RP:Deus Nyx Machina - A Master Warsmith at Work
Summary: Vexar's search for a smith to remedy the problem with his cursed chaos weapons has come up empty. In a last ditch effort, he answers an ad from an unknown warsmith, Nikola, and calls on her in her shop deep in the heart of the Craughmoyle mountains. The results are fortuitous.
Craughmoyle City
The man known as Vexar Qu'isto and a thus unidentified, stout, companion stand stoic at the end of a dark street, lined on either side by dwarven shops and dwellings. The pair's dimly lit profile is an eerie contrast in the otherwise uninspiring alley. Hours ago, this lane would have been bustling with business thoroughfare but now, in the din of twilight, their silhouette was the only sign of life in the area. He'd hoped to call at a more reasonable hour. Alas, a detour through the mining road (he'd chosen this route over the more challenging, though quicker, terrain of the mountain pass) and a necessary stop at the Four Axes to recruit assistance in navigating the unfamiliar streets of Craughmoyle (along with the consumtion of an ale or three) had delayed his arrival. The vampire produces what appears to be an address scribbled on parchment from his pocket and flashes the note in the face of the dwarf at his side.
"Well, where is it, Fafnir?" he inquires shortly of his travel mate. The dwarf, allegedly called 'Fafnir', snatches the paper and, with the same hand, points a portly finger towards yet another path leading seemingly straight into the heart of the Craughmoyle mountains. Vexar traces the winding track as far as his keen eyes allow, ultimately losing the way as it rises into the height of the range. He surmises, however, that it ends at the spot where a billow of smoke accompanied by a faint, fiery glow paint the otherwise mundane mountainside. With a light sigh, he mumbles, "Of course..."
"That'll be it," chuckles Fafnir, clearly amused by the taller man's disappointed realization that his travel was not yet complete. "Try not teh fall off teh edge; teh path gets a bit more narrow after a few of our pints, don't it? I'll be taken meh payment now, seein' as yeh might not make it back down."
Vexar counts out ten silver pieces and drops the coins into the greedy dwarf's eager, open palms. "That's five for the riveting guidance..." snarks the vampire, who then turns to gaze upon the path that awaits him. "...and five not to tell anyone I've gone to see her."
As Vexar trudges through the mountainance terrain along what could only very generously be called a blazed trail, he ponders whether the dwarf will actually heed his request. After all, he now knew thanks to Fafnir's drunken banter that he was taking a risk by visiting a non-dwarven competitor in the world of Craughmoyle smithing, and he may not be welcomed back to the dwarf shops with open arms if this 'Nikola' turned out to be farce. Nonetheless, the determined Harbinger presses onward, a hood and a hand shielding his face from the biting cold as the wind berates his vulnerable frame. At long last, the wooded path evaporates into a clearing, where an unassuming stone facade, barred by a heavy wooden door, greets the traveler. Revitalized by the sight, and perhaps moreso by the promise of a burning forge to offer warmth, Vexar wastes no time closing the rest of the distance to the building. A single gauntleted fist raps his arrival announcement on the door, sending a perhaps louder than anticipated, echoing boom through the establishment. He then takes several steps back from the entrance so as not to appear threatening, paints his unusually dark face in an eager grin, and waits.
Nikola's Smithy
The building was not something worth mentioning for sure, it was of old stone, the walls darkened with age as vines grow upon its very walls. A simple lantern sits by the doorway and a thick, wooden door with metal bracings stood as its entrance. No one would have known what was in it if no one told them beforehand. Dwarves are proud people and would not dare accept defeat when it comes to talent and workmanship but alas, truth does pain ones pride. The dragon known as Nikola live in this mountain, though instead of a cave filled with gold and treasures, she lives in this small smithery, lacking anything noteworthy on the outside aside from a hanging metal sculpture, a hammer and an anvil. Behind the old looking smithy however was a two story home, hidden by the thick trees that grows around the area, painted white. It appears the house is much more modern compared to the smithery connected to it as if the owner does not want to be found.
What's with the hiding? one might ask. Its because of her clients. Powerful and wealthy individuals want their pieces made out of the finest metals, the most precious of orbs. If her shop is inside a city, there would be too much noise, too much distraction that would allow villians to sneak by and take from her. As the man knocks upon the door, it slowly unlocks and swings inward. Odd, especially as no one is there to open it to begin with. The forge roars to life as fresh air enters from the doorway. There are vents of course, even a chimney for the smoke but the large opening invigorates the blazing flames further. Should he enter, on the walls hang various shields, most bear insignias of numerous holds and kingdoms, armors of varying sizes stand firm on their post with weapons planted next to them to a point that one may think there are actual people in them. Various arms, swords, axes and spears are neatly placed on racks while the cheaper ones are simply stocked on a nearby barrel. The more expensive equipment however are enclosed in glass, some covered with fine stones and metals while others bearing certain auras, overflowing with magic. Like most things in the store, tag prices sit next to each item. On the center of the room is a square stone table with a sheet of metal on top of it, runes are engraved upon the stone and the metal, possibly an enchanting table of sort. On the back of the room lies the forge itself, sacks and crates of materials lie on the opposite side, hiding all of this behind a counter. A large steel door is placed on the back wall, possibly connecting the smithy to the house behind it.
Behind the counter sits a woman wearing an smith's apron, holding a cup of tea, tilting her head as she said, "Welcome. Please come in." taking a sip on her drink before saying, "Do you have an invitation? Have you purchased from me before?" taking a pause. "Or are you lost?"
