Vulkan He’stan - Forgefather

Oct 7, 2026

Upload by Grenda

Vulkan He’stan forges a killing blade in the firelit heart of the mountain, embracing the heat, pain, and focus of his craft as an audience watches from the darkness. Called Forgefather by his Chapter, he has earned his skills through lonely perseverance and unwavering discipline. When two drakes arrive to hunt, Vulkan quickly shifts from smithing to combat, using the anvil and his newly forged weapon to outmaneuver their tactics. His battle culminates in brutal, close-quarters defeat of both creatures in the smoke and ash depths.

LanguageEnglish

CategoryStory & Novel

FormatPDF

Pages12

Reading Time18 min

AccessFree to download

Vulkan He’stan: Forgefather

Forging the weapon

The arrival of the drakes

Close-quarters combat

VULKAN HE’STAN: FORGEFATHER Nick Kyme The fire of the forge blazes. Its heat prickles the back of my neck, induces sweat to form on my muscled torso. I am laid bare to its burning touch as it scalds my skin, and I revel in it. A glow emanates from the coals where a weapon begins to take shape, the light framing my stern expression in fiery amber. What was once blunt rock, ore ripped from the mountain, now takes on a killing edge as it is transformed upon my anvil, and I have to fight to suppress a smile. Much time has passed since I was here in the deep heart of the mountain, amongst its lifeblood and its monsters. I am a monster too, one with black skin and eyes like the firestones ofthe Arridian Plain. We are, all of us in our own way, monsters. I see it when those not ofNocturne and the Promethean creed look upon us. I welcome it. It is necessary and makes our task easier. For we are war-forged, just like the blade I am shaping in the fire. Every beat of my fuller makes a ring that echoes with the beat of my proud heart. It has brought an audience, who watch silently from the darkness as I work the metal. Forgefather, my Chapter calls me, though it has been many years since I felt worthy of that accolade. But then again, you never lose the craft. It is as natural to us as breathing. As is battle. My audience stirs, eager for a closer look at my art. The blade tempers, steam rises from silver metal as it touches cooling water. I have little time, and yet this must be savoured, it must be done right. I gave up my name, my kin, for this honour. I walk in his path, no longer a battle-brother but a questing knight in a company of one. It is lonely work, I will freely admit that but the time I have spent in this forge of forges has provided perspective. I am glad I came here, to the heart of Deathfire, in its deeps. It almost makes me forget, just for an instant, that I will soon have to leave it again. My audience comes closer still, watching as I affix hilt to blade and measure the weapon’s heft. I hear them hiss and growl, the creatures who are watching, but do not raise my eyes, for my concentration is here at the anvil and can be nowhere else. But I must be swift, for they will not be wary forever. Scale scrapes rock. There is a spit of errant flame in what I interpret as a challenge, and I know craft must give way to action. I have no armour, no artefacts and no weapons, save the one I have freshforged. Here, now, in these shadow-haunted depths, amidst the endless clouds of smoke and ash, warrior and Forgefather become one. Two drakes, large creatures from the deep earth, have come to my forge. Their eyes are like fiery coals, not so different from mine. The first springs, its powerful hindquarters propelling it across the lava chasm and atop my anvil. By the time its claws seize metal, I have withdrawn, blade in hand, to a defensive fighting position. I roar a challenge. It is met by two others, one from the beast squatting upon the anvil; the other from its mate, now spewing fire at me. I roll, then dive, ducking the blade beneath me as I go, feeling the heat of the metal against my chest and the fire of the drake caressing my back. Skin burns. I smell it and know it is my own. The two have come to this place, drawn by my hammering, just as I knew they would. Hunting in the deeps is difficult, but predators are always eager for more prey. Even in the dingy, smoke-occluded light, I see one of the drakes has thick yellow spines all the way down its back. The tail has a mace-like nub and the beast’s scale is fire-red in colour. It rounds the anvil, sweeping towards my forward arc. It is trying to catch my eye, so its mate can attack my blind side. I don’t engage, staying elusive and on the defensive until the other has been drawn out. This one is lithe, longer of bone but not as muscular. A pair of flesh sacs sit beneath its angular chin. Within is the natural enzyme that

FAQs

What is Vulkan doing at the start of the story?

Vulkan is forging a weapon in the mountain’s deep forge, embracing the heat and crafting a blade with complete focus.

Why does Vulkan fight the drakes?

Two drakes come to his forge to hunt, drawn by his hammering, forcing Vulkan to defend himself and survive.

What role does Vulkan’s forged weapon play in the fight?

His freshforged blade gives him an effective edge in close combat, allowing him to parry, ram, and ultimately kill the drakes despite their fire and tactics.

Oct 7, 2026

Upload by Grenda