2018-03-29: Icy Steel
- Log: Icy Steel
- Cast: Prissa, Kourin, Neriah Parringer
- Where: Pendrago
- Date: March 29, 2018
- Summary: "Icehand" and Sister Domitia pay a visit to Forge Dreams.
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
FORGE DREAMS is OPEN FOR BUSINESS. Repeated cheap signage points those looking for SPECTACULAR WORK to bring out the BLADES OF THEIR DREAMS to --
--
It was a farrier's forge, once. It's also almost certainly rented and it's definitely open air.
FORGE DREAMS' titular, well, forge is chugging away, glowing with a cheery warmth which is probably how Prissa is keeping the chill off. There are several axe heads that look unfinished resting on a nearby bench, and facing the alleyway - road - no, it's an alleyway is a bright green sheet of cloth with some pocket knives set out as samples.
Prissa herself has her legs crossed and is gazing up at the sky.
"I think today's going to have good luck," she resolves.
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin has travelled to Pendrago to seek a skilled weaponsmith. She is fond of her worn rapier, of course, but it is a well-worn weapon and one that was issued as an afterthought; the young mage was not intended to see skirmishing with anything close to the regularity that she has done, and her sword training was viewed more as a hobby than as serious combat potential while she was a member of Althena's Guard.
Now, though, Kourin has attained a certain level of mastery of the blade, and is in disguise as well--and she has been hesitant to rely on her magic since the injury she sustained to her left hand. Calling herself Icehand, therefore, she seeks to commission as fine a rapier as she can, and has travelled to Pendrago to do so on the grounds that, with war picking back up on the southern continent, the best weaponsmiths will have headed there to ply their trade.
Now the problem is finding one who is open to a commission within a reasonable time frame for Kourin's need.
Thus has she wound up at Forge Dreams, with Spirit, her dog, by her side.
"Your pardon, miss..." Kourin begins. "The signs said you craft blades?"
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
Neriah Parringer does not appear to have surfaced anywhere on Lunar.
---
From the mouth of the alley comes a clatter of hooves and a rumble of carriage wheels against cobblestones. A horse whinnies, before the sounds come to a stop. The moment of silence is brief before the carriage driver moves on.
There is movement - and a pale shape begins to move down the alley.
The approaching figure is clearly one of Althena' Priestesses, draped in a pristine and deep-hooded white cloak with geometric patterns in blue, gold and black around its borders, parted at the throat to expose the simple white underdress and patterned sash beneath it. The hood, however, keeps the upper half of her face obscured. It reveals only full lips tinted a deep, dark red, and a few errant black curls.
The hooded Priestess is cradling something in her hands. Slipping a silk wrapping from around it, she slowly exposes the silvery blade of an elegant sword, its hilt similarly silvery. The weapon's blade is in poor shape, tarnished and battered badly, bent halfway along.
Kourin is already in line. The Priestess does not cut her. With a simple politeness, she stops not far from the woman and waits to speak.
Her hood turns just enough that she seems to be focusing on Kourin for a moment.
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
Prissa's head snaps towards Kourin. "Oh hello," she says, hopping up out of her chair. "You bet your bippy I do. - I'm sorry, ma'am, I was still thinking like I was working in the forges. I absolutely do!" She beams then, raising a hand with an upturned thumb!
And then comes forth the priestess. Prissa's eyes turn towards her from behind her glasses. "My lady," she says, before waving her forwards. "Please, please - do both of you have commissions? Don't worry about it; I actually work best when I can alternate. What are you both looking for?"
Prissa does say, "I bet I can guess what's on your mind," towards Neriah, trying her best to grin encouragingly against the rather hooded forboding that her very cloak emanates.
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin manages not to stiffen at the sight of a Priestess of Althena--she's come a long way from the terrified fugitive deserter she once was. Her jaw tightens slightly, but otherwise she does not react. She decides to allow the priestess to speak first, wishing not to draw attention, and inclines her head to the Priestess to indicate as much.
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
The Priestess's look lingers on Kourin a moment. (Has she figured out that Icehand is, indeed, a fugitive from the Goddess's sisterhood? Is Kourin's cover blown?!)
She looks away, and the pressure of being seen through passes; the Priestess doesn't seem to recognize Kourin, or if she does, doesn't call her out on her Kourinity.
With a grave nod, the woman in the deeply-hooded white cloak moves forward, past Kourin, up to the counter. Cradling the broken weapon in its silk bower, she lays it before Prissa. Only once her hands are free does she clasp them into a loose fold.
"I have a repair," she says. Her voice is quiet and level, with a low throatiness to it. "This weapon was found in the possession of one who chose to rob Althena with his tithes. I am told that you are among the most skilled weaponsmiths in the land. I wish to know if you have the skill to repair this and restore both its lustre and its cutting edge."