Vexar hesitates a moment as the door groans to life, compelled to open by an unseen force. The vortex of wind, enticed to rush past his figure in furious search of warmer air, sends his robes aflutter. His senses instantly heighten, suddenly made acutely more aware of the frigid cold as an unexpected chill crawls from the base of his spine to the nip of his neck. Instinctively, the illusionist’s hand drops to his side, hovering as though above the hilt of a weapon; to the naked eye, however, there would be no such hilt to observe. He steps cautiously through the smithy threshold, ever vigilant. With a quick shudder, the cold of the night is lost as a wave of heat cast forth from an invigorated forge envelopes the visitor, exuding its welcome warmth onto him. Eased by the atmosphere, Vexar drops his guard if only subtly, and proceeds to step delicately through the establishment; he keenly inspects each of the wares as he passes, admiring the craftmanship with respectfully placed nods and ‘Hmm’s. The man is apparently yet unaware that he is not alone.
“Do you have an invitation?”
The sudden piercing of a silence ebbed only by the crackling of the forge startles the intruder (intruder, for the rush of wind accompanied by the roar of flame must have muffled the beckoning for him to enter). The man sharply turns his gaze to find the inquisitor, relaxing again once those shocking emerald eyes settle upon the seated figure of the lady smith, whom is apparently completely devoid of hostility.
“Yes, of course…” he responds as he plunges his hand back into the folds of his robes only to return empty. ‘Curse you, Fafnir…’ he mumbles, quite under his breath. The dwarf had made off, however unintentionally, with the invitation still clutched in his grubby little fingers. Left with no affirmative answer to any of the smith’s questions, and not knowing how she may react to a man with seemingly no purpose in entreating, he simply begins casual conversation. “This is your shop, then?” he inquires, while gesturing back toward the forge in particular. “You are Nikola?” The latter question was accompanied by a bit of a quizzical tone. Not usual, not usual at all, that a petite woman sits drinking tea where one expects to find a master smith.
"Really now... I do not feel a parchment of mine to be in your possession." she frowns a bit and lowers her cup. "You see I have an affinity with metals, I have laced my pen ink with metal dust that at a quick glance I should find it on your person, magnetics tend to be alot harder to hide." most mediocre illusionist could only alter a person's basic senses but very specific ones tend to be reserved for masters of the art. "Though I doubt Lord Herod would send another assassin after I killed the third one... He really doesn't like that I armed the knight that kill his son... Anyway." trying to drop the topic, "You are not lost and 'had' an invitation, though normally I would deny entry at this point, the lack of customers tend to be a bit boring. So... I presume you are...." looking at something on her desk, possibly a book as one could hear pages flipping about. The roar of the forge seems quiet enough, only to make a noise whenever the pump pushes air into it, keeping the fire burning. One could not feel the cold mountain air of Craugmoyle in here, probably the main reason why she thought he is lost at first. "Q?" flipping the page back and forth as if checking something. "Something with Chaos." she finally looked up to him, reaching back for her tea before replying, "Yes, I am Nikola, the Warsmith at your service. Please do not mistake my appearance as I am a dragon hiding amongst the smaller kind, I have the talents that surpasses even the oldest of dwarves... though ofcourse they would not agree with that as they are a prideful bunch." smiling at him as she take a sip of her tea. "Want some tea?" glancing at a fresh pot sitting on the counter with a spare cup right beside it.
Vexar grins a coy and understanding grin as the warsmith unrolls her seamless logic. By the time her thought train arrives at the station, she’s got his identity pinpointed perfectly. The man extends his acknowledging nods into a cordial, yet brief, bow and proceeds to properly introduce himself. “Your deduction is spot on. I am Vexar Qu’isto; ‘Q’, as you have keenly surmised. The dwarf said you were sharp.” Admittedly, Vexar had only just gleaned from the statement what Fafnir had meant in using the word ‘sharp’…such a choice word could be given so many different implications when dealing with a maker of weapons, after all. The vampire then turns to address the offered tea, pouring himself a steaming cup more as an act of polite formality. He was not particularly fond of tea, though the pleasant warmth brought on by the first long sip was not unwelcome after such chilling travel. “A dragon, you say?...”
The man wheels back to engage Nikola again, perhaps finding a seat to continue the conversation. He knew, of course, this revelation before it was shared. Such a forbidden scent could not easily be masked from this Elder’s perception. “It makes perfect sense, though. I should have guessed!” All the while, he is stealing glances around the room of the myriad examples of stunning weaponry and armor; of particular interest are the enchanted pieces, though there is undoubtedly a riveting story behind each sigil stamped across a flawless cuirass breast or shield heart. “This is all your work? It is quite impressive.”
Nikola smiles, a chair slowly slides in place as the man looked around for a seat as she and tries to follow the man's line of sight should he start asking questions about them. "Yes they are... many are given to me as prize for work done, it is after all quite useful for smiths to carry around proof of their skill." Trying her best not to relive the olden days as it might bore the man. "So... Mister Q, or Mister Vexar... I'm not really sure what you prefer, its not rare for someone to try to hide one's identity so I don't know which would you prefer but do know that should one ask about your identity, my demise would occur first before I babble about any of my client's details." she stares off again in the distance, Should a weapon of her creation appears somewhere, it is only natural for somebody to appear at her doorstep to find out who was using it. It seems the little dragon gets distracted alot, reminiscing about the past often. She is old after all, though of course she doesn't look old.
She turns to the man and said, "Thank you. It is quite rare for someone to actually appreciate them." She could see it upon the man's eyes as he watch the ones that is encased in glass. "So... this task of yours. Chaos... Hmm, Chaos is quite difficult you handle you see, Typically arms and armors are bought from a smith's shop without any blessings. The client then brings it to an enchanter to add whatever he or she wishes upon it. I could perform basic enchantments, mostly the shocking ones." she says this as an arc of lightning quickly jumps from her thumb to her index finger. "Chaos on the other hand is not one would call... 'basic'." she lowers her cup and said, "It is... however not unheard of, that a client would want a smith to repair an already enchanted equipment, or transfer its gifts to another. Do know that attempting to repair an enchanted equipment meant one would need to reforge sections of it and therefore cause its blessings to leak. It is disgraceful for a smith to make a client purchase something that he himself has 'damaged'." There was a long pause.
