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Thread: Bleeding Steel

  1. #1
    Member

    EXP: 29,591, Level: 7
    Level completed: 33%, EXP required for next Level: 5,409
    Level completed: 33%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,409



    GP
    640
    AP
    18
    Name
    Robert Bertrand
    Location
    Corone

    Bleeding Steel

    (my dawg nev gets this one)

    “You did say you wanted to know more about where you came from, right?” Jamie said easily, scratching the itchy spot on John’s back. He closed his eyes and shrugged back into her fingernails as the relief hit.

    “Ah, better. I suppose I want to know what I didn’t learn from the family histories. People say the Cromwell line has giant blood and whatnot, but nobody ever knew for sure. You think he can tell me for sure?”

    She shrugged. “I don’t know, but he seems to know what he’s talking about, at least that’s what I’ve heard. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

    John looked up, surprised to see a dark wood rose embossed on a sign hanging just a bit into the road. Jamie was sweet on him, but far from dependent. He bent down to brush a kiss across her cheek. He smiled.

    “Absolutely.”

    He watched her sway into the brothel. Well, I hate to see her go, but…

    He let the thought trail off, returning his thoughts to a smaller sign a hundred paces down the road from the market street. He resumed his walk, at a faster pace now. With his height he sometimes had to slow his gait for the benefit of shorter folk. It was strange, but he wondered just how this ‘blood alchemist’ performed his magic. Would it be a cut on the hand? Would Nevin even need his blood at all? Not that he didn’t mind spilling his blood of course, but someone doing something with it made him the tiniest bit anxious.

    Quickly he found himself in front of the door to the blood mage’s shop and opened the door, ducking his head to fit through the doorway. His eyes adjusted from the fading light of evening to an even more slightly lit interior, with space enough for shelves and a couple smaller cabinets mounted on the walls. The glass-topped counters held potions of many sizes, colors, and shapes in small felt indents. Small vials held clear and red liquids, and a couple behind the shopkeep glowed faintly with what John assumed was magical energy. A small alchemical workbench sat behind the keeper, who John recognized as his eyes adjusted.

    “Nevin?” he asked incredulously, his eyebrows rising.

  2. #2
    Senior Member

    EXP: 50,764, Level: 9
    Level completed: 68%, EXP required for next Level: 3,236
    Level completed: 68%,
    EXP required for next Level: 3,236


    Nevin's Avatar

    GP
    879
    AP
    3
    Name
    Nevin Aimaparapoiitis
    Age
    22 / 37
    Race
    Human (Godling)
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Corone
    Nevin blinked and looked up towards the entrance to his store. It had been quiet - the opening hour or two always were surprisingly enough. So he had been caught a bit off guard when the door opened, but having people come in to browse had happened before. It was only when his name was spoken that his attention was actually brought to bear on the individual who was -

    Singlehandedly filling a significant portion of his store. The man didn't have to bend over, but it was a close thing. His head was just barely not touching the roof of the shop - and even so, he was still large enough to take up a significant portion of room on his own. The man knew Nevin's name, and looked familiar, so the alchemist started spinning his pen trying to think of where he recognized the massive individual from. His dark eyes lit up.

    “Ah! You're Cromwell, right? Fenn’s friend that I met at the Tankard.” The one who had been surreptitiously feeding the dire wolf under the table while they ate. Nevin stood up from his stool behind the counter and stepped around it, approaching the giant of a man. “John Cromwell, right? Sorry, that evening is a bit of a blur.” He smiled pleasantly. He blinked and looked up, and up. And up. The alchemist was used to being taller than most people around him, so having to look up over a foot to meet someone’s eyes was - different.

    “Yes. Yes, and you were feeding Daugi, right?” He frowned and rubbed his chin. “Yes. And the one that Jacques said couldn't join the competition. So - I doubt you're here just to have me try to remember my rather drunk night.” He abruptly clapped his hands and took a step back.

    “Well - I don't have any other customers at the moment, so you'll get full service. What might you be here for? Not me, since you were surprised to see me. Alchemical need then?” That was probably exactly the case - why else would someone come to an alchemist’s store? “Are you needing a poison? An antidote? Something treated, perhaps?” The red-haired man had moved back over to the counter as he spoke, and picked up a pen and notepad, turned around and leaning back against the counter, taking care not to jostle any of the displays lining its surface.

