The Steward stared long and hard at the axe behind the glass display case. The weapon while old and broken still had its charms about it. It was a relic from the old world, and with it was a story. The Steward heard the story many times when he was a child. It was one of his favourites. The owner of the axe in question was a Primal by the name of Odyssey. He was an elemental of sorts, a Primal was mainly an elemental with more powerful capabilities and a fuller existence. Odyssey was said to bring justice to Fuujin, or at least he died doing so. In the times of the First Men Odyssey had allied himself with the One King. The two fought side by side, but they did not die side by side. Odyssey perished first as he dealt a blow to Fuujin in slaying one of his mighty generals at Deadline or so the legends said.
The Steward's eyes narrowed at the axe. Shattered, but still it could be put together. The Steward's eyes narrowed at the shards. The weapon could be reformed, but to do so was heresy, or so the historians would tell him. "A dream of glory. Is that what you are capable of?"<i></i> The Steward spoke to himself in a soulless lifeless sounding voice. The Steward in ways wished he could be like Odyssey. He wished his voice could boom throughout the lands. Unfortunately the Steward could not project his voice so. His voice would be strained and warped. The Steward brought himself down to eye level with the broken axe. He knelt down and touched the glass which prevented him from reaching out and directly touching the broken weapon.
The Steward's eyes narrowed at the axe. Shattered, but still it could be put together. The Steward's eyes narrowed at the shards. The weapon could be reformed, but to do so was heresy, or so the historians would tell him. "A dream of glory. Is that what you are capable of?"<i></i> The Steward spoke to himself in a soulless lifeless sounding voice. The Steward in ways wished he could be like Odyssey. He wished his voice could boom throughout the lands. Unfortunately the Steward could not project his voice so. His voice would be strained and warped. The Steward brought himself down to eye level with the broken axe. He knelt down and touched the glass which prevented him from reaching out and directly touching the broken weapon.