Future Heirloom Weapons

Log Info

• Title: Future Heirloom Weapons
• Emitter: Glasha
• Characters: Glasha, Paenitia
• Place: A14: Sage Orum's Plaza, University District
• Time: Friday, May 28, 2021, 6:34 PM
• Summary: Glasha has set up her Make-It and Fix-It wagon out front of the Arcanists' Society Campus. Sister Paenitia and Brave Ramirez are strutting about Alexandria, the Lucht Knight on some errant quest. She recognizes the half-orc from their crypt expedition and comes by. The two discuss things, with Paenitia describing several weapons she wishes to have. A second lance, and some special materials for her sword and warhammer. The two work out details, she pays, and the two part and get down to things.

-=--=--=--=--=<* A14: Sage Orum's Plaza, University District *>-=--=--=--=--=-

Named after one of Alexandria's most learned (and perhaps addled) minds, the new University District of the city contains a number of entertainment spots as well as areas of culture and learning. Though many structures and sculptures can be found here, two buildings dominate the plaza with an air of friendly animosity--the grand buildings of the Society for Progressive Arcanists and the Artificer's Guild.

Poised on opposite sides of the central plaza, the two face one another like old misers, each uncertain as to what the other's up to, and pranks between students are a rule of thumb. A series of levies and fines exists should they get too far out of hand, though at times the results may be spectacular. Performers often make use of the great plaza by filling it with music, and rare is the visit without passing a performer's hat or three, five, or nine. Likewise, ramshackle shops selling every sort of magic bauble line the ways, all of varying (and often questionable) quality. A grand statue of Sage Orum overlooks it all, his expression slightly perplexed perhaps, at its mixture of grandeur, invention, glass-filled baubles, and chaos.

At the far end of the area, is the city library. From public records to research into the history of the city and the region itself, there is much one can learn at the city library. Many stories tall, the building towers up over well-lit, tightly-packed cobblestone streets.

In the distance, the Redridge Mountains rise overhead in all their glory. At their peaks, one can see the airships docking, landing, and flying off again under the banners of not only Alexandria but many great nations.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Glasha       5'8"     100 Lb     Half-Orc          Female    Green-skinned, young lady with bleached hair.
Paenitia     3'0"     34 Lb      Halfling          Female    A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery.
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A sign on top of this cart reads, "Glasha's Weaponry and Fix-All Service".

It is a cart only a cart by convenience of the name. There is a large, slightly convex plate on the bottom that keeps the cart's bottom, all of it, a certain distance from the ground. It also keeps it level. The short walls are hinged and can be opened far enough to angle downward and lift the repulsor from the ground and anchor the cart simultaneously becoming steps.

Four posts connect the base to a metal ceiling above with a chimney coming out. Feeding the chimney is a hot furnace. A piece of adamantine has been enchanted with a constant empowered heat metal spell, making the inside of the spherical stone furnace very hot indeed. With the pull of a lever, the interior of the furnace can be rotated to force hot air out the back instead of out the top, and the shape of the whole furnace acts to draw air through it, pushing the cart forward, albeit slower than one might like. Steering is done by turning the furnace from inside the cart while the walls are up. Just be careful your hair doesn't get sucked into the grill at the front of the furnace!

The rain is light, and it's not super sunny. The lightness of the rain, mixed with the lack of boiling sun, means traffic hasn't slowed much, though people don't linger as much outside to browse the vendors. The rhythmic, metallic pounding betrays the presence of the Glasha's Weaponry and Fix-all Service cart. The orc herself is dressed in a smithing apron, no sleeves, and a simple dress as she works red-hot metal. Luna, for what it's worth, sits in a triangle of steel forged just for the bird.

It has been a few days since Paenitia has finished her duties at the Crypt of Osorin, helping out Archaelogists and being tripped over. She has returned to Alexandra and is wandering the streets, on her quest, or something. Perhaps seeking seeds.

The half-orc's wagon, the half-orc herself and her familiar are noticed. First, by Ramirez, who keeps an eye out for attractive birds, then by the Lucht Knight. She turns her steed towards the mobile establishment.

"Hola! Glasha? That is you? Good Day my friend."

Glasha smiles. "Hey!" she says, putting the metal back into the smokeless, fireless, yet still very hot forge. She puts her hammer and tongs down on the anvil and wipes her hands on a towel hanging from her belt. It's just a strip of fabric, but it does the job. "Unless you're some OTHER lucht riding a hippogriff, I presume the woman behind the smiling mask is the same one from a certain crypt venture."

"It is not! I have six sisters, and each day of the week one of us wear the mask." The Red Knight laughs, leaning forward in her saddle, her eyes glittering behind her smiling make. "I joke, this is me. The Seven Sisters and the one disguise? That is a true story of Isobar."

'Ruuaaaaah!' Ramirez acts the drum snare, saying hello. He also gazes at Luna with a large red eye.

