4602/Contract of the God's Forge

Contract of the God's Forge
Date of Scene:	25 September 2016
Location:	Great Painting of Ariamis <PoA>
Synopsis:	Andre and the Giant Smith meet. The hunt for weapon upgrades begins.
Cast of Characters:	Priscilla, Tomoe, 941, 152, Tomoyo Daidouji, 774, 1014, Reiji Arisu

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Priscilla has posed:
    For a change, arrivals, new and otherwise, to the constant stream of things to do in Anor Londo's tumultuous period of settling in to the new order, and trying to pick of the pieces of centuries of decline and abandonment, are able to skip the city proper. While this is disappointing in the sense that visitors only briefly get a nice view of the unbelievably massive, painting-like sprawl of steeples and spires and arches and pathways, as if someone had the unenviable job of making three Gothic/Renaissance citadels overlap harmoniously, repeat visitors will be glad for the opportunity to skip the triple large stairs and wall-top roads built to be a casual stroll for people with much bigger legs.

    New visitors will probably get the idea after the umpteenth giant staircase they have to go down just to move through the palace. Despite putting any historical arrangement to shame with its sheer, ambitious size, incredibly impressive architectural engineering, and the amount of rare stone and metal that has been hauled hundreds of storeys tall, at some point, one has to wish that someone who lived here would pull a Bill Gates and buy a golf cart already.

    In all fairness, the gleaming behemoth of marble, white granite, polished sandstone, gold, silver, stained glass windows and endless panoramic views to let the sun in, is at least equipped for human habitation. Cut into most of the staircases are little sections with many more, smaller steps, and most doors (which are surprisingly rare) have at least one handle that one can grab by just reaching upwards. The only one of these encountered along the artistically impractical trek down to the basement? Lower floors? Does it go underground into the mountain? -that isn't meant to be opened by people, is their end destination.

    So, normal height Priscilla has to do the unlocking ritual that seems much too complex for ~medieval engineering, and shove the slabs of literal stone aside. At first it isn't apparent why, because the room beyond is so giant, so dark, and nearly completely empty. Judging by the quality of the air, it was only just dusted out recently. Judging by its size, and the marks on the floor, it was once covered in heavy equipment that was long size removed or reclaimed. Judging by its arrangement, a lot of people were supposed to spend a lot of time in here, with fairly obvious partitions for groups and individuals. The large pits in the floor are another story though; perfect, polished, cubical recessions, with a surrounding bevelled lip, large enough to sit on the edge of and dangle one's feet into.

    There are a whopping two people here. One is a giant much like Gough; that is, even taller than Priscilla, built like a mossy Easter Island sculpture made full-body, face hidden in a thick, metal mask, and absolutely ripped. The other next to him is a human, though making for his very best giant impression. The guy must be seven feet tall, his skin looks like it receives a daily soot exfoliation, he refuses to wear anything from the waist up, and he looks like he could pop someone's skull by squeezing it. He also has a beard so magnificent it splays over his entire chest, though the advanced stage of white suggests he should be eighty or older.

    The two of them look like they've been 'moving in', to put it strangely. That is, lugging around what is unmistakably smithing equipment. The classical and iconic anvils and hammer sets, the racks of tongs, callipers, presses and chisels. Piles of /finished/ pieces that apparently had been steadily accruing in a stairwell corner somewhere. All in all, it looks like someone traded up a two room apartment into a mansion and forgot to buy furniture.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe had a lot on her mind since two major events happened to her, being caught in Moonlit Sabre's Noble Phantasm some months ago and then the nature of her powers as a elite changing with what happened to Kirito. The ever present idea she's nothing but a fake and once again dealing with possibly lethal feedback in some form had been looming over her greatly, to the point she'd been little more than a voice on the Union radio as far as most of the multiverse had been concerned today? That's slowly starting to end. While she'd not been a huge player? This was a world she'd had a hand in trying to fix in some fashion. Or at the very least she didn't wish to not follow up on things here? She did feel she owed Priscilla still quite a bit in the end.

So here she was once more here to do what she could and was in her Salamander form that most across the multiverse knew her as and she didn't mind the staircases. Even if it' was umpteenth times squared encounter with such things. She is happy to fall in step with Priscilla. Tomoe is over six feet tall in this form she's not used to looking up at many people in the multiverse. Today? She totally is craning her neck as she says.

"Greetings I am Tomoe."

She pauses for a moment as she bows politely and then takes a good eyeball at all the smithing gear which has her let out a low whistle as she also beholds all the already finished gear.

"This really is something remarkable."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    Mel Brock would almost certainly fall under that 'repeat visitors' category; doubly so, in that the massive architecture has always seemed a bit on the intimidating, unwelcoming side to her, despite its beauty. She can, technically, just pick up some sort of plank or plate or even toss down her longcoat and ride it on her own psychic power, but doing so seems a little insulting to her host, in some ways. Besides, overusing her psychic powers for things like that would make her too reliant.