"Though ofcourse, its not impossible... not impossible to ensure every bit of enchantment remains on the final product." she smiles and finishes her tea, setting it aside. "Its not cheap though."
An enthralled chuckle escapes the thoroughly impressed man as he notes the information offered by the apparently very eager Warsmith. She appeared to be already more knowledgeable of the intricacies of his unique challenge than he himself was after several…failed attempts. Vexar had rehearsed the interview in his head; gone over how he would judge the worthiness of the smith and planned the various outcomes. There would be small talk, prying tests, perhaps a demonstration; then, based on the results, he would either table his real challenge or perhaps buy a trinket and be on his way. However, as plans are apt to do, his scheme did not survive first encounter. Capable or not, it is clear to the customer that this particular purveyor of unique goods knew more than he; thus, she was needed. “No, of course not cheap….I’ve tried cheap, and it did not end well. I fear it may be more costly than even you predict.” He grins again, clearly bemused by his own ominous foreboding. He may be going mad.
“Well then, enough dancing around…let’s to business.” With this, the man rises. Again, his hand drops to his side, though this time it does not linger. Plated fingers wrap around seemingly nothing….no, not nothing…smoke. Ebon smoke, darker than a moonless sky, growing rapidly denser and even taking shape; yes, clearly a well tooled hilt. A pained grimace flashes for but a moment across the man’s otherwise stoic façade as the shadow is yanked forward, from the depths of which an impressive blade is produced. The weapon is brandished for just a moment, brief admiration, before it is dropped onto the Smith’s table with a heavy racket. “No, no!” quips Vexar sharply as the dragoness motions for the tabled sword. “She’s a greedy wench; best to merely look, for now….cursed steel…” He glances up to meet Nikola’s undoubtedly prying gaze, filled with questions, and adds, “And Vex is fine.”
It isn't new for one to hide weapons through smoke or whatever otherworldly pockets so Nikola wasn't surprised at all when something came out of the smoke. What she is more interested in is what curious thing would the man provide. As the blade finally placed upon her counter, It is of course natural for a smith to inspect the material one is about to use but as the man vehemently stalls her from touching the blade, it did stayed her hand. She reached for something under her desk, a pair of thin gauntlets with a large stone on it. As she reached for the blade, the gem began to glow brightly, "Huh... wasn't expecting it to be that much." but it did not stop the small dragon to continue her inspection. It took her mere few seconds to finally put the weapon down and remove her hand coverings. "Okay... I have several things. First off, This weapon would be too uncomfortable to use as it is a lot more problematic that its worth. Second, adding magical stones to it would only drain of the stones of their power and would most likely be useless after a while. Finally... This weapon would require to be unleashed every now and then, otherwise it'll become too dangerous, too powerful to be wielded." She frowns at the man and said, "I typically do not question the choices of my clients but... is this really necessary?" One could only imagine that it would be next to impossible to reforge this weapon due to its curse but she doesn't seem to be worried about the challenge and therefore did not mention it. "If you are serious about it... What do you want with it?"
Vexar observes the master smith’s actions with an almost child-like fascination. The glove, the stone, hell even picking the damned thing up without losing an arm (this harkens him back to the first smith he hired at discount pricing)…pageantry or otherwise, Nikola’s breadth of knowledge was simply astounding. “Indeed,” he responds. “Uncomfortable is an understatement.” Here, the vampire removes his protective gauntlets and grasps the pommel of the devilish weapon in one hand. In a shockingly brief instant, the ebon shaded skin around his hand and wrist grows pale. The muscle in his forearm begins to lose its fibrous luster and the blood seemingly drains from the area. The blade was literally sucking the life from him.
“However…” he restarts. Conversation might not normally be expected of a man so drained, but his voice was confident and unwavering. With his free hand, he extends an arm to his side, fingers wrapping around yet another unseen implement. Just as the sword had been produced thusly, another shadowy demonstration summons forth a gothic staff, forged of an ebon wood smoothed to an almost shining luster. As his fingers grasp tautly about the rod, the other hand responds; rejuvenating vitae rushes back and returns all appendages to their rightful state. The vampire proudly lifts both chaos vestiges, the blade and staff seemingly humming as they eagerly share a nightmarish union. “They get along quite well. The Chaos ensnared within invigorates me…” Indeed, Vexar appeared to stand taller, broader, almost radiating “…Chaos is allegedly lost in this world. However, my brother was able to ensorcell these to maintain their power. As you have already surmised, the blade is cursed and its power must be fed. The stave is quite able, and willing, but you could imagine the trouble of wielding staff and sword at once. It is cumbersome…slow…and worst of all, being disarmed would mean an instant, brutal defeat.”
