Don't Poke Your Eye Out With That Thing

[Sagequeen]

Erissa Caedron strolled into the marketplace, all manner of shopkeepers barking and hawking their wares, but she had one thing in mind... a sword. The high elf was all but sick of relying on others to match metal with metal, and she strode with confidence toward the unfamiliar sounds and smells of the blacksmith’s furnace. Hammer, anvil, and brute strength shaped, bent and folded various types of ore into weapons of war, and the acrid scent of sulfur and flux led Erissa directly to her destination.

The demure high elf pulled the wooden door open, and the temperature seemed to jump a hundred degrees. The apprentice, a corn-fed brute of a boy, was hunched over a white hot ingot, his entire body rising with the hammer to produce a downward stroke capable of flattening the metal into what seemed to her as the beginnings of a blade. His master stood nearby, overseeing the boy’s work, and his steady gaze soon rested on Erissa. She cleared her throat.

“I should like to purchase a sword, or perhaps a pair,” she said, “though I know very little about them. Perhaps you may be of assistance in choosing?”

[Revenant]

The blacksmith held a hand out begging for a moment's patience as he finished his instructions, though he did offer a slight, polite nod to the elven woman to indicate that he had heard her request. His flinty eyes returned to the steady swing and beat of the crashing hammer on the hot ingot, taking the entire situation in with the knowledge of a man who's life was wound tightly around that single act.

"You're doing it again," he barked suddenly, the harsh tone cracking through the hot air like the blow of the hammer on anvil itself. "How many times do I have to tell you runt? You're supposed to be crafting a carriage harness, not battering the poor ingot like a dimwitted primate. Have some respect for the profession lad and get it together or I'll send you back to ore carting duty till you do.
Now, reheat it and start again." The apprentice, shamefaced, picked up the ingot with a pair of tongs that were almost as thick as Erissa's arm and shoved it back into the center of the blazing coals. Satisfied, the blacksmith made his way over to his customer, his face an apologetic mask.

"Sorry about that miss," he said, his heat seared eyebrows and thick mustache pinching in consideration as he looked Erissa over. "You said something about swords?"

Behind them, the apprentice grunted as he heaved on the massive bellows, causing the room to become even hotter as the flames within the forge jumped to furious life.

[Sagequeen]

“Yes,” she said, lifting her voice over the roar of the fire and the clock-like strikes of the apprentice’s hammer. Erissa took a few steps forward to meet the man, the undulating waves of heat causing the weapons on display behind the furnace to wiggle and dance, even as it sought to repel her from coming any closer. “I am in need of a weapon, a sword preferably.” The blacksmith nodded, smoothing his mustache thoughtfully. When Erissa saw the condition of his lower lip, chapped from constant exposure to the inferno, she did not wonder why he kept his top lip protected by the facial hair.

“What kind were you looking for?” he asked, not unkindly. “You won’t find a better blade anywhere else.” The elf smiled furtively.

“Your reputation of delivering quality weapons is what brought me here," Erissa said, "and I had hoped you might help me choose.” The Ixian spoke with modesty, doing her best not make too big a fool of herself. “I do know, at least, that each type of sword requires a certain style in wielding it, but that, I am afraid, is the extent of my knowledge.”

Ultimately, Erissa will settle on a blade or blades that will accentuate her natural quickness and grace, light enough for her small frame. Being a spell singer, a metal that could enhance that magic might be nice, if it's possible.

Please feel free to peruse first and broaden her knowledge, if you like.

[Revenant]

"You're right there, Miss," the blacksmith said with a nod. He pulled a water skin from his belt and took a swig to wet his parched throat before offering it to Erissa for the same purpose. "Now I know that looks can be deceiving, so pardon me if I'm wrong here, but you don't look like much of a brute. That would rule out the heavier blades like the two-handers and broadswords, which are more about how hard you can swing them than how skilled you are with them. That leaves swords like the scimitar, which is a more fluid slashing weapon, or the rapier, which is a more finesse based dueling weapon primarily designed for thrusting attacks."

As he spoke, the blacksmith walked Erissa over to a side cabinet which he opened, displaying all manner of weaponry. He took out a sample of each of the swords that he had spoken of and set them onto the oiled cloth on the stand beside the cabinet. As he did so he paused in thought, looking down at the weapons and then back to the display rack, before choosing another weapon from the case and setting it beside the scimitar and rapier.

