The Forgotten Zodiac

Luen nodded, and they headed off for the healers, with the sword doing his utmost best to say nothing. It was clearly hard for him; the hum of his energy would start to rise, signaling a general 'liveliness' about him, but then it would dull, showing that he had stopped himself from saying anything. But it got worse as they went on, and it was clear that the momentary silence of the weapon was only temporary.

In the infirmary, Namanai had just darkened the room, tending to her only patient, Seria. The female half-cat healer was even worse than Cynyr, fully convinced that it was her fault that she had lost their baby. She felt like she had failed in the one thing she had wanted most; to rear Cynyr's child and have a true family.

Namanai turned as Forin pushed open the door, immediately raising a finger to her lips to shush them. "I ask silence of you all, please," she said. "This is a time of mourning for some."

Forin dipped his head, stepping back to let Luen pass him and enter the room. One of the younger healers stepped forward, already starting to clean up the blood with a dry rag. She didn't ask what had happened, but she eyed the humming sword nervously. Forin was lost in thought, wondering how he could make a sheath without making the sword's voice muffled, as it wouldn't really like that, and would probably throw a fit.

"Why must we be so silent?" the sword said, finally unable to keep quiet, but a sharp "Shh!" from a healer made him shut up again.

Luen held still as the healer dabbed gently at his cut, cleaning the blood from his face. A touch of her finger was enough to seal the wound, and then it was a matter of making sure his eye was undamaged and getting the rest of the blood off, which was easy enough. He blinked his eye open once the healer was finished, then gave a small bow and said "Thank you very much for healing me."

The healer smiled and nodded, then moved away. "We're sorry for intruding," Forin bowed a little, then ushered Diana out of the room, but Forin slid to a stop when he almost ran into Obelisk. The dark being said nothing, his bandages reaching in and dropping something on the nightstand next to Seria. It was a small bouquet of flowers, simple and plain. Two roses and a cluster of large daisies, the last roses of the blooming season. Obelisk turned away when the deed was done, opting not to say anything.

Seria didn't move for a long moment, then she slowly, with a trembling hand, reached out and picked up the flowers, holding them close. Tears welled in her eyes again as their sweet fragrence hit her nose, and with a sob, she started crying softly. The others left her at that moment, leaving her to mourn alone.

Luen was silent as they walked away, wondering why Seria was there. They hadn't yet been informed of the death that had happened; the only ones that knew were Seria, Cynyr, Werr and Welk. And Obelisk, apparently. This didn't include the healers, of course, who never told anything that wasn't their business to tell. So instead of prying, Luen turned to Forin and said "I have an idea for a sheath for the sword."

"The sword?! Is that all I am?!" With the angry words, it seemed the silence was broken. "THE SWORD?! I demand a proper name! Master Forin, I demand you name me! An exquisite piece of work such as myself cannot go around being called 'The Sword'! It is undignified! No, I demand a proper name."

"How about 'shut up'?" Forin suggested, frowning at the weapon. "Go on, Luen, what's your idea? We can work on it together."

"I want to help, too!" Diana piped up, and Forin smiled.

"Of course. You can draw a flower on the sheath as soon as we're finished."

"Okay," Diana nodded, satisfied with this. "Luna, I'm hungry. Take me to go get some lunch while Forin and Luen are busy, please? Pllleeaaassseee?"

Luna smiled and nodded, saying "Alright. We'll eat lunch together, okay?" She took the child's hand, glad that Diana had warmed up to a potential mother figure. Luna waved to her boyfriend and his best friend, then led Diana off to go get lunch.

Luen closed his eyes as he walked, thinking it over and trying to ignore the gigantic fit the sword was having over 'Shut up' be even suggested as a name. "How about Vorpal?" he suggested. "It's a word meaning a magically tuned blade. If someone says 'That's a vorpal blade,' they mean it's a sword with magic powers to it."

The sword was quiet, thinking.

"I still like 'shut up' better." Forin snorted, shaking his head, smiling a bit when Diana's voice (saying that she wanted tomato soup and cheese sandwiches) wafted down the hall. He quickly returned his attention to the ever attention-hungry weapon in his hand. "But Vorpal it is. See, you stupid sword? Your creator even gave you a name. What do you say?" He tapped the sword's tip against the ground, frowning impatiently.

The blade didn't say anything for a moment longer, then came the rant. "Fine," he said in a rather miffed voice. "Vorpal is...okay. I would've preferred to be named by my master, but I will accept this lesser name. I am Vorpal, weapon to the great Forin. Hmm...I suppose it works."

Luen sighed, smiling slightly at the sword's vigor. At least it wasn't screaming bloody murder at the moment... That was something to be glad for.

