Heroes' Hearth

[8BitNinja]

The dwarf will take the rations and lead him to the house in Outside.

Gary follows the dwarf to Outside.

[Ashen Lilies]

[The Village of Avalon]

Balthier looks briefly confused by the pause, but he decides a man's titles are his own to tell or not. He certainly wasn't telling of his own place in the world. He just smiles and shakes the big man's hand.

"So, what brings you to Avalon, Astvar, if I may ask?"

[The Village of Avalon]

The deadtime! It has released another!

Not without exacting its toll, however, for within the cold depths of the deadtime ooze another, far more sinister magic has been working its mayhem - the dreaded magic of... Retconjuration!

Where in another distant timeline stood a pale-haired and bearded giant... there is in this one now... a dwarf! A dwarf who has always been there, most definitely, and has not been anyone else whatsoever, no sir.

The dwarf is an excessively burly fellow, even by dwarf standards, with broad shoulders and bulging arms. His dark hair is tied back into a small topknot, and his beard is relatively modest by dwarfy standards, reaching barely to his chest, edged by two thick braids and adorned with a few heavy gold-plated bands. The armor he's wearing is relatively plain, but obviously finely crafted (as to be expected of a dwarf) and he wears a large hammer at his belt, in addition to the giant two-handed mace and the wrapped up oblong bladed weapon he's carrying as well.
"I hear the path of strength can be pursued in Avalon," says the dwarf. "I wish to walk this path."

[Arriving]

"Dragons dig mountains." Says Kal, following the pair with shoulders hunched. He glances around at the settlement, as if trying to get a measure of the people who live here.

[Zefir]

((Please excuse any confusion from my typos and neologisms, Zefir ))

"You know Wenomir too?" Chevin inquires, apparently noticing the direction of Fade's gaze. "He's a pretty cool guy. Really stubborn, though. I'd go say hello, but he probably wouldn't even remember me. A real hero like that? Hah."
Chevin walks to the workspace shi's using, not quite at a forge itself, just tables and strings and tapes and wheels.
"Okay, so for not interfering with your movement, I'm thinking cloud-pattern armor with anim-articulate metal plates. Just checking, you are able to pay for this protection? That'll be the most movable, for not getting in your way, while still giving you pretty good protection. I'll need to take your measurements at the first, and check back often that they still fit and move correctly."
"Are you worried about something in particular? Bullets, lasers, teeth, knives, you know what I'm saying?"

[The Forge]

((I'm not sure what you mean. Really i don't know))

"I heared of him." Fade replies in his typical voice. "I would like to challenge him." But they are now at the forge.

"Bullets, not sure what Laser is, but Let's say that as well. The other things you mention are fine. There was also something hot and bright. They called it Lasma or something like that."
He actually means plasma, but how can he know. He just heared it somewhere.

[Recaiden]

((Perfect! ))

"You must be pretty tough yourself then."

"Plasma. Sunfire. That's a tough one, though I actually have been looking into heat management in armor since my last expedition to the Great Northern Desert..." Chevin trails off, wrinkling hir nose at the poor state of the rags.
"You have to understand that the better protection slows you down more, but I'll see what I can do with plasma-resistant fibers without getting too heavy."
"And you might want to get out of some of that getup."

At a wave of hir hand, measuring tapes spring to life, leaping up from the table and uncoiling themselves, delicate bone calipers stand themselves upright, and stylus pencils grow ready to punch information onto nearby paper in a precise and legible format. Assuming Fade doesn't make any trouble, the measuring tools fly back and forth and Chevin calls out numbers for the pencils to record.

[Morty]

[Arriving]

"From what I've heard, she lives on top of the mountain," Wenomir says, crushing Ilpholin's hopes. "So we'll have to climb all the way up there. Maybe her acolytes can commune with her directly. We need to ask them before we climb, anyway."

[Reinholdt]

[Arriving]

"Of course..." Dragons should be more sensible, like Zanny was. Well no point in dallying. Ilpholin heads into the village and approaches the first Dragon Acolyte she can find that isn't completely preoccupied. "Excuse me. The three of us have traveled far in order to request a boon from your Matron Dragon."

The far is more metaphorical than literal. 'Twas a great spiritual journey, I'm sure.

