As the ash drifted down on the light breeze that followed the volcanoes explosive eruption, the only sound was the crashing of the mighty ocean waves, breaking on the cliffs far below. And then it wasn't the only sound. A soft shuffle of two feet on the rocky shelf, approaching the cliff edge. A lone figure now stood at the brink of the cliff. A strong wind could send him over the edge to shatter in the waves below, and yet, it didn't take any wind or shift in the rocks to send him down, all it took was his mind. He leaped, a stream of unrecognizable words leaving his mouth, seeming to distort the world around them. He pointed his hands just before he hit the surface of the water, diving beneath leaving barely a ripple. With powerful strokes of his arms and legs, he swam down to the bottom of the sea, leaving a stream of bubbles in his wake. As he reached the sea floor, he picked up a shard of the cooled lava just as long as his arm and sharper then any razor. With the jagged shard of obsidian in his hand, he fought his way to the surface and took a breath once more. Back in the forest that he called home, he took the shard of night black obsidian and meticulously shaped the blade, carving off a needle thin sliver of darkness with each stroke of his hands. After the blade was formed, he looked to the tree, the tree he had pruned and cared for for uncountable years. And he cut it down. From its branches and the vines that he let tangle in its leaves, he shaped the hilt to perfection. Though it looked rough to the untrained eye, it was the perfect shape to fit smoothly in his hand. He placed in besides the blade on the table, and there it grew. It continued to grow until it had wrapped itself around the blade of obsidian, forming one. But he was not done. Taking his sword, he traveled to the darkest, coldest place in the world, at the darkest and coldest time of the year. And in the north pole on the winter solstice, He gazed on the dancing aurora in the heavens above, and committed the beauty to memory. And in the southern pole, exactly half a year later at the winter solstice, in that hemisphere, he took the memory from his mind and placed it into the blade. Gone from his head were the dancing lights, gone from his mind. He had no memory of those lights, until, a moment later, they began to dance in the blade. He turned it this way and that, admiring the ethereal lights entombed within the blade. But he knew it still wasn't complete. Back in his home, in the forest he new so well, he took his blade up, and sliced into his palm. He took the strip of cotton fiber cloth, that he had made himself. and looked upon the runes inscribed there by the creatures of the woods, the sea, the sky, and the stones, the creatures of the world. And he dipped it in his blood, and tied it round the hilt of his blade, now complete. He took it in his hand, and raised it. It would be perfect for keeping the balance. _________________________________________________ So here is my audition. I'll be entering on my main or my alt but I'll make sure each entry is a remix. I'll probably be doing art and maybe some story/scene stuff like I did here for the rest of my entries.
