THE FOURTH CREATION Part 2

Mabon looked down at the work table with pride. Six weapons lay before him, finally completed and charmed with deadly magic. These weapons would surpass the original Creations. The weapons were for the deadliest fighters of the Host Nation.
Mabon was wearing his black and red robes and standing in the workshop of his own design. One wall was devoted to the furnace, flames reaching high into the chimney, reflecting off the anvil that sat like a tiny stone mountain in the floor.
Mabon’s golden skin and golden eyes also took in the firelight as he stared at his work. The weapons were of exquisite design, ready for killing and made for nothing else. They were new designs, new tools, created especially for those warriors that waited outside.
In the warrior schools, six warriors had fought their way to this point. To be presented with these mighty weapons of magic and death. They had started out as young Fae, learning the benefits of teamwork and companionship, become friends and lovers to their teammates.
They ate together, slept together, and fought together against the other schools of fighters. Each of them part of an elite group, learning to war against all kinds of enemies, including and maybe especially against their own kind.
In the last year of their training, they were separated, the groups pulled apart and destroyed. Then they were expected to fight one another, battling against each other until one from each school stood out. Hundreds of Host warriors died to get to that point, to show that one warrior could outfight all the rest.
Now six of them stood outside the workshop, eager to take hold of their weapons and fight on the surface of the world. The soldiers of the Dark Fae had been attacking villages, along with the monsters they bred for war, but the Champions hadn’t emerged yet. And they ached to begin.
Each of them had been bred for this service. All of them were over six feet tall and wide shouldered. They were heavily muscled and had trained all of their long lives in arts of war. In the last ten years alone they had trained with just this last weapon of choice, each of them learning to fight with the weapon Mabon had designed for them.
Each of them wore a mask, a symbolic image to fight with, a personal totem to present to the outside world. Lined up outside the workshop, they were Crow, Fox, Bear, Snake, Spider and Boar. They wore dark armor, leather with black steel plating. Their masks were also made from black steel with red eyes. They wore blood red loincloths over their armor. Black and red, colors of war and death.
Mabon opened the door to his rooms and gestured for the Crow to come in. The Warrior strode into the room, ducking to come through the lower doorway. He walked to the center of the room and stood at attention.
Mabon turned to the table and selected the first weapon. It was a Naginata, a medium sized staff weapon with a long slightly curved blade on one end. It looked like a katana at the end of a staff.
Crow spun it through some attacks, its shiny black blade slicing through the air soundlessly. The bright red runes colored as he shifted it through various attack routines, but he did not empower the magic within.
The mask showed no emotion and Mabon knew that the warriors were supposed to be without emotion, but he could see the pride and excitement in the way he held himself after receiving the weapon.
Mabon waved him out and the next one came in. Fox also stood in the center of the room waiting patiently for his own weapon. Mabon selected the pair of Katar, two giant knives that stuck out from the wearer’s fists from steel handles.
Fox went through the motions, flipping twice and leaping across the room in a vicious attack. He swept his legs out to trip the unseen opponent and slashed up with the two knives, his arms rippling with muscle.
When he was done, he turned to Mabon the Creator and bowed, obviously pleased with the work. Mabon sent him out and greeted the next one wordlessly. Bear was bigger than the others, the largest of them all, he fit his totem perfectly.
His weapon was a massive warhammer. The handle was five feet long and the head was as big as his own. It was so heavy that Mabon struggled to lift it to hand it to the fighter, but once he had it, he whipped it through the air with ease.
Bear spun the hammer around a few times, building up momentum and he brought it crashing down onto the floor of the stone cavern. Cracks spread out from the strike, shifting the floor in a six foot span around the hammer’s head. Satisfied, Bear left the room chuckling.
Snake entered next, receiving a Vechevoral. It had a four foot long handle, with a massive thick cutting blade attached to one end. The blade came out straight but then curved sharply to make a wicked cutting edge.
Snake was the leanest of the warriors and like his namesake he moved strangely, shifting his body about while twirling his weapon through the air. The red runes glowed into a crimson blur as he charged the weapon through its paces.
Spider followed, his skin criss-crossed with scars like webs, designs etched into his black scaled skin. He was given the Assamese Dao, an all metal sword with a long thick square blade. It was designed as an executioner’s weapon, made to sever a head from the body in one blow.
Spider moved it around in broad sweeping strokes, building up speed by turning and using his arms as a fulcrum to urge the thick weapon forward. He saluted Mabon before he left, leaving the last fighter to enter.
Boar came in last and he was more clearly excited that the others, having seen them all receive their weapons already. He practically quivered with anticipation. His weapon was the Bhuj, another blade tipped staff weapon. The staff was six feet long and the blade another thick two feet on the end of that. The blade curved ever so slightly at the tip.
Boar looked past the tusks on his mask at the Creator and grunted his acceptance. He spun and rotated the weapon, bringing it around in sharp attacks then pulling it back for quick defense.
Mabon tensed up watching him, thinking he might attack if the Host thought him useless now that he had created the weapons. He was prepared for such an eventuality but he hoped his relationship with the Queens was still good.
He breathed am urgent sigh of relief when Boar finally nodded and left the room. Mabon went to his chair and sat down heavily. Finally the work was done and the war begun. He had never imagined that the Host would be as dangerous as they were, but he was already involved and could never go home now.
He just prayed that they would still find use for him, even after the war.