[Zefir]

((Perfect! ))

"You must be pretty tough yourself then."

"Plasma. Sunfire. That's a tough one, though I actually have been looking into heat management in armor since my last expedition to the Great Northern Desert..." Chevin trails off, wrinkling hir nose at the poor state of the rags.
"You have to understand that the better protection slows you down more, but I'll see what I can do with plasma-resistant fibers without getting too heavy."
"And you might want to get out of some of that getup."

At a wave of hir hand, measuring tapes spring to life, leaping up from the table and uncoiling themselves, delicate bone calipers stand themselves upright, and stylus pencils grow ready to punch information onto nearby paper in a precise and legible format. Assuming Fade doesn't make any trouble, the measuring tools fly back and forth and Chevin calls out numbers for the pencils to record.

((Now I got it))

Fade just shrugs at the first comment and follows.

"I just need it for this one guy. I doubt many have this kind of weapon." fade says. "I'm fully aware about the side effekts of armor. I just heared a good blacksmith can make them less."

Fade just rips the layers of and let them falll down, even thought there was the sound of ripping clothes they appear totally fine. That way Fade stands there in his pants with his perfect skincolor and well trained body. He sure would made a good modle if you take away the scarf over his face.

""Do you have an idea or an example?" he asks.

[Recaiden]

Chevin nods and heads over towards a rack of displays.

"I'm thinking something with several layers. The outside will be a reflective layer of polished scale, enchanted to make it lighter. That should be pretty tough on its own, but mostly it will protect you from energy attacks, lasers and plasma. For a while. Get hit by enough plasma rounds and you will burn up no matter what armor you have, that's just physics. Now, we can expect strong bullets to punch right through that, which is why the middle layer - after a bit of cloud-cloth to hold it together - is a set of anti-projectile plates within a heavy coat. There's matching arm and leg pieces. Then the inner layer is hard-to-cut fiber with a bit more heat diffusion."

With each explanation, shi points out a different partly finished protective item to show what it will be like.

"If you need this to protect you from a certain specific opponent, are you in a hurry to get this? Armor takes time. Good armor takes more time." At least when it's made like this.

[Zefir]

[Forge]

I should notice, since I forgot, that now Fade's weapons are visible. A long sword and a normal one. They seem to be hiding under his rags, remakrable well.

"I'm not after him. He is after me." Fade replies. "I'm not sure when he will come, but I guess he will. So the faster the better unless it will loose all it's quality."

[Recaiden]

"Well, you're lucky you don't need a set of chain. That stuff just can't be rushed."
Chevin waves at the workbench, and a pair of tongs lift chunks of metal over toward the anvil, where the bellows are now working themselves. One of hir hammers is taken in hand.

An actual pencil draws up a bill, which shi hands to Fade.
The armor is reasonably priced, the enchantment fairly cheap, but forging it in a hurry carries a hefty surcharge.
"You don't need to pay it all at once, and I'm open to other means of payment; not all heroes can be financial successes. Then I won't need you till the scale is done." Which will be many hours away, but not many days. Having magical tools helps ever so much.

[Ashen Lilies]

[Arriving]

"From what I've heard, she lives on top of the mountain," Wenomir says, crushing Ilpholin's hopes. "So we'll have to climb all the way up there. Maybe her acolytes can commune with her directly. We need to ask them before we climb, anyway."

[Arriving]

"Of course..." Dragons should be more sensible, like Zanny was. Well no point in dallying. Ilpholin heads into the village and approaches the first Dragon Acolyte she can find that isn't completely preoccupied. "Excuse me. The three of us have traveled far in order to request a boon from your Matron Dragon."

The far is more metaphorical than literal. 'Twas a great spiritual journey, I'm sure.

[Arriving]

The first dragon acolyte they see would just so happen to be a tall, dark-skinned woman with a hard, weathered face and closely cropped hair. She's dressed as one might expect of an Amazonian of Earth legend - a sculpted bronze cuirass (sculpted to look like a man's torso, incongruously enough) with a leather skirt and greaves. Not in evidence are the expected helmet, shield, and spear, though a short sword does hang at her hip in a plain sheath.

