battle axe
sculpted white ora greataxe
Cold grips you as your song touches upon the greataxe, and the world around you dissolves into a barren landscape of snow and ice. You find yourself walking and after a time realize that you are climbing towards a dark shadow in the white distance. Slowly, the dark blur grows closer and reveals itself to be that of a small cottage, where a woman stands with her arm draped protectively over a thin child dressed in furs. You drop to your knees before the scrawny child, who looks impossibly small and frail.
The woman cries out in denial, but quickly stuffs her fist into her mouth to muffle the sound. Your gaze moves uncaring past the woman who now has tears trailing down her cheeks, and instead focuses upon the fire-haired child. With great care, you place the greataxe into her incredibly small hands and once more, the older woman cries out in denial. The roar follows you back to your body and sets your ears to ringing as the vision fades.
You lift your voice to the greataxe, and you find your vision return to the cold, bleak peak only to instantly be assaulted by the previous cries of denial. Stoically, you ignore the source and begin to speak to the young girl in a voice worn with age.
"His final words for you, little one," you find yourself saying, "--were to find the Sparrows and join the flock." This time, the savage cry of rage slams into you, and your vision swims.
Despite the assault, the greataxe fills your sight with image after image of the young girl growing older. One scene repeats itself over and over, that of the child doing push-ups in her room with the axe strapped to her back. The passage of time is noted by her hair growing longer, her body becoming lithe, and her muscles gaining bulk. The vision begins to fade as the child-turned-woman stands, greataxe on her back, in a defiant pose before a heartbroken older woman.
A different song and scene greets you as you sing to the greataxe, and gone is the snow, ice, and silence of the mountains. Instead, a bustling port sprawls before you, but even in the throng of people, you can easily make out the now tall, flame-haired girl. She strides purposefully to a ship that has strangely dressed men and women moving about it, their faces painted white and their bodies draped in blue fur. A look of recognition and yearning fills the young woman's eyes.
Scene after scene begins to rapidly play before you. Each is filled with the flame-haired young woman diving into battle after battle upon the decks of a large ship. The thrumming pulse of countless battles shows ferocity and determination -- her strengths and her finesse. At times, she is the shield to the comrade that has fallen, while at others, she is the rage that charges headlong into the fray; always the greataxe in her hands. Slowly, your vision fades in a sea of blue furs.
Coldness grips you, and your vision shifts to the deck of a ship littered with bodies and locked in ice. The vessel is unmoving, and the mast is wreathed in long icicles that pierce the blood-blackened boards. Easily identifiable amid the fur-wrapped bodies, the young woman can be seen crouching upon the deck, her red hair trailing behind her in a persistent wind that has turned her lips blue. Slowly, she lowers her beloved greataxe into a case and, begins to pray.
"Charl, I beseech you," she prays in a surprisingly gentle voice. "Break free your children, and return us to port. In return, I will give you the very soul of my existence."
With a great cry, she uses the last of her strength to hurl the greataxe off of the ship. The cry of anguish that is drawn from her body is reminiscent of the one her mother made many years ago, but it is eclipsed by the sound of the ice creaking and the ship slipping free. The vision slowly fades away.
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