of the hulking man crashing onto the ground was one of the most satisfying sounds she ever heard in her life.
"I’m done with you. I’m done with this place."
Still holding the makeshift "shield", she walked past the groaning man, into her room and picked up the backpack she was holding ready. It contained everything she had she could call her own. She refused to take everything with her that wasn’t hers. She passed a painting of the family tree. She simply growl, walked up to it and scratched her name and picture from the painting on the way out.
The rising sun was greeting her, creeping over the mountainside. Slamming the door behind her, she looked grim up to the mountain ridges, though she could not help a light smirk as she did. It felt good, to be finally free, to be greeted by the rising sun on what seemed to become a calm day. A good start. "And where do you think you're going, young lady Adaman?" The voice of her mother that was working outside while she was arguing with her father. That woman had the tendency to add this name when she wanted to sound most intimidating. As usual, she failed at it. Hiname simply gave her a freezing stare of spite and disgust.
"Who? .. My name is Dawnpride."
Back in the furnace, the young miqo'te smiles lightly, putting the decorative shield back into the open crate and got back on her feet. She never looked back. She never missed home. She never returned. Nor will she ever do. "Hmm.. well. Maybe one day. To simply buy the place and build something useful on it." She said to herself with a sly grin and then took a peek into the other crates. Swords, shields, lances, select pieces of armor.. The furnace sure would look a bit like an armory eventually. She picked up a matching pair of metal shield and sword. They felt heavy, but well balanced and well crafted. It felt comforting.. While she was not the adventuring type, she learned how to fight with these things. But that was a memory for another day.
[Next up: Chapter 3: Of gold, silver and dedication.]
Join the Silver Anvil, a roleplaying guild for crafter and merchants!
