The anvil rested in the center of the forge. It was an altar, the center of the four compass points. To the south lay a metal ingot, a small step for the man who stood there. He spoke in a voice that rumbled like a rockslide.

"Always begin with the earth. With respect I call you spirit of earth to attend this making." Kruger intoned, the ritual was begun. "Mazi sebasmos ego diamartyromai esy s"ma apo gi este agorazo ide ktirio." He said in the language of stone. The ingot vibrated in response.

Kruger bowed at the vibration, though he could not see what was there. He had been told more than once by those whose vision was clearer than his. Amidst gasps of astonishment they would describe the spirits that appeared at his call. A complex being, definitely spiritual in nature rose from the earth outside and entered to stand by the ingot. It stroked the ingot lovingly and that is when the metal started to shudder. Most wizards had seen elementals before, but fewer knew that these beings had spirits, and almost none had seen one manifest itself, at least not with so courteous a calling. "Agapaz" s"ma ego aphomoio' aresk". Welcome spirit I am grateful to you." Kruger spoke again as he straightened, his eyes never leaving the space beyond the Ingot.

He turned then toward the East, the forge stood before him, its low flame the only light besides the sun through the open doorway. "Everything burns. With respect I call you spirit of fire to attend this making." He said. "Yi Wo jiao dui huo de jing shen de zun jing chu xi zhe zuo". He said in the language of fire, his voice dried leaves on the forest floor.

The light glowed brighter, the flames of the forge went red to orange, Kruger felt the heat rise in the building, and bowed once more. Another elemental spirit had come, this one those wizened folks had described differently on other occasions. Sometimes the spirit was a salamander, or fire lizard. Other appearances were columns of fire, once or twice the column became a vortex. One thing that always remained the same was the placement of the spirits; it would rise from the forge itself, the flames giving it form.

"Shou huan Ying de jing shen wo gan ji ni. Welcome spirit we are grateful." The voice of dead leaves said as Kruger rose, eyes never leaving the forge fire.

A moment he watched before swinging all the way around to the West. On a table before him lay the bellows. He would attach it to the forge after the ritual was completed, only after the balance of the elements was tied together.

"The wind touches all. With respect I call you spirit of air to attend this making." He said in an awed tone. "Jo-kayed-goh-chindi-hal-zid-nilchi-di-na-nish' The language of the wind came in a hoarse whisper, a sentence ending with a sigh.

Once Kruger had seen the spirit come to this summoning, it had been chance that dust had been caught in its passing, it outlined the spirit for all to see. This had been difficult to explain to the dwarven smiths who had come with his supplies. A stiff breeze rattled the windows; the bellows spun its nozzle facing Kruger.

Again he bowed eyes resting on the handles of the bellows. "Hal-zid da-a-he-gi-eneh chindi. Welcome spirit we are grateful." He said, in a whispering sigh, as he rose.

Eyes lingered a moment, then the right turn to the North. The quench laid there, a large trough usually containing brine. There were occasions where whale fat, or olive oil in a pinch, was required. The quench depended upon what was being forged. Brine would suffice for this labor. "Water is life. With respect I call you spirit of water to attend this making." he said with a demure respect. "Ag "m's imp"m scairt spiorad sibh de uisce bailigh seo cruthaigh." He said in a voice that was at once a babbling brook, and a crashing wave.

The water stirred violently in the trough, Kruger bowed quickly, deeply though his eyes never left the surface of the water. Those scholarly types that were so impressed with his rites described faces that appeared in the waters surface. On rare occasions the violent reaction was followed by a face marred by anger, as though it felt summoned by insugnificant inferiors.

"F"ilte spiorad muid b' bu"och. Welcome spirit we are grateful." He said in the language of water, rising and again letting his eyes linger a moment before turning to face the anvil.

From his belt he pulled the three-pound cross-peen hammer, and stood it with its handle pointing toward the ceiling. He lay his hands over the hammer head, one to each side of the handle, and closing his eyes began to sing.

"Exhibeo exibeo ego ut necto simul tui substantia et pondera haec nixor. " came the singsong chant from his lips. "Allow me to bind together your essence and balance this labor." In his mind he felt a convergence of strength flow to him. His ears thought they caught words, in the languages he had already used.

"We agree, proceed with your labor", or something similar were the words he heard. He took up the ingot, it measured six inches long, four wide, and two thick. It was lighter than it should have been remnants of his dwindling store of special metals.