    And her reward for forcing herself to go on foot through the palace is being led to a dark, dusty-smelling room that looks like... what, a dungeon? A lab for dark experiments? It's hard to tell. But it looks like some kind of dungeon that's been hijacked for blacksmithing use, instead. The Marshal's not above taking a look around out of curiosity, though, quietly communicating with the companion strapped to her back. 'They sure do pick the colorful places, don't they?'

Faruja (152) has posed:
It's just Faruja representing Ivalice here today. No entourage of holy warriors or mages. No, this is a far more peaceful mission, and so the Burmecian has shown up in his usual robes. The lack of getting to see the architecture is a shame, but there's always time later.

He could do without so many bloody stairs though. At least it's not ladders. He generally keeps step, mostly thanks to abuse of time mage powers. As they finally arrive, the rat coughs and waves a hand at the minor cloud of dust. Ugh. Yup, these two are definitely still moving in.

"Hack...cough hack...Blessings upon you both, gentlemen." The priestly rat offers, before nodding to Priscilla. Best to let the actual authority here break the ice.

Tomoyo Daidouji has posed:
    Among the group descending through the mammoth staircases of Anor Londo is someone... well, someone that seems very out-of-place. A mundane human like Tomoyo, without even the tactical acumen and experience of a certain General Hall, would not have lasted long in the time before Priscilla took the throne. And even now, some sections of the world would be far too dangerous.

    It is for that reason that her four bodyguards stay very close to her at all times, in spite of the apparent safety granted by the city. Occasionally, the girl clad in her business suit has to carefully nudge one aside to get a better shot with the video recorder seemingly glued to her face. It's the City of the Gods after all, she would be remiss as an amateur photographer to not get a few shots in.

    Marvelling quietly at the device that Priscilla unlocks, she steps inside, putting away the camera and producing a handkerchief to keep the dust from her mouth and nose. This would certainly make a wonderful base of operations... once they find things to fill it. "Thank you for having us gentlemen~" she says, softly but with enough projection to be heard before offering a bow.

Dorian Pavus (774) has posed:
    Right. See. Dorian's pretty tall for a human of his world. He was, after all, a product of Tevinter's breeding project to create the perfect mage. While he wasn't intended to be the end product... well, he is. For Reasons. But these stairs are a tall order for him, no pun intended. So he'll be taking those normal-sized stairs where they exist. Then again, one look at Priscilla and Dorian understands why the place is made for giants. Because GIANTS, that's why!

    He waits for the unlocking to take place, and for the stone to be moved out of the way. Then he enters with the others gathered here, and takes a look around the place. Mainly for traps, mind. But he still catches sight of the massive human-like figure that looks about the size of a Qunari. And then Dorian catches sight of the OTHER massive person... one he's not entirely sure is actually a person and not a golem. "...Fasta vas..." he mutters. "...They go grow them quite large here, don't they?"

    Well, people are introducting themselves, so Dorian does the same. With a flourish of a bow, he offers, "Dorian Pavus, Altus mage of Tevinter." Yeah, he knows the title is probably going to be lost on most of the people here. But titles make him sound important, and it'll add to his well groomed appearance, with his perfect hair and perfect teeth. Once he's done this he starts looking at the others here, seeing if he recognizes anyone. It's two people he recognizes from the group of visitors. Both Tomoe and Tomoyo get a polite nod of greeting and a friendly smile. He remembers them both, yes!

Heaven's Armory (1014) has posed:
    There is a sword on Mel's back, and the sword communicates to her in private, though calling it 'speech' wouldn't quite be right. The feelings she's giving right now grant the impression that, while she's seen similar sights, she's none to tell of with a greater love of spanning bridges, spires, and empty spaces than Anor Londo. Huge, dark, dusty spaces, too. This room gives a 'not-homey' feeling.

    There is also a spear, that Priscilla carries. A bladed-spear of criss-crossing design, it gives a feeling of 'recognition' to its wielder when Mel enters the room. The room, itself, is not known to the spear, nor are these residents acquaintances, though it has a feeling of interest in them, and a bit of curiosity with a child-like aftertaste.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
Of course Reiji's here. Why wouldn't he be here? He's always here! It's not like he has a full time job or kids to take care of or anything--

    Well, anyway. HE HAS ARRIVED because he has been called, and this is also technically part of his job. The exorcist appears as he always does, clad in a bright red bulletproof vest and carrying around a rack stacked to the brim with swords and guns. He, for one, is somewhat glad that he's gotten to skip the incredible, miles-long trek through the city that he'd normally be subject to, and this is a man who has learned to walk off jumps from skyscrapers!

    Reiji cants his head at the two blacksmiths, then inclines it in greeting. "Hey. Looks like you two are pretty busy. I'm Reiji Arsiu, exorcist with the Shinra organization. Someone mentioned that that you were in need of some assistance?" Something's odd, though.

