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Post by Atalan on Oct 22, 2019 12:49:27 GMT -8
In the afternoon light, a lean dark haired man in dark clothing with forest green lining neared a building with the sound of pounding steel emanating from it. Atalan reached the end of the street, looking for the metalworkers that the Oxcorp Miners had told him might be able to help him forge the silver-steel scales. He reached down and shook them again, enjoying the sound of them ringing against each other in the pouch as he glanced up at the building with its sign declaring it to be, "Garrison Smithy, No metal to tough, no job too big or small." He shoved the door open and observed the room; several men were at anvils, working with metal in various ways. Some of them were making swords, some were making shields, some were doing some sort of decorative fencing even it looked like. One of the smiths servant boys.. or apprentices or whatever they were finally noticed him and trotted over, "How might I help you sir?"
He glanced down at the rat faced puke that had approached him and said, "Take me to the master smith of this place. I was told they might be able to work some rare metal I have recently acquired. Bacon... I mean Baker Mayflower gave me the name of this place if that matters." The boy motioned for him to follow. and Atalan followed in the rat boy's wake. Past the roaring furnaces where they smelted the metal; the anvils where burly smiths and their strikers labored at making this or that by beating the metal into submission; the cooling tanks that hissed and bubbled and smoked when the straw yellow metal was quenched; and finally to where a huge older man, his silver hair lightly streaked in a few places by honey blond that was sitting at a polishing wheel bringing a blade to a mirror polish. His shoulder were as broad as an oxen's and as he looked up the demon saw that he had a long plaited beard hanging down to his chest. He cleared his throat and carefully folded a cloth around the sword before laying it down on a low table beside him. He stood and nodded before a gruff voice issued forth from the depths of the beard, "Name's Shawn Garrison, I'm the master smith here. What do you need?"
Atalan took the pouch from his belt and tossed it to the burly man, listening to the metal sing as it clinked together. "This is something one of the peon... erm. People at Oxcorp Mining told me it was a new metal, they are calling it star-silver. I was wondering if you could take a look and see if it might be worked into something... like a sword perhaps. It looks like you do good work here. What do you think?"
The smith opened the bag and pulled out one of the shining silver scales, moving it this way and that letting the light reflect on it. He whistled, "This is some pretty metal... Let's see how hard it is." The smith picked up a file from a nearby tool bench and started trying to file the edge of the scale for a few moments before frowning and taking it to a vice grip. He locked it down and tried to file more on the face of it, really bearing down hard. After a moment he glanced at the unmarred scale and then looked at his file incredulously. There was a smooth spot worn into the teeth of the file. Garrison shook his head in consternation and said, "Let's try to heat it up and see if it will let us work it then. I sure ain't seen much like this."
They moved to one of the forges, where Garrison took one of the long handled pairs of tongs and lay the scale upon the coals. He signalled on of the rat faced boys to pump some bellows and got the coals super heated; the scale began to turn dull yellow, then straw yellow, then finally began to glow cherry red. Atalan stroked his chin and leaned forward with interest as the smith finally used his tongs and pulled out the scale and started to bash at its slight curve with a heavy flat faced hammer. CLANG. CLANG... CLANG... CRACK... The smith looked at the hammer and discovered a crack running through the center of it. He growled and threw it down to bounce and clatter, "What in the hells is this metal?"
Atalan Pursed his lips and shook his head. It seemed this smith was perhaps not as skilled as he had been led to believe. Unfortunate, that. he began considering whether to blast him into his own furnace or not.... he seemed like he might have outlived his usefulness. He summoned a balls of energy and danced it across his fingers, almost a crimson blur as he considered the matter.
[825/825]
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Post by Nal on Oct 22, 2019 23:11:33 GMT -8
The hardened ore that either her prison had turned into or contaminated the actual metal within the mountain had Nal puzzled, just as much as it had puzzled the smiths within the entire land. She wandered across the city and none knew what this actually was, nor were willing to forge with something they knew little about. A few of them referenced another smith though - one Shawn Garrison, working deep within the city, a big shot forgemaster that apparently took commissions from the Oxcorp itself! Nal had no idea what that was, but it was apparently important enough for these people to deem it so, and thus, must've been really good at their jobs. Perhaps this metal thing could be forged by them into something nice? The majin heard of swords being a hero's weapon, perhaps that would do and she would get to wield and swing it and be all awesome and heroic. It was definitely a good plan, and with that in mind, the gray majin set off to find that "Garrison". Son of Gary or named after a building where soldiers are kept, she wondered? Either way, a curious name.
It took the majin a while of wandering, but finally, the smithy was located. As she has been wont to do, the girl just wandered in, walking within the rows of forges, furnaces and people working these things. She understood little of what was happening, but the process of the metal turning red and shaped by hammer strikes fascinated the little majin immensely. Just like most other things, to be perfectly fair, but this was different - it was creation through destruction, in a way, the metal ore was broken, but turned into another item entirely - swords, armours, pans, pots, axles for those strange hovering vehicles everyone was using... plenty things. But before it could be properly explored by the gray girl, she's heard a name, Shawn Garrison - the man she wanted to meet! And then, another voice, speaking something about new metals, silver and swords... silver swords? Who would make that? It was dumb, but interesting, so Nal decided to check it out.