"Now there's all manner of swords like these, sabres and cutlasses and whatnot, but that's not going to mean much to you if you aren't much into swordcraft. I'm loathe to show you this one alongside the other two, as it requires a bit more expertise to wield properly, but if anything else it can give you a better idea of what's available. This here," he said, pointing to the thin flatblade that he had set beside the other two, "Is a special type of sword that was created by an order of Akashiman warrior monks. They called it a jian and it was used as much for practicing their meditation and channeling mysticism as much as for fighting."

The smith reached down to press on the blade as he showed it off, and much to Erissa's surprise the metal bent as he did so. "Now you see how flexible the blade of the jian is? That's what makes it a more advanced type of sword. It's light and maneuverable, but it won't stand up to a heavier sword when it comes to blocking and parrying and the like. At least, not for long. This type of sword is designed more for those who can defend themselves through other means than blocking, like being a dodgy fighter or through magic, though as I said, I'm a bit loathe to suggest it to someone who is just starting out with a blade."

[Sagequeen]

Erissa gazed at the shining metal blades resting upon the oiled cloth.

“The scimitar,” she said softly, recalling a certain book in her mentor’s library that she had skimmed through recently. “I have read it is particularly effective upon horseback since, as you pointed out, its curved blade lends itself better to slashing. In fact, I recall a general, his name I have forgotten, who commented in his memoirs that the scimitar was far more efficient in the decapitations he conducted.” Erissa shuddered slightly, and the blacksmith raised his eyebrows. “Oh,” the elf laughed, “I did do a little reading before I came, but I would never value that over the opinion of one who makes swordcraft his living. May I?” the demure elf asked, gesturing at the blade whose graceful curve drew her eye. The blacksmith nodded once and took a few steps back.

The elf raised a dainty hand and wrapped her fingers around the hilt. Erissa raised the sword, watching the red light of the furnace smoothly glint up the length of it. With a pensive smile, she turned to the side slashed diagonally from right shoulder to left hip, then rotated her wrist with another swipe from her left shoulder to right hip.

“It’s not a club, Miss,” the blacksmith said, a chuckle rumbling from his throat. “You can relax your grip a little, and keep your wrist firm, yet flexible.” Erissa tried the sweeping move again, but without much luck; the style and single edge seemed too choppy for her liking.

“No,” she said quietly, “I do not think the scimitar is for me.” She rotated the sword in front of her eyes, still somewhat undecided. She glanced at the rapier. Its long, thin blade tapered to a point, and an intricate vine-work metal surrounded the grip. It was a beautiful blade. “What of the rapier?” she asked.

[Revenant]

The smith nodded understandingly as he took the hilt of the scimitar and gently set it aside.

"Why don't you tell me?" he asked after, gingerly picking up the slimmer blade and pressing it into woman's hand. "These swords are the most commonly used dueling swords that there are, and with good reason." The blacksmith made a motion towards Erissa's grip, asking permission with a raised eyebrow and a bob of the head. Receiving a similar nod he repositioned Erissa's fingers on the rapier's hilt so that the pommel firmly pushed against her thumb and forefinger while her last two fingers were barely touching the weapon.

"There is a lot of finesse that goes into using a sword like this," he instructed, showing her how to rotate the blade around with motions of her wrist. "It's not the type of weapon I'd choose, but then you've got a slightly different build." he laughed, flexing slightly and showing off the corded muscles in his arms. "Masters of the rapier do keep their enemies' weapons at bay by parrying their strikes rather than outright blocking. A slight turn of the blade that causes an opponent's strike to slide harmlessly past one's self."

A smith stepped back and allowed Erissa to take several test swings on her own.

[Sagequeen]

The sword felt light in her hands and sliced through the air without much resistance. Erissa mimicked the thrusting motion suggested by the blacksmith, and parried an invisible opponent’s imagined attacks.

“This one,” she said “seems more suited to me, but I am not sure how it will work with my style of magic.”

“You use magic?” the blacksmith asked, an unreadable look on his face.

“Yes,” the elf said, and conjured a shield of energy to protect her chest. “But you see, it is restricting for the quick thrusts and parries if I try to move it in front of me, and does little good to shield me in the sideways stance.” The arcanist retracted the shield into an orb, and she willed it to act as a sheath around her blade. “The metal has no natural magical properties,” she said, awkwardly thrusting. The energy dissipated in an inert, misty cloud.

She sighed with mild frustration, eyeing the third blade.

“Go on,” the blacksmith said, lifting the jian from the oiled cloth, “give it a try. Just be careful,” he warned as he traded weapons with the elf. Erissa held the blade gingerly, unfamiliar with the technique required to wield it.

Hesitantly, the Ixian focused on the blade, and it readily accepted the magic she channeled into it. As she pivoted the sword before her like the hand of a clock, energy trailed the sword’s path, creating moving shield.