"You are well? That is a much impressive forge. I was looking for one to make some weapons, but are the better crafts person?" Paenitia says, looking over the wagon.

"I try," Glasha says. "My mom taught me how to work the forge." She reaches to the back where her greataxe hangs from two of the 'branches' at the top where Luna generally sits at the top of the head. She plants the purplewood haft at her feet and holds the item proudly. "This was my first creation that was truly mine, rather than something I made for one of her customers. I recently silvered it. I'm quite pleased with the alchemical silver's performance."

"Ramirez, move closer. The heat will not hurt you. Turn this way." Paenitia says, her peacock-andalusian angling so she's close enough to examine the weapon. She leans out of her saddle to get a better look. "It is very nice. Great work and beautiful silvering."

She pulls on a strap attached to her saddle. The candelabra brace of polearms attached to the back stands up like spread peacock's tail. "I make the weapons for the Mad Dogs, these are some of them." Polearms, crude and covered in a rusty patina, much like the Red Knight's armour. All small sized.

They are clearly not carefully fashioned, "not the best works. I have not work with rare metals."

"Sometimes, you have to be able to do the delicate work when it comes to this stuff," Glasha says. "Other times, like with cold iron, you can be as crude as you want. I've formed rough balls of cold iron to hafts as crude as a hammer. When you fear fae or demons--not devils, mind you--sometimes you just want something you won't cut yourself on, but you can club a baddie with."

"This is true." Paenitia sounds thoughtful. Her mask remains smiling. Were it to change expression it might be upsetting, "Maybe I want one of those, the hammer. For sure, I need more lances. Maybe two."

She reaches and draws her lance from its saddle-scabbard and holds it towards Glasha, "This is right sized for me. You can make one out of cold iron? Careful work, I may want the enchants later. I am wonder if I want the other to be wood and steel or something like the alchemical silver."

"I can do that," Glasha says. She takes the lance from the lucht and holds it, testing the balance. "Wood is traditional. I'm not sure I can make the whole thing out of metal, but the business end might be doable in anything from Mithril to cold iron to adamantine." The small lance looks like a sword when held by the much taller woman. A practice sword, but a sword nonetheless. "Would you mind if I hold onto this for a few days?" Glasha asks. "Ha! The adamantine I want, but do not have the coin. I must get Ramirez armour first." Paenitial laughs.

'Rrruaaaah!' Ramirez agrees. He wants armour.

The little Lucht nods, "You may keep, yes. I do not plan the great crusades. Also, can you make the Lucern Hammer? Right sized for me, it maybe look like a practice hammer for you too."

Glasha considers this as she carefully stows the lance. "I think so," she says. She opens her satchel, which dangles nearby. Pulling out a bundle of papers screw-pressed on one side to a plank of wood, she also pulls out a paper-wrapped wax stick. Coming back to the hippogriff-mounted lucht, she sketches out something. "Is that the one that goes like this?" she asks, holding up the drawing for consideration.

"Yes, is the hammer with claw on the long stick, for the ten foot pole monsters." Paenitia says, looking over the drawing. "I need it in the ruins, for skeletons when I fight with comrade Tenoc. Something to smash with."

Glasha nods. "I've never made one," Glasha admits, "so I'll work up some prototypes for you." She starts writing numbers. "Given the nature of the work, it will take me a bit. I'll be able to make a rough model quickly, but I'll want you to come back and make sure all the weapons I'm making are balanced properly for you. These are heirloom quality items, and I want them to be as high a quality as possible."

"Ok. The lucern hammer does not need to be that fine." Paenitia says, drawing her warhammer from its saddle hooks, and holding it out, "but the cold iron heirloom of this, what I have use for."

She lets the brace of pole-arms lie flat against Ramirez's back, "the pole-arms, they are for lending. I have had need of them, I help rescue goblins who working the fields. They are not used too much."

Glasha nods. "Okay," she says. She gingerly takes the hammer, turning it over. "Cold iron both? You wouldn't like one to be silvered, instead?" She sets the hammer handle-up on her anvil. "Devils and lycanthropes need silver in their backsides to go down, fae and demons need cold iron."

"Does the silver make it soft? I have the light tap already." Paenitia chuckles. She pets along Ramirez's neck. "I think these two will be okay. The archaelogists did not pay all that well."

"The three." She exhales, "I need lots of things, the changing from lance to bow and back is taking too long and the fight is never where I want it to be."

Glasha shakes her head. "Normal silver would," she says. "I've made ceremonial swords and other things out of silver. They'll have an edge for one cut before they lose it, but they look pretty, which is the point. This is alchemical silver. My greataxe doesn't need sharpening any more than a quality steel weapon. A little less, actually, since I silvered it."

"A sword like that sound good." The Red Knight nods thoughtfully, then pulls out her longsword and hands that over to Glasha, "the balance on this is good, but maybe you can fix it, a little closer to the handle."

