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Avalon, Hunk of Burning Stone

Izznet H'unar

Journeyman
The smell of dragon sulfur and burning rock released in thick smoke from the roof of Connemera. Silver from the Watcher’s talons dripped from the intricate etchings onto a blade equally impressive. With the holy fire burning bright, the silver danced and wove its way into its new home. When the deed was complete one set of etchings stood empty and hollow, the other full of new life and purpose.

Avalon’s growling scream echoed off the water returning to her the sounds of sacrifice. Plunging her hands into the nearby fountain steam rose from the instant boil. The pain was exquisite and the sacrifice was heavy, but the honor of assisting in such a noble crusade was well worth it.

She was barely able to glance at the workmanship of the blade. Her eyes could barely focus past the agony in her hands. She trusted the man who she called “Claa Wek” with his task. The brother to Aedon was highly skilled in his craft and he had no doubt it would be stunning. She hoped eventually Aedon would show it to her again.

Until she was healed she would try to avoid seeing her Charge. It was well known, there would be no way to keep the secret if she found the damage on her hands. Maybe she would be generous and not inquire too deeply.
 
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