She eyes the trio doubtfully.
"The dark haired-one one has the look of a warrior. Maybe." She says, not well filtering the disdain from her voice. "Only those who have proven themselves are invited to make the pilgrimage up the mountain."

[Morty]

[Arriving]

"Did the scars give me away?" Wenomir asks, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm Wenomir, Commander of Vigil, master of the Winding Path style and bearer of the Answer to the Riddle of Steel." He puts his hand on the sword's hilt. "It wouldn't abide being wielded by anyone who isn't a true warrior."

[Artemis97]

[The Village of Avalon]

The deadtime! It has released another!

Not without exacting its toll, however, for within the cold depths of the deadtime ooze another, far more sinister magic has been working its mayhem - the dreaded magic of... Retconjuration!

Where in another distant timeline stood a pale-haired and bearded giant... there is in this one now... a dwarf! A dwarf who has always been there, most definitely, and has not been anyone else whatsoever, no sir.

The dwarf is an excessively burly fellow, even by dwarf standards, with broad shoulders and bulging arms. His dark hair is tied back into a small topknot, and his beard is relatively modest by dwarfy standards, reaching barely to his chest, edged by two thick braids and adorned with a few heavy gold-plated bands. The armor he's wearing is relatively plain, but obviously finely crafted (as to be expected of a dwarf) and he wears a large hammer at his belt, in addition to the giant two-handed mace and the wrapped up oblong bladed weapon he's carrying as well.
"I hear the path of strength can be pursued in Avalon," says the dwarf. "I wish to walk this path."

[The Village of Avalon]

"A noble calling!" Balthier commends. "My path is less so, I simply seek housing and a place to act as a base of operations."

[Reinholdt]

[Arriving]

Ilpholin hmphs with disdain of her own, her eyes narrowing at the slight. "Name your trial. I'll overcome it," the nymph from a sunless realm claims without offering her name.

[Zefir]

"Well, you're lucky you don't need a set of chain. That stuff just can't be rushed."
Chevin waves at the workbench, and a pair of tongs lift chunks of metal over toward the anvil, where the bellows are now working themselves. One of hir hammers is taken in hand.

An actual pencil draws up a bill, which shi hands to Fade.
The armor is reasonably priced, the enchantment fairly cheap, but forging it in a hurry carries a hefty surcharge.
"You don't need to pay it all at once, and I'm open to other means of payment; not all heroes can be financial successes. Then I won't need you till the scale is done." Which will be many hours away, but not many days. Having magical tools helps ever so much.

"Rush is not needed." Fade says. "I should have enougth to pay you unless you already got something in mind. You can tell me later." With that he goes and will check back in in a few hours. Maybe a little to early, but Fade can keep still for some time.

[Recaiden]

In a few hours, when Fade arrives early, the armor is not yet done. It is not even half done. For all that the magical tools help, all they can do is amplify strength and precision. Each piece is shaped 'by hand', that is, with deliberate intention by the smith. Chevin leans over the anvil, shaping the last few scale pieces, attended by floating tongs and an assistant (a winged goblin of even shorter stature than his master).

Shi doesn't look up when Fade arrives, just barks "Not ready for you yet."

[Zefir]

[Forge]

Fade will wait outside the forge. In fact his main reason to come this early was the others he saw earlier. he will walk around, but obviously will have no success in finding them.

So he comes back to the forge when the time is up.

[Recaiden]

In time the suit of armor is complete and the assistant calls Fade over.
"Here it is."
The separate layers of the suit of armor hang on a stand nearby.
"If you don't have it secret, just who is your enemy that needs all this?"

[Ashen Lilies]

[Arriving]

The amazon draws herself up and gives the pair of them another contemptuous glare, opening her mouth with an arrogant gesture, no doubt to issue some sort of challenge or insult, but is interrupted by another pair of Dragon Acolytes, flanking a third altogether different figure. Said figure is a regal female clad from head-to-toe in archaic looking ceremonial armor. Or... something that was once female, anyway. Right now it doesn't appear much of anything, as whatever's visible under the rust and tattered cloth and tarnished silver appears to be decrepit beyond recognition - a skeleton marching in burial armor fit for a queen, peering out from under a plumed helm with sockets aglow with a soft silvery light.

