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Post by Cernunnos Wilde on Jun 15, 2012 23:22:41 GMT -5
Cernunnos hadn't had a good sparring match in awhile now, and when he said 'sparring', he meant practice for him with a participant who was under the impression that the duel was the real thing. That was the way he rolled. He didn't have time to go around making friends to go 'practice' and 'spar' with; keeping his skills sharp involved going straight to the source and and actually fighting.
Anyway, the point of the story being, he had provoked a pirate (because was bored and felt like it) and a nice little clashing of swords had followed, ending in Cernunnos tossing the offending pirate off the dock into the water when he tired of him. He had been feeling quite pleased with himself by the time he had turned away and he had just gone to sheath his sword, when an unsightly dent in the metal hit him.
He had cursed in the ancient tribal language of his people (seeing as there were some children not far off...and he thought it sounded cool. Exactly what children of that age were doing on Port Grimm was their parents' business and Cernunnos had decided to mind his own beeswax and chuck it up to the children in question being unfortunate in having terribly inattentive parents). Still grousing to himself, he pulled himself into the air and flew towards the Hills of the Fallada, for he had heard tell of a fine blacksmith who lived there. A traveling tinker he had once come across had told him that the man in question was...unusual and not one to cross, on account of his size and strength, but Cernunnos wasn't worried. Sure, he was strong for a banshee of his age and size, but he had something that big, burly men didn't: the power of flight.
That evening, he arrived at what appeared to be the forge, 'Iron Hooves', the man had called it. Raising his hand to knock, he employed something he rarely used anymore: his manners.
"Hello, anyone home?"
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Post by Amazon on Jun 15, 2012 23:53:12 GMT -5
The question of 'anyone home' was fairly unnecessary when there was the constant sound of hammering of hot metal on an anvil echoing around the forge. It was a familiar sound the blacksmith's ears... something that soothed them and reminded them of home. However, unlike what the banshee had been assuming: the blacksmith wasn't a man. Or male for that matter. Long black hair tied back from their tanned face and brown eyes, the blacksmith worked with a steady hand and a well trained eye for detail.
The blacksmith was certainly large for their size, a tall specimen of their race... and bulky like a Clydesdale horse. The banshee had obviously misunderstood what their contact had informed the off about the blacksmith because when the hammering stopped a large, blue roan equine-like form walked around the corner of the shop to the main entrance. Four strong legs dashed in white but speckled with soot ended in hooves that could be described as large as a dinner plate. Where a horses head should be was the upper torso of a tanned young woman with an emotionless face.
Amazon.... or Zon as she preferred to be called... was the only blacksmith of Iron Hooves. She had coined the name herself as a play against what she was: a centaur blacksmith.
"Yes", she answered as she plodded along to the front entrance, pulling off thick leather gloves and wiping her hands of a rag of cloth. "How can I help you?"
A belt hung loosely around the bottom edge of her torso, and from it hung various hammers and other tools of the trade for a blacksmith.
Zon had been working late, as she always did, and forever being careful not to step on the small black puppy that explored her forge or rode around on her back. At that moment the puppy was chasing rats in amongst the wood pile. Zon threw her gloves down on a nearby workbench and approached the young banshee with her arms crossed.
"Spit it out lad, I haven't got all night".
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Post by Cernunnos Wilde on Jun 16, 2012 0:03:20 GMT -5
Just as the tinker had promised, the blacksmith did indeed loom over him, but he had never mentioned that the blacksmith wasn't a man. She was a...woman? A mare? Cernunnos hadn't spent much time dealing with centaurs and didn't know how to properly address one of the female persuasion. He fought tooth and nail not to let his face betray the tiniest hint of surprise, but he felt his eyebrows shoot up before he could stop them.
"Yes, my sword is dented from a fight." He said, unsheathing his weapon and holding it up to the light, showing off the blemish. He dared not relinquish control of it yet, for he neither knew nor trusted her enough let to let her hold it, even though she appeared to have the entire shop at her disposal. "I need you to fix it for me. Name your price and I will pay you in gold." He added. It was true, after living so long on the run, Cernunnos had become an skilled thief, but he had no use for money if it wasn't for immediate use: all it did was weigh him down.
