RP:Valen's First Blade

From HollowWiki

Dragon Head Inn

Valen would make his way into the tavern with his gift box, sword included, tucked beneath his right arm as he went. This was certainly the last place he would have expected to do this at, but he wa smore than happy to branch out and go to new places! Things were still pretty much the same though, but he was in fact inslightly better spirits. Today though he wore no dress, just his usual attire, as he was saving showing off the dress any more for the big event at the Charity Ball. The man had no dates though to speak of yet, and honestly that made him remember when he had gone to the wedding...frantic, at almost not getting that date until the last second. He hated showing up at events alone, but knew that it must be done for the betterment of Larket. Shaking those thoughts away he would sit at a table and take out the sword with a raised eyebrow, before taking out the rest of the pieces. He would wait of course, but in his mind he was already trying to see where each bit fit, how it would all connect together...as well as other thoughts taking his mind on a whirlwind of ideas and plans. He just felt so scatterbrained today, but knew very much so...that focusing would be needed now.

Jarith arrived through the front door. Still getting accustomed to his limited magical ability or more pointedly practical lack of magic, the knight was learning the lands all over again. His armor was light, fitted to him in a way that spoke of a custom fitment in the resent days. The Northern Borne was no doubt readying himself for the oncoming war he felt. Still, he had agreed to help Valen here in the Dragon’s head. The male brought a box of his own, as he’d long ago attested to a simple fact, learning was easier when you could watch and follow directions. His blade was slightly different, the guard, hilt, pommel and pins as well as the wrap however were similar enough to be more than effective an aid. A half-smile of greeting saw the lord of the northern reach settling aside from his vampire friend. “Glad you found it, Val.” There may have been teasing light to those strange pupil-less blue eyes as he searched over the set-out blade and items. “Ready to learn a little about blades?”

Valen would look up to see Jarith arrive, a half smile coming to his face before he forces it the rest of the way. A raised eyebrow would be given at the box that Jarith himself had carried, but figured he would find out why in the next few moments. Valen also wondered just where those dimples had gone off to...and wondered if the Northern Borne had a reason himself for the half smile, or whether that was just how he was today. In any case, it was all too evident that he was glad to see his friend. "It was a bit difficult for me to find, but after a while I realized I actually had happened upon this place not that long ago by accident, and paid no mind to it." Those eyes, the way they looked, he could not help his next statement as he regarded them, not sure if he had said this before, but would not care if he had. "Your eyes are beautiful Jar...I mean...they were before but..." A blush would come to his face before he looked to his unassembled blade. "Ready to learn, yes." Why was it always he, that ended up sounding like the doe-eyed schoolgirl? Placing that in the back, he would look to Jarith and await the instruction on how to put the blasted thing together, and it excited him.

Jarith opened his case to remove a crimson-stained longsword. The blade was a full-tang affair much like the one he’d gifted to his friend and yet his was a bit older. The last sword his father forged, it was not meant fo be the main-stay of battle, but rather his personal blade. The altered elf gave a slow nod as he gathered the items forth and did much the same, settling them before Valen’s. His eyes drifted back to his dear friend, smile flashing wider, showing off those very thought of dimples as he answered. “ Thank you, but I have found many people who think them either unnerving or believe me to be blind. “ He laughed a little, amusing but no doubt a good guess for those that didn’t see the way they sought out before him. “ This is my father’s final blade, the red coloring is either a mineral he added or, if the rumor be true the coloring of the dragons scales that he melted into the steel as he folded it and enchanted it’s edge, strength, and weight. Still, it is a beautiful blade, well weighted, and I daresay a favorite of mine to practice with.” Hs focus was for Valen again, half-smile remaining where the full smile faded. “A swordsman, a knight, a warrior. Is only as keen as his blade and his skills. To know the blade, he must know it from tip to pommel. You must assemble it yourself, know what affect every addition makes. This steel is not just a tool, it is a soul. Your soul, and mine, without it, you are vanquished easily.”