A rapier was to be made, 42 inches long with delicate taper. The gentleman had requested a woven hilt, and a balance just aft of center. His final request had been durability of both edge and sword. These two characteristics were the easiest to bring out of a weapon. Start with the best metal, and get a competent smith. Kruger looked to the ingot and gave a small nod, he had pulled his best for this piece. The artistic content had been given to Kruger himself, with a requisite to lean towards humility. Kruger took up the tongs and picked up the ingot. He began to sing to earth fire air and water once more. In his mind decisions needed to be made, well little friend today is your day"what shall call you?

Darkness settled over the smiths forge, shadows growing longer as the dust rose and swirled. Smoke fell from the sky, blurring the world around them. A slow steady beat of wings moved the wind and carried the dragon downwards. Shaking his scaled head, he blasted forth a peircing shriek, smoke rolling from his jaws. His body blurred, hidden behind his magic. Within moments, the familiar figure of the Drow stepped out of the smoke. Pacing his way to the forge, he let black eyes fall on the smith and the blade.

"It is near to being done, yes? The whispers in the dark have told me this. They have told me so much...Gemini will dance in my hand before many more days live and die. And she is crafted perfection. Suffice to say, the contract is filled, the price set. I have one thing to add though, for truly you have created a masterwork." The drow reached into a pocket and dropped a handful of scales onto a nearby table, saying "They are my scales. Never have I given them and never will I give them again." The blade was studied, black eyes tracing every fine detail. "Truly, you are a master of your trade."

She walked into the forge the smell of sulfur assaulting her nostrils hoping to just retrieve Nullam and leave. She didn't want any more association with this man than she had to. "Nullam Where are you I know you're in here" She called out to the bird. Hearing no reply she begrudgingly went further into the Forge. Seeing a strange character blocking her view of the forge master, she studied the Dark elf for a moment watching him and advanced forward glaring at Kruger. She turned next to him as he moved and took off his apron disappearing into the backroom. She scanned the area and looked in ever crack and crevice that Nullam could be hiding in. "Come on Nullam!" She turned to see Kruger back from the back room and Nullam perched on his shoulder. She opened her mouth in shock as a gust of wind came into the forge. Whispers only heard by Kruger "It is she??"

Seventy two blades had been commissioned, a large order to be sure. Kruger had promised the work would be expedited. Kruger now felt himself fortunate to have so few customers when he opened the shop. Having no customers gave him plenty of time to work on his stores. He had been crafting generic blades for display but he was far from the quantity that Ebon had asked for.

It would be a short wait though for the first installment. Ebon was heading up the creation of a small fleet of coastal guardians. Half a dozen had been the count, and a ship's crew of twelve. Ebon had explained that the first ship was already accounted for, that meant Kruger was already behind by twelve blades. He stepped into the stock room and examined the slowly filling shelves.

He expected Ebon would be by in the very near future to collect a small sampling of the new metals Kruger had acquired in his off world travels. He hinted at another job, this one would be more of a custom order, but was playing it close to the vest. Kruger enjoyed doing the custom work for which he was starting to make a name. The exacting detail work thrilled his sense of accomplishment when he finally got to look upon the finished product in the presence of the buyer. He had yet to be rebuffed in his creations, but knew the time would come when a piece was not purchased. Kruger had mixed feelings where this was concerned. On one hand it disturbed him not to be able to satisfy a customer; on the other the piece would find a place in his display case.

He wondered if a painter ever felt loss when he sold a piece. Kruger felt this on occasion; he would put so much of himself into his work that to watch one walk out the door was akin to losing a thumb. Kruger gathered up the cutlasses and short swords he had already and moved them out to the main forge. A leather cloth covered a table near the doorway. He carried his burden over to that table and began to line the table with the weapons.

A return to the stock room brought him to the rack with some higher quality sabers. Not that the weapons themselves were of any greater make, but the detail work made the sabers flashier. Kruger would put these out for the senior officers on the ship. The first saber was an eighty eight centimeter beauty with a basket hilt crafted from red gold imported from the east. The second ran thirty five inches long and had a cross hilt that had garnets at the cross point and the ends of the hilt. The third had a forty inch blade and a woven black hilt that ended in the mouth of a panther, its ears were lowered back, and its eyes were small Peridot. The quality was poor on all the stones, the clarity was cloudy at best in the case of the Garnets, and nearly solid in the where the peridots were concerned. Kruger could switch the gems for higher quality if the recipients wanted something better, but it would certainly increase the price on the pieces. Kruger was sure that the officers on the small craft hadn't had opportunity to gain that much wealth yet.