He disliked being referred to as 'lad', for he didn't think of himself as a boy anymore. The time for being a juvenile was long-past for him, but he often forgot how young members of the fae appeared to mortals...and how young he was in the big scheme of things. However, he didn't shoot back a snarky retort, because shooting snarky retorts at enormous centaurs who can probably crush you wish one swing of your hammer just isn't something you do when you're hard-wired for survival.
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Post by Amazon on Jun 17, 2012 3:11:49 GMT -5
The centaur groaned internally when she spotted his eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the fact that a woman (setting aside the species) was a blacksmith. Male centaurs were well known to become well trained warriors and blacksmiths, forging their own weapons for fighting according to their size. A blade fit for a centaur would undoubtedly loom in size compared to a blade fit for a human. And Zon was one of the large members of her species, dwarfing her mother... but her father dwarfed her still. Big deal if she was a woman blacksmith... stranger things had happened. Zon stomped her front right hoof to stop herself from snapping at him "Never seen a woman blacksmith before?"
Zon studied the blade as best as she could from the distance that the banshee put between it and her. The centaur wanted to roll her eyes and snatch it from him, saying that he wouldn't have a mended blade if he wouldn't hand it over. But Zon bit her tongue to hold herself back. That kind of attitude would loose her customers. One unhappy customer would tell ten others not to visit the forge... it was the way things worked. Begrudgingly Zon studied the blade as best as she could.
Unsuccessful in her assessment of the blade Zon held out her hand in askance for the weapon.
"I can not determine the damage to the blade without looking at it properly", she explained with a tone of voice that seemed to hint that she knew what she was talking about. "The metal could be weakened in the spot as well as bent out of shape. The work required may be as little as a reshaping... or as drastic as a complete melt-down and reforging the blade. The price will be determined the amount of work I have to do to repair it."
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Post by Cernunnos Wilde on Jun 17, 2012 4:31:50 GMT -5
The banshee fixed her with an icy, calculating stare for a moment, before oh-so-slowly handing over his prized weapon and even when she took it into her huge hands, he kept a hand on the hilt of his hunting knife, which he kept in the top of his boot. Great lot of good it would do against a fully-grown, armed-to-the-teeth centaur, but Cernunnos still had one advantage: flight, though he was hypothetically loath to leave his sword behind, even if it was dented.
"Ahh, well, it's just a minor dent, I don't want it to be too much trouble." He said, keeping a perilous hold on his manners, or what remained of them. "In that case, I will let you keep my sword, once it is repaired, as collateral while I retrieve the necessary funds. You see, I keep my money in my personal safe some miles from here, and it will take me time to go and get it." He left out the part about tracking down eligible theft victims, taking the money he needed, and if her prize turned out to be a considerable sum, it would involve stealing from several different sources, and that might take awhile. "You see, I am not from around these parts and I have had a rather long journey."
He analyzed the centaur again, noticing this time just how beautiful she was. Not only was she fair of face, but she had the most unusual coat of any horse that he had ever laid eyes on. Maybe it was a centaur-only thing? Her coat seemed almost...blue. As usual, he did not asked for a name, but simply decided to call her Chiron.
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Post by Amazon on Jun 17, 2012 22:44:29 GMT -5
Zon quirked an eyebrow and took the sword when it was offered, holding it in the light created by the fire of the forge. She groaned when there wasn't enough light to see by so she went to fetch some more logs from the pile over in the corner, discovering the latest hiding place of her puppy, Kirby, in the process. The centaur smiled and ruffled his ears as he slept, picking up the logs and throwing them into the forge. When they caught light, Zon inspected the blade again. The dent was clearly shown no, and while the banshee considered it 'minor', Zon knew how metal worked... better than most warriors would.
She even inspected the tang of the blade, seeing how well it was made. It wasn't all that brilliant... a rather simple design. It didn't even have a full tang. After her inspection she walked back over to the work bench and set the blade down on the wooden top.
