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From the Journal of Aalnyar Korianthil
A Promise Kept
Written by Aalnyar, added 20 July 2010 @ 18:30

Entry in Timeline: 1376 DR

The heat was oppressive but it was to be expected with in a forge of Nauth Norian. Ringing can be heard with in the crafting hall, a steady one two thee Ring repeated over and over again.

The metal a shining bar of mithril held in the grasp of this robed Quessir; the figure bending over the anvil applying his strength in various degrees to bring the metal into the desired shape, an elven style long sword.

The heated metal allowed to cool then brought forth once more held in the grasp of the smith crafting this blade, words of power are spoken over the blade, a litany of words softly spoken in ancient elven the blade begins to shine like the moon and is once more plunged into the heart of the forge.

Voiced raised in praise to the Seldarine who have shown him so much kindness, praise given to Eilistraee for her help and blessing. The singing soon reaches its climax, the voice shouting out "Atar rista i huine".

The blade sings out in a clear voice like elven bells in twilight soon shimmers to a mirror like silver finish, the darkness in the forge seems to withdraw itself from near the blade in a manner that does not seem quite natural if viewed by one not familiar with the Art.

It soon joins a set of elven style gauntlets that were crafted earlier that week and now wrapped in oiled cloths; the blade is soon fitted with pommel, cross guard in a loving union of art and craft.

Looking at the blade as it stands finished the figure smiles in appreciation of what he was able to accomplish and is sure the Seldarine and Eilistraee aided in inspiring its birth. I hope Mey finds a worthy name for you, one that will match your purpose in aiding her in her quest perhaps she will take the one that I hear in your song "Raa Rutha (Lions Wrath)" .

The figure soon cleans the sweat and grime from his body taking care to make sure he is presentable; dressing in his cleaned and polished armor, donning his clean cloak and boots he looks at him self in the mirror chuckling at this grim looking Quessir.

He soon leaves his quarters in the hidden city to travel to Ashabanford, His final thought
"A promise made is a promise kept".