strong language

An oilstone chrysalis had grown in the alternating shadows and bright oranges of the Underforge. It curled over itself like a wave, life pulsing within. Oddly large for a chrysalis. Tall enough to have held a human, yet not nearly wide enough. There was no ceremony to this gembound's hatching. It was quick.

Two sharp cracks, and the sharp edge of Mirac's blade peaked out. The rest of him slid out. Floating in the air, wholly silent. A sword massive from birth, eyes shut against the comparative brights of the Underforge. Mirac hissed against the light. There was creaking and snapping, and then a single, drawn out word left the valkhound. "Fffuuuuuuuck."

His voice rasped and hissed. Mirac rubbed his eyes with a strange limb. Oddly soft, yet ragged to the touch. His eyes opened slow, as if held down by weights. Taking in the surroundings, the irons and firepits he saw, and the strange, black ribbon he'd rubbed his face with.

"What the fuck," He hissed. He wandered, investigating his surroundings. Gazing curiously at the fires he saw, and the tools he discovered. And then, finally, he happened upon a rack of weapons. One in particular caught his eyes. His ire. Redr eyes glared at it. Long, slender. Iron blade and a hard wooden hilt. He knew what he was. And he knew what that was. Inferior. unintelligent. A joke.

"WEAK," Mirac said. The sword creaked more, loud tearing could be heard, and then it split down the middle. Pale gums and black teeth exposed. He took the blade into his mouth, biting down until he could feel the blade snap in his mouth. "Ffffuck YOU."

"I OWN you. I am SUPERIOR to you," he ranted to the weapon rack. "You cannot contest me COWARDS. I ammMIRAC."

The weapon did not respond. He'd killed it; the iron was dead, probably.

Nearby there were scatterings of other weapons, other tools, most half-formed or long-abandoned, others set carefully against an alcove or atop a time-pitted anvil here and there. A pile of scrap metal and one of coke and coal lay in the shimmering heat.

Among other things, there were twisted pieces of metal armor, abandoned and piled up, likely for reforging. Rings of metal a couple inches in diameter--some heavily-rusted iron, some tarnished steel--lay piled beside a rotted wooden bucket, preserved from insects only by Leo's blistering heat.

And a weapon rack close by held abandoned weapons. There was a copper alloy war-axe, its handle ebony black; it was small, simple but sharp. Parts of its blade head had gone green with age. A massive, two-handed bronze greatsword hung gleaming in the red light, delicate patterns etched along its razor's edge, the guard missing--or never yet attached--above the decorate red grip. Beside this leaned a brass-trimmed steel scabbard engraved with gilded gold--perhaps Mirac would fit into this, if he so wished, or maybe he was too small, yet. An ancient mace, unmarked but with its tempered steel head multi-faceted and riddled with spikes, hung from a wood handle with a lilac-tinted leather grip. And after a few empty spots, there stood a steel alloy halberd: untouched, it seemed, by time, and with a crescent blade and a spiked top. Its haft, wooden, was long; the entire weapon was heavy and well-balanced.

Lastly, fallen to the floor and tainted geen with age, was a copper flail, its spiked ball on its two-foot chain scarred with combat damage.

And here was Mirac: one of the many weapons here, and yet alive, floating, perhaps even breathing.

How strange.

@Mirac

Vjira wandered off - well, somewhat got lost is the proper term for it. If she tried she could find her way back, and in the heat of this place it seemed like the better option to do. She was not going to burn in here! And that sent the valkhound careening through the place at a stomping run. Which, did make things worse in the long run as she had to slow down and walk instead fairly quickly. So there she was, plodding along, exploring, trying to find the exit.

In which there was an obnoxious sound that had her turning in that direction, nine eyes focusing on the location she was following in. And then Vjira got closer. And closer. Oh!! Shiny things! There also was something else - a strange, thing Vjira had no words to place to it (but she had no words to place anything, she literally couldn't speak). Instead, the valkhound moved to try and smack the thing out of the air.

Round 1/5
Attempt: Slap strange floaty sword
Defense: None
Injuries: None

@Mirac

"KNOW THE NAME OF YOUR DESTROYER SWORD." Mirac said. He chewed on the pieces, intent on turning them into nothing but scrap metal. "I AM DESTRUCTION, I AM BLOODSHED, I AM ASCENDED! MIRAC!" The pieces gave into his jaws, and Mirac felt nothing but satisfaction. Mirac swept his gaze over the weapon rack. Most he could ignore, but there was another sword. Lying there in its inferiority. "Another INSULT, are you. BLASPHEMER. Here! I will end you as well, and take your HIDE for mine OWN!"

Mirac opened his jaws, gleeful. A shadow fell over him. Before Mirac could fully switch his attention to the attacker, he was smacked out of the air. It had him confused at first. He couldn't come up with a reason for him to be on the ground. But his eyes found his attacker. Quickly, he understood.

"Aaaa YOU! YOU WISH TO FIGHT!" Mirac said. "Yesss, YESS! I can feel it--I was MADE for this. I AM COMBAT GIVEN FORM." Mirac cackled, well and truly overjoyed. His blade began to heat, turning from blue to purple. Mirac, still on the ground, spread his jaws wide, oil and steam spilling from them. "FIGHT ME! Our blood shall SPILL upon these floors! ORGANS shall TUMBLE. PROVE your worthiness, beast! We will dance the deadliest dance!"

Mirac clamped his jaws shut with an audible click, and swung himself toward Vjira, giggling all the while.

Round 1/5
Attempt: swing at Vjira?
Defense: None
Injuries: slapped

@Vjira

Vjira could not understand a single sound the sword was making - it sounded like pointless screeches in which the sword was giving both of their locations away to those who may want to try and eat either of them. Vjira, however, was not worried about being attacked. She was a big creature, strong, too. if she could get hits in anyway. Which had been a problem before this, with the pointy one named Vedette.

Whatever the thing was, it sounded happy to be completely knocked out of the air. Vjira wanted to bite it - to see what the sword tasted like. Could it be eaten? Vjira watched as the sword moved and sliced the air in front of her, only for herself to be cut in the process. Blood came from the wound on their body, and they retaliated, using teeth to attempt to clamp the "mouth" closed - and see if he had blood.

Round 2/5
Attempt: Bite the sword's mouth / blade area?? like in between the pointy bits sticking out - where the long part is
Defense: None
Injuries: Cut + Bleeding on lower-chest

@Mirac