Kruger placed them with the other swords and then pulled four irons out and set them to heating in the forge. If he worked quickly enough, then he could work one piece until it grew too cold, then begin a second while the first heated. Four at a time was about all he could hope to handle; having more on the fires would allow him to work more at the same time. Time however would work against him this way; he would need to finish each piece he started. Four at a time would allow him to finish and rest a few hours and then do four more. To attempt eight might seem like it would get them made faster, but quality would begin to lower the longer he had to stay awake to finish them. He began the making as he began every making. He called to the spirits of the elements, if they attended this time they were silent to him. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence that they would join and simply observe him. Today might simply be one of those days. Hammer falls followed his rites, and his songs could be heard between strikes. Guarding the coast put him in mind of defending the innocent of Rhydin. Defending innocent for some reason put him in mind of a small red haired woman.

Tara was not exactly innocent, but it didn't stop Kruger from wanting to defend her. He had been afraid to remove his shirt for her at first; he wasn't sure how she would take the lash marks that scarred him. There were still markings where barbed hooks had taken flesh and muscle from him. It was true that Kruger had been enslaved, but he never let himself become a slave. It was this attitude that had brought on the beatings; Fenris was obsessed with the number thirteen. It had later been pointed out to him that he had been given thirteen times thirteen lashes with the whip Fenris called his trifecta, a nasty three ended whip that hid those hooks in its ends.

Tara remained silent on the subject, Kruger refused to ask. He did not want to risk the loss of something which he had begun looking forward to with greater anticipation. Not to mention that she was often defensive when he would ask her questions she deemed as being "too personal", and "getting in the way of their fun." Kruger thought that someone must have used her personal life against her. It must have hurt badly for when he would broach a subject that bordered the personal realm, fun turned to slightly painful. He accepted it, and truth to be told he even enjoyed it. He often wondered at these times if she was punishing him for asking, or punishing a memory of the person who caused it in the first place. A third option had come to him earlier this day that she may be trying to simply fight off the memory itself. Perhaps her ministrations were changed because she was trying too hard to forget.

Whatever the cause was Kruger would endure, and match her passions. Sometimes bring her to this point on purpose, the woman barely slept otherwise. It was only after these nights that she would fall deep enough that Kruger believed she dreamed. He was sure only because it was the moments when dream state took her that she looked a little vulnerable. Kruger enjoyed those moments; the silence of the room would ruin his sense of time. He never knew if it was a minutes or hours, all he saw was her.

The only problem he could foresee with this association was how often his thoughts were taken up by the perceived conflict. He had been working these blades while thinking on defending her, and remembering pain. This set of weapons would certainly carry the marks of those thoughts. He almost felt bad for the people who would fall to them. You four I name Walls of the Castle, you will defend your masters as the walls defend the keep.

The drow simply stared at the exchange before shaking his head and saying "No. You can not. I will be married soon, yes. But that is not the point." His hands shot to an empty sheath at his right hip before he extended that same hand to the man, five fingers held up. "Those fingers mark the time that I have." One finger dropped down. "And that is one day gone. I must have the blade. Yesterday would have been best. It must be ready for use within four days." Nodding again, he took a step back and dropped a small card on a table. Pointing towards it, he said "You will find my home at the docks. The arch in the stone with the words "L' ust d'lil vaen" carved into it. The door will open for you and you alone at this point. We have much to discuss, yes?"

::he had made his way threw the market place to his shop like he had befor and knocked on the door frame and waiting and knocked again...he had stopped by to see what ideas he had come up with on the idea he had contracted him to build since he saw him last. he figured he would possibly see him later so it was no big deal and hopes the man was alright he had started to think of the man as a friend if he had such things.::made his way back threw the market and into town::

He had been away for a time, away on business. The familiar alrams went off in his mind during the flight though. A small echo, a disturbance in the magics holding his home on this plane. Someone had been there. The echo was not a bad one, more of a strange one. The item the man had carried was the thing that triggered the noises, the shadows had spoken. It was done and they screamed at him, but the voice he heard more was the voice of the blade, the sentient soul. Such was his connection to magic. The elder dragon did not use magic, he simply was magic. Ethreal wings titled to the side, carrying the behemoth over the city before he spotted his target, the area in front of Kruger's shop. The sun blotted for a moment as the moving shadow turned and slid downwards, it would seem that dusk had come earlier this night. As the shadow faded, the drow stepped from a corner and padded towards the door of the man's shop. "I was away...Tell me though, it is done" I heard it speaking to me. The voice was most interesting. A solid voice among the ever changing shadows, yes?" Mismatched eyes scanned the room, looking for the source of the new song in his soul.