Fortunately it wasn't far away, as she wandered deep into the forge complex in her wondrous, sightseeing march among the crafters. Lucky that, too, she thought, because with all the ruckus these people are making, she wouldn't have heard this if it were any furhter away. Just around the corner, she spotted the forgemaster, filing away at some reflective metal - and also the person who wanted a sword made out of it, or so she at least thought. Tall, black haired, with ears weirdly sharp and pointy... though hers were just a pair of dull nubs with a hole in them, so who was she to judge that? Then there was that odd power... the majin frowned, deciding to send her own mystic might to prod at that. She sensed it was different, but just like hers, unlike that of the other people in here. It wasn't that "ki" everyone kept rambling about - felt like real, actual magick, it did. Kinda like hers!
The majin cast a glance at the smith, currently trying to heat the odd metal up. She looked down at her own sample, not unlike that other one, but strangely green in colour, opalescent to a degree - but not all that different in general looks, colour nonwithstanding. She wondered where did he find that. And just as the smith failed and tossed his hammer in frusration, she decided to approach! Even more so that she sensed a power welling up from the odd, slender man. Probably before he gets annoyed and breaks something, like that smith just did.
"Hi. I'm Nal" - she said, having to look up at the not particularly tall man. "I have a weird metal like that one too, but mine is green and I can't find anywhere to make something out of it. Where did you find yours?"
[WC = 661, TWC = 1486]
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Post by Atalan on Oct 23, 2019 10:16:26 GMT -8
Atalan casually dismissed the blast of ki he had been readying and turned to face the newcomer. It was grey skinned with little nubs for ears. It had some sort of hair hanging down that looked more like a part of it's body... it was quite odd looking. He reached out with his senses curiously and felt... a power akin to his own. His eyes narrowed and he thought about what he was sensing.... Could it be? A maijin? He motioned at the smith to hold his piece for a moment and stepped closer to the smaller demon. He had read some about maijin in some ancient texts... this creature could be a powerful ally if cultivated properly. He smiled and answered the grey skinned maijin, "Greetings, Nal. I am Baron Atalan, I have holdings in the southern Demonlands. As far as this metal... I deigned to take a job for some hapless corporation on Ox Mountain who couldn't even keep track of their own miners in the deeps. I acquired these metal scales from some beasts that lived deep within and ate the ore there. It seemed a more convenient way of carrying the metal instead of the chunk of ore. However, the master smith here seems unable to forge it. Maybe yours is different somehow? Would you like him to try?" He gestured for the smith to move the scale aside and smiled as he waved Nal forward. "Garrison, try Nal's ore and see if you find it more workable. If not.... maybe you know of a black smith that might have more... expertise in rare metals?"
[WC - 269/ TWC -1755]
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Post by Nal on Oct 23, 2019 13:12:30 GMT -8
The majin tilted her head, listening and probing. Similar powers, odd ears, demonlands... well he sure was no majin, but maybe he was one of the other demons, they did come in a lot of different shapes and do love their royal titles. Kings, dukes, now a baron. Things checked out. Not only that, but he also had some special metal - even if more silvery - and another trait they shared.
"Hey, I see you talk a lot too. That definitely is good, most of people around are oddly silent or annoyed. Or both. Though there were those other two I met that talked enough..." the gray majin drifted off in thought as the ore has been passed over to the smith, who began putting it in the vice and, to not waste yet another tool, fetched the already ruined file, beginning to scrape away at it, without much enthusiasm - but with professional pride not allowing to give it up. "I swear, what a day... silver metal I can't chip, then I get another one, but green, carried by the weirdest creature I've seen in this city" - the smith muttered to himself as the file was slowly thinning under the unrelenting metal, soon snapping in half with a loud ping. This seemed to either not surprise Nal, or she just got distracted by that other probably-a-demon.
"So you come from the demon lands? I took that from someone who took over my forced nap prison as a throne room of some sort of weird cult. Think he was a demon too. What are the demonlands like? I never was there but I always wondered what kind of people are in there." - the majin continued, while Garrison has been busy trying to apply a chisel to the metal, trying to wedge it into the weak point in the irregular shard of ore and break it apart that way - though instead of the green-ish metal, it was the chisel that was split in two. The master smith stood up, picking up both the metal samples and reaching out, handing each back to their respective owners. "This ain't happening, not in this forge. Though..." the man scrutinised the two, looking them up and down, especially the obviously inhuman majin - whose hair tendrils were busy twisting and molding, to take the appearance of Atalan's hairstyle. "You two mentioned demonlands, and this little fry" - he nodded to Nal, who looked over at the man curiously, with a slightly amused grin to her - "spoke of grabbing that there green nightmare from one. Rumour goes, there's some pretty queer fellow out in the desert, not so far from those demonlands of yours, hammering out stuff no one either knows what it's for or what they're made of. Shot in the dark, maybe he'll know more of this."
Nal needed to think, and nothing helped thinking more than a cherry gumdrop - one that she swiftly picked up, unwrapped, then tossed into her mouth, chewing idly. Quick enough to reach for another, to then hand over to the baron next to her. "They help me think" - she explained, drifting off into thought. The smith had a point and maybe they'd find someone out there, but if it's just a rumour, nobody will know where that fabled smith actually is. Though if he really is a demon, sensing him out shouldn't be all that hard...
[WC=564|TWC=2319]
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Post by Atalan on Oct 24, 2019 8:15:10 GMT -8
Atalan wasn't sure if he was more amused or annoyed as he watched the huge smith attempt to work on the maijin's ore. As he watched the smith get increasingly more frustrated, amusement won for the moment. He decided to answer the question about the demon lands, "The demon lands are mostly what the they call "badlands". Which means they aren't good for most kinds of growing crops or raising most kinds of animals. Some of us have arable territory though." He paused and looked at the maijin... he didn't want to insult it but he felt like it might no understand... so he explained further, "Arable means good land where the right things will grow if you tend to them. I, as Baron, protect the villages in my territory. In return, they pay a tax on what they grow and what they earn. Unfortunately, sometimes one of the villages or towns thinks they don't need to pay me anymore and I have to show them the error of their ways... but mostly it works smoothly."
