17 Canon Omake: Gym Day and Tunes
Corwyn breathed deeply as he gripped the barbell of the weight he was lifting, face tightened as he fell back slightly before rising up and lifting up 2.2 tons. His face was beat red as his muscles glistened with sweat, the roars and howls of the smiths echoed inside the warehouse as they all roared with enthusiasm with how clean and perfect Corwyn was lifting the bending bar.
The mystically enchanted 'Rare - Steel Barbell' groaned under the weight of the thick plates of tungsten, the rare material specifically purchased by the Level One and Two smiths as they used the ultra dense metal for their weights.
He was also getting a few smiths interested in trying to make weights out of Osmium, the densest material in the world -at least naturally occurring. The metal sadly was not only rare, but also brittle and hard to work with with forging tools, however the expansion outside of mere steel, iron, and the mystical materials that laid in the dungeon was sparking a grouping of material scientists who were growing increasingly interested and fascinated by the metals and basic sciences Corwyn at times gave lectures on.
The Level One and Two Smithery of the Goibniu Familia was slowly gaining a reputation inside the familia itself as a house of experimentation and innovation, having built the reputation in their at times wild and wacky craftsmanship and experiments.
Not much has actually come from these practices, but everything was a learning experience and Corwyn had convinced several of the younger smiths that they just lacked Level and Experience; when they were higher leveled and more experienced then these things will become far easier. However, starting now meant they didn't need to start later when they were given the Blacksmithing Developmental Ability to which they'd then be open to basically anything their hearts and wallets desired.
Corwyn lifted the weight above his head, the moment he did the roars all reached their crescendo and the ground quaked as a dozen and a half muscle bound weight lifting adventurer smiths pounded the ground with stops and shouted their lungs out.
The ground shook and a huge ploom of dust and cracked foundation flew out into the warehouse as Corwyn let the weight drop with a thunderous boom.
Steam exited Corwyn's mouth as he stepped over the bar and felt his body repair itself and improve. His blood raged and flowed through his veins, said pathways of blood bulging and pulsating on his arms and body madly as they were rushing mystically generated nutrients and energy throughout his body.
"Hahaha!" Nov laughed with Rinok as they raised a mug of diluted healing potion by the table, the table full of food a general mess from the vibration and come and go of gluttonous adventurers who broke their bodies, ate food, before drinking healing potion liquid that was poured into custom mixes of grinded up privative smoothies of bone, marrow, heart, liver, eggs, testicals, spinach, broccoli, and carrots.
The potion and blend of nutrients would revitalize the Gym Bro before they repeated the process and eventually collapsed on the 'Bench of Shame and Glory'.
'This place needs music. Hard, heavy, blood pumping music.' Corwyn thought and his face twisted into a smile of inspiration and glee.
"LADS! GET ME THE FUCKING BRASS! WE'RE GETTING SOME REAL HEAVY FUCKING METAL IN HERE!" Corwyn roared out to crowd of smiths who all stared at Corwyn, a usually calm and low-spoken man. "WELL FUCK WADS! BRASS NOW! HEAT THE FORGES! I'M MAKING SOME MUSIC! HAHAHA!"
The smiths all bolted and opened the large doors of the warehouse, ransacking the place for brass as Corwyn barked orders and the smiths moved as one to follow them. Soon they were all watching as Corwyn started getting leather, wood, skins, and anything that might be able to make music.
They worked well throughout the day before assembling the final haphazardly crafted product. A mass array of drums, drum sticks, crude primitive and untuned guitars that weren't made correctly, horns, trumpets, tubas, and a half dozen other items and instruments that the smiths in their fervor and vague descriptions from Corwyn they eventually created the mess.
'Five Charges, but this...this counts as a single item?'
'Trash - The Orchestra of Heavy Metal'
It was rated as Trash, however what caught his attention was a single fact that made his heart race.
'This can be upgraded to Unique...holy shit.'
"Well, lad? What are we doing with this garbage?" Nov asked as he inspected mess.
Corwyn grinned down at the dwarf, "This." He expelled a charge to the mess of instruments and watched as the craftsmanship visibly improved on all the instruments. He then burned two more charges to raise it to Uncommon. Now the instruments were certainly playable and were of a decent quality at that.
Nov and several of the smiths gapped at the mystical occurrence.
"Woah."
"Wow."