Forin was satisfied with the quieter voice the sword was giving off. "Good. Now then, we're going to make you a sheath, Vorpal. I'm going to be considerate and make it so that your edges are covered, but the main part of your blade is uncovered, so your voice isn't muffled. But in return, you're going to have to learn when the right time to speak is, okay? You can't interrupt people - least of all me - willy-nilly, got it?"

Vorpal sucked in a deep breath, already meaning to argue, but he exhaled and let it go. He seemed more compliant now that he was safely out of Luen's mind. "I will try my best, master," he said flatly. "But a voice as melodious as mine will be hard to contain!"

Luen chuckled soft, and Vorpal spat "What're you laughing at, warped-blood?!" Luen stiffened, saying "Um...nothing, I suppose. You mustn't be so defensive with me, you know."

"Humph," Vorpal mused.

Once he was quiet, Luen said "Anyways, so he could keep talking, we could make the outline of the sheath out of normal leather, but give it mesh sides, so he's covered but can still talk properly."

"Sounds decent enough. The first problem we have is finding a sheath that doesn't belong to another sword. It would take too long to procure the leather needed to make an entirely new one...and what are we to make the mesh from? String might not be strong enough..." Forin murmured thoughtfully, already starting to walk towards the armory. "Perhaps small chain? Surely we can find some of that...I doubt the armory will have much, though. It hasn't been used in...well, ever. At least, I don't think the Amnairian side has..."

Luen nodded, saying "I'm sure we can find something." When they reached the armory, he carefully pushed the door open with his single arm, then stood staring.

The armory was nearly filled to bursting with all sorts of weapons, all obviously Tartaran.

Luen turned his head slightly and gave Forin a look that meant So much for the armory not having much, eh? He smiled, moving forward and beginning to look through the weapons for something suitable for Vorpal.

Forin frowned as he looked around. "It's dusty in here," He muttered, moving over to where the swords were located, along the wall in the back. He sized up a few of the sheathed swords, then picked one; the tip of Vorpal's blade split through the end of the sheath. He frowned, then tried a different one. Three sheaths split before Forin finally found one that fit properly. "Right, here we are..." He sighed, standing up. "Let's find some thin chainmail to use."

Vorpal was quiet for a moment, then suddenly declared "I don't like this one. I demand a different one."

"What?" Luen said, staring at the fussy sword in shock. "Honestly, Vorpal? That one fits well enough, don't you think?"

"No," the sword said firmly. "I don't like it. It's far too plain for me! I need something at least as amazing as I am!"

Luen rubbed his face tiredly, slowly leaning against the wall. He was tired from pulling Forin into his mind, and then all the training...

"Right then. The smithing fires. Don't you think that'll fit well?" Forin growled, ignoring the wining coming from his weapon. "We're going to change it, obviously. We'll make it look nicer. And then Diana is going to draw a flower on it. And if you so much as make Diana cry, you're out. Diana is my master, so if you respect me, you respect her, too. Got it?"

"A flower?! Are you kidding me?!" Vorpal shrieked. "That is completely unmanly, master! But...I cannot argue against the master's master." He sighed heavily, then said "I suppose this sheath will do for now. As long as you improve on it, because honestly, this thing is atrocious the way it is."

"Of course..." Luen said quietly, fighting back a yawn. He blinked drearily, rubbing the spot over his eye where Vorpal had cut him. "We'll be sure to fix it up nice, just for you," he said, moving his hand down and resting it on the shoulder of his missing arm.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Forin rolled his eyes, then headed towards where he knew they could find the tools they needed to fix up the sheath into something nicer. The smithing shop just outside the Tartarus side of the city would serve their purposes well. The tools were mostly unused; no one really payed any mind to weapons, after all. Claws and powers were more in style.

The sword gave a shaky hum at the sight of the smithing shop, as this was a place where weapons like him were either born, altered for the better...or completely and utterly destroyed. Of course, no other swords talked.

Luen stared into the flames of the forge, then peeked over at Forin and said "Do you know how to use this place? Would you like me to hold Vorpal?"

"Don't get your hooves anywhere near me, deer!" the sword shrieked, making Luen flinch.

"Enough," Forin shook his head, setting Vorpal on a stand nearby. "We don't need you for this part, so sit over there and do nothing." He said, sitting down at the workbench. "I know enough to make what we want," Forin nodded. "Those fires hold one part of the Eternal Flame. The Eye of Ka'ael holds the other...in case you were wondering why there was fire in there at all. The last part of the Eternal Flame is somewhere on Amnairus; I never really poked around enough to figure out where." He shrugged, then grabbed a large pair of shears and got to work on cutting the thick leather of the sheath.