“What kind of technique is required for this blade?” Erissa asked, her eyes sparkling.

[Revenant]

"I'm honestly not a master," the blacksmith shrugged, but still stepped forward to give some instruction. He paused for a moment as he reached Erissa's side, casting a warning glare at the apprentice whom had slacked in his bellows duty while watching the elven woman's practice swordplay.

"From what I understand about the monks though, they use the blades as a tool in their mystic practices as a focus for their magic or energy or whatever they call it. It's more of a practiced mindset sort of thing than a magic blade. I suppose you could channel magic into these other blades if you had the practice with them as well," the blacksmith gestured back to the scimitar and the rapier.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Perhaps it has something to do with the flexible nature of the blade?" As he spoke, the blacksmith reached out gingerly and gripped the flat edges of the jian between his forefinger and thumb, keeping well clear of the razor edges. With little effort he pulled at the blade, causing it to bend slightly. When he released it the blade wobbled slightly before returning to it's original position.

"See what I mean about it being a difficult blade to block with? It even requires a bit of a skilled touch to parry with, though I suppose that will be mitigated somewhat by your magic trick there."

The blacksmith stepped back to the table again, watching Erissa take another couple practice swings with the jian.

"Of course all of these are steel," he said, rapping his knuckles on the flat of the scimitar's blade. "And they're exceptional quality if I do say so. Nothing but the best from my forge." There was a serious note of pride in the smith's voice. "But your mention of magical properties brings to mind other materials that can be acquired for a bit more coin, metals that make magic a bit more useful."

A hint of passion gleamed in the smith's eyes.

[Sagequeen]

“All steel... I could channel through any of the swords,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Perhaps I just liked this one better and tried harder.” The jian felt, by far, the most natural in her hands, the way it sliced through the air as she allowed it momentum and flow.

“I wonder,” she mumbled, a few beads of sweat glistening on her brow under the encumbrance of the furnace. She thought back through the years, back to the strict, old elf whose high brow and thin nose were constantly wrinkled as she barked a steady one, two, three, four, and chided Erissa to keep her hands elegant and her toe-points tight. Open up your chest, Erissa; keep your shoulders back. You should always be aware of your center of balance!

How many times had the young elf fallen, the bruises and sprains a constant, agonizing reminder of her instruction under Lady D’arwen, Mistress of Dance.

“The Dance of Four Winds,” Erissa thought out loud. She glanced around herself, checking for anything she might knock over or damage. The high elf began a snippet of an Akashiman dance, beautiful and graceful, and worked to incorporate the sword in her movements. The blade was somewhat awkward in her hands, but at moments, Erissa was able to incorporate it perfectly. With a shrug, she regarded the blacksmith as he chuckled softly.

“You might win some dance contests with that, but I doubt you’ll be winning any battles,” the blacksmith said, a smile bending and stretching his mustache.

“Oh,” Erissa said in good humor, “I am sure you are right. You mentioned other metals?” Erissa’s curiosity had been piqued at his words, and she was intrigued by the sense of mystery that veiled them. She did have a decent reserve of gold built up, as she had been rather frugal and opportunistic when it came to weapons.

[Revenant]

"That I did," the smith nodded. "If you'd please wait a minute I can show you some samples." Erissa nodded that it was alright and the blacksmith quickly vanished into one of the forge's side rooms. Without him, the room fell into an oppressive silence, punctuated only by the whoosh of the bellows as it stoked the coals and the soft grunt of the apprentice as he stoked the bellows. A half a minute later the smith returned with several metal bars tucked under his arm.

"Alright miss," he said, dropping the bars onto the counter with a loud thunk. "Like I said, there's nothing wrong with the steel you've got there in your hand. I've made weapons for generals and adventurers that have lasted them years without any problem whatsoever. But if you are looking for something a little more fancy, then these are the general materials that I can procure."

"This is damascus," he said, holding up a bar of light gray metal. "It's an ore that is somewhat magically attuned for reasons that are beyond a simple smith like me. It's about as heavy as the steel you've got there but easier to enchant, if that's what you're looking for. But I've heard that there's a downside to damascus' magical conduction and that's that it conducts hostile magic just as easily. As I said before, a jian isn't really the type of sword that you want to be using to shield yourself, and it might not be an issue given that you have magic of your own, but I feel an obligation as a craftsman to let you know of the potential pitfalls that may arise from any work I do for you."

Finished with his explanation, the smith picked up the bar and held it out to Erissa to take a look at.

