RP:A Rogue and his Bow

Summary: Lanara accompanied Leoxander to Leone's shop to finally retrieve his eagerly awaited weapon.

(Note: This is an older log including a player now retired.)

Smithy Shop, Gualon

Leone is nowhere to be seen at first. The furnace is aglow, and there is a cauldron of something-or-another bubbling away, seated directly atop the coals. The air is thick, scented with petrichor and mithril and stiffling hot. The shop is clean - or at least as clean as a smithy can get - and everything appears to be in place. After a few moments of silence, a gentle plodding noise rises above the disrhythmic churning of the molten metal on the fire. Boots appear from a hole in the ceiling, a trap door that is directly above the ladder embedded in the wall. Rung by rung, the petite plover emerges from the loft above the workshop, finally finding the dirt floor. The bantam blacksmith takes a moment after dismounting the ladder to wipe her hands upon her leather-clad thighs. She is sweaty, crystalline beads dropping errantly from stray, grey strands of hair dangling from her crown to run down her face and neck. The back of an arm is used to wipe most of the moisture from her vision, after which the sacred smith approaches the roiling cauldron.

Leoxander might have given a slight knock. A slight rap. But otherwise, he was pushing his callused hand against the door. It was fairly obvious when the smith was in, for the heat and smoke radiating from the building. Instinctively ducking the frame on the step in, his eyes catch the glow of molten light to shine animalistic as he brushes his hair out of the way with a hand. And then he finds life in this strange environment, something called 'almost-a-smirk' tugging the corner of his mouth, surrounded by stubble of at least a near week's lack of shave. "Hey." He says, simply, lowly, as a greeting to the woman he has not seen in a good while, but who had given him his needed glass of whiskey at the nearby tavern. Hopefully she didn't reject his unexpected visit. Not just him, but he looked back and kept the door open a second more so that Lanara could get through. It was far warmer in that shop than outside.

Lanara walks alongside of Leoxander and as they enter the smith shop, she finds her eyes growing wide as she takes in the view. The witch clearly had never been inside of such an establishment, and she actually leaves the lycan’s side for a moment to peer at all the mechanisms at hand, her chocolate hues full of wonder. “This is how weapons are made…? I never really thought about the process. I have just visited the shops, and purchased them already designed and enchanted. It’s… Hot.” Hot wasn’t the word, stifling would have been more sufficient, and were it not winter outside, she would have likely shrugged out of the oversized leather jacket. Craning her neck to look at Leo and see his take on the facility, she takes a step back at the owner of the establishment appears from overhead, and making her way down the ladder. A woman? Lana finds herself at Leone’s heels as the smith approaches the cauldron, a look of glee on her face, as the witch was no stranger to a bubbling cauldron. “Ooh! What are you boiling?” Perhaps she should introduce herself, or at least stay quiet and in the corner while Leo conducts his business, but that never has been the way of the elf. Curious to a fault, she stands on her toes and tries to peer into the pot.

Leone is prepared to unmount the boiling vat when Leoxander's voice breaks through her thoughts. The farrier stops mid-reach, wheeling upon both bootheels to face the encroaching assassin and his companion - only to come face to face with Lanara. Vivid verdant sights pin to the witchy woman's presented visage, and a mildly bemused smile tugs at the corners of plump, tawny tiers. A brow is arched, like an ebon comma in a manuscript, before the lime green orbs are diverted to the lycan. "Hey," the salty-sweet timbre undercuts the smithy's humidity, "Mithril." The latter half of the comment is directed back to Lanara, and is quickly followed with, "Just a moment, and I'll show you." Moving away from the furnace belching heat and licking with flames, the blacksmith approaches the row of cabinets along the southern wall. Prising one open past a set of mysterious locks and latches, the metallurgist pulls out a black, velvet bag approximately four feet long and eighteen inches wide - or at least whatever is inside of it is. The bag is gripped firmly with one hand, and the farrier approaches Leoxander. Unceremoniously, and without any further pomp, the velvet case and its contents are offered to the lycan, with the simple extension of her arm.

