Drakkwall
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jun 14, 2006
- Posts
- 4,353
It shook the earth, each strike of the hammer shattering the deafening silence, the echoes like a dying whisper in the darkness before erupting again, in a rhythm not so unlike a heartbeat. Sparks of creation flared as metal was bent and remade, the gloved hand gripped the handle of the object and held it up, as if to examine it for flaws or to admire its beauty. It then put it back against the anvil and the hammer was raised again and it fell again, one final clash, the earth shaking in its foundation from the power behind the blow.
Gloved hands grabbed strange dagger like tools and began to carve strange symbols along the side of the bade, aligning them perfectly afters the edge, not nicking its sharpness even once. Then after the last rune was connected into what looked like a green bird of fire on the blade the hand raised the weapon and pressed it into a pool of water. Raising the weapon high as it cooled off the glowing runes revealed its shape, a battle axe, one of such beauty and power, it would have made any dwarf worth his spit in forging have an orgasm.
The hand gripping the weapon placed the weapon of marvel against hooks positioned on the stone walls, where several weapons of marvel hang alongside their new sibling. Exiting the forge the blacksmith enters the outside world, his skin sweaty and hot from the hours he had spent by the forge. The cool air chills him as he dries off his sweat with a towel before he looks around the empty market, a deserted place, where no life could be seen, only the empty over grown ruins of houses and walls with the dark woods around them.
Removing his protective gear the forger reveals himself to be a night elf, his appearance far rougher then most Night Elves look like, in his eyes there is no compassion or warmth, just cold calculating logic, like a being without a soul. His name was Ulf Ironoak, also known as Ulf the Merciless, Ulf the Terror, Ulf the Wicked, and his most recent name, Ulf the Cursed. He had been a druid once, a master of the arts of the lands, he had fought against the Horde and the Burning Legion with such ferocity and brutality that he earned a fearful reputation even among his own people.
It grew to such lengths that he was cursed by the Moon Goddess herself, his powers as a druid stripped off him, his connection to nature severed, he could no longer be allowed to call himself a Night Elf. He sought refugee in his exile in the unexplored lands of Azeroth, and there he tried to regain some of his powers, but the only thing he found to make his curse endurable was the power of craft, he could infuse incredible power into items, weapons and armor. Many would be heroes had attempted to get a weapon or armor from him, he always refused, as he was no part of the Alliance any longer, not even of his own race, he felt nothing but hatred for them all, the Horde, the Alliance, the Scourge and the Burning Legion, his hatred for them burned like the fires of eternity.
He was a wicked and lonely thing, who had grown darker from his boiling hated, who knows what he is capable of, if he would use his new found skills and powers, for some wicked deed, or vengeance for what had been brought upon him.
The Blacksmith: http://www.hentai-foundry.com/pic-80166.html
OOC: Evil night elf who has decades of pent up darkness in his soul waiting to be unleashed upon an unknowing woman who attempts to come near him ,be it by mistake, purpose, intentions or others, he will make use of her to release the darkness in his soul, to let his evilness free.
Gloved hands grabbed strange dagger like tools and began to carve strange symbols along the side of the bade, aligning them perfectly afters the edge, not nicking its sharpness even once. Then after the last rune was connected into what looked like a green bird of fire on the blade the hand raised the weapon and pressed it into a pool of water. Raising the weapon high as it cooled off the glowing runes revealed its shape, a battle axe, one of such beauty and power, it would have made any dwarf worth his spit in forging have an orgasm.
The hand gripping the weapon placed the weapon of marvel against hooks positioned on the stone walls, where several weapons of marvel hang alongside their new sibling. Exiting the forge the blacksmith enters the outside world, his skin sweaty and hot from the hours he had spent by the forge. The cool air chills him as he dries off his sweat with a towel before he looks around the empty market, a deserted place, where no life could be seen, only the empty over grown ruins of houses and walls with the dark woods around them.
Removing his protective gear the forger reveals himself to be a night elf, his appearance far rougher then most Night Elves look like, in his eyes there is no compassion or warmth, just cold calculating logic, like a being without a soul. His name was Ulf Ironoak, also known as Ulf the Merciless, Ulf the Terror, Ulf the Wicked, and his most recent name, Ulf the Cursed. He had been a druid once, a master of the arts of the lands, he had fought against the Horde and the Burning Legion with such ferocity and brutality that he earned a fearful reputation even among his own people.
It grew to such lengths that he was cursed by the Moon Goddess herself, his powers as a druid stripped off him, his connection to nature severed, he could no longer be allowed to call himself a Night Elf. He sought refugee in his exile in the unexplored lands of Azeroth, and there he tried to regain some of his powers, but the only thing he found to make his curse endurable was the power of craft, he could infuse incredible power into items, weapons and armor. Many would be heroes had attempted to get a weapon or armor from him, he always refused, as he was no part of the Alliance any longer, not even of his own race, he felt nothing but hatred for them all, the Horde, the Alliance, the Scourge and the Burning Legion, his hatred for them burned like the fires of eternity.
He was a wicked and lonely thing, who had grown darker from his boiling hated, who knows what he is capable of, if he would use his new found skills and powers, for some wicked deed, or vengeance for what had been brought upon him.
The Blacksmith: http://www.hentai-foundry.com/pic-80166.html
OOC: Evil night elf who has decades of pent up darkness in his soul waiting to be unleashed upon an unknowing woman who attempts to come near him ,be it by mistake, purpose, intentions or others, he will make use of her to release the darkness in his soul, to let his evilness free.