It feels like they're... Missing people. Hm.

Priscilla has posed:
    Three people could have chosen to fly here. They didn't. All sweaty clothes and sore calves are on them. Mind, the /main/ stairs look even a little bit big for the occasionally seen local pairs and trios of absurdly massive knights in expertly sculpted but utterly unadorned, steel grey armour, but the way they stick around at supernaturally still attention gives off the impression they probably don't get either of those problems.

    The giant turns to look at the group with the kind of faceless, helmeted stare that could be anything, which is unfortunately common here. The motion of his neck to do so sounds like someone sliding a slab of cement down a dusty staircase. In his hands, he is holding what amounts to a metal sledgehammer, which is preposterously tiny for his fingers, making it look like a jeweller's implement instead, for tightening clockwork. "Mng. Hello." Is what he rumbles out in a tone so simple it is impossible to read into. "Who are you? Forge your weapons?" Not much of a conversationalist.

    The shorter (hah!) figure does the courtesy of briefly pausing from slipping on furnace gloves twice as thick as they need to be in order to properly address people coming in, flashing a sooty grin beneath his venerable beard with surprisingly nice teeth as Priscilla stands awkwardly by and holds the door. "Don't mind 'im! He's happy to see ye, be assured!" The human takes over instead, with a voice pretty much as gravel as human can be. "Gentleman is a little strong there lad! I'm only Andre, of Astora! I've met yer fair lady once before there, but I remember her being a mite smaller." The giant then turns to hunch over an anvil much too small for him, crossing his legs like a child at play. "Remember her too. Long ago. When was tiny-tiny." Priscilla abruptly shuts the door with a rather inattentive bang. She doesn' do a very good job of trying to hide how she feels from Svala.

    "Isn't it just though?" He heartily agrees with Tomoe, casting a weirdly loving gaze around to the dusty, utilitarian vault of a room. "I've dreamt of coming 'ere since I was barely old enough to pick up me first hammer. Mind ye, this is less of a state than I would rather see it in, but it's an opportunity, aye? Hold a moment." Andre then pushes aside some of the mechanical clutter to heft what appears to be a rather heavy looking stone cube, like a box without a lid. Rough in appearance, but precisely angled, he grunts as he sets it into the floor divot, leaving just enough of it extruded that the 'lip' becomes more of a step, and the thing then bursts into flame.

    Though, flame is a liberal word for it. There doesn't appear to be anything actually /in/ it but cheerfully roaring, tangerine-gold flame. It whooshes over the rim rather dramatically, but fails to do anything particularly dangerous. It also lights up the room /far/ brighter than it really should, casting a wide island of gradually fading, tawny illumination, that reveals many more such work stations, and at the back wall, huge rows of giant, thick, double-layered black curtains drawn tight across whatever is behind them. No wonder it's so dusty.

    "Ahh, Nito's fav'rite, and a grand sorcerer alongside? And the little flying missy whose idea that bloody great 'Dawnbreaker' piece was to boot. That's quite a collection y've brought 'ere. Assistance would be a word for it! In case ye can't tell, this was once the mightiest forge works in all the world, where the gods themselves would have their arms and armour smith'd! It makes me shake my 'ead to think that nobody gave thought to it when all of this was set back up. Really now. I found this old bugger 'ere tinkering away under a step! Waist deep in swords he was!"

Tomoe has posed:
There were faces here she knew or at lest knew their voices, Faruja had not been run into by Tome in a very long time she grinned at the knight for a moment and tilted her head. "Good to see you Faruja, it's been a while hasn't it?"

Tomoe also now gets a chance to meet Mel Brock in person she looked the woman over for a moment.

"It's never got old for me exploring here. Mel Brock right? We never met in person till now I think."

More people are arriving Dorian arrives whom she recalls having an intrest in the VR MMORPGs of her world and she really did need to get back to him on that, he would get a nod in turn and then she notices the Mistress of Fashion Tomoyo Daidouji herself arrives. "Dorian, Tomoyo hey."

She pauses now at the weapon on Mel's back she had very much forgot about the reports that Mel had a blade which had a mind of its own. She took a moment to take a good look at the blade as well. While she's thinking about how to greet said weapon as well Reiji arrives and introduces himself it been a while since she ran into him too. She was happy to see Priscilla she had just not crossed paths with her for some time now.

She honestly can't argue with Andre at all about the place. "There's a lot to do I know that but that's why I'm here to help Andre, of Astora."

She grins she's finally regaining abit of her old spark as Andre's excitement is pretty infectious to her. She's actually grinning now as she looks about, then she looks sheepish as he brings up the Dawnbreaker. She's turning a bit red and somewhat comically as people like her and Kirito are wont to have happen. "It will be one of the best forges if not the best in this world once we're done... and I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed with Dawnbreaker coming up."