"Where you get your money from is no concern of mine. But if you don't pay, then I will melt it down again", she said simply as she pulled back on her leather gloves. "But you have two options here. I've inspected the blade.... I can either reshape it and sharpen it again.... but it'll be weak where it was dented and more likely to dent again. Or I can forge a new blade, removing this one and reuse the hilt. The tang doesn't run the full length it should. A newly forged blade would be stronger, sharper and with full tang it will be much more balanced."
Zon picked up the blade and inspected the features again.
"All the best blades have a full tang, making the sword an extension of your arm. A poorly made blade would make the best of warriors look sloppy. The hilt is decent enough.... but whoever made the blade deserves a kick to the shins. Either way... a reforged blade will be more expensive than a reshaping... but it would be better in the long term."
The centaur set the sword down again, turning to prod at her forging fire with a long metal rod to break up the coals. The tip started to turn a brilliant hot red from the heat of the fire before Zon dunked it into a large basin of cold water, setting the rod aside again.
The centaur blacksmith forgot about the banshee standing there in the smithy when she started to hammer away at a breastplate for a suit of armor that had been commissioned for her to make for a local knight. It was the first full suit that Zon had been required for, rather than the simple repairs that most had wanted of her. It didn't matter though... Zon was doing what she loved, and it was starting to work in her favor as she was starting to make a name for herself with business picking up.
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Post by Cernunnos Wilde on Jun 17, 2012 23:11:57 GMT -5
The technical mumbo-jumbo regarding swords and tangs and kicking people in the shins (although he understood that last part perfectly well) went right over Cernunnos' head. The blade wasn't some fine family heirloom or enchanted, at least to his knowledge. It was just a sword, a tool he used to defend himself. He knew how to wield such tools, but neither cared nor understood how they worked. His job was to survive and if a tool was broken and thus, wouldn't serve its purpose anymore, he would throw it away.
"Reforge it." He said, as he was not emotionally attached to the blade. "It belonged to a cavalryman last year." He said, vaguely, which translated into, 'I stole it off the unlucky bastard at the start of last summer. He was pretty, but he didn't know one end of his sword from the other, so I relieved him of that responsibility.' "There will be no need to melt it back down. I can assure you that I will supply you with whatever funds you require."
He stood there, his presence becoming more awkward by the moment. So, she was just going to turn around and work on someone else's project? ...'Kay... He was still unfamiliar with centaur customs, but as the silence stretched on and she continued to ignore him, Cernunnos decided to treat her no different than he would a mortal blacksmith.
"So I'll just stand here, shall I?"
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Post by Amazon on Jun 19, 2012 22:24:33 GMT -5
"Huh?" was the first thing that escaped her lips when she heard the banshee's voice again. Somewhat confused the centaur looked around the smithy before spotting him again and laying down the hammer than belonged with that particular anvil. Zon wandered back over and picked up the sword. "Reforging it then? Very well".
Zon set about the task of removing the hilt from the blade, before throwing the blade in a large cauldron pot. Being a centaur came in advantage when she rotated the bar that held the cauldron out of the fire, so that it was in the fire instead. It would take some time for the metal to melt down to its raw form again... but it was the simplest way of doing it.
Turning back to the customer Zon crossed her arms once again, a stance that she had picked up from her father when he had been dealing with his customers. Her father was the greatest man she knew, aside from her grandfather Benjen. Both had accepted her openly when she said she wanted to be a blacksmith.
"It will take some time for the work to be complete since I have to melt the blade down first", she announced simply. "So you can either wait around here, or go about your business else where. But don't expect me to entertain you.... I have work that needs to be done".
On that note Zon returned to the anvil with the suit of armour again and started shaping the breast plate once again. It was no use standing around waiting for the blade to melt down when she had other tasks to perform. Zon was practical - there was no point twiddling her thumbs and whistling a tune when she could keep busy. Time was money - and you had to put in the effort to turn that time into money. A centaur was never lazy when there were things that needed to be done. And given a choice she would give this banshee the hoof immediately so that she could work in peace.... but that would loose customers. She had to given them the two options of staying or going - it was there choice.
