HOME | DD

Description

As soon as the scouting patrol returned from the ravine, Tondra split off from where the main batch were going and off into the high rank dens. The patrol she'd been on today wasn't specifically to find materials for Slate, but the group had stumbled upon a small cache probably leftover from an abandoned thief cache. Tondra didn't know and also didn't particularly care where it came from, but all the salvageable things had been quickly bundled up into her bags for the return journey back to camp. As she emerged from the tunnels into the open clearing the healers and blacksmiths were now calling home, Tondra wasted no time making a beeline for the cave now being used as the forge. To her, the path she takes feels familiar, feels right, even though in truth, the path she's remembering comes from a different camp, in a different time.

"Slate? Found some stuff for ya, came by to drop it off..."

Tondra peeks her head in to the forge, waiting at the entrance for the leader turned blacksmiths response. There was none, in fact now that she took some deep breaths, she couldn't exactly smell him in here either. Tondra steps fully into the forge.

Hm, must have gone for a walk.

She thinks to herself as she looks around. Pelts were hanging up to cure on racks, baskets full of different kinds of ores sat by the forge, patiently waiting their turn to be used. The anvil and hammer resting nearby, if the caralynx looked close enough, she'd recognize that hammer. She padded over to it and sat down, running a paw over the wooden handle.

—

In a different forge, in a different camp, in a different time, Tondra had been introduced to making armor using that same hammer.

"You have to make firm but not too intense strikes, otherwise you'll deform the metal beyond what you want at this stage."

The larger serval, Vulcan, had been making Tondra and her brother Thor practice hammer strikes for hours. Heating up scrap metal, letting them make a series of hits with a hammer, then setting the metal off to the side to cool and see how his apprentices had been doing. Tondra was coming along well, but in her enthusiasm she tended to strike too hard in the wrong places.

"But if I heat it up again I can just hammer out any mistakes right?"

Tondra asked, looking at the scrap metal shed been whaling on, several large hammer blows clearly visible along with more subtle strike marks. Vulcan made a so-so motion with a paw before shaking his head.

"Yes and no. Metal isn't like mud, sure you can take some mistakes out, but at a certain point, the metal will just need to be melted back down you start over. Some mistakes become ingrained in the metal and would cause weak points that could fail if included in the final armor piece. Which could cause our empire mates to get seriously hurt in battle."

Tondra's ears flicked back, signaling her disappointment and worry.

"Well, I definitely don't want to do that."

She pauses

"...Can I have a fresh piece and try again?"

Vulcan nods and gestures to the tongs next to the forge.

"Of course, go grab one of the other pieces of scrap and put it in the coals to heat up."

—

Smiling fondly at the hammer under her paw, her heart ached to return to this place. To return to what she’d considered her calling, all those years ago. A calling that she had abandoned, along with some of her family, in order to make sure her parents were okay. It was true that she never regretted leaving, making sure her parents were alive long enough to return home with her and her brother now. But, while she was a good ranger, her skills from her abandoned training coming in handy for identifying what was useful, it didn’t feel right. She felt a half step out of place. Being a ranger didn’t come naturally to her the way being a gladiator came naturally to Electron, or the way being a den parent came to her father.

Quietly, Tondra took a turn around the new forge, seeing familiar tools, and new ones that replaced tools that had worn out or been lost over time. Without thinking much about it, she found herself taking her saddlebags off and sorting the items as she had years ago. It took her longer than it used to, Slates organization was… familiar but different from Vulcans, but before she knew it she was back in her familiar routine. Now this, this felt right, this felt like it fit her. Her and the forge, the only thing missing being her brother Thor, but she’d learned he’d left a while ago. She’d just started putting some cloth scraps in the pile of cloth scraps when her ears perked up from an attention grabbing cough. She turned around.

Slate stood in the entryway, his head tilted curiously, but with an expression that seemed to show he wasn’t exactly surprised. Tondra chuckled sheepishly and removed her paws from the basket of fabric.

“Oh, hi Slate. I was looking for you but well, you were out. Found some good stuff on the last patrol, was just putting it away for you.”

She paused, staring down wistfully at her paws. She felt that familiar fire burning in her chest once again. This time, this time she’d do it right. This time…

“Guess the old habits are still ingrained in there somewhere.

Uh, hey Slate. You still need an apprentice, right? Well, I never exactly finished my training…”

Tondra’s face was one of determination as she looked at the former silver gladiator. This conversation mirroring one she’d had with Meni and Vulcan years ago. However, this time, her breathing was steady, even, confident, her mind set and determined on what she was giong to do.