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja just kinda smiles awkwardly at the Giant Smith. That massive size doesn't bother him so much as the words. So...simple. A giant of few words, and lots of focus, it seems. The Burmecian lets out an awkward cough, but is saved trying to politely get to the point by Andre.

The rat's smile becomes a bit more genuine. "Ah, yes, well met good Smith Andre! Hmph! You seem good company by your words, Ser, and so gentleman it shall be! Regardless, forgive me, I have been remiss. Inquisitor Faruja Senra, Holy Church of Saint Ajora Glabados and Union ally. Well met. Both of you." A cross of his chest.

Then, he leans against a convenient wall, and his cane. "Right. With that, on to business." He starts, only for Reiji to beat him to the punch. A nod.

"A start, hmm? But I am a priest, and not a smith. If you wish to see this place made grand and whole, what would you ask of us? A friend of the Lady is a friend of ours." A bow vaguely towards Priscilla as she lets the door shut.

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    Maybe that's why Mel is so vaguely unsettled by this place. All the helmets. The blank faceplates that don't let her read the faces of whoever's underneath them. It's a possibility, at least. She certainly agrees with Hravn's assessment of the place. But hey, there's Reiji, someone she can trust. And Tomoyo too. The Marshal decides to stick at least somewhat close to Tomoyo as well, in fact; she gives Reiji a brief wave, but chooses to stay in the vicinity of the girl and her four bodyguards, acting as a sort of unofficial fifth. "Daidouji. How you holding up?" It's there she stands when Tomoe greets her; the tall woman gives a nod in greeting. "Yeah, that's me. Think it was, uh... Tomoe, right?" It can be rough recalling names she's only ever put a voice to.

    But here's Andre of Astora speaking up, and Priscilla, looking... embarrassed? That's almost adorable. Mel reserves comment, though, instead putting her hands in her pockets and listening. "...well that's some bright fire," she mumbles to no one in particular. More directly, she adds, "I take it you're gonna need our help tidying up the place? I can cover the heavy lifting, if you need it." Hell, technically she can cover jobs that would require a crane. But that will come out if it's needed.

Dorian Pavus (774) has posed:
    Dorian can deal with terse people. That sound, though, of cement sliding down a stairscase, draws a wince. Sounds like it hurts. But for once he stays quiet, since... quiet honestly, he's awed by the whole place and really has no idea what to say. He doesn't like feeling small; it's an alien, uncomfortable feeling. So he stays quiet for the time being.

    That flame though, is attention-getting. Fire has always been an element that Dorian's always felt closer to. Magic for him was as natural as breathing, so to have an 'affiliation' with an element isn't all that uncommon. His? Fire and lightning. He stares at the flame for probably longer than would really be necessary to just look at it.

    Finally he tears his gaze from it when he realizes others are speaking. It takes him a few moments to catch up with the conversation as he replays it in his head. And then he nods. Indicating Faruja Dorian adds, "I'm afraid I'm in a similar spot as our dear Inquisitor. Er, my not being a smith, that is. I'm no priest. Can you imagine?" He says this as if the thought of HIM as a priest is just the most absurd thing in ANY world. "But I do happen to be a mage, and quite an accomplished one at that. I've done my share of enchanting." He's not sure he can offer anything THERE either-- could he really enchant a weapon that a GOD would wield? He's not sure. But damned if he's going to let anyone ELSE know that!

Tomoyo Daidouji has posed:
    "Hello Miss Brock. I'm well thank you, yourself?" A wave is given in response to Tomoe, and a polite smile is offered to the stoney (in more than one way) giant, followed by a shake of the head. "Not right now sir, but thank you~" Not that Tomoyo would know what to do with such a thing. The bearded fellow is much more conversational, thank goodness. "A pleasure to meet you Andre~ I'm Tomoyo Daidouji, a mere tailor." She catches the giant's words and stifles a laugh. She can't imagine a tiny Priscilla, even her 'short' form is taller than most people she knows.

    She flinches as the box is opened, and the darkness is dispelled by golden light. "Oh my goodness..." Listening close to the smith's words, she looks around at the bare place, nodding along with Andre. "Back in its heyday, it must have been incredible. And it can be again, perhaps more than ever before~ There are infinite possibilities in the Multiverse, both as a market for what you make, and for techniques and manpower for even greater creations. I would love a chance to help you with that."

Heaven's Armory (1014) has posed:
    It is a social gathering, and they're no longer walking around, so now is as good a time as any for Hravn to materialize her 'human' form, the woman in yellow standing just to Mel's side where there'd been no one before. "I'd say the place could use some airing out, but we seem to lack the windows." She looks around the others present, a faint smile resting on Tomoyo a moment longer, but it's more so everyone else knows they've been seen than for Hravn to have another look.

    Svala has more specific cause to appear, but does so a moment later. Standing by Priscilla's side makes her seem even smaller, or the crossbreed taller, but the impression wouldn't fundamentally change if she'd stood by Faruja or Tomoyo, either. The girl-seeming spear looks up toward the giant and the almost-giant, glancing between them and her wielder for a moment, before asking, "Was it a long acquaintance?"

