I am ready, I am ready for the war.

[Philomel]

The soft bell chimed as a swing of her hip pushed open the door. Albeit, it was a minor opening, but with her hoof following close behind she managed to complete the task but in the sexiest of manners.

Philomel strode into the blacksmith's store, her lips slightly curling in amusement at the sights around her. Adornments of the "best work" of the forge - helmets, staves, elaborate daggers - decorated the walls as prizes to be drooled over. But it was her the smith's apprentice drooled over as he stood in the back, his eyes glistening with wet.

"'Ow can we 'elp thee?" the blacksmith said, leaning down on a giant pair of bellows as he looked her right in the face, "Wha' can we do fer thee?"

The faun-whore grinned somewhat, and took out her sword:

"This (http://www.worldofgoodies.ch/images/0812370016877_1.jpg). I would like an approxmiation of it in a lighter, stronger material. Perhaps ... Damascus or even, if my money stretches, mythril. Of course, as you know being a blacksmith, it is already forged in steel. Dehlar will not do, because of my weak and feeble arms ..."

She posed in a lucious manner, pouting, hoping this might get her a minor discount.

"I will trade this sword in for that."

Her hand then moved to her simple steel shoulder guard adorning her right side.

"This is also somewhat useless. I need steel, at the very least, or something arctic. Perhaps arctic hide, or arctic leather, in a fashion similar to..." Her eyes wandered around, , then focused on a particularly alluring set of armour. "That."


Basically, in essence, asking for a quote on my current sword: here (http://www.worldofgoodies.ch/images/0812370016877_1.jpg) but in quotes of something stronger. Maybe mythril, damascus (depending how heavy it is) or a steel alloy, if that is possible. I would be swapping the swords.

Also, I need to change her shite armour. Right now she only has a shoulder guard (pauldron). I would like to add it with this (http://i.imgur.com/xBGvTOO.jpg) in steel or arctic hide/leather, guantlets included (minus the shield, and not the underskirt thing - just the main breastplate). I will be keeping the shoulder guard. Likely.

Armour is priority here.

[Lye]

Algrun, a man who had seen many wars and many battles, placed both his scarred hands on the polished oak counter. He listened to half-human speak with an impartial expression. She leaned over in a display of feminine prowess and though he thought himself beyond staring in this stage of life, he did. Since the glory days of the war, he had put on more than a few inches of civilian padding. The last time he had a night to remember was many moons ago, and it set him back a few hundred sovereign.

As she finished, he tongued his Fallieni tobacco tighter against his lower lip. Then, in a display of his manly disregard for appearances, sloughed a large glob of spit to a vase beneath him.

"A lass like yerself swingin' around that hunk of steel won't do. Y'look like you'd be better fit fer a rapier or somethin' thin n' light." He pushed off the counter and threw his hands up in a charismatic shrug. "But I'm 'n no matter to tell ya what to wrap yer hands around..."

His rugged features crumpled into a grin. Then he turned to his apprentice.

"Elroy! Quit pussy footin' that chest bowl n' fetch this lass a shortie. One in damascus 'nd another in mythril," Algrun barked.

The youth, somewhere in his early twenties, jumped with a startle. His mid-strike blow fell left and clanged against the anvil in a sound any smith would loathe.

"And quit lamenting my anvil lest ya want t'buy me a new one!"

Elroy cringed at his master's shouts. He set down his hammer, wiped the moisture form his brow, and turned to the inventory hidden from view. Chimes and clangs sounded. Algrun turned back to the faun.

"He's a good lad, but I reckon he'd be better suited for the watch. He's still a bit daft with the hammer," he spoke to the girl.

A brief moment of silence preceded Elroy emerging with two blades wrapped in linen. He approach the counter and began to unwrap them with nimble fingers.

"This one is Mythril, forged by Master Algun," Elroy commented meeting eyes with the well endowed faun. "And this is the damascus. I worked this one start to finish."

"One of yer better ones, I will admit," Algrun stated bluntly. His apprentice looked to his master with a degree of surprise. "Now, fetch the lass a banded steel breast plate. Y'might need to get the one y'goofed on; the one a little too big in the--" Algrun motioned to his chest.

Elroy offered a short glance to the faun and by that, he looked at her chest. His lips curled to a smirk before peeling away to gather said item.

"Now, miss." Algrun turned to her. "The damascus is gonna run ya less, but you'll be totin' around a slightly heavier blade. It does good to be enchanted but runs into a quaffle when y'blast it with strong magicks. Now, the Mythril will run ya th'most, but yer talkin' about a blade that'll stay sharp, strong, and resilient no matter what you beat it against. It'll be much lighter than that hunk of steel y'got. Build fer speed if y'get ma drift."

