The eagle awoke to find his surroundings...different. Eyes blinked open with the groggy sort of slowness that accompanies only the deepest of sleeps and all he saw was a wall of sparkling orange. For a moment he didn't realize what he was looking at, but then his brain slowly awakened behind his body and he jolted back to awareness in a moment, alarm sending his head shooting up. He'd been kidnapped! He'd been caged!!
His gemstone smacked right into the top of the chrysalis, shattering it instantly. Surprise had him struggling back, wings flailing and breaking off more of the crystal, flinging them around the cave. He scrambled upright, and not too gracefully, kicking himself free of his prison, breathing hard and heavy as he coughed up the last of the amniotic fluid.
Great, he'd made quite a mess, huh.
He stared at the crystal remains with disdain, feathers ruffling as he tried to check himself back into reality. What had happened? The last he remembered he'd been settling down for a nap after finishing the last of his armor - a task he'd obsessively labored over for days and nights with no sleep. And now here he was, in some dark, unfamiliar cave with the remains of his chrysalis all around him.
His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. There wasn't anything within - only the light from the outside made anything visible. The interior was musty, smelling like old leather and smoke, and dust raced up his nostrils, immediately sending him into a sneezing fit.
He stepped forward and instantly felt a talon touch something metallic. He looked down and was surprised to see one of his tools - a hammer - resting at his foot. But that couldn't be right...he'd been holding this when he stumbled back to his nest. He remembered dropping it right before...he.....
Realization came suddenly. Alarm, again swept him through and he squawked with dismay, fluttering over the hammer and forward, where he knew the forge was supposed to be. Sure enough, the huge shadow taking up the middle of the cave was his forge...but it had gone dark.
He stared at the hole in the machine for a moment, where magnificently bright fire and light and heat once spilled from, before throwing back his head and loudly crowing,
Ember had spent most of the day in Monoceros. He'd already seen the forge--he had Sir Hammersly clamped in one forepaw, and the hammer had gone on and on incessantly (directly into Ember's thoughts) about how THIS forge was better-made, and better-used, and how clearly a better overall blacksmith had used it. Then the enchanted blacksmith's hammer had switched to complaining about whoever had run the forge, in an exact about-face of opinion that allowed him to bitch about the maximum of stuff: how the former owner had let it go dark, how it didn't have enough space for work, and so on.
Ember disagreed with all of that, naturally, but Sir Hammersly tended to find things to complain about. It was just his way; he was like a grumpy old man, but when Ember really needed help--or when he was hard at work at his forge--the hammer was actually supportive and useful, in true grumpy grandfather fashion.
He'd only come here to look for blacksmithing equipment, anyway--and given how dead the forge was, he might've taken the hammer if he didn't already have one. As it was he'd paced through, checking it over with interest and wondering who it'd belonged to. The old work left behind he'd left alone; that was someone's effort, and not his to take.
Then he'd gone about searching the rest of the cave for those metal scraps that he sometimes found wedged into dark corners of the canyon (he'd long ago picked through all of Tunnel J--not that there was nothing left there, but he hadn't seen anything useful in awhile).
When he heard the distant 'OH NOOOOOOOOOO!' he was some distance off, airborne, scanning the crags of a cliff face for anything of interest. His head whipped around.
'WUZZAT?' Sir Hammersly barked in his mind, and given how silent the hammer had been, Ember got the impression it'd been asleep. A black mouth corner curled up in a smile.
To his surprise, as he came in sight of the old forge again, he realized the voice sounded like it'd come from here. Had he done something to damage it-?
He thumped down, padding over with clicking claws to the entrance of the forge again, hammer held up against his chest.
@Glory
The sound of someone arriving in his cave was, at first, completely ignored as he continued to screech and flap about his cave, crowing at the horrible state that his cave had fallen into - the forge had gone dark, the smelter had gone cold, there was dust on everything, there was rotting food and furs that had been left out, oh what a mess!! But then the shadow fell over him and he turned sharply to face whoever was intruding on his dramatics.
He wasn't put off by the huge shape or the predatory face - no, he'd faced bigger! he was friends with a dragon, after all! - but was more annoyed that someone had come to him in this tragic moment. He puffed up at that question, neck feathers bristling as anger welled up faster then water in a ditch.
In a sudden fit of rage, he snapped forward, grabbing the nearest tool (an old pair of pliers) and flung them violently against the wall. The metal slammed loudly against stone, sending out a spray of rock and sand as it dented the already scratched and smoke-stained stone. Without pausing to wonder if the stranger cared or was listening at all, Glory continued his rant, pacing angrily around his cave.
He whipped around and immediately began searching for where he'd left each of the pieces. It didn't take long for him to find it, thankfully, sitting right in front of his completed pieces. Bright, polished steel with gold plates, complete with chains and beautiful designs. He inspected the helmet up close, balancing on one leg as he held it in the other and peering at it closely with one eye.