He watched the smith break out the chisel and turned his head towards Nal, "Cult huh? Did you have to kill them all? How long was your.... nap?" He turned back in time to see the big smith admit defeat. Frustration began to rise again.. Maybe blasting this oaf isn't such a bad idea. But he calmed down slightly as the man told them of the purported smith beyond his own capabilities working strange metals. I wonder if he is just trying to get us out of his shop... Atalan called up his power and traced a subtle rune on the man's anvil that gave a low flash then disappeared. Just enough to make him regret it if he is lying. And for his failure. He reclaimed his pouch and made sure Nal retrieved its ore before he said, "Good day, Mr. Garrison. We will investigate this rumored smith... I hope it is not a wild goose chase. Nal, shall we go?" he didn't bother to add for your sake.
He thought about the cherry gumdrop as they exited the forge, the maijin seemed so childlike in some ways... and even demons had a bit of a soft spot for their children. He cleared his throat, "I think I saw a candy shop down the road. We can stock up on things to help you think for the journey. My treat." He let the maijin pick out a large amount of her favorite treats and left the store with a lighter wallet and a heavy bag. "Let's head to the desert, Nal. It's high time we found a smith worth the name who can do something with this metal for us."
It took them a few days to make it to the desert at the edge of the demon lands, but they were mostly pleasant if boring. They stood at the edge of the sea of dunes, white hot sun overhead. Atalan wrapped a keffiyeh over his head and looked to Nal, "I feel a slight tug towards the south west... but nothing definite. Do you have any strong inclination another way, or shall we proceed that way?" Atalan finished adjusting his head covering and then looked down to his companion. The maijin seemed amenable enough so through the desert sands they headed. Atalan sighed after the first ten minutes of the shifting sands moving beneath his feet. It was going to be a long day.
[wc: 582 / TWC: 2901]
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Post by Nal on Oct 24, 2019 11:35:55 GMT -8
During the travel and the candy shopping spree, Atalan would have learned as follows: - Nal didn't actually have to kill the cultists, they sort of ran away on their own, she only took the ore from some miners that needed rescuing and picked it up; - She really isn't sure how long the nap took, but it felt like forever, so at least a few days, however should he prod more, he would've learned that the girl stirred up after a powerful spell shook the land and only woken proper recently; - She was actually wondering what "arable" means and is very glad to have it explained to her, furthermore, she wondered what do demonlands grow and if they have any special meals in there that other lands lack; - The majin was also really curious if the demonlands have their own heroes and if they also get given gifts for helping people; - That she found his headwear funny, but definitely saw it's use and therefore, did not think it's stupid. She also wanted one and would get it as soon as they found someone with a spare. And probably a trillion questions regarding his powers and it's similarity to her own. All in between breaks for thinking and chewing on the candy they brought, oftenly a handful at a time if a question (or answer) has been particularly trying. She also encouraged the man to ask any more questions, maybe take a few days to consider hers and her answers before answering (or asking) more. Either way, eventually, they found themselves at the border of the demonlands. During the travel, her hair tendrils would've changed shape from mimicing the demon man's hairdo into simple dreadlocks, tied on the back of her head with one of the hairtacles. Now the question was good. Where to go? She closed her eyes, raising the antenna on the back of her head up, pointing it in various direction as she sensed. It didn't really help her in any way, shape or form, but it did make focusing on a single direction easier, at least for this particular majin.
"This land feels different. A little more oppressive. Lots more dry and... hm, I sense people" - Nal muttered, hopping in place from one leg to another, balancing on one at a time for whatever reason. "That way over there is the demon I beat up in the mountains, but right to the right I can feel some... hm. That feels like two strong people fighting a lot of weak people. One feels kinda familiar... I can't really say why, but it does." - further muttering was being had afterwards, something about kin, when the majin finally turned her antenna, and with it - attention, towards the direction Atalan was "tugged" towards. "And that way is a person." - she concluded, with a sagely nod. "Just one person and not really a strong one at that. I think I feel something more, but it's not people and I don't think my sensing powers are strong enough to detect what or how many of those whats that is, so we should definitely go there and find out more." - with another nod, the majin turned southwest, beginning to walk - and cough, turning away from the direction the sand winds blew from. Spitting out a mouthful of sand, the girl decided to use her longer antenna tendril to cover her mouth, squinting as she walked against the damnable weather. Grumbling plenty, picking up a chocolate bar and sliding it under the antenna to much on as they walked, hissing as the tendril itself got bitten by accident.
[WC = 602|TWC = 3503]
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Post by Atalan on Oct 26, 2019 19:31:11 GMT -8
The sun was nearing the end of its journey across the sky, painting the desert in a majestic array of hues; red bled into rich orange, soft gold, majestic purple and above all the blue of night. The maijan chattered answers and questions almost constantly, which honestly was a welcome distraction from the heat; though normally it might have driven him to distraction. He explained to her in some detail of what the people in the demon lands grew and in what regions; it had after all been part of his education to learn such things. If only so he could try to steal what he wanted. He explained to the Nal that his particular district has some good vineyards and a few places that grew good melons.
"As far as heroes go... We aren't necessarily the most.. heroic types in the demon lands, Nal. I do protect the peasants who live on my land and pay me taxes. I guess you could consider the taxes payment for me to keep bad things from happening to them. It is kind of like a gift given in advance for protection if you look at it that way." He conveniently failed to mention what happened to villages who failed to pay their taxes. It didn't seem really relevant at the moment.
