Poetics of the Forge (Rave Merrill) COMPLETED

[Masamune Tametomo]

Fold and coat and stack was all he knew
At that time of the forging.
Yet with each strike of the hammer, pride grew
In the masterwork blade he had wrought.

It was not the pride of an arrogant mind,
But the pride felt by the common man at a
Job well done at the end of a kind
Day's work and a warm plate at home.

He folded the last time and, careful
With his work, coated it with the
Cooling and quenching mixture of simple
And humble means using clay and minerals.

Once done, and the great masterwork blade
Sat coated in the clay mixture to cool,
Tametomo turned his attention to all that he made
And began finishing that what he had wrought.

As the first blade cooled, he took simple oak wood
And crafted the handle of the Katana.
He wrapped the wooden handle in leather and stood
The handle on the forge as he crafted the sheathe.

The sheathe was simple wood with lacquer
Dyed a dark, earthy tone.
For the smith, bright colors didn't matter,
It was the blade that shone through.

Once done, he began work on the shorter blade
And crafted the hilt from birch wood.
He wrapped the hilt in leather and made
The sheathe from dark lacquer.

Finally, he took the final blade, the great
Sword that spoke of great deeds and epic battles.
This hilt he made of Wroshyr that would not break
With the heavy use foresaw in the blade.

The sheath was of steel, though not of song.
A steel sheath for a legendary sword
Seemed only fitting to the smith, who longed
To match hilts and sheaths and swords as one.

 

[Velok the Younger]

And to this blade did Rave append a sheathe,
As not to be outdone by Masamune.
Materials she carried in a cloth,
A sheet of leather from terentatek.

Its power and resistance she did take,
Enfolding her new blade in ancient hide,
More potent and entrenched than any work
Which she could practice, let alone employ.

The polishing of blade, both edge and flat,
She finalized with Svolten rhyolite,
That miracle of ores, which Sorzus Syn
Had touted as an ancient acolyte.

The pommel and the crosstree slotted on
To the wide tang, and fit the polished grip.
Of songsteel she had forged them, Sister-blessed,
And hardened the whole sword, pommel to tip.

At last she polished it with Diathim hair,
The body of the angels put to use,
And in the fittings she devised a snare
For Lignan crystals from Lord Velok's trove.

The scabbard hung from leather brown and rough,
Terentatek in origin, like the rest.
And though the beasts could offer larger pelts,
She felt that she had excised out the best.

Behold the finished weapon, Dark on Dark.
'Let Evil Sunder Evil' blazoned there,
Upon the sheath and grip she'd left that mark,
And when she drew the sword, she burned with fear
And other, darker things from tragic arcs.
To Masamune she inclined a bow.
"You have defeated me," she freely said.
"And I am in your debt, O Master Smith,
And shall be long after I'm dead."

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

Masamune bowed to Rave
And acknowledge the victory,
But did not gloat as others would, but gave
Instead a simple question.

"Before me I have three blades
Each with spirits of their own,
Each different from the last made,"
He said, his face stone, but his voice warm.

"However, none are assembled or built
And none have the power alone that all
Have when brought together, hilt to hilt.
Help me, if you will, to assemble the blades.

In return, I shall teach you the ways
In which I forge and, perhaps,
Teach you to truly understand the day
And night of your soul.

For you have shown that you can grasp
Your own essence, but you fear it, I think,
As a novice carpenter fears the rasp
That may bite his fingers.

I sense you fear to look
Within yourself at what is truly there.
Each soul is a book
And though you may fear yours,
Such is only the start.
For with all things, there is a middle
And an ending, though you've not found the heart
Of your story just yet.
It is there, my child, but
You must not fear to look.
To find what only you can put
Within your soul."

 

[Velok the Younger]

"If soul-books can be written, here's my pen,
And blood shall be my ink, but only blood
Of those who I can kill with a heart clean.
I stepped beyond the place where I could choose

"Whether I would kill again, or not.
This much I know, and see without a flinch:
O Master Smith, I am the one who knocks.

"Now I will lend a hand, and bend my ear
And put aside the blade that's like my limb-
Assemble these three swords, under your care
And learn your arts so they may help me grow.

"The peace you seek, or balance, may attend
My further growth and maybe wisdom gained.
I could use wisdom." Now she barked a laugh,
Her fingers deft as she, with care, obtained
Each piece of Masamune's songsteel blades
And joined it to the whole, as she was trained.

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

"It is not how to kill with a clean heart
Or who's heart is cleaner
It is in the need for killing, the art
Of knowing when to take or spare a life.

Take my blades and gaze upon them.
In function, they are made to kill another,
To fight and draw blood, but as art, then
Their use becomes different entirely.

Each sword has a spirit, a soul,
That gives heart to the blade.
Much like a being's soul, in whole
Or in part, actions, or lack of them, can stain.

Let not your stains marr the beauty lying there,
But instead, use them and change them
Into a work of art only you might bear
And openly show to all who understand.