[Sagequeen]

“Of course,” the elf said. “Your honesty is appreciated!”

Well, that surely is a hunk of metal, she thought. What in the world am I supposed to do with it?

Erissa ran a hand through her silver hair as she stared dumbly at the damascus. The impromptu shopping trip was becoming more complicated by the moment; not only did the Ixian have to decide on a sword type, but also the metal from which it would be made. She accepted the bar and turned it in her hands, as if studying it, but in truth, trying desperately to think of something to say that would not mark her as a half-wit in the blacksmith’s eyes.

“That... ahem, that seems like a rather, um...” she stuttered, “quite a strategic disadvantage. To the damascus, that is.” The metal was dull gray, lacking the finished polish it would, inevitably, receive in the blacksmith's practiced hands.

“It can be,” he agreed, crossing his arms. He glanced again at the apprentice, who had paused for a brief drink of water. The soot-covered boy stared with great curiosity at the metal bars and, though he immediately went back to work under the master’s distracted eye, he listened closely.

“You know,” Erissa said, “perhaps it is just my poor fortune, but there always seems to be a magic wielder of some sort.” The elf laughed, a lovely happenstance it its lightness that seemed to make the heat of the freshly stoked furnace less oppressive. “In the Red Forest and the island mountain trek, it was sword singers. I cannot imagine trying to wield such a metal against those of that school of magic. Unless, of course, there is a way to counteract that effect. Still, a blade that conducts my ability might outweigh the disadvantage.”

[Revenant]

"I can't claim to be an expert on magic, but if there's one thing in this world that I can claim to know, it's metal." The smith gave a self-depreciating shrug as he took the bar of damascus back. He placed the ingot aside it's companions and retrieved a second. "I can give you something closer to what you're looking for, I think, but these ones come with a bit more of a price tag."

He held up a hand defensively as he walked the second ingot to Erissa. "I'm not claiming to doubt your coin purse, lady elf, but I feel a professional duty to let you know that these metals are much more expensive so I don't waste your time. That being said," he held out the ingor for Erissa to take, which she dutifully did, turning it over and back to examine the dull metal, "This is called delyn, and it's an alloy of the damascus you saw and another metal called dehlar." Unsure of how much the elf knew, he added, "That means it's a bonded composite of the two metals."

"Now dehlar, sort of opposite damascus, is known to be extremely resistant to outside magic. This does two things for the metal, one makes it good for shielding from magical attacks, and two makes it very expensive to enchant. It's also an extremely heavy metal, which is why you don't see it a lot in anything but fortifications and some light armors."

"The delyn you have there though, keeps qualities of both it's parent metals. It's somewhat easier to enchant and lighter than dehlar, but also has a natural resistance to outside magic."

Erissa examined the metal with interest. "That sounds almost too perfect," she said in almost rote recitation.

"Yes, there is somewhat of a catch that I was getting to," he replied, rubbing the bristling hairs on the back of his head somewhat uncomfortably. "From what I understand, though I've never seen it myself, delyn has a tendency to release any magical energy stored within it somewhat ... explosively if it is broken."

[Sagequeen]

“Oh my,” Erissa said, her eyes widening. “Explosive metal! I have not heard of such a thing.”

A howl of pain and a clatter of metal caught the two off guard; the elf turned to see the apprentice grimacing in pain. The husky boy cursed as he held his hand in front of him, and Erissa noticed his mostly cooked fingers. The white hot ingot on the anvil below him sizzled malignantly.

“That’s what happens when you’re not paying attention to your work,” the blacksmith barked, even as he retrieved a bucket of cool water for the boy to soothe his burns. Erissa set the delyn ore with the swords and hurried toward the furnace.

“I can help,” she asserted, grabbing the boy’s smudged, sweaty arm. He gave her a distrustful glare, which she quickly dispelled with a wink and a kind smile. As she concentrated on his hand, the red, searing wounds evaporated into non-existence, much to the wide-eyed shock of the smiths. His face full of wonderment, the apprentice flexed his fingers repeatedly. The muscles of his forearm engaged in a sinewy dance, highlighted by the flickering orange that radiated from the furnace.

“Thanks!” he blurted. The boy grinned and turned back to the glowing fire, happily goaded to work by the blacksmith’s familiar expression. He thrust the ingot back into the flames and concentrated intently on its changing color.

“I am Erissa, by the way,” the elf said as she followed the blacksmith back to the wares he had set out for her. “As for the delyn - it must take a good bit force to break the metal. And even then it may well give me an advantage, if I am quick enough. As you’ve seen,” she said with a modest shrug, “in addition to shielding, I also can heal.” The heat-grizzled man nodded thoughtfully as he studied the elf.

