The Birthing of a Relic

What ho! Ye Belt of the Titans!
The girdle of my destiny,
The band of my dreams.

Thine crafting was a thing of legend:
Assembled from saronite, most durable,
Titansteel, the ingot of the Gods,
Engraved orbs of olde magicks, and
The essence of the shadow itself.

T'was nigh a fortnight of patience required,
But I held steadfast and ever diligent.
The smith, with a sweaty brow and determined eyes,
Smoothed and shaped the metal to his will
Until it revealed its fated form.

Blood-red jewels of empowering strength,
Glistening with the blessing of those most high,
Were united with the smith's work,
Begetting a masterpiece of combat
Worthy of bearing the Titans' moniker.

With great pride and alleviated mind
I adorn the fruit of my own toil.
I bellow an invigorated roar,
Thanking the stars and
Warning those full of bane.

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TL;DR version: I finally made my Belt of the Titans; it's fuckin' sweet.