It was not much longer before they crested a sand dune and came upon an oasis with a pair of buildings sitting near it. The nearest building was formed from dark basalt and surrounded by a red brick patio. The further building was some sort of grey stone surrounded by the same patio. The hurried down the shifting side of the dune and soon were on the more solid ground of the patio. Atalan approached the door of the dark building and rapped on the black oak door. The sound reverbrated on the inside, but no answer was forthcoming. He tried again with the same result. It was about that time he thought he caught the faint ringing of metal on metal in his ears. "Let's try the other building Nal. I bet that one is his smithy."
The door of the smithy opened revealing an odd figure waiting for them. The demon before them was bulging with muscle, true. He has a smooth hairless chest and head with a ridged fin running the length of his skull on the top. His clear green eyes watched them from an expressionless face from his full height of 3 feet 11 inches as his high clear voice called out, "Well, what do you two want?"
Atalan fished one of his scales out and urged Nal to get her ore, "We have tried all the mortal smiths around here; none of them could work this metal but one of them mentioned you. Can you see if you can work this metal into something for us? Say.. a sword?"
[484/3987]
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Post by Nal on Oct 27, 2019 1:15:52 GMT -8
Demonlands seemed different. People paid for protection here, apparently - was it because the land was so much more dangerous than others? It could be where that influx of power was coming from, the one Nal sensed on their way to this smithy. Maybe there are as many bandits here as elsewhere, or even more, and that is just necessary. Or maybe it wasn't - and she just didn't know the local customs. Probably that or a mix of both. "We should take a walk around once we're done here, maybe go to where that energy is coming from" - the majin nodded towards the general direction of where she sensed that from, walking over to the first door that was knocked on, then the second. Thinking what the smith will be like, and... there he was. Shorter even than her and by a lot, and with that curious crest on the head, one that her hair tendrils immediately began to mimic. It was exotic and looked really amazing - and so she wanted one too! Except it looked more like a mohawk made of tentacles, but hey - she worked with what she had.
At the prompt, she handed over her ore to the small imp of a man ("Imp" would now be the man's nickname) and watched as he inspected the ore, grumbling and looking up at it. The short smith went inside, motioning for the two to follow - and quite a smithy it was, with massive anvils, forges, hammers, tongs for keeping the metal still and a myriad other items Nal had no concept nor idea of. Such as that funny ocular he just picked up, decorated with various markings - some of which began to glow as the item was put to the Imp man's eye, twisted and turned, as both the silver scale and the green-ish ore were inspected thoroughly. Dragging a finger on each of those items, the short smith then put that finger into his mouth, as if tasting the thing, which confused Nal a lot. Ore wasn't edible.
"Can work with that. But I won't" - the short man snapped, putting the runed ocular aside, then pointed towards Atalan. "You two will. Your star-silver is pure, and yours" - the creature turned the finger towards Nal, "is tainted with powers you too are tainted with. Can't work on that, so you'll have to. And it's how star silver works. It listens to the owner and only shapes by the hand that is "worthy" of it" - he scowled, spitting on the floor of his smithy, apparently finding the idea of being judged by metal preposterous. Before Nal had time to ask a question (and she surely tried, mouth opening almost as soon as the Imp stopped talking), the smith interrupted. "I'll be here, tell you what to do, you'll do what I tell you. Got it?" - the little smith demanded, with a huff to the voice, not even giving anyone time to answer. Nal seemed confused as ever, but - if it worked that way, it worked that way. She had no idea what star-silver is, but apparently her green ore was that. It didn't look particularly silvery, but... she wasn't the smith, so what did she know? She looked up at the other demon man, studying curiously how he will react to the rather impertinent smith. If he was a baron, he probably wouldn't enjoy being talked to like that - Nal found it amusing, but she was always easily amused. Barons, however, she knew were less fun. "Special metal that only the owner can forge sounds like a thing from a grand tale of adventure. Think we're about to start an adventurous journey, Atalan?"
[WC = 613|TWC = 4600]
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Post by Atalan on Oct 28, 2019 10:05:56 GMT -8
Atalan looked with some small amount of interest at the array of furnaces, anvils, and tools around the large building. It almost seemed like more than one demon could possibly need... but then again what did he know about black smithery? He watched with fascination and professional curiosity as the little demon smith picked up a lens and adjusted it to identify the properties of the ore. He was sure it was tied to magic somehow; some of the runes looked semi familiar. At the Smith's proclamation that they would be working the metal, Atalan crinkled his nose a bit. He was not from the working class. He almost sneered as he looked at the orange spittle the smith had so brutishly hocked out to the floor. Although the idea that he had been found worthy... appealed to him. This metal obviously had some sort of magical, and obviously sophisticated way of determining who was worthy of forging it. That being the case... he was considering bending a little and actually doing as this little brute asked.
Just as he had decided to go forward with being a smith, Blech; the infuriating pipsqueak opened his mouth and said his spiel about He, Baron Atalan being subject to his every order and whim. His vision turned red and he felt his face flush. A dark red aura sprang into being around him and he almost struck out without thinking. He turned away for a moment to calm himself and took a deep breath. There is a time for pride. There is a time to bide your time and get your revenge later as well... If I want this sword I will have to do so. Most likely the smith was poking at him to see if he would snap... to see if he would be an intractable student. He clenched his fists and his tendons popped audibly. His magic tutor had played the same games with him sometimes and it had infuriated him as much then; though now he had learned from them and was more patient with such foolishness. If he was... he would never learn the forging of this star silver that was for certain. He turned back around and nodded slowly to the purple crested midget. "Very well," he spoke slowly, "but don't think to abuse the privilege of ordering around a noble, smith."