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
"Oh my goodness gracious," Prissa says to the Priestess, hands coming up to clasp her face. "Has word really spread so far...? I absolutely can, ma'am. D'you just want a repair or a more complete," a pause as if she's reaching for a word, "recreation? Absolutely fine, anything you want! May I...?"
She collects the blade. "Would either of you like a stool by the way? Some tea? I know my hospitality is rather rude, but - hmm -" Prissa holds the cushioned weapon up to the light. "Hmmm-m-m-."
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
"As for myself, I wish to commission a rapier. It need not be ornate; in fact I prefer it not be. I merely require the best craftsmanship possible. I...can pay, though much of my coin is foreign." She mentions this because...well, she looks pretty threadbare.
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin does that stuff in the above paragraph.
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
The anonymous Priestess tilts her head to the side, her lips curving downwards slightly at the outer corners. "Your ambition in your craft is... admirable in the eyes of the Goddess," she says in that same level tone, as though emotion simply doesn't creep into it. "Very well. Ply your craft and create it anew, as you feel best."
When Kourin speaks of her foreign coin, the Priestess bows her head slightly. Her lips draw together in a line.
"Much curious currency has been circulating these days," she comments. "Perhaps Pendrago is simply seeing more visitors and pilgrims than usual. One wonders what brings you to our city."
For now, she's happy to relinquish the damaged sword to Prissa. "...Tea would be welcome," she answers simply. "Thank you."
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
"Of course, my lady," Prissa tells the Priestess. "I'll go start matters - yours will be a bit of a do, so please be patient." She turns then, bustling behind a curtain with the sword... ...and returning with only its hilt, broken apart. There is a hissing inside of the space behind the curtain, no doubt some alchemy. Prissa then starts unpacking other things, some of them apparently for silversmithing and others -- okay, that's just a kettle. She plops the kettle with a slosh on the top of the forge.
As she bustles out to get the stools placed for the ladies, she asks Kourin, "May I see it, my lady? I trust you but I don't trust your foreign friends quite as completely. D'you have a favored style for the grip and the hilt?" As she gets back behind the counter, Prissa adds, "Tea'll be a moment." Back to the Priestess: "And as for you, milady, any request yourself? Don't be afraid to dream!"
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin gingerly spills a handful of coins into her left palm. "Be careful of touching them," she warns. "I am called Icehand," she explains.
"As for the grip and hilt," she continues, "plain, and ideally similar to the one I already carry. I should not like to relearn with a new style of grip," she adds.
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
"Take what time you feel is necessary," the Priestess answers Prissa, urging her on with a simple nod.
The Priestess does not sit down; she doesn't seem like the type to do things casually. From beneath her hood, she watches the way Prissa moves about. Her gaze practically follows her behind the curtain despite the fact that she hasn't moved otherwise.
The hiss of an alchemical process is certainly... different. The Priestess curves her lips slightly, then purses them, before the hint of an expression passes.
"I should be interested in a blade of a style similar to a knight's arming-sword," she explains. "The silver finish is one I also value. If you are to create a weapon, I should choose to gift it to one among Althena's Guard, that the Goddess may benefit from your expertise and that Her chosen hands may better make safe the land in these times."
When Kourin introduces herself - excuse me, Icehand - the woman in the deep hood merely inclines her head.
"I am Domitia, of the sisterhood of the Goddess," she says simply.
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
Prissa begins fondling the money. It's very hasty. However, she only separates out a couple of coins. "Sound," she murmurs to herself. Looking up to Kourin she says, "Of course! D'you have it with you?"
To the Priestess, she nods vigorously. "Will this not be for your own use then, ma'am? I ask only since if, for instance, it were for yourself I might ask to measure your arm, so it'd suit you best. Silver finish won't be a trouble at all!"
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin's own rapier hangs on her belt. She pulls it--still sheathed--from the belt and hands it to Prissa to examine. It is, as we have established, a well worn blade with a simple French-style grip. That's what the grip style is called! I can't describe it by a name that it doesn't have!
Ahem. The grip is bound in very well worn brown leather.
"I must inquire as to the length of time that it will be before you are able to begin work. Many smiths seem to be busy for weeks at the moment."
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
"About five minutes," Prissa says as she leans over to admire the hilt. "Fifteen if you'd like me to reforge this one for you. No, actually," she glances over her shoulder, "I did the sums wrong; more like ten."
That sure is some weird, snow-like mist rising from behind the curtain. But it's already tapering off.
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
Sister Domitia cocks her head slightly to the side. "My skill is not with the blade," she concedes. "That is the province of Althena's Guard."