"Now, if yer tradin' in, I'll give ya a deal of 176 on the damascus n' 613 on the mythril. Feel free to try the weight n' balance to yer liking."

"Uff," Elroy grunted as he hefted the steel plate onto the counter. It certainly allowed ample space for the faun's... gifts.

"Thank ye lad, now how about y'stick around and watch a sale? Take a break from chippin' the anvil." Elroy drooped his head and stood off to the side.

"Now th' plates on this is in bands. It should allow more movement than solid plate, but it'll weigh y'down a good bit. Y'might have slender arms, but I'd reckon those legs of yours can handle a decent load. This'd run ya about 225 sovereigns. Now, we don't have anything that'd fit ya in Arctic Hide, but Elroy here can take ya in the back and get a size on ya for a new one."

Elroy shuffled his feet and crossed his arms. He looked to the faun in intimidation and a touch of lustful intrigue. Aldrun knew that look well.

"Supposin' he keeps his hands proper n' I don't have to give you a discount for his youthful zeal, I can put you in Arctic hide for about 450 sovereigns." Aldrun turned to the faun and bent his tree-trunk arms to lean against the counter. His old eyes made a few inconspicuous drifts.

"What'ya say, lass?"

[Philomel]

Her lips parted slighty at the accusation and her eyes darkened a little. She found herself posturing, stretching so the muscles in her abdomen buldged to demonstrate their honed status.

The faun hoped it would make this fat blacksmith with whom he was dealing. A whore she might be, but she was also a killer. Stretching her neck a little with an ounce of pride she paused, before replying;

"Though I be a woman I prefer not to be without defence for my own personal use. That sword," she nodded to The Bastard, as he straddled the worktop, lonely and dull grey, "Has saved my life many times and I simply wish to have its form proved once more."

Placing out her hand she motioned for the damascus version. It was dumped, though with ceremony, from the lustful apprentice into her palm. Immediately the weight felt jarring to any movements she was used to and she found herself putting it down before she dropped it, and thus cut off her own hoof.

"The white," she said quickly, impatiently.

The boy took too long. So she swept it up herself and it whistled through the air on a fine breeze of majesty. There was a pause as her thoughts took wing and became wishes and dreams and ascended her into immortality. Gently her eyes fluttered as she let out a gasp.

"This - this is the one," she said with absolute certainity. "I will trade in willingly."

Her words so thrummed with conviction that the forge seemed to light up with it. As she shifted the sword from hand to hand she found it fitting rightly into the palm, softly, like an indulgence worth dying for.

"The handle," her voice was mesmerised, "What is it ... deer antler? Bone? Metal?"

There was a light, polite cough. Looking up she saw the blacksmith ... Aldrun his name was, smiling slightly. Behind him, staring at her breasts without any obvious fight to not do so, his apprentice leaned, holding out the arctic leather breastplate.

"I - Steel will do," she said, quicker than she had meant to. "Indeed, this mythril sword," unwillingly she forced herself to place the white beauty on the table beside her - now old - steel counterpart, "And the plated steel. It allows suitable movement yes? Unless you have a certain similar thing but in chainmail ..."

She found herself giggling slightly.

"Oh imagine me in chainmail!"

[Lye]

"I meant y'no offense. Simply put, steel is a metal for th' traditional or th' poor. You look neither," Algrun stated.

She gave him a look that either meant anger or seduction. Algrun took a deep breath to continue, but she hefted one of the blades to try. Algrun checked himself and let the blades do the talking for him.

First, she tried the damascus. It looked awkward in her hands and the movements she made further convinced the smith it would not be the blade for her. She struggled, and he almost reached out to snatch it from the air, but it landed safely on the counter with a clatter. All the while he watched, Elroy let loose a sigh of defeat. He looked to his master, and his master glanced to him. Algrun's rigid features spread to a shit-eating grin.

He turned to see the faun heft the Mythril blade. The shape and form was expertly crafted and even took a similar shape as her steel counterpart. Algrun smiled when her first few swings looked as natural as breathing. Her face lit up and the sale was made.

"This - this is the one," she said with absolute certainity. "I will trade in willingly. The handle. What is it... deer antler? Bone? Metal?"

"Antler my dear, from the horns of an elder ridge strider. Rather hard t'get yer hands on down 'ere. The Dwarves themselves have a hard time gettin' there hands on it themselves." Algrun puffed his chest out in confidence to which Elroy rolled his eyes. "It's cut and hollowed to allow the full tang of the blade through the handle. Only cleaned and polished on the ends to keep that natural feel."