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Post by Cernunnos Wilde on Jun 20, 2012 0:30:54 GMT -5
"Don't mind if I invite myself in." Cernunnos said, a hint of his usual smartass self creeping into his voice. And he did just that. He entered the forge, gazing at the walls around him, inspecting her tools, but he knew better than to touch anything. He situated himself against a wall, out of range of any sparks that might fly from the centaur's hammer as she worked.
Well, this is awkward.
Obviously Chiron did not want to talk and that left Cernunnos if the awkward position of standing there awkwardly and otherwise engaging in other awkward, non-verbal activities. He briefly considered carrying on a conversation with himself, but decided that it would simply degrade into an argument. Thankfully, a puppy crawled out from under a table, yawned and made his way to Cernunnos' side, sniffing him curiously.
"Hi there!" Cernunnos said, bending over and extending a hand for the animal to sniff, his voice much higher than its usual already-high pitch. "We'd you come from, huh?" He asked rhetorically, petting the dog. "Ow! no boy, off!" He demanded, moving away from the friend he thought he had just made. You see, he was of the school of thought that friends don't bite friends' ankles.
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Post by Amazon on Jun 23, 2012 23:27:37 GMT -5
The puppy barked at the banshee and bounced around his feet, yipping at him before jumping away every now and then to bow down his front end, with the tail stuck in the air and wiggling. Kirby continued to bark at the banshee before running forward to nip at the ankles again before repeating the whole game again. The sound made his mistress, the centaur, stop her work to turn and look at the display. Zon started to chuckle at the sight, entertained the whole thing before before she decided to break the game up.
Zon burst into laughter at the banshee getting attacked by a small black and tan puppy that had just woken up from his nap under the work benches. The centaur roared with laughter, having to put her hammer down before she hammered her own fingers. Zon whistled to the pup who ran a short way before he stood up on his hind legs, waggling his little front paws at her.
Ambling over Zon picked up the little imp of a dog in one large hand. The dog was tiny compared to her looming size, and looked frail in her hands... but it was obvious that he was in no danger of being harmed by the way Zon ruffled his ears and sat him down on her back. The small animal licked at her blue-roan fur before laying down with legs sprawled on either side and watched around the room with his tongue hanging out of his mouth in a goofy looking sort of grin.
"You have to watch out for his teeth", she chuckled with a very rare smile. "He is teething... so watch out for your ankles".
The dog looked at the banshee with a look that almost suggested that he wanted to go for his ankles again as Zon walked over to the fire to check on the blade. It was melting down nicely that she pushed the bucket further into the flame to where it was hotter so that it would melt faster.
“Little rascal”, Zon muttered when Kirby decided to change tactics and play with her tail. Zon put the puppy down, but that didn't change his plans as he batted at it with his paws and chewed on it with his teeth. “Scratch that. You're an imp...”
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Post by Cernunnos Wilde on Jun 24, 2012 23:29:38 GMT -5
The banshee grumbled and flapped his wings, lifting himself into the air a few fight, so that his feet were out of reach of the puppy. It was cute, he had to admit and it was polite of it to extricate itself from its hidey-hole in order to come out and visit him, therefore breaking the ice, but that still didn't mean that Cernunnos appreciated having his ankles bitten by a baby dog. He liked his ankles the way they were, thank you very much.
"Ahh, so he's teething, that's why." He said, only sounding slightly put-out. When your newly-employed blacksmith's puppy bites you, you can only stay pissed for so long. Then it starts yipping and frolicking around and fixing you with those big, irresistible puppy eyes and you have no choice but to flash it a reluctant smile before reaching down, only to get bitten for a second time by the oblivious son of a bitch.
"Oh, trust me, he's no imp." Cernunnos supplied, looking down at the dog. "An imp wouldn't bite quite so harmlessly, let me tell you." He added, darkly, reminiscing about the bites of actual imps. "But he's the same amount of cute."
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