Balance and Wisdom and Peace,
They are but words in a language, empty
And meaningless, but taking these
concepts, understandings, to heart can change everything.

You only need look around and inside to know
That which is only available to you.
Take what you have learned and are learning to grow
Ever brighter, ever stronger, ever better and never stop."

 

[Velok the Younger]

"Your words I will remember, and imprint
Them on my mind, O Master Smith," said Rave,
And bowed in depth and mood wholly sincere.
"I do not understand them all today,
That much I must admit of my free will,
But I have said I will remember, and I pray
That you will judge my effort, not my skill."

Then she took up her sword, and chose its name,
A word of secret meaning, in her heart.
She scabbarded the blade, and set it down,
And set about the task of clay and dirt.

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

Tametomo took up the clay
And set it before his companion
To show her his mixture, his way
Of quenching the red hot blades.

"The thickness, you will see,
Of the clay is important.
It cools the metal rapidly
In parts and slowly at others
To create two metals in one blade.
Softer in the hind
To keep the blade flexible
Much like one's mind
Must remain when attaining balance.

The edge remains hardened
To keep it sharp and keen
So that it, unburdened,
Shall keep you against the Heavens.

Leave no clay or ash
On the very edge of the blade
So that the sword fears not the lash
Of whatever hell you face.

These things, fused
Together in their way
Allow the blade, when used,
To serve the wielder for generations."

 

[Velok the Younger]

"This art I know, or one much like it,
But mine requires focus, and delays,
And steals from me the energy that I
Would put to better use in other ways.
Your art will grant me time to concentrate
And work upon the arts I truly crave.
A worthy gift you give, and one that I
Must struggle now to match. I have," said Rave,
"An art that makes a blade an enemy
Of every craven shield of air and thought
And metaphysical constructs, the kind
That Jedi use to cheat their death, instead
Of entering the Force as is their due.
And with this art, your blade will cleave away
The follies and the principles of man.
Your sword will bring destruction and decay
To every Jedi barrier, or Sith."

Thus spake alchemical abandon. Rave
Drew from her soul that sword of ice
And touched her Witching fingers to the blade
And closed her eyes, and murmured nothing nice.
An incantation, Paecian in rote,
A Sister-of-the-Dark spell, black as night,
Respecting martial virtues of the soul
That had bestowed the weapon with its might.
She drew upon the arcane spells of lore.
The spell-wrought blade would punch through shield and will,
And sunder every strong defensive art
Lords use to be a fortress on a hill,
And Jedi use to sneer at lesser souls.

 

[Arrbi Betna]

Delete

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

"A weapon made for such
Should never be used in anger
For should that come to pass, much
Pain would be wrought for both involved."

The smith bowed deep
To the woman before him.
Gratitude as such was felt, to keep
Within was unseemly to an honor bound soul.

"My thanks for what you have done,
Though now balance must be found
Before these blades are to become
The tools of art and war.

The Odachi you have graced
Now knows the joy of the strike
Though little cost on parry was placed
It will still out match Heaven's glory.

To balance the blades, we must
Grant the glory of peace and stillness.
For this, your skills I trust
Along with your soul are equal to the task."

 

[Velok the Younger]

The final imprint of her darker arts
Bestowed on the odachi power to cut
All wards, through symbolism of gems,
Of Svoltan rhyolite, which nothing but
The Force itself can e'er withstand. An edge
So keen, unnaturally so, and best:
A pow'r of Lignan to instill a taste
Of magic's keenest edge upon the rest
Of this great sword, the part laid shields waste.
In this way, young Rave translated
One form of magic into conjoined twins:
One spell to cut the flesh, and one to end
The heartache of a flawless godlike shield.

And when her spell did end, she set aside
The long odachi, listened to the smith,
Determination now her goad, not pride.

"To this great end, I shall ascend, attain
A path to comprehension's noble peak.
I know not how," she said in language plain,
"But I shall find a way. I must consult
What's called a holocron, a record and
A teacher all in one. And when I find
The answers that I seek, my noble friend,
I shall empow'r the blade to fit your need."

And from her gear did she procure a cube
Of crystal, dusty-blue and cunning-wrought.
"This is the recompense of all my fears,
Of what I fear to be, and bravely sought.
Upon this holocron I'll meditate."
A Whiphid's likeness did appear. She sat
And pondered all his words with Masamune.

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

He said nothing as the cube
Was set before them glowing.
He said nothing but felt the fued
Between woman and apparition.

He said nothing as he felt
The lack of balance from the figure.
He said nothing as it dealt
Its 'wisdom' to them both.

His face was stone
And though his soul, open,
He could not condone
The absence of balance
He could see or feel
Within the specter's heart
Made of light beams and steel
Casing as it sat upon the ground.

He said nothing for he saw
That this was what stained
The woman's soul and made raw
Her sight upon all within herself.