Priscilla has posed:
    "That's the kind of spirit I like to hear!" Andre crows back at Tomoe, clearly pleased with a weapon-enthused youth in the mix. "'A lot to do' is the short of it by far though." His beard would probably do a lot of majestic tossing when he shakes his head, if only for the fact that there's currently so much ash in it from handling all this smithing gear. "I know well as anyone ye wouldn't be here if ye had nothing to offer. The kind that the Miss sees in here are out of the ordinary as a matter of course, aye? Besides, thos're all usable talents."

    The smith finally doffs those furnace gloves, which thump to the ground as if they were made of solid lead. "It weren't just a bunch of men with muscles as magnificent as these who built this place up from the ground, ye follow?" His voice echoes remarkably well from the size of the room, which should be a poor acoustic quality for a foundry, since one would expect it to be loud. "Elsewise ye could get jusst the same thing by finding anyone of enough skill out in the middle of nowhere. Even Astora has their clerics and their sorcerers and their dabblers for when someone will pay a pretty penny for a real piece."

    He speaks while trudging over to those massive drapes, grabbing onto them with the motions of a sailor ready to tear down the rigging. "Anyone with a smithbox can bang some metal into shape and etch something on it; a true blacksmith follows the arts of the first god of the forge, older 'n more delicate than you'd imagine would be possible with a piece of steel." Finally, he rips the curtains aside, though only as far as he can throw them with his limited reach. This cuts a swathe about as wide as he is tall where dim, orange sunlight, bounced from many surfaces and filtered through many panes of glass, cuts into the room like a blade, briefly blinding in the dark before it becomes comfortable.

    The room beyond dwarfs the current in size, even before it both vertically drops and ascends to expand itself further. At best guess, one could consider it a vault, judging by how deep into the palace, how heavily secured, how limited in access, and how massive and closed off it is, though despite the crushing emptiness of so many thousands of empty racks, pedestals, shelves and stands, any real searching can tell that it is meant to be an armoury. It seems it was completely emptied out long ago; probably piece by piece when everyone took their things and left. Right now, it plays host solely to disused suits of armour and weapons of the old silver and black knight legions, and more recently, actually used surplus in circulation for the reserve steel legion currently still around.

    The sheer number of pieces indicates that either a factory must have been involved (unlikely), an enormous number of identically skilled smiths (also unlikely), or else a smaller collection of incredibly long-lived ones with very particular abilities (almost definitely). Mail and weapons made for /normal/ people is known to take months to build up, and requires precise fitting, and everything on display is excessive by comparison. Whatever old foes demanded this kind of work, shields are solid metal slabs, armour is inches thick, blades are the size of grown men, and bows are effectively vertical ballistae with strings of wound, metallic cables. In short: there is absolutely /no way/ anyone did this without magic and/or holy power.

Priscilla has posed:
    "We've still got a lot of space to fill." Andre mutters to himself, otherwise inaudible were it not for the room itself, seemingly unrealizing as he turns back around. "There are three things we 'ave missing here. One, is an obvious lack of smiths. This peaceable old giant here was the only one who ever stuck 'is duty through all the way to the end." The giant nods faintly, test-tapping the !tiny hammer against the anvil, with a: "Forge, very good. Make weapons shiny. Make happy."

    "A god he may not be, but he's had a thousand years to practice his craft now, aye? I don't know what the original crew are doin' around here, but if they're going to slack off, I'm petitioning to replace them, savvy?"

    Andre counts off on his fingers. "Two, is these Embers 'ere." He gestures towards the weird, flaming stone box. "A regular furnace won't do. Fire doesn't get hot enough, no matter what ye burn. The fire yet get from burning wood or coal also don't do anything with the spirit of the weapon. Ye can alter its shape, to be certain, but ye can't alter its /form/. A blacksmith's art isn't weapon crafting, but weapon /ascension/; to cross that tricky line where the legends begin and yer fine work gets mentioned by name."

    "Third, is the materials that demand we need these bloody great things. Iron and steel are great for horseshoes, but they won't do any good against 'alf the bloody things that live around here! The first god of the forge, bless his old soul, thought this through and decided what he'd squeeze into the world would be the metal that everyone else'd take for granted." Andre slips one rough and calloused hand into the pocket of an apron currently folded around his waist, and draws out an angular shard of something black, rough, glossy, and with a partial design on it, like it was shattered off something larger.

    "Titanite. We don't settle fer less 'ere. The little bits and pieces aren't hard to find, but the more broken up it is, the more it loses its potency, and ye can't melt 'em back together. Smithing titanite into a lesser weapon will make it more than it ever otherwise could be, and opens up all kinds of possibilities for what wondrous magics and blessings ye can work into the metal, but trying to etch low grade titanite into a weapon surpassing it will just unravel the power of 'em both. Mind you I say weapons, but that's just what these rough fingers are best for. Yer fine lady there had a variety woven into those lovely clothes of hers!"