Ember stared, nonplussed, as the eagle went on a raging rampage--angrily yelling, flinging things (well, one thing) about... It was so impressive that even Sir Hammersly, until then complaining loudly in Ember's mind about it all, fell silent with what the hybrid sensed was approval. And then, at last, 'he has pride in his tools. A true craftsman!' Probably that was followed with insults, but Ember did his best to tune it out.
So, not really a helpful bonus.
Still-! He was here, he had nothing else to do, and the poor bird seemed quite distraught.
He looked around, again; he couldn't imagine putting this much work into something, only to have it fall dark and cold. It didn't seem like it'd be that hard to repair--it wasn't shattered, just... dirty--but it was still effort the eagle had put forth.
@Glory
He carefully inspected each piece of armor in turn, carefully running a claw over each scratch or dent it had acquired in his sleep (thankfully, not many), but Ember's voice broke him out of his thoughts. Anyone else, maybe, might not have been able to stop Glory from an obsessive check over all his best work, but the phrase "I have a forge" gave him pause enough to stop his check and look at the wolf, truly look at him for the first time.
He looked him up and down. Not a regular wolf, obviously. He had wings and horns (like Dread?) and his feet were huge, like they could be used like hands (Glory had always been a little jealous of hands). And he had a tool with him - a hammer. Here stood before Glory another blacksmith. And not one taught by him.
He carefully set his armor down and turned towards Ember fully, giving him his full attention. The roar of fury had died down to interest, although he still felt the pain of his lost forge.
He looked at his forge again, wistfully, and then straightened himself up, taking a moment to finally calm himself completely from the shock of his awakening. He glanced towards the tool he'd flung across the room and felt a streak of shame for his childish behavior.
He folded his wings back and sat back on his talons, deflating a little.
Ember blinked at Glory's initial question, flaming eyes darting to Sir Hammersly. He laughed, a little, and shook his head. His incoming answer, though, was interrupted by his own thoughts: he fell silent, watching Glory's slow look around.
At length, when it seemed the eagle had ahold of himself, Ember began his answers, starting with a greeting:
He blinked again.
Did that mean Glory had learned from the Blacksmith some other time--or, a more fascinating prospect, that the eagle had taught himself? Ember hadn't gotten very far that way, but if someone else had, it meant they were far more skilled than he was.
He stood, shaking out his fur a little.
@Glory
Glory stared at the hammer, not quite understanding how a hammer could...talk. For a moment, he wondered if Ember was out of his mind, but then again, he'd seen some strange things in these caves! Hell, he was a damn bird that had taught himself to blacksmith! A magic talking hammer was far from the strangest thing these caves could conjure.
Intrigued, he hopped forward and held out a talon to grasp the handle of the hammer. He immediately began to hear the voice inside the hammer - Sir Hammersly, as Ember called him - and bristled with surprise.
There were words that Ember said that it seemed he assumed Glory would understand, but he did not. Enchanting, first, was said casually, like it was simply another skill and not something that Glory hadn't even thought possible. Had Gembound always been able to enchant? Put spells and powers on the pieces they create? Why, if he had known that was possible, he would have learned a long, long time ago! And then there was another word - Leo. Was that a new group? Or some newly named place in Orion or Polaris? Again, it was passed over as if Glory should understand what and where that was. How much had he missed when he was asleep?
He looked back at his cave, still with a sadness in his eyes at the forlorn forge, and realized exactly how dusty and messy this whole place was.
Ember waited, smiling briefly as Glory first took the hammer and then bristled up. He laughed a little as he took it back, nodding.
Ember pushed up, then, dutifully moving to help Glory as requested. He answered the eagle's other questions as he began to pull fallen rocks and dusty scraps toward the door.
He piled up another piece of scrap, and moved as far as he could fit toward the back of the forge, careful not to get in Glory's way.
His tone was easygoing, friendly; it was rare for him to find a kindred sort of spirit, and the idea he might have someone to 'talk shop' with was exciting.
@Glory
A distant look came into Glory's eyes as he imagined a stone that granted wishes. What would he have wished for? Maybe...a better supply of materials. Or maybe a forgehand. Or...hands. Yeah, that would be nice. To have an extra set of limbs to help with his crafting. He was used to using his two talons, sure, but it would always help to have more, like Ember had.
With a final, wistful look, Glory perched on the edge of the forge and began to scoop out the cold ashes with a makeshift shovel that had been leaning up next to his contraption. As he worked, trying not to breathe in too much of the black dust that began to kick up, he continued to converse.
He clacked his beak.
He continued with his cleaning, now pushing the pile of ashes to the edge of the cave and pushing them over the edge (hopefully there was nobody standing below). As he returned, he paused, the news sinking in, his eyes widening with shock.
Ember considered the description of the 'sketchy' guy, but didn't comment, instead listening as he finished up the last of his cleaning. He listened, too, to the magic Glory hopefully described.
Ember considered, then reluctantly shook his head.
Now he, too, had a reason to go see the Blacksmith--so he was sort of pleased when Glory asked if they could head that way.
It occurred to Ember to maybe invite Spark along to Leo.
Assuming, that was, that Spark was even in Orion at the moment.
@Glory