by The Kingpin » Sun Mar 25, 2012 11:58 pm
Andruil watched silently, obviously impressed by the quality of the blades. The blade of the first looked as though it were made of marble, though he was certain it was likely steel with some form of protective layer over it. The second, meanwhile, was particularly shocking in that it looked like it was not a solid piece of metal, but rather several pieces. the third, while the most simple of the three, was nevertheless impressively crafted. The blade was flawless, and the hilt was practical. "Forged that one meself" Said Thorgrim proudly as Vix picked up the first blade. "It's coated in a thin layer of resin from an old tree given to us by one of the Elven Kingdoms thousands of years ago. It's said the Elves' elite soldiers coated their blades with resin from similar trees. According to legend, weapons coated in it never go blunt. Now I'm no expert on Elven lore, but ah've yet to see a customer who owned one of these blades come back for maintenance, so I'm fairly sure it does somethin'" explained the Dwarf with a laugh. Eyeing the second blade, he smiled. "That's a new one by our standards. me eldest son forged it. Doesn't look it, but tha' there's a solid piece of steel. Lad's been eager to try this design out for a while. Apparently it gives ya a clean cut, and the angled slits in the blade's design act like fullers; allow blood to leave the wound, so you don't have to worry about the blade getting trapped in the body of whatever's on the receiving end. It was designed to keep as much of it's strength as possible in spite of the grooves, so, provided you don't use it ta block a claymore or battleaxe, it should stand firm to whatever you expose it to" said Thorgrim as Vix examined the weapon. "And that one, as requested, is simple but effective. It's made of solid silver, aside from the hilt. It's grip and blade are identical in weight. Perfectly balanced. Ideal as both a short range weapon and as a throwing blade" he explained. "Decorated the hilt with malachite. That offers a fair amount of the weight to counterbalance the blade, and makes it look better too. Out of everything you commissioned, that is the one you'd most likely find at a ball or other such noble-folk gatherin'. It'll still be the deadliest thing there though" said the man, chuckling grimly at the last bit.
Turning back to the weapon rack, the Dwarf brought forward two more daggers, both in black and silver leather sheaths. the blades looked elven, gently curved and steady in width up until the end, where they gently tapered to a point. the blades had dark, chocolate brown grips; dark oakwood, just like his sword had. swirling vine-like metallic designs laced the grip from the pommel, which was moulded into an elegantly curved shape, again like his sword. For all intents and purposes, these daggers were part of the same set as his sword and bow. Andruil's grin only widened when the blades were set on the table for his inspection. reaching for one, he drew the blade from the sheath, eyeing the dark metallic lustre of the blade, and the silvery edge characteristic of the specific blend of carbon and steel Forgemaster Thorgrim was famous for. a swirl of fine, silvery, vine-like patterns extended down the length of the blade, acting both as a series of fullers to drain the blood from a wound caused by the blade, and as a decorative element. It had only been a few hours, so Andruil didn't expect these blades to be enchanted like his sword was. The hilts on both swords were wider than the tang and the blade, acting as a barrier to keep the blades from sinking too deeply into their targets. Andruil nodded, pleased. "The blades were made to be light, but effective. They're devilishly sharp though, so be careful. Most things cut the moment they touch the blades. I've made sure of that meself" said Thorgrim with a smile, Andruil chuckling. As proof, Thorgrim grabbed a cloth that had obviously seen better days. It looked thick, but was obviously worn from use. holding the dagger edge up, he dropped the cloth over it, the rag slicing cleanly in two the moment it touched the blade. "There's a reason why we come to you when we want the best, you know" said Andruil with a chuckle, Thorgrim bowing slightly in gratitude for the compliment. "Anyway, what of my armour, sword and shield?" asked Andruil. "The armour's been repaired and modified as per your request. the sword's been sharpened and polished, and checked for any flaws; none, by the way, and as for your shield, well, it's right there in front of ya" said Thorgrim with a smile. On the wall, beside Andruil's sword, hung a dark, blackish grey heater-shield, a slightly lighter grey shade identifying a wolf head on the front, a smaller phoenix beneath it arching its wings round it to meet at the top. beneath the phoenix, the words enim regis et patria were emblazoned, arching around the Phoenix's tail to form a partial U shape. lifting it off the rack, Thorgrim brought the shield to the counter, which was, at this point, almost covered in weapons of various types. Andruil saw that the grip was made of oak, continuing with the theme. the oak was firmly bolted to the steel bar that formed the grip of the shield, and wrapped with leather. As Andruil inspected and admired the workmanship, Thorgrim had left the room for a moment, soon returning with Andruil's armour. The Knight eyed Shiryaz, the bird seemingly knowing, leaping off and perching himself on one of the weapon racks as Andruil removed his cloak, making himself more easily accessible as Thorgrim assisted him with the armour.
It was only a few minutes before Andruil was in his armour. The fight through Shadepines had damaged some of the chainmail and plating, and the silvery shade of the armour had been a hindrance to his ability to remain hidden. Now, the blackish grey armour was repaired, and additionally, was a lot harder to point out in the shadows. Once he had done that, he had the scabbards of his daggers, the shield, and the bow, put in place, along with a quiver of roughly 40 arrows. Once done, Andruil turned to Vix. "Good enough to be immortalised in stone, no?" he asked with a smirk, Thorgrim laughing at the comment as Shiryaz gave a trilling chirp from the weapons rack upon which he was perched...
"What is it saying?" asked Tacitus with a raised brow. "Haven't the foggiest" said Makkus, wasting no time as a white orb of energy streaked across the room almost immediately, colliding with the Pestilence demon mid-laugh...
Septimus chuckled, his eyes shimmering a shade of purple for a moment, reaching out a tendril of thought towards the woman's mind, feeling a wave of experience washing over him as he was exposed to her most recent thoughts, Desrium's familiar shimmering red eyes glaring back at him through her thoughts, before it ceased. Ready when you are, Syria said Septimus in her mind, his voice softer and more human, lacking the rumbling, throaty overtone the Dragon had shown earlier, his psychic voice unhindered by his body's inabilities...
"Ah yes, organised chaos. the sign of a clever but ever-busy mind. To the perpetrator, a carefully woven web of belongings and intrigue, but to the bystander? Madness!"
–William Beckett, Lore of Leyuna RPG