tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73750677183331768042011-08-01T15:27:47.124-07:00A random assortment of my creations, both written and drawn.Gideonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02338115925237391109noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375067718333176804.post-27011036547448826982009-06-28T11:48:00.000-07:002009-06-28T11:57:08.543-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m233/GaaraFan01/lastscan5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 414px; height: 800px;" src="http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m233/GaaraFan01/lastscan5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m233/GaaraFan01/LastScan2-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 736px; height: 800px;" src="http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m233/GaaraFan01/LastScan2-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m233/GaaraFan01/lastscan2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 535px; height: 800px;" src="http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m233/GaaraFan01/lastscan2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m233/GaaraFan01/lastscan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 526px; height: 800px;" src="http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m233/GaaraFan01/lastscan.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Old drawings of mine<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7375067718333176804-2701103654744882698?l=gideonworkshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gideonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02338115925237391109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7375067718333176804.post-60661542763296260742009-06-28T11:26:00.000-07:002009-06-28T11:37:12.697-07:00Emerald sparks erupted from the glowing slab of steel with every stroke of the smith’s mighty hammer. He has worked tirelessly for hours and refused to surrender to fatigue when he it is this close to completion. The smith had intentionally selected this location for his work on this sword. Molten earth flows freely next to his smithy and thousands of tons of earth stand between him and would-be thieves. The ore was carefully selected and smelted together under the watchful eye of the smith. This is to be his greatest work, not even the dwarves of Dragonfall Mountains could hope to achieve this level craftsmanship. With every bang of his hammer the smith puts more and more of his soul into the blade, sharpening it, shaping it. He paused for a moment and eyed the blade carefully; with a silent nod he dipped the blade into a barrel full of a crimson liquid. With a loud hiss the liquid cooled the blade slightly, but the liquid accomplished so much more. The crimson liquid is the blood an ancient dragon, collected specifically and carefully over time as the dragon slumbered. By dipping the blade into the dragon’s blood he added the essence of a dragon into the weapon. He drew the blade from the blood and dipped it into the flowing molten rock, his skin screaming in pain in the presence of such heat. He quickly removed the blade, not wanted the flow to melt it, and put it back onto the anvil and returned to his pounding. He continued this process for many more hours before he was finally satisfied at the ringing the sword made when he tapped it with his hammer. With one final dip into the blood the smith raised the partially complete blade into the air and smiled, The metal was a deep shade of green and was already emitting a pulse of power so strong even a non-mage like himself could feel it.<br /> The blade may be complete but there is much more work to be done before the sword is complete, and the smith knew this. He then turned his attention to the completion of the hilt, the swirling mass of mithral and gold resembled the wings of a bird breathed in flame. With only a few minor adjustments to ensure it will stay in place the smith added the hilt to blade with a few strokes of a wooden mallet. Next he attached to rounded strips of darkwood underneath the hilt to act as the hand grip. He wrapped the darkwood in strips of serpent skin leather. Finally he capped it off it with a mithral pommel with a large, smooth emerald set into it.<br /> He held up the completed sword in the red glow of the chamber once more and eyed his work with strict eye only a master craftsman possessed and grinned.<br /> “Now ye just need a name.” He said quietly. He pondered for a few moments, there were many ideas floating through his head. The mountain he now resided under was called Gaia. It was the largest mountain in all the lands, and was home to the largest dragon that shared its name and had unwittingly supplied the blood for his work. He pondered naming the sword after them, but shook his head.<br /> “Forget it,” He said at long last, “I’ll be letting fate choose yer name, I’ve played my part in yer birth” with that he slid the dark green blade into the specially made sheathe and walked out of the chamber and made his way to the surface. He would never return to this smithy, nor would he ever again pound steel into a form of his choosing. His name was lost in time and no one will remember him.<br /> As he stepped out of the dark cave and into the sunlight for the first time in months he sucked in the brisk mountain air, and collapsed. He had given much to the blade; too much. It had drained him of all his remaining years of life and bringing it into the world of light was the last thing he would ever do. But this is not the end of sword. No it is but the beginning. It will be the tool of evil tyrants and heroic adventurers alike. The sword will be forever remembered. It shall carry many names over the years, but none as widespread and well-known as it original name; Beryl the Dragon slayer.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7375067718333176804-6066154276329626074?l=gideonworkshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Gideonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02338115925237391109noreply@blogger.com0