Algrun looked at the faun's horns, then paused. He forgot to think of his tact over boasting his workmanship. Would his methods of crafting horn into a weapon offend someone with horns of her own? He gulped audibly. Elroy broke the solitary tension by extending some arctic hide to her. Any offense caused by the comments over the horn was broken by his blatant staring. Though, it was difficult not to.

"Aye, the plated steel will allow more movement. It'll still be a greater hindrance to move in compared to what y'got on now. Th'trade off is always agility for defense." He shrugged at the futility of finding that goldy locks balance between the two.

He chuckled at her comment. Then, as though the thought forced itself into his skull, he stopped a moment to ponder her notion.

Ching...

Ching...

Ching...

Elroy, oddly enough, brought the smith back to earth with a firm kick to the heels. Algrun came to, only to see a slightly less amused customer looking at him.

"Er... yes. Chainmail might not be the best option fer obvious reasons. I mean, stealth! I mean fer being quiet!"

Elroy kicked him again.

"Sod it! Quit doin' that!"

Elroy backed off. Algrun turned to the faun. "T'gether, the mythril blade n' banded steel plate will be 838 sovereigns."

Elroy coughed. Algrun sighed and took a deep breath.

"Alright, fer the sake of dealing with my lad here..." Elroy dropped a jaw and cocked his head in silent offense. "I'll make it 825 sovereigns."

"What'ya say?"

"I'm gonna be needin' to buy myself a lay after all this," Algrun thought to himself.

[Philomel]

As the face of the fancying blacksmith and his apprentice seemed to gloss over with partial mesmerisation, Philomel found herself in control of the entire situtation. Her head cocked back, one hand on her curvacious hip, hooves holding her balance perfectly she found herself nodding, admitting the chainmail idea might have been rather too far.

If one thought about it, the man was right. There was no chance of her dancing around rooftops at night if the folk below could hear her. Hence why she had asked about the arctic leather. But it was so expensive.

She paused, considering continuing her previous method - flirting until she got a good price she could afford. But it was rather old school, and besides, this individual had already thrown her a discount. The faun-whore pursed her lips a little, eyes darting back to the bright white blade of fate. Certainly she had come to the right place for that. That would serve her good in any battle; foes or hired kill.

Relaxing a little she moved to take the coin purse from her hip. Gold clinked against gold as she settled it on the table top.

"I will give you what you ask for," she said, a velvet tone to her voice, "Throw in a simple iron steak knife and we are done."

Her eyes sparkled a little as she began to count out coins.

"825 gold ... Does that include the gauntlets?" she asked, her fingers fumbling a little, "Well I have 100 here, I don't tend to carry around a lot of cash, you can never be too sure. Not with all of those brigands running around these days ... how about I bring the rest later?"


OOC: The iron stake knife is a joke. I am not really asking for one. Just Phi flirting. As to the gauntlets - are they included as I asked at the start but just checking. I do have more money now so can pay extra for them.

[Lye]

"Steak knife?" Algrun looked to Elroy who shrugged back. They met eyes for a bit in awkward silence. "Well?!" he continued. Elroy grew wide eyed and began to scamper about in sudden realization. If they didn't have a steak knife they were at a forge. The young apprentice smith clanged about. He fetched a hammer from the tool rack, a rod of iron from the cooling water, and thrust it into the furnace. As he began frantically pumping the billows, the rugged old smith turned back to his alluring customer.

"That aught to keep 'im busy for a touch," he commented. "Now when y'say gauntlets, are y'talkin' the ones that cover the hands and run up th' arms?" He gestured along his hand to his elbow. "Or th' ones that run up to the shoulders?" He moved higher and pat his shoulder. "There's also the bracer." Algrun gripped his wrist area. "It'll protect the top part of yer forearm but leaves th' bottom open to breathe or hide a dagger in th' lace. In steel, the small one'll be about 75 gold. The one to the that'll cover all up to the elbow is 125, and the big one'll be an even 200."

Algrun shuffled his feet and rest his hands back on the counter. Behind him, Elroy removed the iron from the coals and began to pound away on red hot metal. Each strike rang loud enough for most people to wince. Being in a small shop full of metal and hard surfaces did little to help ease the ears.

"As for the down payment, I can hold yer gold, but I'm afraid y'can't take anythin' 'til th' bill is paid. As fer the steak knife, you can have it once he's done hammerin'. Call it a 'Thanks fer stoppin' by, please come again' gift."