    “I have a fair amount of a general selection already made up, but if you're needing something more specialized don't hesitate to ask. I won't deny a fair amount of skill with the alchemical arts.” Nevin grinned. Hopefully whatever had brought John here wasn't something too time-crucial. He did wonder why John had been surprised to see him here though - he couldn't remember whether or not he had mentioned to the other man that he was an Alchemist. Apparently not.

    Or - and this was rather lower percentage as the possible reason John was here - had he come looking for the blood magic? There'd been a few since his rather gory display to silence the people who claimed he was making it up for attention, but so far none that he actually knew before it. Still word was getting around, so it was a possibility.
    - "We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood; Fear the old blood."

    Nevin: Formal, thoughtful, nurturing, bearer of tropey tentacles.

    "More threads! More! Threads for the Crimson Thread King!"
    A member of the NevCrew:
    Nevin: Thread count: please, don't try.
    Erik: Thread count: five or six. Maybe seven...
    Huntsman: seven. Maybe eight. Shhhhhhh.
    Telli' thread count: zero. I just can't get into writing the little hellion.
    Ronnel: Not even approved yet.

  3. #3
    Member

    EXP: 29,591, Level: 7
    Level completed: 33%, EXP required for next Level: 5,409
    Level completed: 33%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,409



    GP
    640
    AP
    18
    Name
    Robert Bertrand
    Location
    Corone
    The half-giant paused. “Fenn’s friend” was not the name he usually went by. It was odd, that the little, cold creature would know this man when he himself did not. But still, here the potion master was, referring to him by association. John tried to look relaxed.

    This was all supposed to be secret right? At least the blood magic stuff. He looked this way and that, trying to be inconspicuous by keeping his eyes on the potions. Perhaps it was just him, but the air around him felt a little tense, as it there would be some great catastrophe. Or better, that he’d just been caught with his hand around a pilfered honeycake.

    “Ah,” he began, furrowing his brow and cracking the knuckles on his left hand, a nervous habit that Jamie always disapproved of. At least she didn’t disapprove of his smoking habit. He’d hate to have to quit just for her, especially when it helped with his restless mind so much. Well, Jamie also helped with his restless mind, but not in the same way.

    He absently ended the train of thought with a snap of his fingers, which caused a large cigar to pop into existence between the fingers his thumb and forefinger. The end glowed already, and John took a slow draw, pulling the aromatic smoke into his mouth. He pushed it out, inhaling the tiniest bit of the smoke into his nose. He looked back towards Nevin.

    “I hear you have some, uh, special brews,” He continued. “I’m looking for something a little harder to get, if you know what I mean.” He stepped closer to the man, leaning down a little. He continued in a whisper, which for him was like there was a swarm of agitated honeybees in the shop. He looked around the obviously empty shop as he rumbled.

    “You do magic, do you not, Nevin?”

  4. #4
    Senior Member

    EXP: 50,764, Level: 9
    Level completed: 68%, EXP required for next Level: 3,236
    Level completed: 68%,
    EXP required for next Level: 3,236


    Nevin's Avatar

    GP
    879
    AP
    3
    Name
    Nevin Aimaparapoiitis
    Age
    22 / 37
    Race
    Human (Godling)
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Corone
    The redhead alchemist blinked several times as he processed things. First, the man had seemed a bit thrown, but Nevin could not tell why. Then he'd been a bit sketchy, looking about the empty shop as of to see if they were truly alone - which they were, John was the first person Nevin had seen today. The larger man was clearly nervous, agitated about something, and acting rather furtive, as if he was here on some kind of secret business.

    Nevin was not, in the least, expecting the sudden cigar that appeared. Or the fact that it appeared already lit. Nevin's first thought was that John was apparently a rather accomplished mage to be able to summon something with such ease - and the second was that it did confirm that the taller man was indeed nervous about something, as this was clearly a calming habit. The alchemist had no idea what it was that his acquaintance was concerned about - people came to alchemists all the time, it was not as if he was a back alley necromancer or something like that.


    That is, until he leaned in and attempted to whisper. Nevin blinked, and tilted his head to the side as he stared at the larger man. This, this mountain of a man, was having - ah, no wonder he was being so secretive, this must be rather embarrassing indeed. He reached up and clasped the larger man in the shoulder, squeezing it to comfort him. “Not to worry at all, Cromwell. I do indeed possess many potions that are somewhat harder to come by in the Guild stores, the sanctimonious louts would never consider carrying such things.” Nevin headed over to the door and flicked a sign into the window, spinning around to declare that he was ‘In Consultation’. Deft fingers locked the door and he turned around, clapping his hands together sharply.

