RP:In Preparation of the Titans of Winter Tournament 2017 - part 1

Synopsis: Eirik meets Rorin out at Artias ranch. This is the most the two have -ever- talked, but Eirik has a commission for him. An enchanted shield to help his fight against any undead.

In Preparation of the Titans of Winter Tournament 2017 - part 1

Eirik is simply there. Without word of warning, and certainly lacking any dramatic flair that others might have grown accustomed to. By here though, I do mean knocking on the front door. An ungloved right hand balled into a fist and placed the sudden knocks. Those who might wonder why, must not understand that Eirik gave his keys back to Artia recently. The warrior is adorned in his usual arms and armor; Brann Forbruker, the long sword, tied to his hip by way of a leather baldric. Wolf furs cover his steel pauldron and drape just over the tops of his chainmail sleeves. Steel greaves cover the tops of his feet and die just below the knee. Like usual Eirik also had a shield strapped to his back, this particular shield was his reason for showing. He had hoped to catch Rorin at Artias ranch before heading off to meet destiny at the upcoming Tournament.

Rorin 's ears twitched. Something was coming. Not necessarily dangerous but... Rorin turned towards the front door from where he sat upon a stoop out back. From the sword being sharpened in his lap his hand went slowly to a small charm his fingers played with warmly. Artia was safe and at work. Dawn had come, prayers had gone, Rorin was busy preparing for his day. Dressed in a regular doublet and work pants with his black shaggy hair a mess- but a clean one- Rorins grey eyes were open with surprise. He had never answered Artias door before. No one had ever knocked though and now it ocurred to him that he has never asked if he should. Perhaps she wouldn't mind? Rorins gloved habd carried the sword loosely downward, no threat or even a defensive stance, but he'd feel better having it with him. Quickly he came to the door, looking the disheveled half elven youth he truly was out of the armor on the stand by the door. Rorin would take a deep breath before opening it with his open right hand.

Eirik would greet Rorin, the disheveled looking half-elf, with a glint in his eye and grin stretching over his lips; twisting that mangled scar smeared over his features. The Northman obviously wasn't bothered that Rorin had answered the door. 'Aha' he exclaims loudly at his sudden appearance. "Just the man I wanted to see!" Eirik is awake, loud and boisterous. He was definitely a morning person, which irritated the hell out of others. "Already moved in have we?" Eiriks voice low and teasing the paladin. Rorin might find the Lycans demeanor odd like their spar didn't even happen. Weight shifts on foot, and left hand reflexively shifts to the hilt of his sword; a non-aggressive relaxed posture for the Lycan. "Well, do you mind if I come in and chat with you for a minute?"

Rorin smiled slightly yet still looked surprised in that odd Elven way. His nose twitched. ,"Eirik," he greeted happily, no wonder a vague sense of danger had been felt though it was steadily calming. Rorins had fingered the locket chained to the hip of his pants, "oh? To see me?" Rorin moved aside with the door open for Eirik to come in. "Well I'm not exactly move in. It's not as if I own anything," he laughed though it was a vague answer. "Yes, yes, please do. I'm certain there's some tea or coffee I could warm up if you're staying long?" Apparently Rorin did know his way around the kitchen already if that was saying something. He wasn't sure if it did but he was certainly interested in what the lycan wished of him this time.

Eirik would laugh at Rorins words. He knew the kitchen and yet the boy hadn't moved in. The large man stepped through the threshold of the home, still carrying his non-aggressive stance. And that same grin stretched out over his features. The Lycan waves off the offer for drink and speaks plainly instead. "I don't plan on staying long. I've come to ask what I've come to ask then be out of your hair. Nothing more." As ever the foreigner is blunt and straight to the point. He had no intention of wasting the Paladins day. Silver eyes grow curious suddenly, "I was wondering if you might be able to enhance my shield." He pulls the steel wrapped round shield from his back. It lay riddled in runes of his homelands, and if any asked what they were his response would simply be this: To scare off the wraiths, and call upon my ancestors. There isn't anything magical about it however, just silly superstitions. "I've entered a certain tournament, and I'm looking for an edge against a vampire." He figured Rorin would know exactly what Eirik wanted.

Rorin takes the shield carefully and begins to inspect it's make. "I appreciate your openness, Eirik. Too often are my duties bogged down by politicians with their slow and careful answers. And it's nice to not have an axe pointed at me," Rorin smiled honestly and purely and seemed to respond just as honestly. Though he had quickly came into a respectable position among the worlds militias he still seemed as approachable as he'd began. Rorin was calm and naturally honest no matter who his words may put at unease. He could drink with the rough and tumble as much as he could lift a pinky to a nobles wine. "Against vampires? Easy enough. Will take something a bit specific," the squire inspected the rim, the bolts, the lay of the wood. The shield itself was sturdy enough. "Not curse counteractive or you'll hurt yourself. Against undead, perhaps. It will take some time." He set the shield down carefully and seemed curious. "Tell me Eirik, did you believe any paladin can emchant, or did you know I've been working with smiths lately?" He chuckled a bit, "I can have it blessed by the end of the day but come by tomorrow evening perhaps and you'll recieve it full finished." He held out his hand, "I won't let you down. Can't have you dying on my watch, can we?" Artia would murder him!

Eirik scoffs at Rorins response and a hand idly reaches up to scratch at the nape of his neck. "Honestly?" Gaze shifts to the runic shield and then back to Rorin. "Hadn't the faintest of ideas. Just you know." When it came to pious action Eirik could understand Rorin, though their worship quite different. "Heard enough about paladins and the undead. Thought it was worth a shot." Another honest answer from the Berserker. He too preferred straight talk without the mundane dance of words and would keep it that way if at all possible. As for Artia, well, she knows the Northman to be a knucklehead. Hit first ask questions later type of guy. Like right now. This is the most these two have -ever- spoken and that after they fought. It's just who Eirik is. The lycan would smile again and take the offered hand in a strong gripped handshake. "I'll come by tomorrow, see how you and Artia are doing." He winked again. Hopefully this time he wouldn't walk in on something. "You ever want to spar again, you know where to find me." Eirik would turn on foot and head out of the home, allowing Rorin to continue whatever it is he was doing before he arrived. Obviously, he would wait for a response, but no more.

Rorin chuckled. It was always interesting to hear what people actually believed they could do compared to reality. "It is indeed," Rorin agreed. He was not the best at bestowing ecnhantments or blessings but he was damn good with a shield. He could help Eirik out. Rorin gave his departures, closing the door as he watched the lycan go. A shield... Rorin would need to put some work in for this.