Valen saw that crimson stained blade, and could not help but find it to be beautiful. They called him, or used to at any rate, the Crimson Wing. Jarith had yet to see why that should be, but perhaps one day...if he were so very lucky, he just might get the chance. Yet the Vampire could not help but envision him holding such a blade, or perhaps, that one day...if he too were lucky enough to at the least survive so long, that his would be red one day too. As Valen saw those dimples that he seemed to always look for now, he knew the world was right again, he knew his friend, damn that word, was alright. "Well then the rest of them are fools Jar...I find them to be the most welcoming sights that I could lose myself in for days...and never once feel anything but safe." As he now listened to the tale of the Crimson Blade, he would give a smile and a chuckle "I should think I like the legend of the scales much better....It looks remarkable!" Now it came to the actual lesson it seemed, and he would hang on to every single word that was said. Valen did not have many skills with a blade, but he would certainly be willing to learn even more once they had worked their task on this. At the mention of steel being more than a tool, but a soul, that certainly made sense. It went beyond being an extension of oneself...it -was- oneself. It was then and there, he would put all silliness aside for this session, and focus with all his intent and all his heart, and as stated...all his soul, on making his weapon whole. Idly though he had to wonder if Jarith had meant what he said, the way that it had sounded. His soul, and the Vampire's. To Valen, To sounded as if the man was simply saying that this blade would end up being -both- of their souls...and such a thought, would more than certainly serve him well.

Jarith smiled a bit at the teasing compliment, for that was what he thought of it as, just a compliment from his dearest friend. The northern born had never hidden the broken state of his emotional life or how he felt on love or relationships, but that was not for this time. The male smiled a bit as his hands moved to the metal guard, steeling himself to the lesson as he lifted it. “ The rear of the guard will face you, the ornate will show to your enemies and the outside world. This is the armor of your soul, she and the flat of the blade are meant to deflect, to shield and in the most desperate of situations, to do damage all her own. “ As he finished his hand grasped the flat of his sword, pointing the tip to the wooden boards of the floor as he slid home the guard, assuring that the metal locked into place on the notched portion of the crimson steel , leaving near eight inches of tang to show behind it. “The piece should lock gently, but not completely, as it takes all of the pieces to bind and make a complete blade, a whole soul.”

Valen 's hand would mirror Jarith's, just a bit behind as he was watching what the other male was doing as well. He would take the metal guard and make it face him, envisioning his very essence wearing it as a shield, as he had said, his very soul, being the one to strike down his enemies should the need ever arise. His sould would protect him, and his soul would defend. He would then mirror the rest, sliding on the guard in just the same manner, feeling as if he was even -building-, at the risk of repitition but maybe that was the point, a home for his very essence. Valen would lock the piece in gently as instructed, not right away, as he would test it a few times making sure that it was indeed not locked completely. This was certainly more tedious than he had anticipated but he was so focused on his task at hand that he did not speak, he only concentrated as he followe dthe instruction to the best of his ability. Finally once he had gotten this far at least, he would look up at him with a nervous smile, idly wondering if he had done things right so far or if he was floundering...but it seemed for now that everything was correct.

Jarith smiled back at that nervous smile. “Well done.” His hand rose and he grasped the milled piece of dark cedar and showed it to his friend. “This is the handle. This is the heart of the blade, without this your blade is lost, it cannot be wielded, it cannot harm another without harming you if this is lost.” He slid it in behind the grip, another notch locked it into place and Jarith grabbed the first of the pins. “This pin secures the heart to the soul and the armor. Secure it. “He hefted the blade and shook it, tapping upon the wood and adjusting the pin until no rattle came from the combined pieces. “If the weapon rattles, it is not secure, if it is not secure it is unsafe. If it is unsafe, invariably you will end up dead and your soul lost.” Everything seemed to get back to the loss of soul, to the loss of life without the blade. His culture was an old one, a strange one.