The sword was taken, one hand wrapping around the hilt of the rapier. The other hand slid to his hip, a small dirk drawn. Oddly enough, the black of the dirk only seemed to match the other blade as they both slid into an incredibly complex pattern, tips cutting holes in the air as they danced near the smith. Dropping both points, he saluted the smith and flipped them back into the repextive sheaths. "You were right. It was made to replace a weapon of legend, yes" And I am thinking that it is simply...better." A quick nod finished his statement before he turned and said "Yes, it is that time of year. I am hoping that you are enjoying your time with this lady. I am going to enjoy my time with mine, yes?" A few steps lead towards the door before he turned again and bowed. "There will be a time when I will be needing armor. You will be the one."

"For want of a nail the shoe was lost. For want of a shoe the horse was lost. For want of a horse the rider was lost. For want of a rider the message was lost. For want of a message the battle was lost. For want of a battle the kingdom was lost. And all for the want of a horseshoe nail."

The Spaniard had made a promise. It was time to see about fulfilling it.

He would not have asked around for the best metalsmith in Rhydin. He would already know. Opinions were things everyone had, coloured by one's own experiences and predjudices. He preferred to make his own choices. Had no one else to blame that way. Besides, he had been in attendance long enough to observe and observation was something at which he excelled. He had been doing it long enough, long enough to form an opinion, a calculated guess, product of seeing, feeling, thinking, all his God-given attributes as human. Life was just a series of observations, then, and what a man ended up doing with them, with a hope that the final choice made, when all was said and done, was the most likely.

So he made his way to Kruger's Exotic Weapons Armour and Leather shop, located in the very heart of town, of course, for what town of any importance placed anything else at its hub but its forge" The forge was central to a thriving community, the very place from which all means to undertake life radiated. Progress and therefore the very town itself would be won, or lost, depending upon the skill and integrity of the forge and the man who tended it. The forge could preserve life, in the way of making the wheels for the wagons that carried supplies, in the way of making shoes for the horses that were the means of transportation, in the way of creating blades and swords for the protection and defense of those living within the community....or it could destroy all of that, if enough warriors wielded those forged blades against the town.

Antonio was on foot, whistling as he walked, thinking. Thinking about where he was going brought to mind the colloquialism he always found amusingly truthful, usually with the reflected astonishment of how few people understood its implication - that antequated proverb, "For Want of a Nail". It was the little things, the simple things that really mattered. Surprising how few people really knew that.

He walked throught the doorway of Kruger's forge and was assaulted by scents and scenes of days-gone-by familarity. And he smiled. As far back as he could remember, he loved the days when the blacksmith arrived at his father's ranchero to make the shoes for the horses and repair wheels for the wagons. As a child, he would sit upon the ground beside the man, observing in awe and wonder the process: the fire would be started, built by the bellows to a great intensity of heat, then the bar of iron was plunged into the heat of the forge, removed in its redhot crystalline state and beaten into shape with the hammer, beaten time and time again, until it was the perfect shoe for the horse's foot, then plunged into the waterbath for cooling, before making the nailholes and finally nailing it on. He marveled at how the smith could tell just when it was ready. How did he know, when it had been beaten properly into submission and shaped for just that one foot' He especially was entralled with the making of the nailholes in the side of the shoe. The iron would glow red-hot, the tip of a nail placed just so, the hammer brought down upon the head once and only once to create an entrance into the metal that would become a hole for driving a nail through and nailing it to the horse's foot. It had to be a perfect placement, too close to the edge would weaken the integrity of the metal at its outer edge, possibly even breech it, and the shoe would have to be reheated, the process begun all over again. The sing-song sound of the hammer as it struck the iron, two beats in succession, ringing in the air, clang - clang - and equal from each other, the third allowed by the force of gravity to lapse into smaller clangs of less force, coming finally to rest upon the metal - and lifted to do it all again - was a rhythm that the boy found he would hear all night in his dreams, could still hear it now, if he listened hard enough. And the man himself: his muscles bulging with the strain of the work, sweat forming and drizzling in little wet trails along skin bronzed by the heat of the forge, his hands of gigantic proportions capable of exerting such strength they could bend iron, yet such gentleness in the touch of palm to horse's neck in a well-done pat for standing calm, or the fingers sliding down a leg, to ask by their placement, the lifting of a foot.