    "Oh, err, there are certain kinds that change when certain things happen to 'em, but that's for later. What ye need to know is that the old bugger and I think we know where to find a couple of Embers, pilfered and run off with, between us, and one good place where there should be a great big pile of original metal stashed away. Ye understand though, the reason I'd bother asking, is because both of them are well beyond my talents to get at, aye?"

    Far away from the important stuff, blending into the metaphorical wallpaper, Priscilla whispers something under her breath with an odd little huff of a sigh. "In a manner of speaking. I once kneweth our blacksmith very, very long ago, and though I, ultimately, kneweth mine home for very little time, I muchly appreciated him. He was . . . is, I supposeth, far too simple to pay mind to the worldly troubles that surrounded me. Sir Gough saw much in the way he so unthinkingly treated mineself as any other child of the palace . . . though perhaps with more favour, as I was known to speak little then."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    "Doing good," Mel replies to Tomoyo with a little nod. "Had a newsfeed talk me into doing a regular column for them, first one's out. Kinda interested to see how that goes." There's a lot of talking and touring to be done after that, so the Marshal goes quiet, listening to Andre's spiel. She does take the chance to mumble a quiet, "What were you saying about windows?" when Andre draws back the curtain and shows them the armory and its actual sunlight. Other than that, she keeps her silence, until they come back around to what's actually needed. "Well, as an officer of the law on another world, stolen property retrieval is right up my alley, but I can also haul around that big pile of 'titanite' or whatever it is, if needed. Where exactly is the stuff? And for that matter, where d'you think the embers have been taken?"

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Reiji didn't really quite... zone out, per se. He just sort of used his SUPERB MARTIAL TRAINING to temporarily suppress his sense of presence. He had little to say for a little while there, anyway- though he quietly wondered about being 'Nito's Favorite.' How much has the Death God been watching him through Darkdrift?

...

...Well, at least he has Nito's approval thus far, more or less.

    "So we need smiths, we need these embers, and we need titanite," Reiji repeats, making a quick note in a small, black book. Skritch-skritch goes the tiny pencil. "...I think we can probably make that happen. Though, you have ideas on where to find embers and titanite, but what of the smiths? Any intelligence about where we might find them, or should I get some agents to take a look around?"

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja smiles at Dorian in that vaguely pompous way of highly ranked clergy. "The Lord is forgiving of any whom would seek Salvation." He's quick with platitudes, too, but there's a touch of the genuine in there.

Svala's appearance has the rat's head whipping over. He grips his cane, then loosens. A long sigh.

"Bloody ninjas." He mutters to himself.

/Darnit/ Andre. Faruja finds himself smiling again in amusement. Oh yes, he's helping this man, even beyond helping Priscilla by proxy. The rat does a slow nod. Then he listens as his tail lashes gently.

There's /no/ envy of those muscles. No, not at all.

And then the curtains are yanked back. Faruja walks over, peers, and his jaw falls momentarily. "Dear /LORD/! If you filled the place you could outfit an entire Crusade with that many racks! Are...are such expansive armories once common in this realm?" He turns back, not bothering to hide his astonishment as he peers from Andre, to Giant, to Unionites, to Priscilla.

Pause. Cough. He clears his throat and tries to regain some lost bit of dignity here.

The rat's eye closes, and when Andre finishes, he opens it. Priscilla's words are ignored, mostly out of privacy for the woman.

Reiji beats Faruja to the punch on questions though. "I believe Ser Reiji covered my own questions. I fear that we may be forced to scour for smiths as we search the lands for Titanite and Embers."

Tomoyo Daidouji has posed:
    "Oh, how wonderful~ I'll be sure to read it!" Tomoyo whispers to Mel as Andre tours them through the vaults. Out comes the handkerchief again, it would be rude to suddenly sneeze in the middle of his explanation. As grand as this place is, it is still very empty and dusty. he regards the great relics, some of which are actually taller than her. That says a lot about what it was made to fight, and those who took them up.

    She won't be much help in resecuring Embers, she's not one for martial might. The same for retrieving titanite, Lordran is much too dangerous for her! But as for the matter of smiths... "I might be able to help with that~" she says to Reiji, reaching into her pocket and producing a business card. "I'm the administrator for Inspiration Trust, a collaborative of creators. I can think of at least one blacksmith I could introduce to you already, and I can certainly reach out to find more~" The card is offered to Andre.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe replies back to Mel with a faint grin still on her face. "That's right, you got it." Well it's the name she goes by in the multiverse and honestly she responds to it faster than her birth name she has to remember Sheena Armstrong is her name. Also she politely does not response to Priscillas own embarrassment that would be quite rude to her friend. She'll just politely not pay too much attention it even if it might be considered cute.