Nikola ponders as the man finally shows the staff before her. "One cannot live without the other..." it is true, the man could probably dual wield them but if he loses the blade, he'll have a staff... which she does not know if he is even skilled with. He did after all went through all this trouble for the sword so one could only imagine that he prefers the sword more. "Chaos magic has been cleansed from this land, though I doubt its gone. These weapons are proof of such after all." she places her hands upon her hips as she looked into what's before her. "Logic dictates that you'd prefer that I... somehow combine this two things. Most likely alter the staff more than the sword as the sword is quite troublesome to alter to begin with." she stares at the man a few more seconds as she try to make something of the pair. "Staves are... well.. they are typically made out of strong wood, strong enough to contain the magics that is stored upon them, due to such, spell casters tend to use them as blunt weapons during combat... that however makes them... not viable to be used as a spear handle." She turns to her side and reached for an already made spear sitting nearby and placed it on the counter. "Spear handles are made out of strong yet flexible wood, this allows the weapon to take blows but instead of breaking, they would bend away." she demonstrates by reaching onto the weapon and trying to bend it, causing the entire thing to bend without cracking or breaking in two. "Stronger material does not always mean better. Imagine if one strikes a boulder, it would crack and break. But if one strikes a sack of milled rice, then that's different... Besides staves aren't usually long enough to be a spear handle anyway." rubbing a finger against her chin before saying. "I could transfer its enchantment into one though..." as if reminding him what she mentioned earlier.
Vexar listens to the Warsmith as she reviews her options, and considers the staff resting comfortably in his palm as she does so. He was, after all, much more adept with the stave than the blade. Having been raised in the art of illusions, then shifting his focus to the darker fields of necromancy after his siring, it was magic that had laid the Harbinger’s foundation. In years past, if Vexar found himself wielding a sword in battle it likely meant that a mistake was made. Only since his ascension has the Elder been prone to balancing his skillset with a newfound affinity for melee combat; and even so, he still appreciated a healthy distance between himself and his opponent. He chuckles a bit at the imagery of the rock and the grain sack, having in his mind replaced the sack with a visual of the portly Fafnir being lambasted by said rock; it takes a second to snap out of his delirium.
“Transfer? That sounds risky. How so?” In his head, Vexar struggled with the thought of dispelling his brother’s enchantment. The staff was, by all experience, a nearly unlimited well from which to draw energy. The steel was a focused beacon of chaotic power, the likes of which fuels its wielder to new heights. No…he could not chance losing either. “I had thought to melt the blade down…” he muses, not sure whether the weapons doctor was even listening, “…though I admittedly have yet to find a forge which burns hot enough.”
"Risky? Not at all... Then again I have never tried to transfer magics from a chaos weapon before." She opens up a side door and joins the man in the store proper. "As I have said, It is not unheard of that a client would want to reuse an enchantment onto something else, It is cheaper of course to simply buy a new gear and have it enchanted but sometimes the magic is either too rare or too specific." moving herself to the center of the room where that stone table is present, it still bears countless runes all over it, same as the slab of metal plate ontop. "If you damage an enchanted weapon in an attempt to fix or reforge it, the spells that is bound to it would leak away... this, prevents it." she reaches for the corner of the table and hefts the large plate off to the side, She made it look easy, however as the slab found itself on the ground, its immense weight could only be imagined as the sound of metal striking echoed within the room accompanied with a loud thud, causing several items upon the shelves and display cases to be disturbed. "This, is what we call, The Cage." the 'table' was actually a deep, square bowl made out of rock. Its interior surface is covered in runes, if one is knowledgeable with old magical tomes, one would recognize several markings that correspond with anti-magic. "If magic has leaked out of a client's gear, it would bring shame to a smith's honor. A enchantment cage such as this one prevents it. Though normally, the cage would be, as the name implies, have bars instead of a solid plate. Craftsmen such as myself would need to work on the project while our movement and line of sight is hampered. However it is still possible for magics to leak out of the gaps. Unless you have a plate." tapping the large slab next to her. "You just have to work on it without seeing and touching it though." she smiles as she is confident she could perform such task. "I could move the staff's enchantment to a more appropriate material and then combine the two. Unless you prefer some other actions. I presume you want to have something like a glaive yes?"
Vexar traces the route of the petite crafter as she carves through her shop. He considers every implement as she points to and describes it, hanging on each word with the fervor of an eager school boy drinking in a learned teacher’s wisdom. This Nikola’s cup was overflowing. The cavernous crash of the rune-inscribed plate rouses the vampire from his daze. He is, for but a moment, taken aback by the sheer strength of the dainty woman before him. Emerald eyes dart around their sockets, as if searching his very brain, trying to deduce how such a petite form could toss about that hulking mass of metal. He knew, of course, the strength of a dragon lurked inside; the reality of the situation was still difficult convince himself of, though. Regardless, he shifts his focus back to the smith, not wanting to miss any details.
“Perform the work while the weapon is trapped in a nearly impenetrable box…” This was perhaps even more perplexing than the plate versus small woman problem. “Incredible.”
Then, as Nikola nears the end of her blueprint, the wheels start turning and gaining traction in the necromancer’s bright mind. “A glaive….” he mumbles airily, speaking to no one in particular yet as though considering the option for the first time. In fact, the ‘weapon’ Vexar had imagined was more akin to a metal rod, assembled via the dipping of the staff into the molten steel of the warblade; something not unlike a strawberry hardened within a chocolate case. This idea, he decides, is best left unshared at this point. With most of the dots now connected by lines, the picture is finally starting to take shape. “Of course, yes…a glaive is perfect.”
Nikola looks upon the man and said, "A few days... two, maybe three at most." she rubs her chin a bit, still staring at the cage infront of her. "I have never toyed with Chaos magic before so this would actually be quite fun." smiling as she does like the challenge. She looked back to the man, "I'll send a message via courier, for now.. leave your weapons to me. Do you have a spare though?" she is taking two weapons off of him, she would not want to complete disarm the man as he might die somewhere after this and be unable to pay for the services. "I can have you borrow some of mine if you wish." pointing at the basic arms around the store. "I first have to recreate the runes of the staff on a far better material and destroy the staff. While trapped inside the cage, the chaos magic would have no choice but to accept its new host, it would take numerous tries however as it could reject a new host but it'll be only a matter of time. I'll remove the grip of the sword and recreate it on spear handle, move the stone at the bottom." She was murmuring to herself at this point, trying to find work-arounds on how to deal with the sword and staff without actually touching them. Most smiths would surely would not want to deal with cursed items such as these but Nikola isn't like the others. Smiling even as she stare off into space. "We can talk about the price when its done."
