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Velindrel

It begins anew...

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(Open to one person who needs repairs/gear upgrades.  Come with a payment plan this aint the march of dimes lol this is Casper)

Velindrel's house was located outside of the port city itself.

By that point the estate had become a mansion, and his name grew vastly more known as time went on.

He was a blacksmith of Casper, combining old world crafting with potent engineering of Casper's magitech.

It was a nice day out that day, a Tuesday, the temperature was a little chilly that day.  The cold air often came off the ocean waters.  Creating a milder and more temperate climate zone in general that often got cold and harsh winters.  Casper folks were a hardy lot.  Velindrel himself was a physically strong Elf, they rarely made Elves that muscular.  Currently, he worked in his personal forge.  While servants and apprentices worked in his mansion on various projects.

Learning the magitech science had been a huge boon for his old world sentiments.

He was a reasonably tall Elf and his face had angular but serious features.

He had long platinum coloured hair by that point in his long life.

He was working on an order of swords that needed repair by the local police force.

Casper's safety and security was taken seriously always especially by The Empire.

Velindreld sleek, tech infused blacksmith hammer worked his personal forge...he waited to see what the day would bring him.  His business was open for customers...

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/ IRIS /

The sun, for all of its grandeur and warmth, is an unforgiving bane to those who would prefer the shadows. Iris lifts her chin up, curses that light up in the sky, and then continues on her way. 

There is a good reason for this, in hindsight. She hasn’t stepped out into the sunlight since she and her sisters had gone underground. At least the air is chilly enough to compensate.

Casper is a thriving sea-beside-the-sea: a tumultuous crush of people flowing to and from the ports, splitting off into tributaries around the city districts. There she is in the midst of them; this woman, despite the cloth wrapped around her eyes, does not give off the impression that she is blind at all. She walks with a purpose, with firm and unyielding footfalls, enough to unnerve most passerby into staying clear of her warpath. The swords strapped behind her back help to fortify the matter.

No time for unruffling feathers here. When it comes down to it, there is no pleasure to be taken from this particular trip. Her visit is for business purposes and for business purposes alone.

And so here she arrives at a particular smithy on the outskirts of Casper, leaving the smell of ocean wind farther behind her. Paying no heed to the sprawling mansion she finds upon her arrival, she heads straight for the forge where she had been told is where the blacksmith named Velindrel works on his craft.

In a show of propriety, Iris knocks at the wall next to the doorway, leaning forward as if curious of the contents of the room. “I’ve heard tell this is the home of the best forge in Casper.” Her head turns over in the general direction of the blacksmith. “Are you willing to take an order today?”

 

@Velindrel

 

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Edited by vielle

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He was older at that point.

The smell of sweat and fire filled the forge.

It was a smaller forge in comparison to the one in the city, but he preferred it.

There he could concentrate on his craft.

News of his skill level had spread outside of Casper.

It filled the blacksmith with pride...

He heard the call of the interesting new customer.

The weapons the woman held on her back seemed heavy with burden and purpose...

Their craft had a familiar aspect to the old smith's eyes.

The aspect made his eyes twinkle with interest for a moment.

He spoke with a deep Casper accent in response.   "Aye what doth the good lady needeth?" He asks in exchange.  "There is always time for an exchange of coin."  He says calmly to her.  He wears his long platinum coloured hair lose at that point and is covered with sweat.

His hands are calloused with hard physical labor...but he seems a gentle soul.

Though he is not the type to deny the  truth of it...weapons were more for war.  His long Elven ears gave away what he was, an unusually physically strong Elf.  The Gods rarely made them like him those days...

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/ IRIS /

She shifts her stance as the accented syllables of his words wash over her, tilting her head minutely as if assessing the elf standing before her. There is strength in that voice, yes: strength, and experience too. Distance between years and some vastly differing professions to go with it.

What heartache lies between the folds of skin, wizened and youthful alike?

"Aye, what doth the good lady needeth? There is always time for an exchange of coin."

"Indeed there is," she replies, forcing her thoughts back to the present. Ah, there she is, letting her mind run away without her consent again. The steel trap that had once been her mind is rusty with disuse. She is of a mind to hone it again. (Or else Mother will be displeased.)