Tomoe gets the wave from Tomoyo before she turns her attention back to Andre.

"I'm not a smith but I'd like to help. You have my sword arm, magic and honestly I can carry a lot more than you'd expect me to be able to as well. So at least I can help with that. Or even if it's simple as doing simple things to keep more skilled people working here from having to do them. I threw in here I'm not going to go away. Maybe I'll even be able to pick up a few things about smithing. I know a little about metals though. I can help with tracking down smiths to help though."

Andre had a passion and honestly? It was people like him on her world that kept smithing from being utterly left in the dust bin of history even if it was more of a hobby, art or for props. The level of workmanship she saw on what was here was impressive and she saw there likely was magic in the mix here and looks to the Giant as he speaks.

"One should be able to take pride in creating something."

The magic part of smithing is getting her attention as her world dived into science this one also put magic into the mix. She's clearly paying attention this is a place where weapons and other items impossible to be made on her world was forged.

"No kidding Sir Faruja. You could likely arm the whole legions of the old Roman Empire of my world /here/ and still have room for more."

Heaven's Armory (1014) has posed:
    Faruja's reaction has Svala turn to regard him more carefully a moment, but without understanding the cause of it. Priscilla's answer comes to her, though the girl tilts her head to one side, recalling particular words. "And Andre of Astora, only the once?" She turns to study the smiths, but at some distance from the important missions being relayed.

    Hravn looks up and to the sides, and makes a complicated, grasping gesture with one hand. "I imagine those windows to be quite secured, or else this place would make a poor vault. And it certainly seems one. I wonder, though." She's closer to the talking than her sister, and is therefore the one to respond directly to the pertinent business. "For whom shall these arms be made? This seems a thing that must be already known, if the smithing has already begun, and the needed materials are known."

Priscilla has posed:
    "Right on to it then!" Andre replies, clapping his burly hands with a sound like echoing thunder. "Starting on the Embers, I myself know of one that a bunch of followers of old Allfather Lloyd took; Way of White carried it right on out of here, vanished off into the Tomb of the Giants to 'smite the undead', and, well, you can guess the rest. It's a Divine Ember too. Men of faith and self-styled heroes'll settle for nothing less. Besides, I've always wanted to be a divine blacksmith." He chuckles.

    "Second, my giant friend 'ere thinks the Duke was holding onto one, or else somehow made one 'imself, up atop that mansion on the mountain. People are using it enough these days, but most of it's still sealed off. Gives me the willies." The giant then interjects. "Get shiny shiny from Duke. Forge weapons, make shiny as well." Descriptive. "Third and last is one that the Four Kings of New Londo petitioned to 'ave when they decided they'd set up their own, human place like this. Generous Lord that he was, Gwyn let them have one; of no divine power, mind you, but the biggest and highest quality you'd ever seen. Nothing fancy about it, but most warriors want only to trust in their skills and the strength of their arm, so weapons that are weapons appeal to 'em."

    "The stockpiles themselves are . . ." He jabs his finger downwards. "Buried. Deep below. The whole city was built up off the ground in the first place so it wouldn't swim in dragon fire were it sieged, but it's even further down below. Sort of a dead man's switch to it, if ye get my mention?" Priscilla interjects briefly with "We hath found mentions of such a reserve in his last will, yes, however, there art . . ." "-Complications." Andre finishes. "To leaving full, titanite slabs alone for so long. Mind you, it'll be heavier'n you can imagine even if it's all perfectly fine!"

    "Smiths are a trickier bit. The quiet type 'ere-" Giant again: "Talk, 'tis no good. But forge, very good." "-is a master at his trade, even when it comes to pieces for us men." He pauses. "And women, figeraspeech. I consider myself a fair hand, but there are hundreds of imitators here who'll claim they were masters back home and swarm all over any chance they can get to put their fingers on things this rare. They're no good. A couple of the older gods might be around, domains of battle'n fire'n metal and such, but that's a rough bet. That, I leave in your hands."

    A triple sense of satisfaction emanates from all three natives gathered in the room at some of the goggling reactions to the vault, though in various shades between 'hidden with courtly politeness' and 'a big fat smug toothy grin'. "It is as I tell thee, Sir Senra, Anor Londo is no common citadel. It is the crux around which all this world turns; the origin, of most all of its great legends, and if not culturally, certainly geographically its first works and heroes. The tales of its founding, its defense, and its flourishing, art those unlikely to be told again; best recorded to holy scriptures and passed down." Read: it's the local equivalent of Babylon or Atlantis. No it's not common.

    Andre ultimately winds up squinting at the business card offered by Tomoyo, and then squinting slightly less hard at the little, well-dressed girl in the bunch. "Really now? That'd be mighty convenient. I hadn't taken a pretty little lass like ye as a guildsman." He nods with new approval towards her, and then renewed satisfaction at Tomoe. "That'd do it! Obviously, a smith doesn't beg charity now! Whatever ye need, whether ye'd need learn it or need hold it in yer hands, is yers as payment after the job's finished! Even if only it's infusion or enhancement to yer favourite pieces already! 'Course, we could trade too!"