For the first time, Vexar has what might be construed as a look of uncertainty creep onto his face. He was measuring the combination of risks being presented, the least of his worries being leaving unarmed. He had meant to stay around for the smithing, in case his assistance was needed; this notion he'd dismissed by now, though, realizing the likely outcome would be his getting in the way. Again, the Warsmith mentioned having to destroy the necromancer's treasured stave; though he had full confidence in her, the idea still struck a nervous reaction. On top of this, he had still only known this dragoness for a short matter of time. What would prevent her from selling his weapons, valuable as they were, and disappearing?
Regardless of the risks in place, the vampire of chance still comes to the same conclusion...Nikola is likely his last chance for success in this endevour. "A few days, then?" he acknowledges. "Alright. I'll camp in the dwarven city nearby; if anything is needed, I can be summoned quickly."
He takes one final glance at the pair of weapons in his hands, and simultaneously sets both down on the workbench. Admittedly, it seemed as though a weight was lifted by the action and excitement began to swell within almost immediately. He extends his hand shake that of Nikola's; a deal has been struck. Not bothering to partake in the smith's invitation to arm him, Vexar bids the confident woman 'Good luck' and wheels towards the exit to make for Craughmoyle. Outside, the faithful corpse that is never not lurking nearby the necromancer does not follow him down the trail to the city. Instead, it lingers on the edge of the forest bordering the Warsmith's establishment where it can keep an eye on the happenings..just in case.
Nikola nods and shakes the man's hand as he is about to leave. "A few days." As if to assure him. She waves at him goodbye as the large door opens, allowing the cold winter breeze enter the shop, only to be shut down as soon as the man leaves. She turns to her workbench and stare upon her new headaches. "Well, let's see what you got Mr. Vexar."
The sword would have very little alterations to it so it was set aside for now, the staff on the other hand requires more attention. The wood is strong but too strong for its new purpose. Aside from that, its length is inadequate to be used as on glaive and therefore a new host is required. With several planks of wood stacked nearby for her usual projects, it was easy for the Dragoness to find a suitable material. As though one would think blessed wood from Xalious or some other dark, mysterious wood from Venturil would be best for this, aged wood would actually be ill advised to be used. Young trees from the land of the pixies on the other hand would be perfect for the job. She does trade when them after all, keeping her stores stock with materials for projects such as this.
First with her control of magnetism. She commands a cloud of metal dust and wrap itself upon the man's chaos staff. This would allow the warsmith to learn every rune that is engraved upon it. She plans to replicate each rune exactly as accurately as she can, commanding the dust to spin rapidly around the planks of wood and grind them down into spear handles before engraving the runes on them. As she is not using chaos magics nor chanting the appropriate spells, engraving the runes on the wood meant nothing, it would however make the handles viable hosts once the staff is destroyed. It is possible however that the enchantment would reject its new host so it is why a dozen engraved handles is prepared for the occasion.
She moves over and slides the staff into the cage along with one of the handles she made. Soon she lifts the large steel plate and completely seals it. Every bit of surface the cage has is made out of anti-magic, The blessing would be forced to accept its new host or remain floating, trapped inside the inescapable cage. This however is the first time Nikola had to deal with Chaos magics, she reaches for the large gems on the cage's four corners. It began to glow one after another, mana began to escape her, reinforcing the table itself. The runes on the table began to glow brightly as sounds of lightning could be heard, licking upon wood as it began to deconstruct the staff. Soon the sickening noise of cursed magic began to escape its damaged body, violently thrashing within the cage as she could see the plate vibrating, as if trying to lift it free. "Fiesty aren't ya." she grunts as she press her free hands against the plate and pushes it down, using raw strength to keep it from escaping as her mana is constantly being consumed by the very table, reinforcing itself to keep the Chaos sealed. Few minutes later she could hear the handle break apart, clearly unwanted by this dark energy. "There's more from where that came from!" off the corner of her peripheral vision, another handles comes, carried about by metal dust and slowly slotted in through a small opening on the table. Most of the 'few days' are consumed by this task as the warsmith fought the Chaos without rest, forcing the stubborn power to accept its new host.
Third day, though exhausted, it is done. The Chaos magic was successfully transfered to a new host, though the damage was pretty visible, the table looked worn and Nikola, due to exhaustion could no longer maintain her transformation. Typically she looks fully human but as the lack of mana has already taken its toll, her arms and some of her skin has reverted back to scales and dragon like hands, still, this did not hamper her skills as a craftsman and continued to work on the weapon. She has never failed to meet deadlines before and she doesn't plan on starting now.
The sword came next, easy enough all she had to do was remove its handle and hand guard. With the help of some enchanted gloves, she easily disassembled the piece. The gemstone is separated, the grip was then copied as she use similar materials and wrapping technique on the spear handle, in the area where one would normally hold it. The handguard was melted with a mix of mithril to expand its size, it was converted to a cylinder but it still bears the same color as the previous handguard. Using her dragon strength, she easily bent several areas of it in shape so it would act the same way as its predecessor. A hand guard. Sliding it into the spear handle.