The smells of heated metal, sweat and horseflesh, the hiss of steam rising when the metal was being plunged into and cooled by the water....these were remembrances of an easy, carefree time of his youth, when the days were light and lively and full of the pleasure of childhood play with the horses and the blacksmith who could create any shape, shoe any horse, bend any iron to his will. His memories were of all of that and of watching a man in the process of creation, something he later would come to believe that only God had ability to do.

God and the blacksmith, to a boy of six summers, they seemed not so far removed, one from the other.

And it was a boy who had brought him here, the boy who was his son. Upon his visit with the children at Yuletide, he had promised that he would visit them regularly, a promise he was keeping. And he promised a special gift to each one of them, something they would have to remind them of him when he had to be absent from them, but also something they could do with him when he came to visit, something he would teach them to use.

Zoee was to have a pony, her very own, and Antonio was to teach her to ride and how to care for her pony. And Zander was to have....a sword. Perhaps it would be an Espada Ropera, like the one he himself wore, perhaps something else, but that was the purpose of Antonio's call upon Kruger this day. At the age of three years and four months, the Spaniard thought it was high time for the boy to begin his lessons, even if he was only three and a half feet tall. Perhaps a special material could be found that would grow with Zander, age as he aged, and this would be a topic of discussion between the Spaniard and the metalsmith.

"Hola! Donde esta usted, Senor?"

Kruger had seen something once recently since his return to RhyDin. It had been a sea creature but it was suspended in air. He wasn't certain how this anomaly came to be but knowing it was possible gave him hope for this creation of the Spaniards. After a great deal of study on the subject of metal that grew of its own accord he found himself reading much that hadn't originally occurred to him. It had been Eregor that set him on a possible pathway.

In the sea far beyond what Kruger knew grew a type of coral. This coral was metal, but this is where Kruger's predicament became difficult. It was one thing to find a viable metal, and another to guarantee that it would be a good medium for weaponry. If it were strong enough and not too brittle were the first things on his mind. Would it hold an edge once he tried to manufacture the blade? Assuming that the prior considerations were viable, the process itself was one that would destroy the metals ability to grow, not to mention the poor creature inside of it.

He kept coming back to that cephalopod mollusk. If it were able to enter RhyDin and not only survive, then there must be a way to ensure that this coral would not only survive the extremes in the process but also thrive afterwards. It seemed obvious that the sheath itself would need to be special, but that was putting the cart before the horse. The only thing he could do at this point was order some of the material to be gathered, and perhaps speak with the Keeper of Water on Twilight Isle.

Kruger made plans to do just that. He sent missives in several directions; he wasn't sure why they kept sending that same boy to him every time. It surely couldn't be anything he had done to put off the other messengers. I mean all he expected was perfection in the messages he sent. Surely that wasn't too much to ask of a business that was supposed to be about the accurate delivery of messages. Perhaps he would tip the boy this time when he got back, assuming he did the job satisfactorily.

He wouldn't speak of it to Antonio or anyone for that matter. This particular project had been one of the most daunting he had encountered. He had needed to call in favors and more now. He owed people favors now; that was always a dangerous prospect. The ring of Klytus had come to him, he owed no favor for this, it was pure chance. It was the key to making this work, Kruger slipped it onto his left forefinger and concentrated.

With the ring he could monitor the life signs of the creature occupying the metallic coral. The heat would need to be minimal to keep it alive as the customer wanted. It had been some time since Kruger had cold forged a blade. The effort always took longer because the metal would be far less malleable. It could be done though. First things first; the ring was used as a conduit to communicate with the creature. Kruger was glad it held memories from previous holders; he often wondered what it would take away from its time with him.

He began as always, though to the fire he offered apologies for skewing the balance away from it. The music of the forge welled up inside him as he worked. He must sing, as always though he understood what it meant to do so now. This piece would not be possible otherwise, so he sang to soothe the creature inside the coral. To ask the aid of the elements he sang; when the barrier cracked open he knew it, he felt it like a cold breeze, then colder still as if arctic oceans had reached out to consume him. Still he would sing, and hold against the shivering.

