Chaos' Champion

It's Gettin' Hot in Here(No, Really)

Disclaimer: I'm getting tired of writing this little thing every single time. . . I. Don't. Own. Percy. Jackson. The only thing I own is the plot, a few OC's, annnnd that is it.

Credit to Rick Riordan

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    Devora

  I pounded the white-hot metal into a flat shape, folding it in on itself, making a thick block of Stygian Iron. I smoothly and quickly heat the metal again, its colour changing from cherry-red to white hot again. I continued the process another time, the different layers melding smoothly from one to the other.

  I repeated this process with several other sheets of Stygian Iron I had before heating them up one last time and flattening them all together, then I folded them again. Then I flattened it one last time, giving it the rough shape of a short sword.

  I made sure the base was thicker than the tip of the sword, so that it could fit into the hilt properly and have good balance.

   I heated it again, making it cherry red in colour.

  The heat was searing, making me sweat, but I was used to the burning fire that I used to make weapons and I was used to the stuffy leather gloves protecting my hands from the hot metals I used.  I wiped my brow, certain I was leaving a stain of coal on my forehead. I didn't care, the bodily fluid had to go; it was in my way, bothering me and risking impurities in the metal.

  Did you know that the human body's skin oils can dramatically change how something forms? Like, say, a stalactite. If you touch it with your bare fingers, your skin oils will change how the water drips from the rock, changing, over time, how the rest of the stalactite forms.

  You didn't know? Well, now you do.

  Taking the iron, I quickly hammer out the last few details. I make the middle thicker, while the edges are thinner; this gives for a stronger, more durable blade.

  Taking a pair of tongs, I plunge the searing hot blade into the barrel of water from the river Lethe  I have next to my forge. Steam erupts forth, rising up into the air. I pull the blade out, checking for impurities in the metal. Looks like there's an uneven edge on one side of the blade. I heat it up again until it's a bright red, then I take it out of the fire and onto my table; taking a hammer, I hit the uneven edge once, twice, three times before plunging it back into the barrel, the water hissing at the heat.

  Pulling it out again, I determine that the blade is even, and is of proper proportions. Heating it one last time, I plunge it into the barrel again, making sure the blade isn't too hot, to make sure it doesn't become brittle once it's cooled.

  The finished blade is in the Ancient Greek style, leaf-bladed, but with my own personal twist added. It's leaf-bladed on one side, with the other edge being straight. It's double-edged, to ensure that whoever becomes the proud owner of this sword will be able to slash and stab, and to block and cut with both sides of the blade. I'm pretty proud of it, if I do say so myself. Which I do.

   I sense rather than hear someone come closer. My hearing's pretty bad, but my other senses have sharpened to make up for being partially deaf and for constantly being in my workshop.

   "If yer gon' ask fer somethin', then git to it," I called out, not bothering to stop my work. I moved to grab a block of wood, starting to sand it and shape it. This hilt and grip was going to be elegant yet sturdy, a true masterpiece. "I haven' got all day, y'know."

  "I can see that," someone said, raising their voice so they can be heard.

   Male, I decide, judging from the tone of voice.