The blade is then carefully placed on a pre-cut area on the end of the spear before securing it in place with Ghroundium nuts and bolts. What follows however is a bit odd. She began wrapping bandages on the area where the shaft met the blade but if one takes a closer look, its actually Mithril. Rolled into thin sheets like cloth as the electromancer was channeling her energies upon the metal, causing it to be freely molded about. With enough mithril to secure it in place, Nikola began to add several final touches. A large bundle of red fabric was soon added to where the bandages are, as if to hide it away. The gemstone was them move to a special hilt that holds a short dagger. When she cleaned the table, there was bits and pieces of the staff and the rejected handles. To properly get rid if them, she tried to burn them up but they end up staying far longer than Nikola had prefer. So she melted an ingot of mithril and mixed the mess with it. Due to the amount of carbon on the burned wood, the blade lost its usual stain less sheen and end up with a black Tanto. the gem now sits on the hilt of that blade, and the blade itself is secured neatly on the glaive's hilt.
When that is all done, she leaves a note for the courier to see when he passes by her store. Hopefully the note reaches the man before the day ends. She did scheduled it for later in the day however, hoping to recover some sleep before showing him his new piece.
The courier did not get the note. Mere moments after it is posted, the patient and ever-vigilant servant left behind by the necromancer emerges from its wooded alcove. The corpse practically crawls to where the message was left and quickly takes it in hand. It raises the paper to eye level and…reads? Was this thing actually intelligent? Apparently satisfied by what it’s found, the animation bounds down the mountain with no regard for the path usually taken. It stumbles, tumbles, rolls and plummets down a thick-with-brush, rocky hillside with all the grace of a wounded bird fighting through a windstorm. Inglorious though it were, the undead creature makes it down the mountain and into Craughmoyle with unprecedented brevity. It lurks into the Four Axes to find its master, several chapters into a rousing story courtesy of Fafnir, and delivers the message.
“Well done, lad, well done!” Vexar claps the dwarf on the shoulder while cutting his story short; whether his compliment is meant for Fafnir or the now limp corpse lying in wait on the tavern floor is unclear. Regardless, the vampire takes his leave almost immediately. He scales the mountainside with much less fervor than his personal messenger displayed in its descent. The note did call for a later meeting which, despite his excitement, he would respect. Eventually he does make his way into the clearing just as he had several nights earlier, the firm stone façade offering him a similar greeting as before. This time, however, he does not bother to knock. Predicting that he’d be greeted with an open door in kind, the man simply allows himself entrance and beckons for Nikola while passing through the threshold. “Nikola! Warsmith! My assistant has delivered your news!” Thusly, he calls through the forge house, seeking the dragon smith. He can immediately sense that the air is tired; scented as though scorned by battle and loss…something spectacular had occurred, of that there is no doubt.
There was no time to clean, Nikola was far too tired to sort it all out when she closed shop earlier today, though now late in the day, she has already bathed and slept for a few hours. Back on her human form, tired marks under her eyes is still present but at least a lot better than what she looked liked earlier. As she felt the man's presence, she unlocked the door and allowed him in. "Mister Vexar." smiling as she welcomed her client, "Sadly I have not prepared any refreshments for today, been a tad too busy." glancing at the table that she has used for the previous few nights, "Sorry about the mess." turning her head toward the glaive that leans against the wall next to her, still radiating its typical ominous aura as ever. "I have something to show you. I hope you like it."
Slowly standing where she is seated as she reached for one of the shields and a sword from the display. "A bit of demonstration first. You see, typically when clients ask me to make them a weapon that is not alike what they previously use, they are usually unaware how to use them." she turns and point at the tassel, the bundle of fabric between the blade and the shaft of this Chaos weapon, "Traditionally, this is made with horse hair... but I don't have any at the moment, You could.. hunt some other creature if you prefer their hair instead, its could be easily replaced. The red tassel is not decorative." she hefts the shield and sword and faced the man, hiding the blade behind it. "As you can see... well, you can't, I could thrust my sword from several directions toward you but with the shield on the way, all you could do is guess before I strike. A buckler, a poor man's shield is almost the size of a dinner plate could also perform the same but of course does not provide the same amount of protection."
She puts aside the sword and shield for now and hefts the man's weapon from its rack. Taking a number of steps away from him, of course not wanting to stab his client accidentally. "Of course it is impossible to hide a spear, but you can hide your hand and eyes by doing this." she began swaying the glaive back and forth and the tassel dances with it creating a blur of red in front of her. "The less information your enemy has. The better." she inspects her craftsmanship and continues, "One other thing is, when you thrust with this glaive, the tassel would then wrap around the blade when you pull back, cleaning the blood out of it. Lubricated weapons tend to slide against enemy weapon and armor, this is why the tassel is there to clean it. Also the reason why its red."
She raises the glaive and continued to educate the man further with the changes she has made, pointing at them as she does so. "The sword grip is replicated here... this is where you typically hold it. Hopefully it feels the same comfort as before... then this. This was your hand guard. I added material to it." it now looks like a tube with a wider arm guard on it. "This is traditionally called a Kuda Yari, a tube spear. I have made modifications to this. When you grip this tube tightly, several small pins would push down a piece of rubber onto the shaft, securing its grip so you can use it like a regular spear, like so." demonstrating it as she thrusted with the weapon both hands. "however as you can see, if I loosen my grip, the tube moves..." showing it sliding back and forth along the length of the weapon. "What is it for you ask?" She smiles and takes a stance and began moving the back end of the spear in a rotating motion. As the center is anchored by the tube, the front of the spear began arching, creating a cone of blade and tassel in front of her. "Now, your enemy would not know where are you striking from." She soon slows it down and finally said. "And finally there is a Tanto on the pommel... because reasons." It has been a while since she last made a proper weapon, it does fill her with pride as she watch look upon the piece before her, smiling. "And yet she has no name..." slowly looking back at the man. Realizing she didn't even offered him a seat first before blabbering about. Clearly taken by the moment.
