Gods and mortals

Blood and steel

A.N.
Let us progress forward.

Nidavellir...

Brogr grit his teeth in effort as he bathed the sizzling red hot metal in the bucket of oil. Flames erupted from the violent contact between the fiery steel and cold liquid. The sudden change in temperature set the hairs on his skin ablaze, and it was nearly too unbearable to tolerate. But he pushed through against the pain anyways.

The young asgardian then picked up the flattened rod with a pair of heavy tongs, and placed it on an anvil. Quickly, he began to hammer at the steel, bright sparks of light exploding in the point where the head of the instrument struck.

Brogr had experience and skills to back up his strength, and even though the composite alloy of uru was extremely durable and had a high tensile yield, it began to wane under his repetitive blows. The metal began to bend against the hard edges of the anvil, just like how he wanted it to.

After the glow began to dissipate, he shoved the steel back inside the blazing forge, the object seemingly screaming in horrendous ways, almost as if it were alive.

Brokkr silently watched from the corner in the smithy as his apprentice worked with diligence. After a little over two years, he had come a long way from the initial set of skills that he knew. And now, he was able to properly use his strength accordingly to win over the unbreakable bonds of the steel.

Brogr had been catching his breath as he waited for the metal to reach its melting point once more. After he had obtained such a result, he retrieved the metal once more and set it inside yet another bucket of oil, resulting in yet another blaze of flames.
It was time now, only a couple more hits to correct its shape, and the core had been completed. He would need to add the seidr to complete and pass his test.

Holding the blade still with a pair of heavy stones, Brogr slit a part of his forearm, hissing as he did. Bright red blood seeped from the wound, falling down onto the hot metal as singular droplets, and a red mist seemingly appeared over the steel and uru alloy.

Armed with a straight pick and a smaller hammer this time around, Brogr set the tip of the pointed object against the steaming metal.

Quickly, he began to carve the dwarven runes into the blade, small flakes of metal accumulating around the edges of the pick as he did. He did not need to use any instruments or objects to make sure that the symbols were properly aligned. Months and months of experience had paid off. The memory of such actions were ingrained in his muscles from pure repetitiveness.

His eyes had coordinated the exact point and place in which the runes would have to be etched on. And as usual, he was right in their placement. It was perfect, as it always was.
Finally finishing with the symbols, Brogr stepped back a little, gathering a handful of orange dust in his palms. He threw the grain on the metal and a screeching echo of was heard from it.

Magic was alight in the room, it was nearly palpable. Brogr squared his shoulders, sighing as he prepared himself. Silently, his lips began to move, uttering untold and unheard enchantments, words that to the average citizen and even seidr user would sound like nothing more than gibberish.

But the things that he was murmuring were foreign and complicated spells. His hands were moving in tandem as well, forming elaborate symbols as the runes glowed a bright red in color with each word.

Brokkr kept observing Brogr attentively as the young man began to sweat and slightly stutter, the words were jumping a little in his mouth. He was struggling, he was struggling more and more as the continuous usage of seidr took its toll on him.

For a moment, it seemed as if Brogr would keel over and fall to the ground, especially when he kept quiet for a moment. But he continued on anyways, amidst exhaustion, amidst pain.