The Ballad of Blades

[Valik]

Perhaps having found himself anew
The Alchemist continued his task
Undaunted by pride or wear and tear
But in the process he would bask

Three times he'd beaten and folded the steel
That lived up to it's name of "Song"
Singing a high-pitched ringing tune
As the hammer came down strong

And three times again he'd fold the steel
Aided by the Bushi's strength and words
Each strike lighter than when he was alone
Hitting metal that sung like birds

Twas now six times he'd bent the steel
And he'd bend it six times again
Before he'd cease the folding
Unable to continue to beat the metal's strain

Having folded the sword to satisfaction
He began to beat it into shape
Finding the blade hidden in the ingot
And allowing it to escape

[member="Masamune Tametomo"]

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

The metal was shaped and bent
Under the smith's hammer beat.
Skill gave to heart and heart lent
To soul, all to make art from within.

The metal was folded,
Grain crossed against grain,
And hammered flat; haste goaded
Not Masamune's patience or time.

Between each layer there was
Applied a layer of ash and clay
And water, for a sure as the sun does
Rise, the mixture would turn blade into art.

It would force out horrid
Impurities from the metal.
Pure metal, now rooted
And cleansed, could now be worked.

This was Masamune's trade,
This sword-making art.
Though he was skilled with the blade,
This was truly his soul's work.

[member="Valik"]

 

[Valik]

With the process of folding finally complete
Valik's hammer stretched out the slab
Of songsteel ever strong
Finding the blade whose strength would be not slice or stab

It took time but the blade was summoned
From the steel of songs, inwardly hidden
Inside not only the steel, but Valik's own soul
Giving it a strength many had forbidden

The blade given form he took the tongs
And grabbed it out of the Forge's fire
Putting it into the cold water
Quenching the blade his desire

Thus while the blade did cool and harden
Valik took out the first of two artifacts he did hold
A splinter of wood that held tremendous power
That through dark energy grow controlled

Becoming like a wooden cylinder
That would become the hilt
Of the blade that would perhaps have no equal
Of any other blade ever built



[member="Masamune Tametomo"]

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

Again and again he
Folded the steel.
Grain would be
Laid against grain.

Ash and water and clay
Between each and every layer
To strengthen the steel, that it may
Hold against anything it touched.

The impurities hammered out,
The steel made pure and whole.
Masamune then knew the proper route
Needed to finish the blade.

He took the blade and
Did not quench the steel.
Instead, he took it in hand
And began to apply his trade.

A coating of clay to cover
The red-hot blade.
Masamune had seen no other
Smith to do such a thing.

It was a small blade,
A knife in size and purpose,
Though for why it was made
Only Masamune could know.

[member="Valik"]

 

[Valik]

Valik knew not why the Smith mixed water and clay
As he quenched his blade
But merely continued on with his craft
Perhaps later he'd question the smith's trade

But for now he picked up the now-cold edge
And brought the wood it's end
And as the alchemy made it grow
Around the blade it did extend

Till handle and blade became as one
And a true sword had taken form
Valik's work was over halfway there
With still more he had to transform

From Daesumnor he'd learned the art
Of how to imbue a weapon with the Force
To give it power from within
Letting your soul it's power source

So with his crafter's soul he'd fill
This blade not with a crystal, but a Tsil
For he'd create a blade that was living still
Crafted by his power, but with it's own will

[member="Masamune Tametomo"]

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

As the blade stood
Coated in clay to cool
Masamune took up wood
And leather for the hilt.

It was simple, soft pine
Of a light and simple hue
A hard, bold line
Split the wood in two.

Both halves would meet
To form the handle.
Wood would softly greet
Metal and lock in place.

Leather yielded the grip
Over the pine-wood
Bound in place, it would not slip
Or move underneath the hand.

