>Crab’s claw, your Ancient heirloom and the object of your abyssal quest sat next to the fire. It was a sturdy thing, something about its steel and presence made the world still…. or at least tilt less. [Haughty] [Missing: Strange Idol]https://youtu.be/G1on_N1R9vc?si=5HQmNY2GqX5T4c1dValyrian steel was said to be magic, forged in Dragonfire and tempered in blood and the spellcraft of old Valyria before the doom, they were lighter, stronger and sharper than any other steel, untouchable by even Dragonfire and unforgeable in this age by even the most skilled smiths. To hold one was to hold something of that bygone age and lords were known to give up even their own children before their ancestral blade.
Crab’s claw proved all this to be true and was the finest weapon you had ever seen, in truth you could scarce believe anything was it’s rival, the haft alone was near a height with you if not a head taller and its slumber beneath the sea had left no discernable along the metalwork and only a soft mossy lichen that still clung to the wood. The quality of the haft however was nothing next to the axehead itself, It had been wrought in obvious mimicry of a crab’s claw though much larger than any you had ever seen and featured none of the natural barbarity of it’s inspiration, the rippling surface was unblemished by mark or damage that would mar even the best of lesser steel and pale chromatic colors danced across the dark waves that seemed to drink all else. Arcane runes traced the guard, blade’s and socket imparting their ancient blessings on the blade in their silent tongue and you felt a pang of regret that your Family had long since forgotten the ancient tongue of Valyria.
A perilous tilting step forward brought you in grasp of it and the touch of its haft brought sweet relief as the world righted itself a touch and you felt a calmness overcome you, this was right, you were a warrior born of house Celtigar, to hold this weapon was your right by birth and as natural as your right to rule. You felt your chest swell at the thought and that had been you and you alone had returned it to your house’s hands.
After a time you felt well enough to cast your gaze around the hovel, the darkness of the room revealed little more, the makeshift hay cot you had risen from strewn with roughspun wool blankets, a earthen pitcher and bowl, a bowl of some dark meal you had cast to the floors as the world tilted a simple kitchen with the remains of some past meal, beyond that not a creature stirred besides the old mongrel and you doubted that their was anyone else though you thought the old man lived here.
Despite the world righting itself and your settling stomach the sight of food sent you green, likewise taking water proved a task not worth the pain and you settled for washing your face and wetting your lips as best possible, the cool water felt a blessing as you felt the heat retreat from you.
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