The old warrior gave her his warmest smile. With scars scrunched and chipped teeth bared, his smile came off more like a weak war-face.

[Philomel]

A pretty even glittering row of five piles of twenty gold coins lay on the table. Philomel looked down at them, watching the obtuse reflection of the blacksmith until he required her to look up. As she did, she motioned beneath her and her mind gently reached out. Out to the endless void that was beyond the realms of her own imagination.

Coins, she related, or at least an image of some, All of them.

There was a gentle flicker of understanding, like the sense of a flame by its heat but not by its burning touch. A quiet, distant affirmative, recognition. With a flick of a gingery tail the sneaky fox disappeared from where he had been lurking underneath a narrow table, and scurried out of the door.

Algrun looked somewhat dumbfounded for a moment, his piggy eyes blinking.

"Uhhh ..."

"My companion has gone to fetch more money," Philomel said sweetly, the warmest smile she could muster upon her face. Hand raising she pulled her plait round and over her right shoulder, where it bounced gently for a single touch - then stopped. "He will not be long."

The blacksmith paused, seemingly a little dull if she was honest, then gestured to the gauntlets. "So ..."

"Small will do," she nodded, matching the ideal in her mind of what she had imagined to those on the table. "I believe I have enough."

Out of the corner of her eye she spied the young, handsomer man hammering out a bolt of iron. Quietly the corner of her mouth slipped up into a smirk. A knife. An iron knife, a small thing but pretty much for free. Try this again and she could build on the technique, becoming the queen of bargaining, unlike any other faun has ever been.

Proud of herself, of her looks and her soul, Philomel waited for her beloved companion to return.

And then she would be the Belle of the War.

[Lye]

Elroy hammered away at a steady pace. His forehead glistened both from the effort and sweltering heat of the forge. With each blow, his toned arms tensed to emphasis the lean muscle and sinew through sun kissed skin. Though the project was simple, his strong, determined eyes remained focused on the task as if the knife wear paramount to some great world event.

Once hammered flat, he thrust it back into the hot, glowing embers. He worked it in and out to set the coals ablaze while feeding the fire with a few presses from the billows. Again, the iron emerged hot, angry, and ready for more. The apprentice wrestled it back to the anvil and delivered his talents into it once more. The blade began to take shape. Satisfied, he placed it upon the coals to fetch a punching tool much like a leather awl and returned with both of them to the anvil. He leveled the iron, punched two holes in what would be the tang, then quenched the blade. The water hissed threateningly as it spewed a column of steam. Elroy again wiped the sweat from his brow.

Once the cooling bath had settled, the apprentice took what seemed to be a silly looking spear of iron, and straddled the grinding wheel. With his strong legs, he pumped at the pedal to being it to speed. The sound of metal to stone filled the air as he pressed the rod to wheel near the tang and in moments, the wrought iron broke away from the knife in progress. Much like an artist painting fine details, he leaned forward to press the crude knife to the stone. Sparks flew as he worked the ends, formed the edge, and rounded the burs.

He rose, the knife almost finished in his hand, and navigated to yet another stone. Manually, he passed the blade over the stone. Then, he passed it over again, and again. Each time, he threw his weight into it and the muscles of his back flared with effort. Every station he visited only further proved that smiths were the apex of strength and creation - real men in a world of false heroes.

Elroy grunted with one last pass on the finishing stone. He moved to a workbench from which he took a moment to browse the various animal horns, stones, leathers, and woods he could use to craft the handle. With a nod, he settled on a rather fine scrap of akashiman redwood. It only took him a minute or so to whittle and sand the wood to match the tang of the blade. Using a hand wound drill, he hollowed out two wholes, matched them with the holes in the tang, and pounded two brass rivets into place. Elroy finished the blade with some polish, sealant for the wood, and tamped two times on the blade: The letters EV for Elroy Valkarius.

"And that'll bring yer total to 900 even, lass," Algrun stated toward the faun. "Soon as yer... companion returns, it's all yers."

"Finished," Elroy added as he approached the counter, his body covered in a sheen. He presented the steak knife (https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2932/14175963490_c47b9a18d8_o.jpg) out to her, and placed it next to the white, mythril sword. "I hope you like it." His chiseled, elegant features came together into an appreciative smile. "If the blade ever chips or bends, let me know and I'll pound you back into shape. I mean it! I'll pound it back into shape!"

Algrun cupped a hand over his face in embarrassment and sighed. "Alright, enough out of you! Take yer mind off the girl and run to the docks to cool yerself off! Go on! Get!"

