If These Hatchets Could Talk...

Summer 2021, Week 5

Tuesday afternoon

Sigfried Al'Daar's Home, Old Towne

Sigfried Al'Daar

There. Now they will be more presentable to the public when not in use. He had just finished restoring the ancient metal hatchets, once in a state of disrepair, now gleaming iron heads paired with a sanded and treated wooden handles rest in his grip. The hatchets, though in a much better repair than they have been in decades, are fairly unremarkable to the average person. But Sig continues to hear them call out to him, singing of their history as not only a woodsman's friends, but a warrior's companions as well. I must be going mad. I recieved no head injuries that night, my family has no history of mental illnesses. So why is it I feel them call out to me? Why do I hear these inanimate objects speak to me? Is this a madness brought on by my recent.. development? Do all evos experience something like this?   He sets them aside on a bench in his garage. He only needs one half of it to keep his car out of the elements of nature, the other half he uses for projects like restoring old tools.   He stretches and groans as the ache from tightening, scarred skin from his encounter with the woman causes pain. He instinctively runs his hand along the scarred skin, rubbing it as if to massage the harmed area. The doctors did a wonderful job making sure I was functional, but there is only so much they could do for the pain. He continues to massage his back and shoulders, the process seeming to alleviate his pain ever so slightly.   The hatchets call out to him, begging him to reveal their potential and to wield them with pride. They promise him they will serve him well, that they will be useful tools for him.   He furrows his brow and stares at them, considering using his ability to awaken them just has he has awakened his family heirloom sword before, if nothing else to quell the pleas from plaguing his mind. He walks back to the bench and hefts them in his hands, and walks out the back door of the garage and into his back yard. He picks a spot to stand, closes his eyes and focuses on a rising feeling of energy stirring within his chest. He focuses on the feeling, allowing it to flow through his shoulders, his arms, through his hands and into the hatchets.

[Manip.| Reality Manipulation, Minor x1, -1EP (9/10)]

  He opens his eyes to see that the hatchets have changed slightly. Where the heads and handles were plain before, now they bore glowing blue lines, designs that framed the edges and flowed to make patterns of crossing knots. The air around the heads of the hatchets began to mist ever so slightly, the cold emanating off of them chilling his hands.   Hmph. Interesting.. He ponders what else these are capable of as he adopts a stance, his left hand bringing one of the axes into a middle guard while his right moves to a wrath guard. He hears them urging him to throw one and to call to it after it has traveled, and to satisfy his curiosity he does. Focusing on his effort to throw the hatchet across the yard, he makes it sail through the air. He waits until it is on a downward arc to call to it, and when he calls it changes direction to sail back towards him, his eyes widening as the hatchet spins back towards him. He ducks in an attempt to dodge it, the hatchet sailing over his head and landing on the ground behind him.

[Manip.| Power By Object, Minor x1, -1EP (8/10)]

  Heiliger strohsack! That was close! He straightens up and walks to where the axe lay, and starts to bend over to pick it up when he gets an idea. If I am going to continue to use these, I should practice calling them back to me. He holds out his hand and calls to the axe, this time standing ready to catch it rather than dodge it.

[Manip.| Power By Object, Minor x1, -1EP (7/10)]

  It flies up off of the ground, and into his hand, positioned to be ready for immediate use for either throwing or hewing. He cocks his head to the side slightly, and starts to practice throwing, recalling and catching the axes for a few minutes until the lines begin to fade from the hatchets, failing to return when called.

[Manip.| Power By Object, Minor x7, -7EP (0/10)]

  He grimaces, almost disappointed that he can't practice more with these axes as he tries to feel the energy in his chest once more, only to find that it is so faint that it barely reached past his shoulders when he tries to let if flow. hm.. this is.. interesting. Is it like a muscle that needs developed, and also time to rest and recuperate? He furrows his brow in thought, rubbing his shoulders once more. It would be nice to practice more. Perhaps I could help defend people less fortunate than myself. Wouldn't that be interesting? If only.. But I cannot realistically solve people's problems like that.