Dark Crow Rising

"Is this... Is this really necessary? I'm literally dead. My safety doesn't really matter." the human soul asks as he fidgets obstructively under the careful eye of my sister, Clohniq. The Goddess of the Thread is not infringed upon by his behaviour, however, and she continues to skillfully implement the threads I made. The mortal's unchanged clothes steadily gain an increasingly metallic lustre.

"My first sister passed on that the Lord of lords wishes for it to be done. Thus, I do." I answer as I continue to focus on making his overalls stronger, more resilient buttons. My right foot moves up and down in bursts of three, powering the whetstone as I shape the final portions of their circumference.

I do not need to make a suit of armour, only something that can guarantee the safety of the mortal. But, I am finding this to be an impossible task within the depths of my mind. He is a finite being so recently departed from where he belongs. And now I am expected to see that he is still around after stepping into a battlefield meant for conceptual majesties.

"Do we have to make it like this...? I want my first direct work for a human mortal to be something special!" Clohniq complains as she shakes the mortal about, venting her frustrations into his shaking mind.

Looking her way, I stand up with the new pieces and get to work putting them on. Placing a finger through the gap of the overalls, I squish them into place. My power reinforces them and I do the same with whatever Clohniq missed during the threading. A lone sniffle leaves me as my sister moans and complains under her breath.

"This is a request, not a personal piece. We match their demands." I remind her as my vision switches from seeing the true colour of the world to the view of materialistic bonds. Though it may appear to be a quick look over to everyone else, I am actually carefully taking my time. What is a moment for them is incomprehensibly slower for me.

Arcane, physical, how it all interacted, I observed it all and it has my approval.

"Change, come up top once you are ready." I tell the mortal as I walk off into the small room attached to my workshop. Closing the door behind me and locking it, my powers ignite the modest lantern dangling above.

Shaking my head as a shiver goes down my spine, I remove my welding mask. With thunder-crackling eyes, I look over the floating pieces of armour that give the impression of a mannequin. Reluctantly, I step towards the battle-tested armour and cloth as my currently worn attire vanishes. The armour starts to react to my presence and sparks to life.

Thick, dark grey fabric suddenly appears on me and reality's strongest magnetic bond attracts the armour. Each piece of highly decorated, golden metal is carefully guided to where it needs to go. Soon, I am left with only my chest bare of the finest protection and my eyes look on towards the incomplete piece. Golden bolts surge from me as a coat of brilliant, golden mail covers the plate-less area.

Looking into the mirror on my right, I flex my matching side arm and stare at the warrior copying me. Angled plate accented by hard edges, covered in symbols of all kinds. The names of all those within my family, written in the oldest tongue of them all. The language given to mortals by our very names, Gods-Speak.

While the mirror cannot show it as they are written within my helmet, I can still see the names of those I am at odds with. Hopefully, this may be the day I can carve at least one of these names on the outside. All Fourteen of my moon-trapped brothers, the Lord of lord's Beloved, the missing Singular God. I want to see all of their names on the outside one day, I do.

All of them, every single one of them from the humblest god and goddess to the highest and mightiest of us all. This armour is my faith in my family and I will show their names with pride. They will return that pride to me, seeing the confidence they gain from my finest defensive work. The Armour of the Thunder God.

Metfamiunderod.

However, my finest weapon will remain locked away in here until I can regain the trust of the stormclouds. If it should come to it, I will form lesser weapons if I am about to fight a part of my family. The Lord of lords maintains many enemies in this approaching, secluded realm of existence. But, he does not wish to see them harmed, merely held back for their own safety.

Thunder rings in my ears and my power echoes out for all of the world to hear as I turn. Placing my hand on the door lock, I open it and step out into the open, crackling with power. May my enemies fear this noise and may my allies and family be blessed with safety as it booms. The Thunder God marches to battle so that his father may smile once again.

If all is destroyed, then my other calling shall restore it.