    “No need to be shy now. So tell me - is it an issue with the initiation ? Or is it more of an issue with longevity? Ending too soon, perhaps?” As he spoke he had moved back to his counter, and had pushed aside some of the display vials to turn a large ledger around. He turned to look over his shoulder at John, raising an eyebrow.

    “I can work ‘magic’ but I need to know what the presumed problem is that we are trying to address here today. Don't worry, I won't speak a word of it to others.” Having issues with intimate moments was always a problem for people - men, more than women, the Alchemist had noticed. So very few of them could actually articulate what their problems were, likely a result of an ingrained need to appear more macho than others. Still, Nevin couldn't treat the problem, if he didn't know what it was. It did explain John’s hesitancy here though, but Nevin gave him credit for at least getting this far in trying to deal with it. An idea came to him.

    “Ah - or is this perhaps, a ‘honey-do’ run? I do have some potions that can ensure safety even after the fact, if you are not wanting children yet.” That was also a possibility - perhaps he'd gotten a bit too active, and the couple was now trying to make sure they didn't have a child they weren't ready for.
    - "We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood; Fear the old blood."

    Nevin: Formal, thoughtful, nurturing, bearer of tropey tentacles.

    "More threads! More! Threads for the Crimson Thread King!"
    A member of the NevCrew:
    Nevin: Thread count: please, don't try.
    Erik: Thread count: five or six. Maybe seven...
    Huntsman: seven. Maybe eight. Shhhhhhh.
    Telli' thread count: zero. I just can't get into writing the little hellion.
    Ronnel: Not even approved yet.

  5. #5
    Member

    EXP: 29,591, Level: 7
    Level completed: 33%, EXP required for next Level: 5,409
    Level completed: 33%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,409



    GP
    640
    AP
    18
    Name
    Robert Bertrand
    Location
    Corone
    John felt grateful that Nevin caught his meaning. Subterfuge was not his strongest suit, one among many of his not-strong suits, he thought. Nevin began to talk about carrying what the other guild merchants did not, and John puffed on his cigar, a little proud that despite his apparently ‘brutish’ nature, (Jamie had referred to him that way repeatedly, though always with that playful smirk on her face) that he had been subtle and tactful in getting the blood mage to engage his craft. His brain caught the tail end of what Nevin said as he turned from the door where he had flipped a sign.

    “-ending too soon perhaps?”

    John arched one eyebrow high as the alchemist passed him, returning to his counter. He stifled the unintentional motion as he sat behind it though. Nevin continued, talking of things that would have lit a younger John Cromwell’s cheeks like two glowing coals. As it stood, it flushed him a little anyways. He continued talking, and John would have laughed outright if it wasn’t so embarrassing. Nevin thought that he was having issues...there? Ridiculous! Unthinkable!

    ...it was, wasn’t it?

    He put it out of his head that nothing significant had gone on between himself and Jamie since he met her, at least nothing significant in the way that Nevin meant. Not that that was a bad thing, you see. And besides, they really hadn’t known each other that long anyways. Confident again, John drew from the cigar again, trying to avoid embarrassing both of them more than they would be in a moment. Time for some of that brutishness I suppose. He spoke, turning a scarred forearm up and clenching his fist. The harder, desensitized flesh snaked up his forearm in tendrils, like fire had run in his veins once.

    “I need magic, Nevin. Real blood magic. Cromwell has lived for generations, each one forgetting more than the last. I hear you can shed light on my bloodline. People say Cromwell has the blood of giants, some legends say the first Cromwell was Thaynespawn. All I know is that I want to know what I am.”

    He didn’t really mean to go into so much detail, didn’t mean to go into any detail at all, but the issue had gnawed at his mind so much that it came out all in a bit of a rush. He bit down on his cigar, feeling the leaf crumple between his teeth. His ancestors probably never had to explain that they weren’t here to buy a potion for the bedroom.

    “Coin is no problem for me, Nevin.”

    It was true. Business was good recently, what with a section of the business district lying in ruins, what hadn’t been rebuilt already. Truth be told a blacksmith could make a fortune if he could turn a bar of metal into nails fast enough in Radasanth lately. All of this left extra coin in his pocket and trunk, a pouch of which he brought to the alchemist’s shop. He snatched the pouch and held it in his other hand, the fist still outstretched.

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