[member="Valik"]

 

[Valik]

Through Alchemy and Force combined
Valik instilled within the blade a soul
Not unlike his own
Being born of Craftsman's toll

While many smiths spoke of the spirit of the blade
Valik's sword was literally alive
But bound to the sword
It could do little but connive

So Valik imbued within the living sword
Abilities he'd held quite dear
First the ability to see the past
Of an touching object clear

Next he instilled Valik's most practiced strength
The gift of Sith Alchemy
To bend nature and it's laws
Giving the songsteel a fearful melody

Lastly he gave the sword a final gift
The power of telepathic speech
For with no muscles or mouth
How could be a cunning leech

For with no normal orifice
The blade had only one thing on which to feed
The Force itself, like a Terentatek
From either it's wielder, or those it would make bleed

The blade would be unlike any other
Able to learn from other swords it fought
And find their strengths and weaknesses
And apply them to itself with thought


[member="Masamune Tametomo"]

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

He took the blade in hand
And began to chip the clay
From the blade, dirt and sand
Falling to the forge's floor.

The blade was ready
For the following steps.
He took with steady
Hand a small rock from nearby.

He carefully checked his work
And ensured it was to his standard
And that no impurities did lurk
In the singing steel in his hands.

Satisfied, he took the rock,
The Svolten Rhyolite given to him
To add to his forging stock
By the fellow smith, tutor, student - Rave.

He ground the steel
Against the stone
Until he could feel
The blade edge form.

The knife was done
Or so it seemed
For as yet, none
Had emerged "victorious."

[member="Valik"]

 

[Valik]

Valik watched the smith finish his crystal knife
Wondering about how he'd obtained the alchemist's whet
Intrigued he held his curious tongue
And instead held up the work of his blood and sweat

"Though I consider the alchemy here unmatched
I cannot say I have made the better sword
Your skill in the Forge is admirable
And your assistance will not go ignored


I do not know if it is your need or want
But you helped with my blade, I'll help with yours
Should you want an alchemical touch
To prepare it for battle or wars."


[member="Masamune Tametomo"]

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

"Your assistance I will thank
But ultimately decline
Though not out of frank
Malice or arrogance.

This knife must remain
Simple and practical,
No special process to attain
In its make or forging.

A simple, plain blade
Of utilitarian nature
Must only be made;
That is the art within.

It has but one
Purpose for creation
When it is done.
Hand me the crystal, please."

[member="Valik"]

 

[Valik]

"As you wish." Valik replied
As he took the crystal from it's place
Then turned and presented it to the Bushi
But did not invade his personal space

A scientist, or alchemist , or perhaps even sith Valik was
And such jobs all made a man paranoid
That someone would plunge from the darkness
And end his life, make it devoid

[member="Masamune Tametomo"]

 

[Masamune Tametomo]

He took the crystal, calm
Hands placing gem on forge.
Blade rested in palm,
The hilt ready, waiting.

Wood and leather made
From simple tree and cattle
Wrapped the hilt of the blade
To provide a basic grip.

A small hollow lay
Beneath the pommel cap
Where empty air did play,
Awaiting the final piece.

"Tell me, O' Smith,
The purpose of your blade.
To rend your enemies with
Steel and hate and death?

Or do you follow another path?
A path of self sacrifice, of service
To those who stand against the wrath
Of the galaxy unarmed and without hope?

Shall you carve a trail
Of blood and bodies that
Even the mightiest warriors pale
Upon gazing at your works?

Or shall you defend
The innocent and meek
And, with blade, rend
Only that which seeks harm to all?

O' Smith, this you must tell,
For the goal of a blade is of grave importance.
Will you unleash the fires of Hell
Or shall you place yourself against them?"

[member="Valik"]

 

[Valik]

"I am neither a guardian nor assailant
My path is one of body but mind
This blade it lives, it thinks, it learns
To mimic that it sees, become refined

Feeling the craft of those it touches
And learning how they were made
To change itself to match what it sees
And give upon itself an upgrade

It's potential to modify is endless
If used properly it will become
The blade to surpass all blades
As long as it is not used by scum

That would lock it away
Let it garner cobwebs and rust
In the recesses of some treasury
To be looked upon with lust

This blade in truth is not for me
For I am no man of the sword
It's potential would be wasted
If I were to keep it in my hoard

Instead the blade will find a home
With someone who will use it proper
A bladesman with skill and power both
That will aid in growing the chopper"

[member="Masamune Tametomo"]