He looked down to Nal, "Yes... a grand adventure I am sure. I must say the idea of being chosen by this seemingly magic metal does appeal to me Nal. I will submit to this learning experience so that I might profit from my earlier efforts. Ordinarily I would blast this insufferable lout into a greasy spot for speaking to me so. However... let's have our grand adventure. I guess I might even learn something useful for later."
He eyed the smith, "Very well what do we do first?"
The smith smiled an evil smile, "I need coal. lots of it. There is a coal pit 2 miles to the south west. Fill that pit to the brim and we will start your metal working education."
Atalan sighed as he took a step towards the pit and looked into it's depths. This was not going to be a short or easy job. "Let's get to it then Nal. The sooner we start the sooner we can get done."
The smith cackled and called out, "There are a few sacks you can use by the door, take as many as you can carry."
Atalan reached inside of himself to part of the power of his birthright and released it. He bones cracked and elongated; his face became more angular and sharp looking almost and his golden eyes blazed from the pits of his eye sockets. His voice was deeper and cavernous as he said, "Thanks, we will. Grab what you can, Nal, I will grab the rest." His now huge hands easily scooped up the rest of the bags and then he stooped down and followed Nal outside of the smithy to make their way towards the pit.
[683/5283]
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Post by Nal on Oct 29, 2019 4:11:03 GMT -8
The majin listened, nodded and chewed a cube of sour bubblegum. She observed Atalan and the Imp man, curiously eyeing them two as there seemed to be tension - like she thought, barons didn't like being ordered around. But for some reason, the metal they had to make swords out of only would bend to them, which - she supposed - made him a little more receptive to the idea of receiving orders from someone this small. Nal wondered if that was how everyone saw her... Either way, there was coal to pick and she was going to bring it along! With a grin, the girl tossed a few of the sacks - as many as she could carry, which was quite a bunch. She didn't feel like enlarging just yet, though it seems like Atalan indeed did - looking much sharper and not entirely unlike that angular, gaunt demon from the mines. She squinted, inspecting the man, but found the similarities only faint. With a shrug, she began marching in the direction their Imp teacher showed - the south and west.
"Quite bossy, isn't he?" - she asked, with a faint grin, walking towards the coal pit. Even if there were others around, Nal wouldn't mind them much, nor did she care for a chat or any other interaction right now - the two were on a Quest, with a capital Q at that! Important, grand adventure. Something she was really excited for. And thus, there being none to talk to was actually a blessing in disguise for the ever-distracted majin. "So we just... toss coal into here?" - was one of the few questions she did ask, before actually doing just that - opening one of the coal sacks and dumping... nothing into it. Nal looked through the sack and then swiftly realised - all of the coal fell out, through a hole in the bag. Tilting her head, she inspected the second one, then the third, fourth... and every single one had very little coal at the bottom, since there was a huge hole in every bag! The little imp defintiely was laughing his hide off right now, Nal, however, was less amused. With a grumble, she tied the bottom of one of the sacks with another, then began to walk her way back and collect what had fallen out, one bit at a time, her lips a thin, pale line as she clenched them shut in annoyance. Grabbing the coal took her hours, but finally, all was in the bags and she could carry them to the pit. Proud of herself, the majin flipped the tied up bag over the pit, and... a few bits fell out, clatering into the large hole. Nal blinked, looked into the bag, and - noticed that somehow, the one wrapped at the bottom realigned itself and with it, the coal began falling out again.
Rather annoyed at this point, the majin made her way over to where all of the coal was. But instead of putting it into the bag, she began kicking each bit towards the pit, corraling the stray chunks until they formed a sizeable pit. At that point, she decided to tie the bags together again, by their ends, then wrap them around the pile of coal and begin to pull the rocks with it, until she very quickly realised the holes in both bags shift and cause the chunks to fall through, so she decided to throw the damn things away entirely and just push the heap of coal with her own arms, collecting more and more on the way, until the heap was larger than herself. Eventually, the heap of coal reached the pit and with a grunt, the gray majin pushed it over the edge, watching as the thing collapsed into the pit that was supposed to be filled with the coal. Grumbling, covered in soot head to toe, the majin grumbled, planning to do the same for the remaining coal sacks that her and Atalan didn't carry yet - but rather than haul them all together, she just began throwing the bags towards the faraway hole. Some coal would still stay in the bags and the rest, she would carry by the way of pushing the heap like the first one. Nal only hoped her companion is faring better at this than she was...
[718|6001]
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Post by Atalan on Oct 29, 2019 9:22:57 GMT -8
Atalan ran along with Nal on the first trip to the coal quarry and growled back at her questions, "Yes he is a bossy little git. If he's lucky I won't throw him into the coal pit after we're done forging our swords." He heaped the sacks full of coal while Nal started running back with her first load. He heaved the coal filled sacks up over his shoulder with a grunt. They were quite heavy, but he could manage. He started running back to the forge and could almost feel the burden growing lighter as he charged through the sand. I didn't think exercise took effect this fast... I mean if it does why aren't all those muscle bound yokels who hit things much stronger? All they do is hit stuff and sweat and scream. He finally reached the coal pit in the forge and started emptying... the almost empty bags into the pit. He examined the bags and found the holes. His eyes glowed golden with a hint of crimson as he looked towards the little purple goon laughing hysterically. He had gotten about three quarters of a bag total between all the massive amount he had carried. It took everything he had not to blast the little trickster right then; but he had to keep his mind focused firmly on his goal. He took a deep breath and scanned the sacks to determine what the imp had done. The holes will move to thwart whatever I do with them. It is incomprehensible why this little cretin thinks this is funny. He left the sacks laying where they were; they were useless to him. He stepped out side and snapped his fingers, "Beauregard, come forth." a cloud of green smoke burst into being before contracting to become a spindly limbed demon with a fat body and green skin dressed sharply in a tuxedo. He pointed to the trail of coal leading back towards the stockpile, "We have some things to carry, Beauregard. Follow me." They followed the trail back and Atalan stuffed handfuls of coal down the demon's throat.
