Chapter 831.: Concert of Creation
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A week later, Wedan, Hoen, Orry, and other blacksmiths in the adjacent workshops fell into a trance as a subtle but piercing melody found its way through the walls and through the doors. Forging the wood on his underworldly anvil, the singing blacksmith was surrounded by an orchestra of instruments.
Floating in the air and playing themselves they were accompanying his demonic patter with hypnotic tunes. Mouth agape and her eyes widened in shock, Sivri witnessed such a scene for the first time. She swallowed at the sight, and old habit from when she still had a mortal body.
She had thought she had seen the extent of his capabilities when he forged the Armor of Lunacy, but this was on a whole nother scale, as even her mechanic heart couldn't help but race. It was as if she could feel the presence of a demon god stroking across her metallic body.
This was a tremendously different style from the way Forgebrand used to work. Even in his later years, when he slowly... The workshop had never seemed to have been so filled with madness and chaos that was somehow spun into an unnatural order by the guidance of the voice and the beat of the anvil.
As demonic power shaped dark runes in the air, they were forged into the golden wood, turning it a dark brass color. While the song rose and fell, part of the wood became darker and darker and slowly gained a distinctive shape. A corpus resembling a mix of lute and violin but bigger than either and so dark it resembled the night, only a dim golden sheen reminding of the stars. The next was a wheel so black it seemed to swallow all light.
Smaller parts followed, keeping a brighter gold. A crank, golden keys, stringholders, tuning pegs and other parts the golden dwarf could not identify, She had learned a little, watching over the past days, but not a lot.
The concert of creation went on for hours, with Sivri unable to take her eyes off the anvil and the parts that slowly accumulated on the workbench beside it. She shuddered when the instruments in the air, one by one stopped playing and sank to the ground. The play came to an end. The last to fall silent was the blacksmith's voice that had grown to sing with unprecedented power and eerily terrifying beauty.
In the silence that followed, Sivri suddenly felt an unexplained fear. A longing so strong that it felt like her world would break apart at the thought that the music had ended and she may never hear it again. It was just an inexplicable short moment, but it thoroughly shorted the golem's mind. She had just stood aside and listened, and suddenly felt such a disturbing emotion.
While she was confused about her own state, the blacksmith finally put his hammer aside and let out a deep sigh. Only now, that the tension was gone, did it become clear how tired the craftsman was. He was not just drenched, a small pool of sweat had formed under his feet and he was leaning onto the anvil for support.
" Fuuuu- finally done," he let out a long breath and sat on the floor.
"Are you okay?" Sivri finally came to it and walked over to ask.
"I'm fine, more or less;" Seth said with a tired look.
The reason this time's ballad had taken a toll on him, was the nature of his audience. There were a few demons that were known for their music, like Phenex or Amducias, but for a legendary instrument, Seth had chosen someone special.
Not least because it was necessary to have a noticeable effect on a legendary material with a strong connection to life. The patron he had channeled this time was the Pale King, Paimon. He was not just one of the strongest order of demons, but also a connoisseur of fine arts and music. The bard had to give his absolute all, even creating an orchestra using
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A week later, Wedan, Hoen, Orry, and other blacksmiths in the adjacent workshops fell into a trance as a subtle but piercing melody found its way through the walls and through the doors. Forging the wood on his underworldly anvil, the singing blacksmith was surrounded by an orchestra of instruments.
Floating in the air and playing themselves they were accompanying his demonic patter with hypnotic tunes. Mouth agape and her eyes widened in shock, Sivri witnessed such a scene for the first time. She swallowed at the sight, and old habit from when she still had a mortal body.
She had thought she had seen the extent of his capabilities when he forged the Armor of Lunacy, but this was on a whole nother scale, as even her mechanic heart couldn't help but race. It was as if she could feel the presence of a demon god stroking across her metallic body.
This was a tremendously different style from the way Forgebrand used to work. Even in his later years, when he slowly... The workshop had never seemed to have been so filled with madness and chaos that was somehow spun into an unnatural order by the guidance of the voice and the beat of the anvil.
As demonic power shaped dark runes in the air, they were forged into the golden wood, turning it a dark brass color. While the song rose and fell, part of the wood became darker and darker and slowly gained a distinctive shape. A corpus resembling a mix of lute and violin but bigger than either and so dark it resembled the night, only a dim golden sheen reminding of the stars. The next was a wheel so black it seemed to swallow all light.
Smaller parts followed, keeping a brighter gold. A crank, golden keys, stringholders, tuning pegs and other parts the golden dwarf could not identify, She had learned a little, watching over the past days, but not a lot.