"That was fucking cool." Corwyn had taught many smiths certain slangs.
"What do they do?"
"I dunno, I just followed the blueprint." He'd taught them how to use blueprints as well. 'Invented' more like to the smiths.
"Same. At least they look good now."
The smiths all muttered to one another as they inspected the instruments.
Corwyn then spent his last two charges to Enchant the mess.
'Uncommon - Band of Heavy Metal'
Spirit of Music: This Band is inhabited by a Spirit of Music. The Quality of Music it plays is determined by the power of this enchantment and the rarity of the instruments.
Spirit of Memory: This Band is inhabited by a Spirit of Memory. It will pluck a chosen memory of the first one to use the band instruments and story the memory. This memory can be access by other spirits and used in some manor.
Corwyn smiled as he went over and touched one of the instruments, only to feel his body get affected by the enchantment as the Spirit of Music took control.
He felt like he could resist the Spirit easily, it wasn't exactly a powerful form of control, but it was using his memory and body as an instrument.
Several of the instruments flew around the warehouse, drawing many impressed and awed eyes. Corwyn's feet soon took him to several crates that were best suited for a 'stage'. His hands snatched out a guitar, this one a proper guitar and one that was of Uncommon rarity.
He mentally communicated with the spirit of memory and music as his hands brushed along the instrument.
'Will I be able to play this song to an acceptable quality?' He mentally broadcasted the song and fragmented memories he had.
"..no.."
Corwyn tisked as he tried thinking of something that was 'heavy', and could be played on instruments that weren't electric or tuned with advanced audio tools.
'Something simple for now.' He let go of the Guitar, several drums appearing around him. Thick sticks with leather heads slapped into his palms.
A few horns floated near his mouth as he fed his idea and memories into the spirits and the Music started to form.
The smiths gathered around, eyes wide as they watched what Corwyn was about to do.
He started off with a simple song, and the magic of his instruments carried it into the same quality to that of its modern version in his head.
'Pelinal - (Animated Opera) Allinall' (Youtube Animated and Spotify Song - Both are good)
"Song End....For The Knight Called Pelinal! Song End!" His voice echoed several times.
"Star Lit Night...Star Lit Knight."
"Whitestrake Pelinal!"
Deep drums that vibrated the bones of all who stood and a few who were outside the warehouse started beating in a rythmatic tone. A deep tolling bell rang out in the background, before the drums paused and hit harder and deeper.
The smiths were bopping their heads.
"Huna is dead."
"Huna is dead."
"Huna is dead!?" Several voices asked from throughout the warehouse, all spoke from different directions and voices, some male, some female.
A guitar started shredding.
"610!"
"1610!"
"2610!"
"3610!"
"4610!"
"5610!"
"6610!"
"7710!"
The riff paused and a soft chior started.
"We are not mer! Beastfolk called Khajiit! Spare our lives, to you we plead!~"
The guitar continued ruthlessly.
"8610!"
"9610!"
The counting stopped and a hoars and rage filled roar that nearly all men and women inside the warehouse recognized as a warcry rang out distantly as it sundered their bones and inspired a bone curdling feeling of fear.
"REEEEMAN!"
"11610"
"20610"
A harsh chime sounded out, halting the guitar in its tracks. It started back up slowly, before...
A bell sounded.
"30610."
"40610."
"50610."
"60610."
"1,000,610."
"2,000,610."
"4,000,610."
"6,000,610."
"8,000,610." The guitar riffed out.
"Like when the dream no longer needs.... its Dreaaamer.~" Corwyn sang mournfully.
The song came to a soft quiet, before a thunderous cheer rang out.
"Corwyn! What is this song? What meaning does it portray?" Nov cried out, his warrior blood igniting.
Corwyn frowned, "Tis a song of a knight who fought against tyrants to free the races of men. A song of a knight's lover falling in battle; a story of madness and the rage that befalls a demi-god in the throes of such. In his rage, he did one thing."
The crowd breathed deeply, and one man spoke. "610. 1610. Those...are lives?"
"The legend of Pelinal Whitestrake, a divine arbiter and the mad Crusader who slaughtered millions of elves at the peak of their empire. A myth and story, nothing more." The crowd muttered as they took in those weighty words.
"Now. How about a song to get the blood rushing!"
"Ooooh my god, w'as up?" And the beat started dropping.
'Why Not - Ghostface Playa'
"Ah shit."