The amazon seems to be simultaneously taken aback and furious, on the verge of voicing some form of objection - before being dismissed by a peremptory hand gesture from the armored revenant. It beckons at the new arrivals.

"Right. Kinda creepy. I think I'll just uh... wait out here," Kal whispers. He's so not into the "dragon cultists and spooky undead" thing.

[The Village of Avalon]

Astvar shifts at Balthier's judgement. "Ain't seeking nothing noble about it." He says gruffly. "Just what I deserve."

((gogo gadget text color retcon))

[Morty]

[Arriving]

Wenomir steps forward, nodding in gratitude and acknowledgement.

"Thank you for expediting this encounter. May we speak with Nyneve? Or are we speaking with her now?"

[Reinholdt]

[Arriving]

Ilpholin nods to Kal. The only undead she really goes for is the sparkling vampire variety but those barely count. Dragon cultists on the other hand she can understand. Little can match a dragon for raw power and grace. It's only a few steps from appreciation to worship.

Briefly smirking at the dismissed amazon, Ilpholin steps forward and gives a graceful bow to the undead queen. "My greetings."

[Ashen Lilies]

[Arriving]

The undead queen nods at the two of them in greeting, and then beckons again, before pointing up a path towards the mountain.

Decomposed vocal cords aren't too great for speech, it seems.

[Morty]

[Arriving]

Wenomir shrugs and follows. He sure is meeting many dragons nowadays. First Abhorson, then Spako became one, and now Nyneve. Then there was Harnetta...

[Reinholdt]

[Arriving]

Wenomir ought to have lots of dragon bones with which to combat demons by now then! He must be doing something wrong.

"Understood," Ilpholin tells the not so majestic majesty before turning to head in that direction as well. Up the mountain they go.

[Artemis97]

[The Village of Avalon]

Astvar shifts at Balthier's judgement. "Ain't seeking nothing noble about it." He says gruffly. "Just what I deserve."

((gogo gadget text color retcon))

[The Village of Avalon]

"You deserve strength?" It seemed an odd way to phrase it, to Balthier, though he supposed everyone deserved to be strong in their own way.

[Zefir]

In time the suit of armor is complete and the assistant calls Fade over.
"Here it is."
The separate layers of the suit of armor hang on a stand nearby.
"If you don't have it secret, just who is your enemy that needs all this?"

"A crazy psychopath." Fade replies. "His name beginns with a J, but I wasn't able to know him. We know each other less then an hour and he was using his whole arsenal to kill me."

Fade got a bag with him containing the money. Thought he doesn't value it much, he still asked for the job. Maybe he is more comfortable with doing somthing then just hand over money.

[Recaiden]

"Sometimes that happens." Chevin says simply. "Your armor is over there. I hope you defeat him."
Shi holds out a hand for the bag of money - Fade already agreed to pay it; if he wants to make other arrangements now he'll need to speak up.

[Westhart]

Suddenly a huge bulky elf appears in the room, quickly looking around and sees Chevin. "You, I heard this is a place of mighty warriors, and I seek after someone. he moves forward, not intentionally trying to be threatening, but the large axe on his back covered in crusted blood doesn't do much to put most at ease. I am looking for one named Liadi, so tell me, have you seen her? His tone is rude, until he notices Chevin waiting to be payed. I am sorry, I didn't realize you were in business. He steps back, impatiently tapping his fingers against his thigh, as if he could think of a million better things to do with his time.

[Zefir]

Fade, a tall man covered in layers of black rags and a scarf around his face stares at the newcomer with his shiny yellow eyes. For a moment he gaze at him, but then he looks back at the blacksmith.

"The money in the bag should be enougth," his soundless voice says. "thought I wouldn't mind if I can offer you my service instead. I don't know what you need right now so I can't spell out a proper offer."

Giving the blacksmith some time, Fade walks over to the armor to inspect it.

[Westhart]

The man looks at the tall man, then back to the smith. Have you seen a woman named liadi? He asks yet again, his voice impatient. "She is slightly tall, rather pale, takes a while for her eyes to adapt to light... She also plays a multitude of musical instruments, and she can work a knife and gun better then most..." The information sounds like something he is repeating that he heard, not something he actually knows. "She's my sister." Something is off though, and to those trained in such things it is quite clear he's lying.