The specter could not teach
The swordsmith, but it
Could allow, indirectly, Rave to reach
That what she sought in her soul: Peace.

 

[Velok the Younger]

And how could she but sense him disapprove?
He sat there like a stone, unmoved by all
The secrets that Lord Velok did bequeathe.
She felt a little lessened by his gaze-
The swordsmith, not the Whiphid Jen'ari.

For unto Velok she had been a child,
A useful servant, and a student too.
An heir of goods and arts so far from mild
As to reroute her life to his own ends.

At last she bowed in gratitude to it,
And put the holocron once more away.
"I know now what techniques are the best fit
For all that you have asked - but this I say.

"Your first blade I have wrought with subtle art,
With skills that I have mastered through and through.
If I experiment upon these two,
They may not fully suit or honour you."

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

"These blades are not mine,
I only hold them until the day,
Which will show itself in time,
That the rightful owner will claim them.

They are a present, a gift,
To the one who shall come.
One who shall close a rift
Within their being and, in doing so, reach peace.

Experiment, as you may, for you alone
Know what lies ahead, child.
The final touch of this art belongs
To you to leave your mark upon legend."

 

[Velok the Younger]

His words laid claim to multifarious ways
Of bleak interpretation, and of puzzlement,
Or fearful ambiguity, that robbed
The Nightsister of power to comprehend.

By now Rave should have known that prophecy
Had less to do with power or control
Than such things had to do with clarity
And insight -- ripples read, not pebbles thrown.

That balance between whispers heard, and shouts
Which sundered stone, that was the test supreme
Of how one balanced pow'r and clarity
Of just what kind of Master one would be.

Upon that legacy did Rave now draw,
The better now to understand the blade
And blend the swordsmith's arts with Velok's own
Before her comprehension's light could fade.

Now from her gear she drew a sacred node
Of Svoltan rhyolite, much purer yet
Than any she had heretofore dared use
The edge she'd render keener than a whet.

"There is no art so metaphysical
As bond between a swordsman and his blade
No magic that I speak can match the call
Of soul to steel, and this is what I've made:

"Your focus it will spur, no matter what
The magnitude of enmity's offense.
Your hand will stay firm, solid as your heart
And from your enemy draw recompense."

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

"And thus sword and heart
And swordsman become one
In both chaotic war and tranquil art
Until the Heavens falling.

Such a blade will be known
Forever through the galaxy
And heavens as the blade honed
Keen enough to cut the stars from the sky.

It shall give root
To the wielder and poise
Of stance who's foot
Shall never shift or buckle.

It shall need a name.
One fitting of purpose and
Sufficient to grow in fame.
It shall be called Tamashi Kizuna.

It shall guard all that is held
Dear to the wielder and
So long as both heart and blade meld
Forever in use, none shall overtake the pair."

 

[Velok the Younger]

"So balance marks the longer of the pair,
Defense the shorter blade. A worthy match
And not intuitive for those who dare

To claim and to pretend Atrisian skills.
Katana, wakazashi, are not toys,
Nor simple tools they'd use to pay the bills."

His focus she impressed upon the blades
By secret words that patterned them alike.
She gained fulfillment for his measured goals
That he would amplify each block and strike.

"How will you wield these blades, O Masamune?
Where do your enemies take rest, and who
Would call you foe? What monsters will you slay?
For with this blade you'll slaughter not a few."

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

"The foe matters not,
Though not from calous disregard.
Men who's souls have been bought
To strike down those of innocent mind
Shall fall before the blades akin
To wheat before a scythe.
Those who think to begin
To oppress or those who think
To take by might what is not
Theirs by right.
Those men, who are begot
By money or power, shall fall by the blade.

To defend those who can not
Defend themselves against the
Terrible things the galaxy has wrought
And to maintain balance within and without."

 

[Velok the Younger]

"I see. I had not thought to emphasize
Defense for others; rather, I had meant
To find effective means to canonize
A firm and universal guard of self.

"Too comprehensive was my goal, I think,
And too unknowing of the bushi's way
You led the horse, but could not make her drink
Until she smelled the water on her own."

So from her book of spells she wove a gift
That ever-giving would remain, a strength
That would reflect his strength, defend
All those who this samurai would shelter.

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

"A bushi's way is of service of
Others, not of oneself.
To show compassion and love
To all without hesitation.

To defend them even
If it leads to your death.
No matter if it is Heaven
Or Hell that threatens the meek.

To fight honorably in war
And to know the art of life and its taking.
To know the heart and core
Of yourself and to honor your duty.

This is the very heart of the code
And soul of artful smithing.
Should you choose to burden such load
Only honor and glory you shall find.

I thank you for the final touch
You have graced upon these blades.
I believe we both have learned much
From such a contest, such a trial.

The one who shall come for these
Blades, in time, shall understand
Fully the purpose of these swords, peace
And war, and shall become truly one.

The one will understand truly
The code of duty and honor
And embody all that the Bushi
Must stand for, alone or together."