“Perhaps,” he said softly, his voice barely rising above the protesting bellows.

“Before we go any further,” Erissa said, “I would like to know the price for such a metal. I certainly do not want to waste your time discussing sword type if delyn is something I cannot afford.”

[Revenant]

"Indeed, and you would be right to ask," the blacksmith said, taking the ingot black and bringing it over to the jian on the showing table. "As I mentioned, delyn is a somewhat rare and costly alloy. Without doing the full cost analysis and not knowing exactly how masterful you want the sword, I'm guessing that it'd cost anywhere between six and nine hundred coin."

"Of course any enchanting that you'd want done would have to be done somewhere else, but I can assure you that anything else that you might need on the blade can be done here." He gestured to his apprentice with a grunt, "And you needn't worry about young mister fumble-fingeers over there messing it up."

[Sagequeen]

Erissa laughed nervously. Her eyes flickered to the apprentice, who was oblivious of his master’s chiding as he happily pounded away at a hunk of metal. She swallowed the lump in her throat, practically choking on the price the blacksmith had quoted. With a sigh, she nodded slowly.

“That is pricey. Still,” she said slowly, “I trust it would be worth the cost.” The elf peered distractedly at the racks of weapons, her mind elsewhere for the moment. Several fleeting thoughts later, she cleared her throat and looked earnestly at the mustached man. “I am satisfied with that price range. Let us discuss the details.” Her initial decision made, Erissa’s mind whirred with excitement at the possibilities. “The feel of the jian was most natural, but perhaps something a little more sturdy, that can either slash or thrust as the situation warrants. Does such a sword exist?”

[Revenant]

"Of course, ma'am," the blacksmith nodded, gesturing for the elf to follow him back towards the cabinet from which he had initially drawn the weapons still resting on the oil cloth beside them. "There are a great many blades that we're familiar with and can make for you. There's plenty of them in the cabinet here, though these are all obviously samples. Why don't you take some time getting to know them a bit to see if you can find something that fits exactly what you're looking for."

He cast his eyes around Erissa, a slight frown creasing his brow. "And while you do that I've got to put a little bit of lecturing into my young lad over there. Good lad you know, but a bit dreamy-headed for his own good." With that, the blacksmith stepped aside, giving Erissa full access to the wide variety of blades carefully stacked within the weapon locker.

[Sagequeen]

Erissa smiled tightly and nodded. The space in the room seemed much more close, and she sighed quietly as the blacksmith plodded away. She looked at the cabinet filled with swords and was reminded of when she first began her instruction in tailoring. There had been so many fabrics, so many weaves, so many methods and pieces of equipment. Even now, her education continued though she was considered a master. Erissa swallowed with an audible click. The dry heat left her lips tight and throat parched.

Erissa began to doubt herself and her reasons for purchasing a sword. It was obvious she had no idea what she wanted, and skilled as he might be, the high elf asked of blacksmith the near-impossible task of finding something for her. Erissa knew that fact intimately and chastised herself for it. How many elvish maidens had sought her out for garments, only to be unpleasable because their ideas were too vague? More than Erissa could count. And every suggestion she had made to each of them was turned down, because their minds were caught up in the supposed perfection that only blind and gross optimism could muster. The Ixian realized that she was romanticizing the event, much as her own clients once did. She expected the stars to align, and the for universe to smile at her as it gifted her with a sword of myth and legend.

Erissa almost turned and walked away. She had already fished several coins from her pouch to pay for the man’s trouble. Harsh, sustained grinding jolted through the elf and she felt once again like the quiet, forlorn daughter of corrupt, false nobility.

“The metal is soft right now,” the blacksmith said to his apprentice. “The edge wouldn’t hold if you tried to cut anything.” The blacksmith plunged the blade into the hellish furnace.

Perhaps I am just a simple tailor, riding the coattails of true heros, then basking in the glory of their deeds. That one thought possessed an edge sharper than any blade in the cabinet before her. Erissa’s shoulders drooped, and her hands fell to her sides. She studied the floor dejectedly for several moments. “No,” she grunted, the utterance a surprise to her and the source of it a mystery.

The blacksmith pulled the glowing sword from the furnace and swung it like a pendulum. The white hot metal cooled slowly to a vibrant red, then a somber orange, and finally to a dull, ashen black.

“The metal is out of sorts from being worked,” he said to his student. “We must heat it and let it cool slowly before it is quenched. Again, he plunged it into the freshly stoked furnace.