Valen would have breathed a sigh of releif at the confirmation that he had done good so far. He knew it might be silly, but he felt that a lot was riding on this blade yet he did not understand why other than the fact that he knew this was something very serious for his friend, and he would make sure to give nothing but his best in this endeavour. He would then move to grab his own handle, and listen. If it was the heart of the blade, then it would stand to reason that it would be the heart of his soul. without his heart, he would be harmed. Without his heart, he could not harm another and still remain whole. Without his heart....his sould would be lost. Something struck him in that instant, something only he would know, something he would keep hidden if not for that tear that trickled down his cheek. No, if this was as Jarith had said, he would pour his very heart into this attachment, and connect his own body, mind, and soul....and at the same time think upon the one thing that drove him to keep going, theone thing that defined who he was, and the one thing that he wanted above all else. That, plus this sword, would be himself. As he secured it he would concentrate all these things, envisioning his very essence once more going into this weapon as he secured that pin. Once that was done he would mimic what the Northern Borne had done, once again, and shake it while adjusting until no rattle came. Looking up into Jarith's eyes, there would be no smile, only the look of determination as well as one of complete understanding. "No one is going to take my soul away, let alone me, or neglect for my blade." and then the smile would come. The culture may be old, but it was not strange, as he seemed to grasp the idea firmly, and held it tight.

Jarith nodded at Valen’s words, the male understood and that truly meant something. His hand would shift to the strips of shark-skin leather, the padded grip of the blade hilt. “There is no semblance to the grip, sadly. This is a being, it will vary from one blade to the next, as it should, the amount of cushion, of tactile grip you offer will be based on the way you wrap it around the handle, and what makes it feel most at home in your hand. Spin, twist, braid it, inter-weave it. Make it loose or tight, that is up to you. Follow it with the wire, that will help secure it in place along with the pommel and final pin.” He would begin to weave and braid his own, looking up occasionally to make sure Valen did not falter in his own task. The blade would be flipped over as the process took from one side to the other, and then in a slow winding spiral the wire would secure the grip. Jarith would test it, using his hands to grip and move the blade here or there before nodding when he’d finished and glancing to Valen. “Tell me when you are ready to continue.”

Valen was enthralled now and, as he listened, would already let his heart as well as his soul dictate just how the straps would be woven and wrapped. No two blades would truly be the same, no matter if the soul was the same...but then again the soul could never be the same either because by the time he made another, if he made another, he would have more experiences, different thoughts. This blade would represent who he was at this moment, for all time. Valen would not falter in this task, but approach it thoughtfully. Every so often he would look up at Jarith, finally starting his work. When he was finished...Depending on how well the Northern Borne knew his own hair, the finished design would look strikingly similar to how his hair had been braided as far as style. To the Vampire, it was the only thing that seemed right. He didnt care if it was a silly sentiment, he didnt care at this moment, what anyone else would think. He had done it, because he was still putting his heart into making this -his- soul, another tear making it's way down the same trackline that the other had left, though he didnt even seem to notice. It would be tight, and secure, and then the wire would be added finally as he too tested it...and the feel of how it lay in his hand, seemed almost too perfect to describe. Looking to Jarith, he would simply nod his head before saying "I'm ready."

Jarith smiled but also offered a gentle clearing of his throat. “ I hope those tears are not of sadness or hurt Val.” No one should make a blade when those emotions prevailed. Still, his friend had said he was prepared and thus the Pommel would follow. Jarith’s was not very ornate, a rounded steel piece with a bevel round the edge and no more, He slid it home over the last inch of the tang, meeting the holes of the handle, tang and pommel at once before he spoke. “This is the finish of your hilt, the pommel of the sword. Control comes from this, a hand here can in the right hand dissuade battle or end it. It can be flashy, designed or simple, but the character who wields it should know this piece is the Rule. Your decisions are made on this, more oft than not it faces the sky, should you make it face the earth, it should be a good reason, a valid and true one. Clear of mind, full of heart. If that is met, you cannot be beaten, not truly.” The pin was a little wider, stronger, and it had a locking piece opposing it to ensure the whole blade was secure as it had been intended. “This is the lynch-pin, the crux of the blade, the test of your soul and your mettle. Lock it well, and if the blade is not secure then you are not. Then your soul is not.” He slid it home and used a black pin provided with the case to lock the piece into place, firmly before hefting the sword in hand. The grip was practiced and simple, he tilted the weapon in a way that spoke of a time as wielder, and smith. As the warlord, and the servant. He turned each edge upwards into the light, checking an edge that had never gone dull or been used. “The edges of your blade are like a lover, you must caress, love and tend them right, or they will never work correctly for you. Cutting through someone is much harder with a dull blade, much more painful.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a whetstone block and rag, handing it to his friend. “Keep her sharp, keep her solid, and only when you are certain, should you face her pommel to the earth.” He would flourish the weapon, a spin and twist, laying the blade flat before striking with a speed rivalling the undead friend he'd just gave lesson too, the blade arching and slicing cleanly through a candle before drawing up and holding the blade in a crisp salute if only to sheathe it. The candle slowly descending at that clean angle to the table where it would spill wax and fizzle out.