She hoped the result of this conversation would be the same as the last.

~~~

(1010 Words)

Tondra's (second) Blacksmith Apprentice Tryout! Baby's coming home.

+14 EP to Tondra

Tondra and art belong to me
Vulcan belongs to
Slate belongs to /

Description

As soon as the scouting patrol returned from the ravine, Tondra split off from where the main batch were going and off into the high rank dens. The patrol she'd been on today wasn't specifically to find materials for Slate, but the group had stumbled upon a small cache probably leftover from an abandoned thief cache. Tondra didn't know and also didn't particularly care where it came from, but all the salvageable things had been quickly bundled up into her bags for the return journey back to camp. As she emerged from the tunnels into the open clearing the healers and blacksmiths were now calling home, Tondra wasted no time making a beeline for the cave now being used as the forge. To her, the path she takes feels familiar, feels right, even though in truth, the path she's remembering comes from a different camp, in a different time.

"Slate? Found some stuff for ya, came by to drop it off..."

Tondra peeks her head in to the forge, waiting at the entrance for the leader turned blacksmiths response. There was none, in fact now that she took some deep breaths, she couldn't exactly smell him in here either. Tondra steps fully into the forge.

Hm, must have gone for a walk.

She thinks to herself as she looks around. Pelts were hanging up to cure on racks, baskets full of different kinds of ores sat by the forge, patiently waiting their turn to be used. The anvil and hammer resting nearby, if the caralynx looked close enough, she'd recognize that hammer. She padded over to it and sat down, running a paw over the wooden handle.

—

In a different forge, in a different camp, in a different time, Tondra had been introduced to making armor using that same hammer.

"You have to make firm but not too intense strikes, otherwise you'll deform the metal beyond what you want at this stage."

The larger serval, Vulcan, had been making Tondra and her brother Thor practice hammer strikes for hours. Heating up scrap metal, letting them make a series of hits with a hammer, then setting the metal off to the side to cool and see how his apprentices had been doing. Tondra was coming along well, but in her enthusiasm she tended to strike too hard in the wrong places.

"But if I heat it up again I can just hammer out any mistakes right?"

Tondra asked, looking at the scrap metal shed been whaling on, several large hammer blows clearly visible along with more subtle strike marks. Vulcan made a so-so motion with a paw before shaking his head.

"Yes and no. Metal isn't like mud, sure you can take some mistakes out, but at a certain point, the metal will just need to be melted back down you start over. Some mistakes become ingrained in the metal and would cause weak points that could fail if included in the final armor piece. Which could cause our empire mates to get seriously hurt in battle."

Tondra's ears flicked back, signaling her disappointment and worry.

"Well, I definitely don't want to do that."

She pauses

"...Can I have a fresh piece and try again?"

Vulcan nods and gestures to the tongs next to the forge.

"Of course, go grab one of the other pieces of scrap and put it in the coals to heat up."

—

Smiling fondly at the hammer under her paw, her heart ached to return to this place. To return to what she’d considered her calling, all those years ago. A calling that she had abandoned, along with some of her family, in order to make sure her parents were okay. It was true that she never regretted leaving, making sure her parents were alive long enough to return home with her and her brother now. But, while she was a good ranger, her skills from her abandoned training coming in handy for identifying what was useful, it didn’t feel right. She felt a half step out of place. Being a ranger didn’t come naturally to her the way being a gladiator came naturally to Electron, or the way being a den parent came to her father.

Quietly, Tondra took a turn around the new forge, seeing familiar tools, and new ones that replaced tools that had worn out or been lost over time. Without thinking much about it, she found herself taking her saddlebags off and sorting the items as she had years ago. It took her longer than it used to, Slates organization was… familiar but different from Vulcans, but before she knew it she was back in her familiar routine. Now this, this felt right, this felt like it fit her. Her and the forge, the only thing missing being her brother Thor, but she’d learned he’d left a while ago. She’d just started putting some cloth scraps in the pile of cloth scraps when her ears perked up from an attention grabbing cough. She turned around.

Slate stood in the entryway, his head tilted curiously, but with an expression that seemed to show he wasn’t exactly surprised. Tondra chuckled sheepishly and removed her paws from the basket of fabric.

“Oh, hi Slate. I was looking for you but well, you were out. Found some good stuff on the last patrol, was just putting it away for you.”

She paused, staring down wistfully at her paws. She felt that familiar fire burning in her chest once again. This time, this time she’d do it right. This time…

“Guess the old habits are still ingrained in there somewhere.

Uh, hey Slate. You still need an apprentice, right? Well, I never exactly finished my training…”

Tondra’s face was one of determination as she looked at the former silver gladiator. This conversation mirroring one she’d had with Meni and Vulcan years ago. However, this time, her breathing was steady, even, confident, her mind set and determined on what she was giong to do.

She hoped the result of this conversation would be the same as the last.

~~~

(1010 Words)

Tondra's (second) Blacksmith Apprentice Tryout! Baby's coming home.

+14 EP to Tondra

Tondra and art belong to me
Vulcan belongs to
Slate belongs to /