The concert of creation went on for hours, with Sivri unable to take her eyes off the anvil and the parts that slowly accumulated on the workbench beside it. She shuddered when the instruments in the air, one by one stopped playing and sank to the ground. The play came to an end. The last to fall silent was the blacksmith's voice that had grown to sing with unprecedented power and eerily terrifying beauty.
In the silence that followed, Sivri suddenly felt an unexplained fear. A longing so strong that it felt like her world would break apart at the thought that the music had ended and she may never hear it again. It was just an inexplicable short moment, but it thoroughly shorted the golem's mind. She had just stood aside and listened, and suddenly felt such a disturbing emotion.
While she was confused about her own state, the blacksmith finally put his hammer aside and let out a deep sigh. Only now, that the tension was gone, did it become clear how tired the craftsman was. He was not just drenched, a small pool of sweat had formed under his feet and he was leaning onto the anvil for support.
" Fuuuu- finally done," he let out a long breath and sat on the floor.
"Are you okay?" Sivri finally came to it and walked over to ask.
"I'm fine, more or less;" Seth said with a tired look.
The reason this time's ballad had taken a toll on him, was the nature of his audience. There were a few demons that were known for their music, like Phenex or Amducias, but for a legendary instrument, Seth had chosen someone special.
Not least because it was necessary to have a noticeable effect on a legendary material with a strong connection to life. The patron he had channeled this time was the Pale King, Paimon. He was not just one of the strongest order of demons, but also a connoisseur of fine arts and music. The bard had to give his absolute all, even creating an orchestra using
A week later, Wedan, Hoen, Orry, and other blacksmiths in the adjacent workshops fell into a trance as a subtle but piercing melody found its way through the walls and through the doors. Forging the wood on his underworldly anvil, the singing blacksmith was surrounded by an orchestra of instruments.Floating in the air and playing themselves they were accompanying his demonic patter with hypnotic tunes. Mouth agape and her eyes widened in shock, Sivri witnessed such a scene for the first time. She swallowed at the sight, and old habit from when she still had a mortal body.She had thought she had seen the extent of his capabilities when he forged the Armor of Lunacy, but this was on a whole nother scale, as even her mechanic heart couldn't help but race. It was as if she could feel the presence of a demon god stroking across her metallic body.This was a tremendously different style from the way Forgebrand used to work. Even in his later years, when he slowly... The workshop had never seemed to have been so filled with madness and chaos that was somehow spun into an unnatural order by the guidance of the voice and the beat of the anvil.As demonic power shaped dark runes in the air, they were forged into the golden wood, turning it a dark brass color. While the song rose and fell, part of the wood became darker and darker and slowly gained a distinctive shape. A corpus resembling a mix of lute and violin but bigger than either and so dark it resembled the night, only a dim golden sheen reminding of the stars. The next was a wheel so black it seemed to swallow all light.Smaller parts followed, keeping a brighter gold. A crank, golden keys, stringholders, tuning pegs and other parts the golden dwarf could not identify, She had learned a little, watching over the past days, but not a lot.The concert of creation went on for hours, with Sivri unable to take her eyes off the anvil and the parts that slowly accumulated on the workbench beside it. She shuddered when the instruments in the air, one by one stopped playing and sank to the ground. The play came to an end. The last to fall silent was the blacksmith's voice that had grown to sing with unprecedented power and eerily terrifying beauty.In the silence that followed, Sivri suddenly felt an unexplained fear. A longing so strong that it felt like her world would break apart at the thought that the music had ended and she may never hear it again. It was just an inexplicable short moment, but it thoroughly shorted the golem's mind. She had just stood aside and listened, and suddenly felt such a disturbing emotion.While she was confused about her own state, the blacksmith finally put his hammer aside and let out a deep sigh. Only now, that the tension was gone, did it become clear how tired the craftsman was. He was not just drenched, a small pool of sweat had formed under his feet and he was leaning onto the anvil for support." Fuuuu- finally done," he let out a long breath and sat on the floor."Are you okay?" Sivri finally came to it and walked over to ask."I'm fine, more or less;" Seth said with a tired look.The reason this time's ballad had taken a toll on him, was the nature of his audience. There were a few demons that were known for their music, like Phenex or Amducias, but for a legendary instrument, Seth had chosen someone special.Not least because it was necessary to have a noticeable effect on a legendary material with a strong connection to life. The patron he had channeled this time was the Pale King, Paimon. He was not just one of the strongest order of demons, but also a connoisseur of fine arts and music. The bard had to give his absolute all, even creating an orchestra using