Iris steps forward to fully enter the room, moving her sightless gaze to and fro the various armaments scattered about the room in a performative manner. Her movements are measured, her footfalls carrying her to a nearby table. Unstrapping the weapons from her back is a ritual she has performed many times, and it does not take long before she has her two swords spread out on the table, their forms wrapped tight with cloth.

"One has a shattered hilt, and both of their steel is dull and unpolished." In another life, perhaps, she would've felt embarrassed at the state of her weaponry. There is no place for shame here, not where there is opportunity to restore them. "Can you fix them, and how long before I am able to retrieve them from you?"

 

@Velindrel

 

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"No artist should be without the tools for their craft."  The old blacksmith said calmly.

He looked at the weapon's aesthetics....there it was again, the weapons had a familiar aspect to his wizened old mind.

He could not quite place where he'd seen their craft before...but it was there.

Fate oft intervened when one least expected her to.

"Aye, the repair should be simple enough.  Come back on the morrow morn lass."   He says to her, the kindness was definitely there.

He looked at her gear.  "But yes lass, come back on the morrow.  I will put full attention to this project you hath arrived with."

He looked at her gear and got to work right away on the two swords.

***

The familiar aspects of the weapon was there, he likely had met the blacksmith of the weapons at some point in his long life.

He begins by repairing the hilt of the one sword...swords were like bedroom partners.  You became intimate with them, and got to know them until they became a very extension of one's very life.  He tempered the weapons with his ancient craft.  He knew she asked for repair and polishing...

But that familiar aspect of craftsmanship was there...it was an honour to work on such weaponry.

On every craft he put his very soul into the tempered steel.

He used his elemental powers to help repair the hilt and augment the part of the weapon.

By the time he was done.  The two swords had an ethereal glow...

He'd sharpened it well into the sixth hour of the morning that next morning non stop.

His passion could not be doubted, nor could his skill.

He tempered the metallic properties of both swords, with his elemental powers.

Once they were finely sharpened and polished...they were ready.  

The old smith had performed his art.

Edited by Velindrel

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/ IRIS /

Perhaps he truly is the they say he is, if he can say his next words so nonchalantly, confidence entwined between the syllables.

"Aye, the repair should be simple enough.  Come back on the morrow morn, lass." 

Well, then. There is nothing more to it. Iris simply bows at the elf and departs after a few moments, leaving her broken weapons behind to step out into the sea-warmed sunshine once more. (Perhaps leaving a little of herself behind as well. Who can truly know, with the Blind Executor?)

Casper is a study in movement, a veritable sea of human activity that rivals even the untameable waves crashing against the rock-shored ports. She whittles the rest of the day down exploring the city, remembering it from top to bottom once more as she once had before: from the highest spire pointing up to the heavens to the lowest brick buried in the dirt. The intelligent mind cannot rest idle, and especially not when the mind is at the Crow's beck and call.

(The Mother would need her at her best, now more than ever. A changing world is at their fingertips; it would not do to be complacent over their place within it.)

The next morning brings about more sunny weather, and after a quick run around the city walls, Iris makes her way back to the esteemed blacksmith's mansion. Her footfalls are slowed, this time: more casual. More measured. She takes time to explore the grounds—or wherever she is allowed to go, at least. It is an hour later that she finally points herself in the direction of the forge.

"Good morning, blacksmith," she greets him, hovering outside his door just as she had yesterday. "Are my swords ready for me?"

Now that she is here not even a fortnight after she had first relinquished her weapons to the forge, she is suddenly unsure as to whether Velindrel has truly kept his word about the swiftness of his work's completion. Still, there is room in her mind today for miracles, and this will be a much appreciated one indeed.

 

@Velindrel

 

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Her weaponry, reforged with his art...rested on his work table.

They had that tremendous ethereal glow to them, and the old black smith had poured his very soul into the weapons.

He nodded his greeting to the woman.  "Aye the good lady hath returned."  He says calmly.

"Thy weaponry is exquisite.  I hath seen such weaponry before once in my early youth.  Was an honour to work on these."  He says to her calmly in his gruff Casper accent.  He hands her her fully repaired swords.