Erissa’s jaw set as she awkwardly grabbed hold of the newfound courage. I am more than that, she thought. I am already more than that. The high elf took in a deep breath and pulled her shoulders back. She turned herself squarely in front of the display, and studied each sword attentively.

“It’s patient determination at this point,” the blacksmith said. “You’ve spent so much of your blood and sweat and time to get to this point, folding and pounding the metal. You’ve worked yourself ragged shaping and grinding, pouring days into one single blade. By now, maybe you’re excited to finish, or maybe you’re just exhausted, but it would be easy to cut corners. But the metal isn’t ready for quenching. Not yet.”

An ornamented blade caught Erissa’s eye. She sniffed eagerly and took it from the case. The metal sang as she sliced through the heat. The flashing of the jeweled hilt drew ephemeral circles as the elf played at thrusting. She wondered absently at the uneven weight of it; a blade of such size should not be so heavy. Erissa pushed the thought aside, her eyes sparkling as she adored the intricately shaped gold that spiraled around her hand, forming a cage to protect it.

“This is what sets us apart from many of the other smiths. They pound the metal, draw it, grind it, and then they ruin it with impatience. They don’t warm the blade again to relieve the stress of working it. So, their blades shatter more easily.” The blacksmith drew the sword and swung it like a pendulum, going through the even cooling process once again.

“What about this one?” Erissa called to the smith.

“That is for appearances only,” he called. “A symbol of status for nobles with puffed chests who never truly intend to use it. I doubt it’s what you’re looking for.”

“Oh,” Erissa said with surprise, and she quickly returned the rapier to its place. With a sheepish smile, she returned to browsing the blades.

“The ash,” the blacksmith instructed the boy, “will keep the heat in, so the blade will take longer to cool, and cool more evenly. The burly man dug a furrow in a soot-filled clay vessel to receive the blade. With heavy tongs, the apprentice gently lay the glowing metal in the bed of ash. He set the tongs aside and used his calloused hands as a shovel to smooth the mounds of ash, hiding the sword within.

Erissa had tested a few different blades, finding none to her liking. Her gaze wandered to a sword of elvish make. She retrieved it from the display and, with the hilt and the blade resting in her palms, studied the simple grace and elegance of its make. A long, slight curve bent the metal, reminiscent of a snake’s trail, which followed into the grip. An elvish inscription was delicately tooled lengthwise into a slightly convex channel that ran half the length of the blade. Erissa slipped her fingers around the ivory grip.

Leaf upon the Wind, it read. She contemplated the words as she carefully wielded the blade. The superior balance made it seem as though the sword helped choose its path, and it was lightweight enough for her to move without constraint.

“You can’t see it,” the smith explained to the boy, “but the sword has changed. It’s easy enough to tell the difference between a hunk of metal and a hammered blade, but these changes, well, they’re too subtle to see. But don’t doubt they’ve happened. Sure as the nose on your face that metal will be strong. It will take incredible force to shatter it once it’s quenched, and the blade will not quickly dull or notch.” With a nod, he set a thick, clay lid atop the vessel. He turned back to the elf. Erissa was distracted and did not notice his return.

“All you need now is a teacher,” the smith said with a slight smile, and the elf started and spun to face him.

“Can you suggest any?” She asked with a coy smile. The smith chuckled and shook his head. “Delyn,” Erissa said, recalling the name of the metal she had chosen. “And this style.”

“And the inscription?” He asked, and the elf furrowed her brow in thought. She almost snickered with mirth as she considered stick ‘em with the pointy end, in lovely elvish script. Jensen Ambrose had said that to her, and Erissa quickly shoved the smile aside.

“The sword will bear the familiar blue of delyn?” she asked, and the smith simply nodded. “Le onen guil hen, le velt farn a chuinad han,” Erissa said softly, "upon the blade."

[Revenant]

"Uh-hum," the smith coughed politely to cover the slight reddening of his cheeks at Erissa's words. "I'm afraid, my good lady, that I'm going to have to ask you to write that down as you want it inscribed. I may be good with metal but words can be a little tricky. Especially ones in a language that I'm not familiar with."

"Elvish," Erissa instructed, with a hint of a smile.

"I'd guessed as much," the smith shrugged, "But it's better to not assume when such matters are on the line. You might not know it but there are some awfully temperamental people about who choose very odd slights to go to war over." If the blacksmith noticed the twinge at the corner of Erissa's beautiful eye, he was wise enough not to mention it. It was all good and well being friendly with a customer, but in his experience, it never paid to delve any more deeply than that.

