Miss Swiss


[Image by Belindi]


Editor’s note: The following has been translated from Terran

My line is a proud one, skilled both at the forges and on the battlefield.

My great-grandfather forged the hammer now known as Bryndza’s Round by stealing great smithing techniques from the Deep Dwarves. For twenty years he toiled, seared by the heat of the earth forges, beating out each imperfection until he held in his hand the essence of his determination given form. Under that hammer, all metal bows, and with it he created plated armor for hundreds of his kin, and weapons for thousands. With the bounty he created, our people slew the Deep Dwarves and took their caves as our own.

Upon the completion of my great-grandfather’s lifework, his eldest daughter took up the the hammer. My grandmother was one with the arcane ways, delicate and beautiful compared to my firescarred great-grandfather. But she was still of our blood, and the hammer yielded willingly to her hand. With it, and the great resources left by the Deep Dwarves, she crafted artifacts of chilling power that shook the mountains and split the skies. All who beheld her loved and feared her as one. When her time came, she vowed to prepare for us a life after this one, and any god who claimed dominion over us in death would be rent asunder.

My father received the hammer next, and with it he bound the very land. He forged a pair of immense, unbreakable shackles, inscribed so heavily with enchantments of docility and imprisonment that even light which entered their circumference could not escape. He then took the hammer and struck the earth a mighty blow, ripping into it a great fissure, crumbling houses and spewing fire and ash. From the fissure he created rose a colossal beast, drenched in the molten core of the earth, bellowing in rage and heat. My father hefted his lifework, and with those shackles, he bound the behemoth and culled its mind, crushed its will. He enslaved the immaculate body of the fire-born behemoth, to sear our enemies to ash and heat our forges hotter than the breath of ancient dragons.

That is my bloodline. Those are the footsteps in which I follow.

One day, I will wear their greaves, and I will leave a great print in the earth next to theirs, by which others will measure me.

And it will engulf theirs.

Miss Swiss

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