By the time they had reached the stockpile, Beauregard could barely totter after him. Atalan took his cloak off and filled it with more coal and started rolling Beauregard back with one hand and carrying his load in the cloak with the other. Soon he was passing the surprised looking imp while rolling his servant. He emptied his modest load of coal into the pit and then picked Beauregard up by the ankles and dangled him over it and started shaking him up and down while saying, "Beauregard, release."
A torrent of coal started clattering down as his servant slowly seemed to deflate in size. Finally, with a last few shakes, the last piece of dark fuel skittered down into the pit. Between his and Zam's efforts, he could see a difference already. "Come, Beauregard. A few more trips should take care of this." Three more times he trudged back and forth to the supply dump and back to the pit, dumping his cloak and his servant's worth of coal each time. After his third trip with the pit nearly full, Nal came in pushing more coal again and topped it off. He nodded to her, "Good job Nal. We will get this buffoon's tasks done yet." This task done, they approached the purple smith once more.
"About time, slowpokes. Now, take some of that coal to the third forge from the left and get it lit." He crossed his little purple arms with an evil grin as he said it.
They loaded the forge with coal and Atalan waved for Beauregard to get it lit. As he struck a match and a strong wind ripped down and blew it out. Cackling could be heard from the demon smith behind them. Atalan reached out and drew a rune above the coal as the wind blew down upon it. He pushed out with his power impatiently and a fireball erupted into the furnace, fed by the air. The demon smith muttered something about cheating under his breath but Atalan didn't care. He muttered, "If he didn't want us to use magic, he should have warded against it, eh Nal?" He waited as the short demon approached on his stubby legs, to give them their next task.
[726/6727]
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Post by Nal on Oct 30, 2019 6:10:35 GMT -8
At that point, the majin was rather frustrated, so she merely nodded in response. Looking at the imp with that irritation in her eyes, arms crossed on the chest. She was chewing furiously - and the chewing was a sign of doom, for she had a licorice cube in her mouth. It was, for those that knew this particular majin, a sign of a mood as black as the candy she was eating. The imp seemed oblivious of that, ever grumpy that his second trick did not work. "Alright, alright. Time to teach you to forge things. But before you go on making swords, start with easier stuff. Go fetch a sackful of normal iron each!" - the demon pointed at the shed behind the home and the two went there to pick up iron. As Nal reached for the door handle, it fell off, but in her annoyance, she didn't try to find a way around it - instead, the door was punched in, snapping vertically in half, one end falling into the building, the other - roughly between Atalan and Nal. This time, the bags in which the iron ingots were held have not been enchanted to have holes in them, so at least, the trickster smith never repeated his jests.
Carrying them over was easy, but the imp was unhappy again, muttering something about killjoys. "Right. Now you will forge a metal rod, as long as the girl's arm. Get to it!" - he shouted out, conteot to sit back and watch, but every once a while, bark instructions at the two.
Nal set out to do what they were supposed to do - put the iron ingot into the furnace, then stoking the flame under it with bellows, as the loud, wordy imp have demanded them both to do. Nal did that, even though annoyed, she was now focused - candy would have to wait, this was the learning process of creating things, one stuff that the majin loved! Eventually, once the metal was basically white from heat, she was told to reach for long tongs, grip the metal and swiftly pull it out and put onto an anvil. Doing that, the imp then shouted to grab a hammer and start striking - but rotate the metal ingot so that it gets longer, thinner and more round. And with a hammer nearby, the gray girl did just that - striking metal time and time and time again, until it stopped deforming under the hammer hits. Then, the demonic smith bellowed at her - with his voice magically enhanced, no doubt, as it was louder and deeper than the high pitched wailing he called laughter - to put the metal back into the fire and repeat the process. Over and over again. And so she did, until the long, metal rod was completed. It was... not completely awful, but crude and not in any way ready for use. The smith inspected it, thrown it away out of the door and shouted at the majin to try again.
And again.
And once more.
And one more time.
And then even more times than that.
At first, these were just metal rods that the imp either tossed away or went out of the smithy to put them around it, lying down or stabbed in the ground. Then, he had them move on to more demanding projects - spoons, ladles, pots and kettles (for his personal use, no doubt), then some more, jagged shaped rods which he began setting around the forge again. As he did, the mystic magic the two trainees commanded would flow more freely, evidently the rods they were making used to create a rune that eased the magic flow. It wasn't until that emanation was fully complete that they were allowed to start working on something even resembling a sword. Days and days of toiling in the smithy, with little breaks barring to eat, drink and rest, with many a sword bent, broken or thrown away by the unsatisfied blacksmith. At first, the short demon would distract the two by shouting and giving them false advice, but as the work progressed and his trainees began their work in the earnest, his trickery has been thrown aside, the imp even stopped distracting them and started properly trying to teach the two how to forge the metals they were given, moving on from metals to more important alloys, and of course - teaching them how to alloy metals to begin with, as that would be needed for the work of the mysterious star metal.