Of course, there's also Kourin, whom the person beneath the hood seems to remember being pretty good with a weapon. But then, Sister Domitia doesn't seem to be the type. The only thing she's got with her even close to an armament is a wooden-shafted staff with a silver crescent and gem at the head.
"You seem to work rather quicker than most smiths," she remarks.
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin seems startled by this. "I...believe I would prefer to hang onto this one as well," she says, upon the offer to reforge her current sword. "I will use it for training."
"Are you...is this some use of Althena's Gift?"
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
"Well that's because I don't lollygag, malinger, goldbrick or chucklebuns around, begging your pardon for my Vile Tribe talk," Prissa tells the Sister with a crooked smile. "Though, say! Is that a silver shodding on your staff there?"
The kettle whistles unsteadily. Prissa goes to sort outtea, explaining over her shoulder, "Oh, not really. I mean not in the formal sense like in Neo Vane or anything, I mean; obviously it's a gift but not a GIFT, if you follow me." The two ladies are given bulky but charming ceramic mugs of hot water with tea ground powder-fine inside then.
"Now let me just slip in the back and get the metal forms and everything all set right," Prissa concludes, "if you'll excuse me."
Then she slips in the back. The sparkly mist shimmer stops entirely a moment later. The ladies have an awkward moment to... well...
I hope they aren't stabbing each other when I come back, Prissa thinks as she shakes the powdered metal into a form block.
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
"Althena will forgive your transgressions this time, child," Sister Domitia assures as Prissa apologizes for her foul language.
The mention of her staff leaves the Priestess looking over to the weapon. "It is silver, yes, though I am not a warrior. I am a servant of the Goddess and no more than that."
If the rumours are anything to go by, there's a new priestess at court whose talent lies in litanies of abjuration. You don't need a weapon for that, after all.
As the tea is poured, Domitia takes up the mug and sips slowly, savouring the taste of the drink. She doesn't outwardly react save to bow her head over the drink. Still, the hood shows nothing more than her mouth, its shadow obscuring the rest.
Only when Prissa leaves does Domitia tilt her head a little towards Kourin. Her voice is low. "...One is curious as to where those coins of yours came from. I have not seen their like."
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin shrugs. "Here and there," she says, evasively. "I've been travelling with a group of merchants. One picks up coins from all over, as a merchant."
When did Kourin get good at lying? Oh, when she does it by telling the truth!
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
"One has heard word of... interesting travelers, of late," Domitia muses, lifting her teacup. It partially hides her mouth. Her eyes are invisible in the first place.
But Kourin can feel the gaze on her. It's like Domitia could peel the woman with her eyes.
"The Blue Star has seemed quite large in the heavens lately," she remarks in that same neutral tone. "Almost close enough to touch."
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
"Fortunately, our Goddess Althena is our Guardian from such things," Kourin says enigmatically.
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
The tea is unusual for how it was ground but it seems to be the good stuff. Prissa may be buttering up.
She emerges afterwards holding a pair of long tongs in each hand, two pair total. One is holding a block of gray metal, the other holding a - stoneware box? It's got a whole lot of ground up gray and silvery dust in it, with a couple of little blue crystals inside. "Begging your pardon, sister, but could I trouble you to say a blessing over this before I begin?" Prissa calls, proffering the container to within arm's reach of Domitia.
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
"...As it has always been," Sister Domitia answers Kourin with a slow bow of her head, though Kourin can still feel those eyes on her.
When Prissa emerges with the box, the hooded priestess cants her head to one side, curiosity tugging even at her implacable demeanor. She takes a step forward, holding her hands out over the container. Her hands splay, moving across it in a ritual gesture. Kourin will likely recognize the simple benediction.
"Bless your child, O goddess, and these, her gifts, crafted with these, her hands, her heart, given unto you, forever and always," she says.
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
"Thaaank you," and with that they both go into the front of the forge!
"Miladies you are welcome to step behind the counter but there WILL be sparks flying, and I can't guarantee where each and every spark will go," Prissa says as she rattles the box of... that was metal dust, wasn't it? a little bit.
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin takes care to follow Prissa's suggestion. Spirit too! He's a good dog. So quiet. So faithful.
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
Domitia glances down at Spirit for a moment.
good friend
such faithful
so quiet
very obedience
so doge
wow
amaze
The Priestess steps around the counter. She's still holding her teacup, cradling it and lifting to take a slow sip of it. The talk of sparks doesn't seem to concern her all that much.
She's watching with quiet interest, but no comment.
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
Prissa hums a song that sounds vaguely hymnlike as people bustle around. There's room to maneuver, but at an abrupt point, she pulls out the earthwork box. "Hot stuff, coming through, milady!" she says, whirling around to pour out the silvered steel into the crucible there. Crouching down, she pulls out a bag of... sand?