She sounds amused, "I will have to stop here, the cost of the barding will be very great and I have commit with Mikilos to get it made, soon as he free."

Glasha smirks. "So, okay, you want me to make an heirloom-quality hammer for you, or was it that you want your current hammer remade in an heirloom-quality way? Then you want an heirloom-quality lance of cold iron. Then you want a silvered longsword. Was the hammer to be made of anything but regularly forged steel?"

"Make the heirloom-quality warhammer, from the cold iron. The heirloom-quality lance, also cold iron, and the silvered longsword, also heirloom-quality." Paenitia says, "The Lucern Hammer, that the regular steel. I did not think you could re-work the ones I hand you. I thought you would keep for compare and I can get them back. They are not sentimental things, just weapons I have had for a while."

"I can do either," Glasha says. "I'd have to re-forge them, but I can use the same metal, even if it's damaged. I might have to add some other material, but I've done it before. It won't look the same, but it can be the same weapon."

"Okay. That sound good!" The Red Knight decrees decisively. "I would offer the help, but your forge is not the right size, the tools also, not good for the light taps. I wonder how it work without the coke and smoke, but is magic, yes?"

"Yes," Glasha says. "Specifically an enhancement of the heat metal spell. I can control the forge heat with a control below, and the forge itself also works as the propulsion for the cart, when her walls are cranked up." She writes everything down, then says, "Okay, so we're looking at ninety platinum for three weapons as fine as I can craft them, two and four gold to remake the warhammer in cold iron, and nine to silver the reforged longsword. I'm not sure the lance can take cold iron, but I'll try my best. Worst case scenario, you'll still have an heirloom-quality lance." She scribbles down another item on her list. "I'll have to look up the prices on lucht weapons to find how much a lucerne hammer will cost. Does everything else sound about right?"

Paenitia nods, "Yes, that sounds correct. These are much the prices I am expecting."

The Red Knight searches around her saddle and brings out a pouch full of coins. She counts out a bunch, stands in her seat and passes them over to the half-orc, "There! This be the amount. I come back to check and we make sure is right sized for me. This is good?"

'Ruaaaaah!' Ramirez thinks it's good.

"Yes, please," Glasha says. "I'll get to work on it immediately."

"Okay! Good Night Glasha, I go to follow up on a quest. It is good to see you again, and I will see you again soon." Paenitia says cheerfully, turning Ramirez with her knees and aiming him away from the cart. The pair head off down the street, purchase made.

Dramatis Personae

Paenitia
Small, dark and winsome.

On a Giant white peacock.

Sister Paenitia Snapdragon del Harrana, is a crimson knight astride an ivory steed. A dark skinned Lucht Siuil, her black hair hangs in ringlets to mid-back, wild, untamed, loose. Matching fetlocks curl about her shins, demure, tamed, tied back with crimson bows. She wears a broad feathered hat, a matching single shoulder cape, both crafted from the bold feathers of her mount; striking white with red eyes. Beneath that hat, a smiling mask with rosy cheeks and a wide upturned moustache. Her armour has the same patina, an elaborate breastplate, rusted to match the mesas of her homeland. Paenitia's deep eyes smoulder behind the mask, and her skin, where visible, is a warm mahogany that is both heritage and time in the sun. She moves with an intensity overwhelming for her size.

Ramirez, her mount, is an eye-catching hippogryph. An albescent peacock gypsy-andalusan breed. Glorious, the size of a strong warhorse, his tail could cover a cart and easily hides his fluffy equine hind. His forelegs are the delicate and deceptively strong legs of the avian, and his body flows well into his feathery trail. Almost completely white, Ramirez is blood red on his neck, shoulders and breast, with the same bold colour in his crown and his many tailfeather eyes. He struts about regally, staring imperiously, proud and beautiful. Paenitia's saddle straps his midsection and has its own tail fan, a scabbard candelabra of pole arms that lies along his back.

She's from the land of the wind, tilting against windmills. A self-appointed knight, tiny and trite, riding a fancy and brings twice the fight.

Glasha
There are two things that mark this particular woman as being not fully human. One is the tusks. The other, more noticeable thing is the rather obvious green skin. Her round face has surprisingly soft features. Her nose is a little wider than a human woman of the same height and is pierced. A silver ring hangs over her upper lip. Her lips are fuller than many Oruch's, but they part for short, stubby tusks that balance out underbite and overbite with a pair of broad incisors.

Her hair is guided back by an antique hairband and reaches her shoulders or thereabouts. The oldest half of each strand is stark white, while the youngest half of each hair is jet black.

Her form is fit and her arms and legs are more thickly muscled than average, though they are also soft and retain their graceful curves, more like a strong human woman than the bulging muscles of an Oruch. She also actually has curves to her body. Her chest is larger than most humans, but not as firm as most oruch. She is tall for a human woman, but dismally short for an oruch.