"I tempered them with elemental energies."  He explained.  "I would very much like to smith those weapons again in the future.  Was an honour to work on such quality."  He explained to her.

"I'd like to keep upkeep of those weapons.  If you have need of repairs in the future...I'd like to be your smith."  He smiles calmly.  "Now....there is the matter of coin lassy.  How were thou intending to pay for thy repairs?" He asks her calmly.  He was a Casper businessman and they were always willing to haggle a good price down...want of coin was a simple enough desire.

"If the lady finds thy weaponry in good shape then we can conclude this business in true Casper fashion...with change of currency of some sort."  He says calmly.  Business conducted could be conducted with any form of exchange after all....

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/ IRIS /

If there is still any performative sense in her to act helplessly blind, it is gone, now, dissipating into the winds. Iris moves forward in a manner that appears to be almost giddy, footfalls near-silent against the floor, and receives the swords from Velindrel.

She cannot see the glow her weapons exude, but she can feel the warmth they radiate, the touch of power that's almost tangible when she holds them in her hands. Her fingers ghost up the steel, remembering the weight and the feel of them, and here now that they are made whole again: it's as if no time had passed at all, no breaking to show the fall.

Well. Perhaps she's gotten a greater bargain than she'd first thought had been possible when she'd first entered the stately manor. The elven blacksmith, she concedes, must indeed be a master of his craft. 

"You've done me a great boon, sir. I will most definitely pay you a visit again in the future, should my weapons require upkeep." She slides the swords into the holsters strapped to her back. "I might refer my sisters to you as well, if they're in need of any repairs to their armory."

He asks about the matter of payment as a true businessman would, and she has come prepared for it. The Crow may be underground, but her wealth is more than enough to continue supporting the various exploits of her daughters. Iris produces a coin purse from the folds of her clothing and offers it up in Velindrel's direction.

"Eight ounces of rhodium as payment for your services to me," she explains. "You may determine its validity and counter check the weight, if you'd like. A job well done deserves a great amount of compensation indeed." 

 

@Velindrel

 

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The old blacksmith raised an eyebrow.  Rhodium...and it was pure.

She was from Lagrimosa origins which marked her as an ally....of sorts.

The old man whistled at the smell and luxury of the rhodium that was offered.  He places the currency on the table for a moment and looks at her.

"Ye art a fine business woman."  He tells the lady calmly.

"Thy money will do just fine.  Come back whenever thy swords need repair my good lass."  He tells her calmly.

He could not shake the feeling that he somehow knew the crafstmanship of those weapons and had seen it before in his youth.

But the feeling was generally a good feeling.

Weapons that were used by Heroes....that was something the old Smith could live and swear by.  "I trust the lady is satisfied with mine art?" He asks calmly.  "The swords have a good shine and quality to them.  Twas and honour to assist thee."  He says to her.

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/ IRIS /

Iris watches as the elf inspects her payment before seemingly deeming it to be fitting for his services to her. She clasps her hands together as his final words flit into the air between them.

"Ye art a fine business woman. Thy money will do just fine. Come back whenever thy swords need repair my good lass."  

Perhaps she would, indeed. Aside from her own personal taste in weaponry, the Crow herself is a connoisseur of quality and craftsmanship. She thinks her Mother might be able to spare some more coin in the blacksmith's direction, should more repair and upkeep be necessary for their armory.

She presents a polite smile in the man's direction. "Thank you again for all you've done for me. Have a good day, sir, and may your good work continue to prosper."

Her business is done here. The snow-haired woman gives the master blacksmith a low bow, and then out she disappears through the doorway, nothing but the faint smell of irises to indicate that she had ever been there before.

 

exit iris.

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The blacksmith nods back as she takes her leave. 

Rhodium...and it was of pure quality.

He had much to think about.

The most important part of it for the blacksmith was that he was likely about to get more business....

He was a Casper businessman after all.

He prided himself on his art, the trade of the blacksmith.

He returns to work on this and that project, he knew he would have to use rhodium from the sizable estate to expand his facility more.

That would become top priority....for now though, he looks to the direction the woman vanished off in.  "Hopefully the fates are kind to let us meet again..."  He says and he goes back to work.  Heroes needed their legendary weaponry after all.

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