Leo gave a brief glance at his naive companion. But she was young, not exactly pampered in that world but for one who had such magic normally in her arsenal, he couldn't entirely blame. He looked back toward Leone, almost apologetically. He hadn't yet found a button that turned off the witches curious questions, but seemed to like her enough that he had brought her along. So he remained silent until Leone approached him again, with a velvet carriage, no less. He looked up at her, then back to it. He knew what it was. And even if either women didn't quite understand the value and sentiment of the moment, he gripped the case and held it a moment longer before he began to unwrap his gift from the Frostmaw Queen and the Gualon Smith. The Obsidian was likely to shine in the light, the leather hard worked and wrapped tight, and he couldn't help but just drop the fancy wrapping as he finally took that obsidian compound bow into grip. It was... just... perfection. He looked up to Leone. "I don't know what I owe you. But .. I hope this comes with a quiver, black-tailed."

Lanara lowers her ankles to the floor and eyes the cauldron with a satisfied expression. The last thing she expected was to see a cauldron, of this size, indoors! “We… We used to have a cauldron, similar to this, back in Kelvar… We used to dance around the fire, write our wishes on parchment, and throw them into the flames… Into the universe.” She was talking to herself at this point, as Leone had approached Leo and was handing him a velvet case of some sort. The brunette was too intent on watching the mithril bubble that she didn’t pay either the smith or the lycan any attention, at the moment. Lana’s moment of reminiscing is cut short as she sees Leo lifting what looks to be a compound bow into his hands, and she narrows her gaze to get a better look at the obsidian weapon. It was lovely, even from this distance, and she could see the hard work that Leone had put into the making of it. If either of them caught her gaze, she would give them a faint smile, but for now she merely remains silent, beside the cauldron.

Leone chuckles at Leoxander, and then glances over her shoulder toward the cabinet that had been abandoned: unclosed and unlocked. A curt nod is given in reply to the bowman's query, and the smith cants her head at the aforementioned cupboard. "Get it yourself," the pepper and honey voice commands, "It's a new thing, I want you to try it out. Tell me if it works. Each of the arrows has a tongue at the bottom of the quiver that they lock into. It will fit any head, any material, as long as it has a point. I'm hoping it'll keep them in the quiver during er...extraneous, shall we say...ventures, without inhibiting knock time. The bow was shiny enough and yet, at the same time, it wasn't. Though the translucent black glass held an inner fire, as if it were the deepest, richest garnet ever uncovered, the surface of the bow did not glint nor gleam. It is strangely matte, though still glossy, smooth, and cool to the touch. The drawstring, as the lycan will discover the first time he handles it, is made of ghroundium. Extremely thin and taut, the bowstring is none the less heavy, possessing at least a 75 pound draw. The smith reaches out, tapping a small portion of the limb just below the sight. "My maker's mark is here," she says expressly to Leoxander, "Along with a few specifics about the weapon. If you need to have it repaired or refined for any reason, and I am not to be found, the smiths in Frostmaw or Craughmoyle will know what to do with the limited stats I've left. You'll be hard-pressed to find one that will work in volcanic glass, though." A brow is raised to the babbling Lanara and, after a few beats of silence, the farrier huffs a laugh through her nose. "I can make you a cauldron," the metallurgist states, "They're fairly easy."

Leoxander could find the bow no more perfect. He looked at Lanara, briefly, before his gaze ventured to the smith Leone and beyond. He made his way to the cabinet of goodies. What else could it be called? A pause given as she points out the pristine details of his new bow, better than his old could ever be. He looks to Leone specifically, and leans in to try to press a kiss to her lips. It is not intimacy, but gratitude, respect, a token of thanks with a bite of stubble. She is his smith and he doesn't have the coin to pay for it, yet. He then moves on to inspect his arrows.