Probably sand. She sprinkles a teaspoon full into the crucible, and explains to the Sister as she does, "Helps the metal get - I'm not sure how to express it. S'like salt in bread though." The crucible is lifted and put back into the forge. The steel brick comes out...
"Get ready to speak up," she warns, before putting the block down and OH DEAR GOD SHE'S GONNA HURT HERSELF. The clamor of her banging on the hot steel is like an engine from Filgaia. Soon enough it's being flattened out into a long pockmarked strip, and is significantly less glowingly hot.
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
"Mind the edicts of the Goddess, child," Sister Domitia says levelly as Prissa starts humming. Althena, after all, banned music a couple of years ago.
Domitia, at least, doesn't go right for the inquisitor's staff; she gives Prissa that warning and then continues to watch the woman work. The process itself seems remarkable. The Priestess shifts her grip on her coffee mug, raising it to take another small sip, then stepping to the side as the smith whisks past her. She doesn't seem all that startled.
"You are less a metalsmith than a metalshaper, then," she muses with a slight tilt of her head. "Interesting. The Blessing you have been given is most unique."
How Prissa doesn't hurt herself, Domitia will never know, but she looks on without so much as flinching. She does, at least, put her mug down.
"...Remarkable."
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
Prissa is, at least, using a hammer and tongs - but she's either recklessly endangering herself or she's got some real talent. "Oh by the Goddess, I was doing it again! I'll put some in the poor box, ma'am: it's how I learned the timings. I ought to get the counting down otherwise," she says, before hoisting up the battered-flat piece of metal and sticking it back in the forge.
As it heats back up, Prissa explains further, "What I'll be doing in a moment is a bit like, how is it called, you know a wintertime log cake? Well, it'll make more sense when I do it. Going to be beautiful, ma'am!"
She uses the tongs to pull out the crucible, leans forwards, seems to like what she sees, puts it back. The metal is brought out then and a DIFFERENT bag is opened and - wood ash? - is sprinkled on top before Prissa shoves it back in.
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin watches, fascinated, but silent; she has a habit of treating hard work as a form of worship and watches with deep reverence in her gaze.
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
Domitia nods quietly at Prissa's little show of penance. "Althena appreciates your obedience, my child," she says evenly.
She continues to watch with mute interest, nodding as the metalspaher explains her methods. Briefly, her tongue passes over her lips.
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
Soon enough Prissa starts to roll up the metal into, indeed, a big spiralling tube. To Kourin, she explains, "Have you ever looked at the inside of a sword? I mean, the - what's the word - aaagh I wish my tongue was as smart! But we can't all be cunning linguists-"
What?
WHAM! WHAM! Fold fold WHAM! Fold fold WHAM!
Prissa explains to Domitia, "You're up next, the impurities are just cooking out -" WHAM! "- here we go -" And then she tosses the entire dully red rough blank into... a bucket of...
FWOOM! It catches fire, a little bit! It smells like a fryer! "Oil quench," she explains. To Kourin, she says genially, "Give it a minute and you can look - I'll be able to rough it out and put a nice edge on it soon. D'you want etching? It'll bring out the pattern, very gorgeous, and it makes it just that little bit lighter too...!"
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin frowns slightly. "I...do not require decoration. The blade itself will be fine, I think. Though...does the etching...weaken the blade in any way?"
Ooh, Kourin's thinking about it, she's definitely considering it.
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
Beneath her hood, Domitia clears her throat quietly. "I have never looked inside a sword," she concedes with a simple, slow shrug.
She tilts her head as the sword catches fire. The acrid smell leaves her curling her lips ever so slightly, but it passes quickly.
Her gaze settles on Kourin again, perhaps curious to see what the errant priestess decides.
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
"Oh no, milady, it's just a - how can I put it - it's like a scrub, you see, but not for your face, but for metal," Prissa explains. "Do you mind if I snip a bit off the back just to show the sister? I'd be shaping it anyway, you're not losing a bit, you can even keep the slug!"
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin hesitates a moment longer, then nods. "Etch it, if you please, and of course."
<Pose Tracker> Neriah Parringer has posed.
Domitia just continues to look on in silence. Mysteriously.
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin flexes her left hand as she watches Prissa work. It's gloved, though her right is not.
<Pose Tracker> Prissa has posed.
Prissa cuts a snip off the fat end of the metal.
The inside is like a fossilized tree branch, cast in metal negative-light. ... Of course, it's probable that the analogy makes no sense, so we'll go with 'it's very pretty and vaguely organic seeming.'
"If you round it off it could be jewelry," Prissa offers. "Bit heavy of course."