It was a long time spent in the smithy, but eventually, the two were closer and closer to the metal deeming them ready for forging. And with their skills honed and fresh, the chance was, their new weapons would be properly made, rather than a shoddy work of an amateur. Especially now, that the actual artisan began to honestly try helping. The moment of truth neared, looming over the adventuring two.
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Post by Atalan on Oct 30, 2019 18:18:51 GMT -8
Atalan grunted as the smith told them to fetch the iron ore, "Finally. Something that will actually help us learn to forge." He accompanied the little grey maijin out to the ore shed and shook his head as the doorknob fell off. "I swear I am going to destroy that imp when we are done..." He cut his words off as Nal punched the middle of the door and half of it whomped down between them. he grinned in honest delight, "Well done, Nal. I'm glad you are about done with his crap as well." He claimed a couple of sacks of ore for himself and walked back to the smithy past the muttering smith. He grinned at the smith's consternation. Serves you right you little fool.
He took the forge next to Nal and selected a chunk of iron ore. He used the long tongs and positioned it in the forge then waved to Beauregard to pump the bellows a bit. His man servant started a nice steady airflow pumping over the coals; the metal was soon heated to straw yellow. Atalan turned it so it would heat evenly and watched as it reached cherry red. As the edges began to get white, he used the tongs to transfer it to the anvil. He picked up a nice 16 pound hammer and began to strike it firmly. "Slow down, maggot, hit the iron with the flat of the hammer or it won't be even!" He managed to suppress the urge to bury the hammer into the imps head and slowed down to make sure he was hitting the iron squarely. He had to stop after lengthening the ingot a bit and reheat it again; then again after drawing it out more. Soon he had a rough iron rod that was mostly even. "Good, now do it again with a 45 degree curve in the middle. Use the horn on the anvil to help bend it." the demon instructed as he took the iron bar and tossed it over his shoulder. Atalan grimaced but grabbed another ingot and began again. Heat, beat, repeat.
Heat, beat, repeat.
Heat, beat, repeat.
Heat, beat, repeat.
So it went, over and over, making different shapes, angles, widths, and lengths. The Imp seemed to be using the ones he found acceptable to join together to make something... but Atalan was not able to pay too much attention to it. His imagination had been caught up with the act of smithing. He actually found it somewhat... rewarding. He was getting into a groove, making the different specifications was coming easier and easier now. The purple smith carried whatever he had constructed outside and came back a few minutes later to take their latest respective pieces.
Atalan paused to get a few deep drinks of water from a nearby barrel of water with cups attached. He half expected the cups to have holes or the liquid to be something besides water... but it was fresh and surprisingly cool water. He felt better and ready to go back to work; the smith noticed his surprised look when he drank, "I have to drink from that barrel too. Get more work out of you if you are hydrated too, pansy boy. Now, make me a large quart section of a circle..." Back to the rhythm, he and Nal pounded out two more section of the circle a piece, obviously meant to be joined together for whatever the imp wanted. "Good job. Now we need to prepare your metal for forging. Get your bag of scales and follow me to my foundry."
The smith led him to a corner with different sized things that looked like kettles. The smith indicated one of the smaller ones, "Toss them in here and light the fire. You need to concentrate your will on the metal, assert your will on it. Once it is melted," he paused and thunked a form down on a nearby table, "take it by the handle and slowly pour it into this form. It will give you an ingot you can work into a blade."
Atalan got the flame for the foundry lit and tried to reach out with his mind to the metal. Melt. Melt. I want you to melt... so I can give you form. Melt for me so that I might shape you. Melt... He almost felt like he felt something give... and the metal began to liquefy. He kept his concentration upon the metal and soon enough it was molten and ready to pour into the form. He deftly picked it up by the handle and slowly, oh so slowly, let it trickle into the form. It hissed and steamed, but he continued and soon had the whole of the molten metal poured into the rectangle form. He replaced the empty container and extinguished the flame before turning back to the form. He crossed his arms and found a piece of wall to lean against while he waited for his metal ingot to cool enough to be removed from the form. The smith came over and looked at the ingot, "Not half bad for a pampered noble. You want to leave that blue blooded crap behind might be as I could find work for you."
[880/8431]
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Post by Nal on Nov 1, 2019 3:00:04 GMT -8
A lot of time have passed - in Nal's mind, it had to be forever, or at least a couple days. But eventually, they moved on from kettles to swords, and from swords to... well, better, sharper swords. And many crappy swords at first, which were thrown away and sometimes taken out behind the shed, to be discarded. Whatever the imp did with them seemed to have strengthened the flow of magic even more, eventually leading to Nal feeling a weird tingle in the back of her head. It was odd, but she didn't exactly oppose it - this felt strangely familiar, not natural per se, but definitely like something that should be happening, the feeling that was meant to be, the power that stirred the mystic potential within her. One that called, and soon enough, the call was responded to.