Vexar grins as Nikola emerges from the shadows. By the looks of the woman, her time since last they spoke had been a measure more taxing than his own experience. With a wave of his hand, he dismisses her apology as if to say ‘it is nothing’. Clearly, the vampire is as ardent for the reveal as his counterpart. He is obediently patient, though, gleaning every bit of wisdom from the Warsmith’s lesson as she is so inclined to divulge. He nods and mumbles understanding, truly appreciating the level of excruciating detail she’d covered to deliver a perfect piece of art. Of particular note are the tassel and kuda yari, implements of deception which, to an illusionist, cannot possibly be understated. So entranced, he’d almost missed the scorpion tail of the tanto; a mistake, he surmised, that his enemies may well make.
“Magnificent…” he states with an air of pure rapture. Here, the Harbinger cannot help but to beckon for the weapon. He offers an open hand to the smith. The gesture is accompanied, almost passively, by a humble dip of his head; hardly a bow, but commanding all the respect a deep bow would bring nonetheless. “May I?” A brief inquiry. Cordial, to be sure…but the vampire did need to hold the glaive. For all its resplendent nature and master craftsmanship, there was one final bit that must be true to its origin. The Chaos. Without such, the weapon would be nothing more than a sharp stick. Sensing his pointed request and perhaps indelicate demand, Vexar bridges the gap by addressing Nikola’s latter predicament. “No name…well that won’t do at all. You are the mother that birthed such a splendid creation…surely the title should come from you?”
"Me? I thought the blade or the staff had their own respective names. I was hoping we could just... mix them or something along the lines." scratching her head a bit before reaching for the Tanto and slots it back into the pommel, hiding it, she could try sheathing the larger blade but the man didn't provide one the last time he was here either. The blacksmith then searches for names in her library of knowledge, hoping to find one that she has not used yet, something that would be appropriate for this one. "The sword has a similar shape of a falchion, though heavier.. With combination of the staff, it now looks like a Guandao... A reclining moon blade as they call it. How about Nyx? A goddess, the personification of night itself." the name came in mind as the word 'moon' was mentioned. "Though its a bit short name for such a tall lady." she smiles at him and bows as well as she offers the man his child. She did so with such care as if she was carrying a newborn. "She does however... have anger issues."
She taps her chin, wondering if she should say it. Then again, it is his weapon, "As you have a knife as a backup weapon... I guess I should divulge you what else I did." she crosses her arms before her and contemplates further. It might kill him, she told herself. staring at the man with expressions on her face changing everytime she debates with herself. Finally, "As I have said many times, it is shameful to damage a client's equipment... so.. the curse of the weapon hungrily consuming your energy is still there. The Tanto knife in the pommel is made out with remnants of your staff, it has enough Chaos in it to wake up the hungry lady... all you need to do is make the two meet." tracing her finger against the surface of the glaive's blade. Typically it would consume her magic as soon as she touch it but currently it is satisfied with its connection with the shaft and therefore did not do so. "Scratch the large blade's surface? it doesn't have to be a deep mark but it will trigger it. Of course I don't need to warn you but only use such in emergencies."
Vexar’s features are stern and focused as he slowly reaches for the glaive. His eyes continue to dissect the piece, tracing the sweeping curve of the moonblade as it plunges into the heart of the staff. Continuing down the handle, he quickly recognizes the runic lettering etched flawlessly along the length of the wood. Wood that is immediately identified as of Enchantment origin; a felicitous detail, considering the Harbinger still reckons himself a protector of that land. The runes spark to life with a dim jade glow as his hand approaches, sensing the commanding presence before he even makes contact. As his bare fingers twist cryptically about the handle, the etchings simply burst with joy. Their radiant, emerald glow explodes into a crackling web of electricity which rises rapidly, circling the length of the glaive until diving eagerly into the repurposed warblade on top. The miniature lightning show is, perhaps, a tribute to the blue dragon that crafted the entity. The entire weapon is now exuding its circulating, chaotic potential. As he speaks, seemingly directly to the weapon in hand, a powerful grin now replaces the critical glare that had painted the vampire’s visage, “Hello, Nyx….we’re going to get along just fine…”
He then turns his attention back to Nikola, who had just revealed yet another treasure she’d hidden in her artwork. The ‘dead man’s switch’, the curse that his brother had trapped in the blade along with the Chaos, had survived the transfer after all. He playfully fingers the pommel of the Tanto; it takes a perhaps ungraceful moment before he can free the piece...that would take some practice to become fluent. Raising the charred blade teasingly close to the larger moonblade atop elicits an aweish gape from the necromancer. The two entities hiss and hum as the distance between them drops, those electrical pulses of energy intensifying as they leap betwixt the sisters. Before contact, though, Vexar wisely drops the smaller blade and returns it to bed; that is a show for another time, he decides. “A little Deus Nyx Machina...I love it”. He resists the urge to continue playing with his new toy, instead deciding to continue lavishing praise upon the master Warsmith. “I do not know what I’ll need to pay you for this masterpiece...but I assure you it will not be enough to match the value of what you’ve delivered.”
She did made it difficult for a reason, it is after all only for emergencies. It would be really awkward if she placed the trigger far too close that every little accident would awaken it. It is natural for the smith to fuel themselves into the items they make. In Nikola's position however, it is quite literal. Luckily her magic is on its raw state is just energy and therefore would eventually be consumed by the weapon's original enchantments, no harm done. All that talk with 'ruining enchantments' and here she is adding electricity to the mix but yes, after a while her magics would all be converted to raw energy, one could say she even recharged the enchantments. She watched the man as he caress his new weapon. All she could do is smile, though she had to lean on a nearby counter, still a bit too exhausted from this little adventure she delved in. "Payment... let's see..." she looked around to what she has used up for this job. A few ingots of mithril, several planks of wood from Enchantment, a few bits of leather, the tassel's fabric... tapping her chin as she looked around, wondering what else she could add to the list.
