A smith’s hammer’s strike against metal true,
What began as a dream grew with each azure hue.
Betwix War and Flight a ring of silver fire,
A hunt with a blood price is the pact’s desire.
From a far off land, a weapon was forged.
Wielded against enemies without, as talons clash.
As the storied exalted past surged,
May our enemies turn to ash.
Thus an artisan made said blade,
Now their accomplishments are weighed.
Could there be a better smith, more worthy to cast upon the fire and strike with azure sparks.
In the fires of forge, and in the heart of Peregrine Falcon would the vessel be made.
From a land far east I have traveled and brought back the design.
Artio the builder of klaive and shrine both, sought to make the vision true.
From the flames and thoughts built into the corporeal, the vessel.
A ring of silver, to cut through foul flesh and shine true.
By thrum of War and Peregrine Falcon to find the empty home,
Towards the defense of hearth and the will of Gaia they fight with claws on the wind.
Sung by Aristeides 'Mooncaller'
Silverfang Lupus
Athro Galliard
431 BCE