Elroy bit his lip out of frustration, both of failing his master and making a complete fool of himself. He shook his head, removed his apron, and exited via the back door. A muffled expletive followed the moment the door shut. Only Algrun and the faun remained.

[Philomel]

Beads like pearls upon a gossamer pillow adorned the blacksmith apprentice's brow, those sparks of sweat that revealed true determination and love for the art of his craft. In essence his job was simple - a lonely knife after all was the most basic of smithing creations - yet she saw clear his perseverance on the path for perfection. It caused her to admire the young man, gave her heart a gentle reason to flutter and her face a reason to gently smile. A kind smile, a respectful smile, no smirk or quirk of amusement.

Turning back to the blacksmith she lowered her voice slightly as she parted ten gold coins from the rest and set them in a bright yellow pile near his right hand.

"I will give you ten extra," she murmured, "For his work and his time. Spend it on the boy, don't tell him, just ... Surprise him."

If there was one thing Philomel knew with complete absolution it was that 'it is who thou knowst, not what.' With those ten singular coins she felt certain that this blossoming apprentice's skills and use could serve her into the future, perhaps for a few years to come. Easy as it may be to rely solely on his admiration for her figure, she wished to cement it with a suggestion of what was to come. Let Algrun treat the boy and leave a remainder of mystery. Then she would become a chased shadow for times to come, an ideal to be sought after.

"Nine hundred gold," she said loudly, firmly, but with a sly wink to the blacksmith.

As if she had been following his pawsteps all the way to and from the Silence Hall, Veridian returned with the pouch of coin as the words left her mouth. He leapt lightly onto the desk and swished his white-tipped tail. The ten coins set aside for Elroy nudged themselves into the half-open palm of the blacksmith.

"Nine hundred," Philomel repeated as Elroy returned, steak knife for all in glory to see.

Her fingers failed to fumble as she delicately and swiftly counted the rest of the nine hundred - and ten - coin from the pouch and left them in a set upon the counter. A fortune not to be missed.

Silently she laughed as Elroy was berated and sent to leave the room.

Once gone, and the coins all present, she nodded. "There. And remember, treat the boy, but don't tell him where the coin came from. He has talent, and there is no doubt it will simply flourish."

[Lye]

After Elroy had left, Algrun looked at the faun an quirked a brow for her generosity. He lifted his hand from the ten gold pieces she designated specifically for the young apprentice.

"Aye," he agreed to her terms, "I'll make sure to buy the put a pint or two with yer generous donation."

He turned about and lifted a pair of steel bracers off the wall behind him. Gently, he set them next to the banded mail, mythril blade, and simple steak knife.

"I appreciate you puttin' up with us." Algrun's tone almost seemed apologetic. "Not often we get customers that're easy on the eyes." The old smith scratched the stubble on his chin out of nervous habit.

"All in all, I hope our wares do you a great service and keep y'safe out there. There be things far worse than a few wandering eyes in the wilds. Should you need maintenance on yer equipment, don't hesitate to holler."

Algrun reached under the counter, pulled out a strongbox, and scraped the nine hundred and ten pieces of gold into it. This signified the completion of their transaction.


You may add a closer below or PM me to close out the transaction. Currently this is what is happening:
Phi sells a steel sword.
Phi obtains a mythril sword, steel banded armor, steel bracers, and an iron steak knife.
Phi pays 900 GP for the equipment and tips 10 GP to Elroy, The Apprentice.

At present, this thread also qualifies for the 5% EXP rewards meaning:
Phi gets 200 EXP.
Lye gets 300 EXP.

[Philomel]

With a curt nod she thanked the man for his time and twisted slowly away. In a movement companion to that of a High Elf her fingers trailed along the edge of the counter as she turned and caught the edge of the weapon and armour. They swept the sword, breastplate and gauntlets alike into the crook of her opposite arm's elbow and joined it to clutch them gently to her chest.

"Farewell," her light voice sang as her hooves carried her to the door. "Farewell."

And with that the Nightingale left, her new purchases fit for a prince to wear to war, and followed by the pattering paws of her proud protoge behind her.

[Lye]

Phi sells a steel sword.
Phi obtains a mythril sword, steel banded armor, steel bracers, and an iron steak knife.
Phi pays 900 GP for the equipment and tips 10 GP to Elroy, The Apprentice.

At present, this thread also qualifies for the 5% EXP rewards meaning:
Phi gets 200 EXP.
Lye gets 300 EXP.

Phi goes from 1,331 to 421 GP.

Transaction Complete.

Please link this thread where proof of purchase is applicable.