The smith waited patiently while Erissa drafted the flowing elvish script for him, nodding once he had it as if he'd known all along just what to etch into the maiden's blade.

"This shouldn't be any problem to craft, miss, though I am afraid it is going to take me at least a week to forge." He held up a hand, cutting Erissa off if she'd wish to make a complaint. "And it ain't no good demanding an earlier blade. I don't settle for shoddy workmanship in my forge and I need that long to ensure that you'll get the best damned blade I can hammer out. Also, I'm going to have to require half the payment for your sword up front, as the materials are expensive and if I'm forging a masterpiece for you I'm not forging anything else for anybody. And Thayne's know that my lunkhead apprentice won't be much help in that area."

"So if this ain't anything that breaks the deal, I'm going to need," the smith paused, his eyes squinted as numbers ran through his head, "350 coin from you now and the other 250 when you return in a week."

"Is it a deal?"

[Sagequeen]

I changed the inscription of the sword, fyi. Doesn’t affect your posts.

“Indeed, we have a deal,” Erissa said, her face beaming. “And I will include the fee for a messenger to deliver word to me at the Ixian Castle the moment it is completed. I will return with the remainder of the payment then.” Erissa struggled to contain her excitement. She had expected to wait months instead of a mere week. The elf eagerly snatched her coin purse and retrieved several pre-counted and neatly bound stacks of gold coins. She offered them humbly to the blacksmith, who took the deposit with a polite nod.

“Sounds good,” he said simply, and turned back to his work. The man arranged a few items around the forge before glancing back at the elf. Erissa shifted from foot to foot, craning her neck to see if he reached for the delyn ingot she had inspected earlier. “See you then,” the burly blacksmith said suggestively, and she nodded awkwardly before wrenching herself away the place in the floor where she had seemingly grown roots.

“Okay,” Erissa said, with a rueful smile. “One week?”

“One week,” the smith assured, and the elf was unsure if he was annoyed or amused. Either way, she was the source of it, so she willfully put one foot in front of the other toward the door to avoid any further awkwardness.

The sun coasted golden-clear and the sky was an endless blue as Erissa broke through the threshold into the day. The weight and indecision had been lifted from her conscience, and her gait was bounding and lively.

~^-------------^~

“One week to the day,” Erissa breathed as paced back and forth in her quarters within the Ixian Castle. She was nervous, excited, and agitated, all at the same time, and she found herself at the window looking out again. Several messengers had come to the castle, as they did every day, bearing a number of communications, but her own messenger had not yet arrived.

A sharp rap at her door set her heart and stomach to exchange places in her body. The elf walked swiftly to the heavy wood and wrenched it open, her face alight with hope.

“Housekeeping,” the small woman said with a thick accent.

“Oh,” Erissa said, crestfallen. She stepped back and the woman bustled in with her rolling cart. The housekeeper was armed to the teeth with bottles, brews and brushes to wage war against filth and grime, and the elf left her to it.

The library was nearly empty when she arrived, and Erissa wandered the isles randomly, scanning the spines for anything that caught her eye. Riker and Valyana. It was a tome she knew well, and the elf urged it from among its fellows on the shelf. With a quiet smile, she flipped through the pages, the slapping of chapters and scent of parchment capturing her imagination.


And as he pulled his sword from the heart of the beast, Riker roared with a cry of victory and strength. The men in his company were in awe of the valiant hero, their just and honorable captain who had led them through the Vale of Nordheath, over the treacherous mountain Crach’del, and through the frozen tundra to the hot spring mires Gyrefrost, to the very lair of the Terror of the Northern Skies. At his side was the soft-spoken Lady Valyana, confident and mighty in her own right, her blue blade glittering as cold and deadly as the glaciers that pierced the horizon.

It was during the crux of the journey, when Riker’s men were scattered, his birthright sword lost, every plan he laid ending in disaster, that he had lost hope. He had dragged himself north to confront the beast alone, damning himself to the best death he could think of. It was Valyana who ordered the remaining men to gather their survivors and wait for their return. She took the last two horses and tracked her love to the springs, where she found him unconscious. Somehow, the Lady brought herself and Riker back to the mens’ camp despite his fever and their lack of food or shelter. Valyana lovingly nursed him back to health. It was then, in his darkest time, she had said the words to him in her native language, which he had learned to honor her as he courted her some years before. Le onen guil hen, le velt farn a chuinad han.