The green metal began to sing. Not like Kiryu's radio or Nal's humming on the way, but - it was a song of a chunk of metal that wanted to be turned into a weapon. Nal didn't know how she knew that, but in the back of her mind, that truth was definitely there. This was the metal's song, and she was about to respond to it as it wanted. The majin threw away her half finished sword and reached for the green ore. It was carefully inserted into the furnace, which Nal then decided to help - with a hand outstretched, she unleashed a ki blast into the center of the chamber. Normally, the explosion would tear the furnace apart and probably injure everyone inside, but this time - it didn't. Because the Imp-man warded his furnace with magic runes, or because the metal absorbed most of the energy to become liquid, using the ki to smelt itself - Nal didn't know. She suspected both. What she did know was exactly what the metal wanted. And it wanted to be smelted, so she kept the ki blasts coming - until the green chunk of ore became a green liquid. Nal took some of that liquid, green metal away. Then, she added more metals that were around - she knew not what it was, she didn't even recognise a whole lot of them. But in the end, the majin reached out with what looked like a huge ladle (which she knew not the name for, obviously) - taking the liquid alloy and pouring it into the ingot mould. Waiting for it to cool and solidify, Nal stared at the metal, entranced - not leaving it's side for a moment, chomping down on some candy faster than she ever otherwise did. She was anxious, wanting to finish this - it felt extremely important to do so.
And eventually, the metal did cool and the ingot has been put back into the furnace, to get heated up. Using hammers with all her strength, the gray girl hammered what would soon be her weapon, into a nice, simple shape. It had a curved spine, a sharp point, and a razor-sharp edge on the inner curve of the blade, the weapon designed for cutting rather than slicing. A small part of the ingot has been forged into a handle, that the majin then somehow knew to wrap in leather, crossing all over the grip, leaving small squares in the centre, which she filled with small, green rhomboids made out of leftover, "pure" metal (if the magic-contaminated ore could even be called that), each shaped like her favourite sour gum cubes, because of course they were.
The sword had no guard at all and at the end, there was no pommel either. In fact, the weapon looked almost exactly like a yatagan, except with a sharp point, something pretty impossible on a blade this thin, at least when not using mystical metal of the stars. And, of course, not counting the candy decors on the handle. Majin Nal gripped her weapon and raised it over her head, inspecting the thing in the bright sunlight of the desert. It has been cooling rapidly just when the hammer strikes shaped the metal into it's rightful shape, the mystic material knowing exactly what it wanted to be. It has been a single piece forged out of a single ingot - an achievement very improbable without some unnatural guidance. Fortunately, the two had magic on their side. Two?... oh right, Atalan was there too. Nal decided to turn and look how he was doing.
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Post by Atalan on Nov 1, 2019 8:54:21 GMT -8
Atalan shrugged off the imp's words and looked to see Nal starting to work on her ore. "It's time, boy. take your ingot to your anvil, we're going to have you make a Damascus steel with it. Going to be a lot harder than the normal forging I've had you doing." Atalan bristled once more at being called a boy... he hadn't been a boy since his father had died when he was 16; but he would put up with it for now. His hands were itching to blast this imp into oblivion... but he still needed him for now."Very well. What do you recommend for the alloy mix?"
Atalan set his ingot on the anvil and followed the small purple imp to his metal racks. The imp grumbled and shuffled through his racks seeming to be looking for something in particular. Finally he pulled two flat rectangles off a shelf; they were flat black and seemed to absorb the light instead of reflect it. The imp grunted in satisfaction, "Stygian steel. should be just the thing to balance the Star-Silver. Come on let's go and see." Atalan followed him back to the forge while the imp explained the process of forge welding the metals together.
Under the imp's supervision, Atalan welded the black metal on the outside of his ingot and then placed it into the forge. "Now bend your pea brain to concentrating on the metal again. Will it to join with the Stygian steel... wait until it's almost white hot at the edges then pull it out and start hammering it out. I gotta check on the sugar addict, I'll be back. Try not to mess it up."
He did as he was instructed and pulled the metal out when it was hot enough. He started hammering the metal out with the force of the hammer and his will on the metal. With the Stygian steel it seemed to cool quicker; he had to reheat it after only a minute or so. He fell back into his rhythm of heating and forging; he was almost in a zen state of mind with the feel of the metal and the music of the hammer guiding him. The Star-silver almost seemed to be guiding his hand a bit, telling him the best places to hit. He could feel when he was doing it right. When he had a roughly sword sized blank of steel the imp came back and said, "Good not we're going to fold it over and make layers. Get the big diamond file there."
The imp had him use the file to make deep cuts into the the metal to section it out. "Good, now heat it back up and use the hammer to fold it over in sections. Once it is done, forge it out again and we can have you finish the blade out." Atalan started the process of folding the metal back to pretty much the original size it had been when he had started. He looked back at the smith and asked, "What is the purpose of this, imp?"
The smith growled at him and said, "You're layering the metal together. It makes it stronger by having the metals mixed throughout the blade; plus it looks cool. Now shut up and forge the shape you want out of the blade."
Atalan shrugged and put the metal back into the forge. The metal seemed to hold its heat a bit better now, perhaps with the metals more evenly distributed it was staying warm longer. It felt like no time this time that he had the sword forged back out to sword length. Once again the metal seemed to speak to him and he forged a slight curve and a heavier tip . It felt like he had a bit to much metal... so he cut a block off the end. He then forged in the handle and ricasso and started shaping the cutting edge, keeping the spine of the blade thicker for strength. Once he had the blade rough finished, he made a simple guard and pommel from the metal he had cut off and attached them to the blade along with a handle made of petrified wood and wrapped in blue cord. He sharpened the edge of the blade to a fine fighting edge and then he made a wooden scabbard with a brass cap. Once he was done, he held a beautiful dao in hand, examining it. I can't believe I made this... He stepped out into the desert sun and examined his handiwork and noticed Nal was already out there with her blade. "Nice sword, Nal. Looks like we managed to accomplish what we came here to do..." He turned back towards the smithy, mayhem starting to beg to be released upon his teacher and tormentor.
[806/9971]
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