Valen had not been shedding tears out of sadness or hurt, that much he could honestly say, and would, once it had been brought to his attention. "Not at all. A tear for every happy thought." As he listened about the pommel he would recall words from his own father, the king of his home, who had said things very similar albeit in a more direct fashion. 'You fight with your heart, and never your head as it can play tricks on you. Your heart, will never lie. Follow it to whatever, wherever, and whoever it leads you....and you will always have what you need.' The memory of those days flashed over him for a brief second and brought again no sorrow or pain, but once again...he felt love. It was the very core of his being. Taking his pommel he would secure it on with the locking pin, making sure once again that his soul was guarded against neglect. Everything had been going right, up until he mentioned the blade...was a lover. No wonder this man guarded his heart so fiercely...As he spoke, Valen could not help but wonder...Did Jarith guard it so now, because he felt like he had not done these things to -his- past lover? He would never ask such a bold question aloud, but it brought into sharp relief just how many he had tried to be there for in his own life, that he had felt like he had given his all...and it still had not been enough. How could he expect his own soul, to treat him any differently. But then he remembered just what he had put into it, with that handle wrapping, with everything, and it renewed him with the fire that kept him going. Taking the whetstone, he too would check the edges of his blade, and once everything was in order, he would look into those solid colored eyes of that man and give an understanding nod. "I promise you, and myself, I will only turn her pommel to the ground, if I am certain in my conviction that I need to use her. One does not put their soul into something, if they are just going to toy around." He made no flourish with it though, but marveled at the speed with which he had brandished it. A soft smile gracing his lips, before he would just look back down at what he had completed...Not a look of pride, not a look of trouble, but a look of unadulterated adoration and affection. He would never let this blade down so long as he existed. Looking back up after a while, that same look being given to Jarith now, he would ask simply "So what now Jar...I hardly feel like anything tonight is going to make such an impact on me, but what happens now...?"

Jarith gave a chuckle before motioning towards the door. “For tonight I think we can call this enough. But I doubt you have ever wielded a longsword. They are not so simple as people might let on.” He locked the scabbard at his hip, comfortable in the action. “Tomorrow though, if you’ve the time and inclination, I can and will be more than happy to show you just what wielding this weapon means.” There was a hint of playfulness in those strange eyes now, gold coin settled upon the table as payment for the space they had used. “Eat well though, I plan to make you sweat a great deal, Val.” Of course there was no suggestion there, simple fact, their little training session would not be light or easy, the vampire needed to learn, and Jarith needed to renew and re-hone his own skills.

Valen would look at him with a half smile once again, it always seemed over so soon, but he knew that time flew when one was having fun. "You are right actually, I only ever really used a rapier....and that actually belonged to my brother." At the word brother, his eyes would flash gold for a brief second once more before turning back to their normal blue. At the mention of tomorrow...all he could do was be excited and nod. "I would -love- that Jar..more than I think you know." It was not a stab, but an honest truth of what he felt. So much so that he made his way over and stood right in front of him, looking slightly up into that face that he had come to equate with safety, even after all that had happened. "I promise you I will eat well, certainly, you just make sure you do the same, and as a Vampire....it takes a lot to make me sweat. If anyone could do it, it would probably be you, but just know it takes a great deal." But he had agreed at the very least to train with the male, and now....after such an intimate (at least what he considered intimate) moment, he would do...as his heart told him. He would hug Jarith tight, burying his face against him. It had been something, at the least, that he had wanted to do their last meeting but they had had hardly any time, but there it was, and he needed it. It was not a normal hug, this one was one of friendship yes, but gratitude, endearment, and a few others that the Vampire would not dare speak for the moment for fear of overplaying his hand...if he even had one. This male was just so damned hard to read sometimes. "Thank you..." he would say softly, finally letting go and giving a kiss to his cheek.