Priscilla has posed:
    The two smiths seem almost inclined to give Hravn an 'are you stupid look'. Between them, the thought of 'who are we going to sell these to' might have not even been discussed. There is an answer though. "The knights, obviously, have their own kit, but might need more once all this Multiverse business starts interferin', and I'm sad to say I can't do much to help the captains, as it stands, without the tools used to work on their magnificent belongings. The Warriors of Sunlight took a big step up too, officialized 'n all that. Solaire, the daft bastard, will probably want most of 'em kitted like a proper army soon. That's before we get into wheth'rnot we have any big hats in the city itself, or any of the foreign gods want a piece o' the culture. Even the Darkmoon Blades are undergoing a reformation." Priscilla only nods once to Svala. Her meeting with Andre was brief, awkward, on a roadside, and involved a bunch of people who later got splattered in Sen's Fortress.

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    "If the Titanite's anywhere under a hundred tons a slab, I can handle it," Mel says to Andre. She might be preening just a little. "Technically I can do more, but not without hurting myself." She hooks her thumbs in her pockets, then adds, "I'd probably be better suited to picking up one or two of the Embers, though. Hostile people and monsters to deal with, not-hostile people and monsters to negotiate with, that's about where I work best. I mean, I can do manual labor, but I get the sense 'manual labor' isn't what's keeping you from easily bringing the Titanite back. As for payment, uhh..." Shrug. "We'll call it a favor owed, or if I think of something I'll ask. Mostly I'm just here because Priscilla's an ally, we're supposed to help each other out where we can. The common folk in this city need someone who can look after 'em." It's a good chance for her to get out and see the more interesting parts of the Multiverse, for that matter, but she's not going to say that out loud.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Several nods to Tomoe. Dear /Lord/! The rat finally manages to stop goggling thanks to various pleased sounds from the natives. Oh yeah, the rat's blushing through the fur right now!

"Good Smith Andre, you are well prepared, and it seems we have our work ahead of ourselves. ...Smiting the Undead? A band of holy men and women off ready to remove the world of wretched, useless creatures best not given to the sight of the LORD!?" Faruja is suddenly smiling like a madman. The holy, zealous shine is right in his eye right about now. He might even be giggling and rubbing the side of his flamethrower.

"Oh yes. I find this task most agreeable indeed. Andre, you shall become a Divine Smith worthy of creating a truly holy blade fit for smiting the wretched creatures that DARE taint this world! They shall be PURGED by the hand of the righteous army that rises up, wreathed in Sun and Divine Power to see all put to Righteous ways, that no Heretic shall remain standing by the mere SIGHT of such a weapon!" Comes the rat. He's thrust his cane into the air.

He's getting a little carried away. Cough. "Erm, yes. And the same for the other tasks, of course." Far less enthusiasm here.

Tomoyo Daidouji has posed:
    Tomoyo smiles softly at Andre. "I am a bit of an unusual case~ But I promise good results." Phonies and coattail-riders are a problem in any creative industry, after all. Anyone she recommends reflects on Inspiration Trust, so only the best of the best will get her seal of approval.

    To chime in for Mel, Tomoyo says, "Miss Brocks is very strong. I've seen her support a collapsing tower. Transporting the titanite will be no problem with her along." She grins at the policewoman, a quick show of support. Listening to the smith ramble, she realizes something. Right now, their attention is purely within the confines of Lordran. They just want to get things up and running, which she can respect. She's the same, to some degree.

    "I'll see if I can arrange soem interviews between you and some Multiversal smiths then~ See if your methods are compatible. I can also, with Queen Priscilla's permission, organize a contest of sorts here in Lordran. Have some local talent make something simple and easily comparible, like a dagger, to sort the best from the rest to come work here. Would that be acceptable?"

Tomoe has posed:
There's a lot to listen to, she knows they have a lot of work to do for this forge to be back up and running properly? Yet she's excite this is something she feels she can help a good deal with at least the finding of those who can work and restore here. She seems happy for a moment she looks Andre and Priscilla for a moment with a faint grin.

"So once more into the depths? I cna be all right with that."

She seems impressed still the people of this world have every ride to be proud of this, and to want it's restoration right?

"Well then you have my aid and your generous with your payments."

She's being honest about this too even mundane products from here would still be impressive and likely rival and high tech counterpart from her world. In a way an very odd way a world where a sword arm could still take you a long way? Resonated with her even if she'd never wanted it originally.

"Well I'm ready to get to work on this. I'll see what I can do with any actual smiths I know from my travels though damn Liz is going to be jelous about this...or want to come here more likely."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    "To be fair, holding up the tower required me to go all-out," Mel says to Tomoyo in a murmur. "I was feeling it for days."