“You have been given this life because you are strong enough to live it.” Erissa whispered. The elf sighed. Such a good story, she thought, though she found she lacked the attention span to read it more closely. Erissa looked wistfully to the tables that were stacked rickshaw with books others had left carelessly, and she engaged herself with the busywork of returning them to their places. Some hours later, she flopped down in a hard wooden chair, delightfully tired with her work. The elf had all but forgotten her earlier anxiety when a deep but youthful voice echoed loudly through the library. Erissa was galled by the brashness of whomever decided to yell in her sanctuary until she realized she recognized him.

“Hello!” she cried, her own voice a bit too loud. The elf sprang from her chair, the dull ache in her muscles forgotten as she paced across the smooth, tile floor to the blacksmith’s apprentice.

“I’m supposed to tell you your sword is ready. You can come get it when you want,” he said.

“I will go now,” Erissa chirped, and practically flew through the Ixian halls, stopping only to grab her satchel. A short time later, the elf entered into the familiar building where the blacksmith was pounding away at a lump of metal.

[Revenant]

"A second please," the blacksmith called out when the door's chime caught his ear. Intent as he was on his work, he promptly failed to lift notice the identity of his customer, going through his routine introduction to his shop and listing off the various wares that could be found there. Sharp blows of his hammer punctuated his speech, beating a steady rhythm of one-two-three upon the metal with a fourth beat upon the anvil itself to rest the metal. Beads of sweat collected upon his brow, evidence that the smith had been performing his task since well before Erissa had arrived. Halfway through his recitation of inventory and stock pricing, a curtain to the side room parted, admitting the young apprentice with whom Erissa was already familiar. The stocky teen paused, glancing between his master and the elven maiden with a look of momentary confusion before realization brought a smirk to his lips and he ducked behind the curtain once again.

"Alright," the blacksmith finished his speech, punctuating the statement by jabbing his glowing creation into the water trough beside him, "Now what can I do for you today?" He stopped, finally catching sight of his customer's identity. His expression was one of alternating amusement, annoyance, and embarrassment. Coughing lightly to compose himself, he welcomed Erissa back, pausing only long enough to bellow for his apprentice to bring the sword out. Already having seen to that task, the apprentice reappeared almost instantly, bearing a slender object wrapped delicately in an aqua cloth.

"Finished it this morning," the smith beamed, accepting the sword from the boy and presenting it grandly to Erissa. "Been so worked up over it this whole week that I needed to do some crude horseshoes to calm my nerves. I can't say it's the best thing I've even made, but it's definitively in the top three."

[Sagequeen]

Erissa’s eyes sparkled, and she tapped her foot impatiently as the apprentice handed the concealed sword to the blacksmith. He removed the silk in a tantalizingly slow motion, then drew the sword. The delyn’s characteristic azure was finally revealed, polished to a high gloss and veined with slightly darker lines where the metal had been repeatedly folded upon itself.

The weapon was a masterpiece.

The man proffered the sword, its blade resting in one of his sooty palms and its hilt in the other. Erissa offered girlish grin in return as she took the ivory in hand. Within a narrow channel along the length of the blade, the words she had long held in her heart were on display for all to see, painstakingly etched there by the smith. Erissa eyes widened as she realized he had copied her graceful handwriting exactly.

“How you achieved this in a week, I shall never know,” the elf said slowly, shaking her head with awe. She summoned a weak charge of energy, and her blade seemed to hunger for it. Erissa willed the orb to elongate and sheath the weapon, and to her surprise, the metal devoured and was imbued by it. It glowed faintly, white and pure against the gritty red light of the shop. The arcanist clucked her tongue in indecision and shook the weapon slightly, with no result. “How...” she muttered softly. The elf looked worriedly at the smith. “How do I release it?”

“Hmmm,” he grunted as he handed her the wooden scabbard. “Same way you captured it, I suppose. I’m no expert, but you might want to do that outside.”

“Yes, of course,” Erissa said with a quick laugh. “That would be best.” She carefully sheathed the sword, hoping it would not explode in her hand.

“So I take it the weapon is to your liking?”

“Very much so,” she replied quickly. Erissa fished a small leather pouch from her satchel and handed it to the smith. “Two hundred and fifty gold coins, as agreed.” The elf smiled thoughtfully before removing several more coins from her purse. “And fifty more for supplementing the boy’s education. Skill such as this begs to be passed on, and the future will be a richer place for it.”

Erissa rushed through the streets back to the Ixian Castle. She was already late for her lesson, and her teacher had a reputation for being less than forgiving.

Delyn sword - 600 gold.
Donation to the shopkeeper (Revenant) - 50 gold.

[Revenant]

Transaction concluded.

Sagequeen gains 300 exp and spends 650 gold.
Revenant gains 50 gold.