The Hammer


 * clang ... clang ... clang ... clang ... hiss*

The sounds resonated through the encampment near the chapel, the rythm and pitches constant, distinct. Each with purpose slightly different than the last. The air was almost always a bit chilly in these parts of the plagued lands, but the orc stood over the anvil and forge with little more than the cloth he wore while smithing.

He picked up the axe out of the water trough next to him and touched the bladed edge. Still hot to the touch, it was sharp enough for the time being. Skeletons here were plentiful and fell easily enough, he'd be back in no time to sharpen it once more from the splintering of bones and rusted swords.

Propping his axe up against a wooden pillar, he wiped his brow with his forearm and reached for the dented pauldron that waited for his care.

Pour your sweat into the metal now, you'll want to get hit even less later ... was what his father had always told him.


 * clang ... clang ... clang ...*

The talisman around his neck was warm. A warm reminder of his mother, always hanging around him. A stark nightmare of the thing he faced that night as well. The lich had found him, but for what purpose, he still did not know. His mother had sacrificed her own spirit that night as well, torn back into the abyss that the vision had come from that night on the beaches of Booty Bay. He clenched the hammer even tighter, his teeth digging into one another as his jaw set even firmer.


 * clang ... clang ... clang ...*

Grabbing the layered plate piece, he threw it into the large stone rollers covered in leather. Setting it to the width he wanted, he rolled the piece slowly, gently rubbing out the extra little hammer dents he had left behind. Methodically, with love and care, like he was taught throughout his time. He did not feel the fatigue or strain working with the metals of the land. Time stopped for him then.

Satisfied after some time, he sat on the small bench and began to polish his wares. Each small nick in the metal made him smile to himself, reminding him of the battles faced with each piece. Looking up towards the dusky orange sky reminded him of the battle on Azeroth he had to forge, and to find a way to this lich etched in his mind.

He also wondered who in his armies he would have to face, and if any of them recognizable from the past. Their time would also come.