I have to clean up the cage, fix it up if need be... effort, talent, time, then energy and mana consumed, I don't know how deep this guy's pocket is.. Talking to herself at this point though her lips open as she look around, there is no voice escaping them. Clearly she is far too exhausted to even bother maintaining her facade as normally one would just quietly do their thinking.. without looking weird. "Uhm... pfft... I don't know.... how about ten thousand gold?" she tilts her head back toward the man, wanting to see his expression would be as normally people would be gasping after hearing such large number. "The enchantment you have is quite dangerous. Was lucky I knew what I was doing... and dragons have their own magic resistances. If some other bloke tried it, it'll end them."
Vexar stands patiently as the Smith carefully calculates her fees, idly turning the newly forged ‘Nyx’ within his hand. His eyes flick between the glaive, the clearly exhausted dragon, and other items of magical interest on display. He snaps to as she offers her number. “A fair price,” the man states, without so much as a thought to barter. With that, he promptly releases the weapon. Rather than drop to the floor as would be expected, it simply dissolves into the same void from whence the parent Chaos items were apparently summoned days ago in this same spot. A simple trick, but clearly one of the illusionist’s favored. The dark hand that prior held fast to Nyx now dips into an interior robe pocket, producing from within it an official looking document. “This is a certified note from the Royal Bank of Craughmoyle to transfer 20,000 gold pieces to an account of your choosing.” He slides the note onto the tabletop against which Nikola leans…were you expecting him to drop a sackful of coins onto the counter? How absurd.
“I have entered a tournament which is scheduled to begin…well, I’m quite certain it’s already begun.” His tone is that of someone who has a proposition in mind. “The purpose of this tournament was to challenge my raw skills in battle; however, in a last minute change of heart, the proctors have decided to allow magic. True to my purpose, I intend to ignore this amendment and resist the call to incorporate my magical skillset. I have little confidence in my opponents to be so accommodating.” The vampire now shifts his site to rest firmly on a pair of metallic vambraces on display; it was not difficult for him to spot the unique traits of the otherwise mundane armor. “As such, and though I won’t be using magic, I would still be delighted to defend myself against it. If you might be so kind as to loan me a tool with which to defend myself…” now he gestures from the vambraces back towards the 20,000 gold note “…and I fair well in the tournament, I will return the borrowed item and gladly permit you to redeem the full value of this certificate. Should I fall short, I will still return any loans; you merely will not be able to withdraw more than the initially requested payment. Would such an arrangement strike your fancy?”
Nikola raises a brow as the man doubles the value. She assumed not everyone is wealthy but clearly there are few who are quite an exemption. "A vambrace.." she looked around in her store wondering if there is any that fits the bill. She was thinking of giving the man a set of armor, but as Guandao is typically a cavalry weapon, soldiers who use them wear good armor as the burden is all placed on the horse but if one decides to carry it around like a spear then its wielder would need to wear lighter armor. Does enchantment not count as magic? she is confused. Frowning a bit as she browses a bit more. Maybe the tournament didn't allow 'casted' spells before? She remembered joining one of such tournaments in the northern frozen mountains but she does not recall most of the rules. She did after all joined mostly to advertise. "Bracers of sort that would not prevent you from using your weapon... let's see..." She began rummaging through cabinets for simpler gear. One after all needs to place their best pieces at the forefront, then again maybe that's why no one is buying. She ponders about this sometime else as she pulled out two bracers, one is ashen black while the other is light blue. "I apologize but these are more of the generic stuff and therefore would require a bit more time to be personalized." assuming the man doesn't like the color. The black one was made out of metal and has a large crystal on it. While the other is leather with strips of metals sewed onto it on layers, runed symbols are etched on the interior of the bracers as to not ruin the armor's design. "The black one is for consuming magic. However it is dangerous as you require to actually welcome the magic attack, the magic would be stored on the gem but as always, there are limits. To contain great amounts of energy, a metal base is needed to lower the chance of the stone breaking. You'll need to release captured energy either through physical means or just casting a spell yourself every now and then. Would go well with your dominant arm as it would be most likely be the one holding the weapon. This other one however is pretty generic, its a magical shield. As it does lack the gem the other has however, it means it would consume your energy for it."
Vexar hastily sweeps up the bracers, cuffing them to his forearms with relative ease. The tightening of a buckle and a quick flex and twist of his wrists indicate his apparent satisfaction. “Yes, these will do just lovely,” he states, flashing the smith a pleased grin. “No personalization necessary; they are perfectly handsome as is. Do we have a deal, then?” The vampire slides the currency note on the table ever closer as he asks this, his charming grin perhaps revealing the tenacity that now bubbles inside.
"Yes, we do." she reaches for the note and gently pulls it over to her side, hiding it in a drawer under her table as she clarifies the weapons new arm guards a bit more. "You need to block incoming spells with an open hand for the darker one, the other is just your generic mana shield, it'll create a magical, see-through round shield if you poured your mana in it. And yes, you can overcharge it and create a wall but it would render the bracer inoperable for a while." wondering if there is anything to explain, she reached forward to him to shake his hand. "Its a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Vexar. May providence smile upon you." smiling at him as she finishes another trade, hopefully for one satisfied client.
The now well-equipped man nods his head in understanding, amused by the various quirks the magical implements have to offer. At last, a deal has been struck and Vexar takes the offered hand in his to complete the trade. “Well made, Nikola – and rest assured, the pleasure is mine! I hope to do your work justice.” And he turns on a heel to exit the shop, with the bracers and Nyx, somewhere, in tow. The vampire is now off to find his sparring partner, the corpse familiar; he is in need of practice.