Lanara watches the two discuss the features of the fine bow and takes a few steps nearer to them to get a closer look. “It’s beautiful…” She states matter-of-factly, as her eyes trail Leo approaching the cabinet. Knowing that he would likely test out the weapon before concluding the purchase, she stands off to the side, making certain not to get in the way of the smith or the archer. She did arch a brow as she witnessed how adept the male appeared with a bow, as she expected a pirate to wield a cutlass over a bow. At Leone’s offer of a cauldron the witch immediately shakes her head, and a blush rises to her cheeks, though they would likely think it was the stifling room that had caused her face to redden. “Um… Thank you. But I couldn’t… I don’t have a place of my own just yet, and I wouldn’t have anywhere to put such a magnificent cauldron.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans her back against the wall and falls silent as Leo leans in to place a kiss to Leone’s lips. Lana quickly diverts her gaze and hugs herself tighter, wishing she were anywhere but here at this moment.

Leone is taken by surprise. Not only is the sacred smith not used to having someone that close to her, she is certainly not used to that version of gratitude. The farrier lets it pass without incident, but following with a bawdy laugh. "Oh you owe me far more than that," the blacksmith coos to the lycan. A glance is thrown toward the attending witch, and the chartreuse sights immediately flicker to the floor. The smith grabs a towel off of the trough along the western wall and mops her face with it. "Let me know," she says, an informal measure of dismissal.

Leoxander turned back to Lanara, unaware of her dispute. But the sight of he made him somewhat concerned. "I've got my weapon now." He reassures, not at all perceptive that the grateful kiss made a difference. A glance over his shoulder is given at Leone and he murmurs lowly. "We've got to get back. You think you have something she could defend herself with? I'll pay you when I can. You have to trust I'll be good on my word." Aware of her dismissal, he was already headed for the door with bow and arrows in hand and strapped to his back.

Lanara nods, though her eyes refuse to meet that of the lycan or the smith, as she clears her throat. “Um. I really like horses… I hope you don’t mind if I visit the stable for a moment.” Without waiting for Leone’s consent she quickly heads for the door, desperately needing a breath of fresh air. She didn’t need a weapon to defend herself, she needed out of there, and fast. As soon as she steps outdoors she immediately heads for the stables and approaches the nearest horse in sight. A white mare stands tall and proud, whinnying softly as Lana buries her face in the mane of the beautiful beast. “Hi…” She murmurs, nuzzling the horse in a way to not only comfort herself, but bond with the animal, as well. Several moments pass as she merely breathes in the scent of timothy hay, and stands with her body against the animal, as her fingers stroke the silky fur. Lana had forgotten about the gang in Cenril, her nightmare, Leo and Leone’s kiss, and her injuries, and merely snuggles against the horse. Not realizing that Leo had exited directly behind her, she keeps her back to the man and sighs heavily. “What a night…”

Leoxander followed Lanara. He was hired to protect her, and the shop. But more so, he felt a certain duty to her on his own. Newly acquired weapon and quiver on his back, that fairly new shirt on his torso, he entered the stables and immediately several horses whined and whinnied to the presence of a wolf. He took a deep breath, waiting for them to settle somewhat, before he looked toward the princess and her white horse. "Lanara... we have to go back. I don't know what's wrong, but we have our duty..." And that was what it was for him. A job. He had woken her up from her nightmare but she seemed to be almost in a worse state. "Do you want me to carry you?"

Lanara detaches herself from the horse and glances in the direction of Leo, though she doesn’t quite meet his gaze. “I know. I’m ready to go now. And no, thank you. I can manage.” The woman clenches her jaw as she approaches the lycan and motions for him to lead the way back to Cenril. She feigns a yawn, as she hopes to maintain her pride, and mask her true emotions with faux tiredness. The entire way back to the shop she remains silent, and makes certain to watch where she places her footfalls, so that he wouldn’t be inclined to carry her the rest of the way. As the shop nears sight, she sighs in relief and slides the jacket off of her slender shoulders, waiting for him to unlock the door.