He was not alone, or so it seemed. This particular entity refused to make itself known, though it did seem to revel in the chaos of Kruger's method. He knew every time the entity intervened to save the creature's life. Each time it grew stronger than it had been previously. The shop had been closed down, locked from the inside so that Kruger would have no interruptions in this crafting. He would be at it for days without rest, to stop would be to put the entire thing in jeopardy. There would be time for sleep when his labor was finished.

Bahrain, the word was whispered with a draconic slurring of the tongue. This was of course a region south and east of Rhy"Din. Kruger knew it to be more though, it meant two seas and he could see it as the proper name for such a creation as this. That the region was thought to be the site of Dilimun, the Sumerian Creation site, was apropos as well. This was indeed a creation of sorts, Kruger had never heard of its like before. These two things, paired with the draconic slur helped him to identify his visitor.

"Welcome Tiamat, and thank you for your attention." He added in words he hardly understood, that was another of the rings powers it seemed.

"Work on insssignificant creature, thisss processs izss far from finished, the child sshall be born from your effortss."

"Bahrain, two seas"I can hear her"I can feel her and she is strong.? Kruger responded to Tiamat but his hammer never faltered. Under that ominous, chaotic gaze he worked until the Espada Ropera took its final blow. Next came the part for which he owed so many favors. The sheath was not his make, nor design. He had gone to others to fabricate it, a sheath on the outside, but inside it was the sea. The very place from which the coral had been harvested lay inside it. It was here that the coral would continue its growth. Kruger had only to bond the sword to the boy and the two would grow as one. Kruger carved his maker's mark into the handle and installed the swept hilt over top it. A sword like this needed to contain such information. It would live long past him and perhaps add to whatever legend he was forging for himself in this life.

He thanked the elements for their time and aid. He did the same for Tiamat, though she seemed loathe to go. He had be warned this might happen, and was prepared to send her if need called for it. The effort would take great strength and resolve. He was already exhausted from his efforts, Tiamat eventually turned away on her own as something from behind the barrier caught her attention. Kruger thought that he heard the voice of Bahrain calling her home.

Gratefully Kruger laid down upon the couch he kept for such times as this and slept as the dead slept. He was asleep when that other presence that was with him almost constantly when he worked left him. He would come to wonder sometimes now if it was pleased or not with his efforts.

The smith looked up at her from a workbench. Eyes of summer dried grass looked at her appraisingly. The brand under his left eye, a wolf looking out holding the all Seeing Eye in its mouth distorted with the smile he gave her. He laid aside the blade he was polishing with jijute stones. His appraisal had nothing to do with her form or figure, and everything to do with wondering what this person might need.

She wasn't what he would call the usual client. Her manner of dress indicated as much. He had people come in dressed similarly from time to time. They tended to know exactly what it was they were after from him. What he would call the usual customer were adventurers, city guards and other military types. There was the other side of the coin as well; thieves and cutthroats, and any manner of person willing to do whatever it took. His wares filled many niches in the community.

Women were always an enigma, many were purchasing for a loved one. There were those who were buying for themselves and the range of weapons was as vast as an assassin's weapons cache. His armorer's eye had already placed her in a fully tailored suit of mail and armor before he ever opened his mouth to speak. He could pick out the right weapon, the right length barring any special preferences of the customer. His mind had her in a generic outfit that he was ready to modify any piece of to her standards. His measurements were always checked twice so that he only needed to cut once. If the woman was purchasing for herself, he already knew what items he would bring out for her.

"G'day to you, I'm Kruger. How may I be of service to you?" He offered her a calloused hand before realizing how dirty it was from his labor with the jijute. He lowered the hand as he saw its condition, but gave her no look of embarrassment. Calluses and dirt were the price of his trade, any who didn't understand that tended not to come here more than once. It was nothing he said to them, merely a preference on their part to dissociate from the forge.

His hair had been trimmed short recently, the curls were gone. It was hot here and long hair made it seem worse, it was best to crop it off. He wore corduroy today, dark brown, out of the legs peeked a pair of scuffed leather boots. He had removed his over shirt long before choosing to work in the ribbed green tank top instead. This would at least preserve some semblance of cleanliness should he decide to go to the inn or one of the local restaurants for lunch.

He put fists to hips and gave her a crooked grin from his stocky five foot six frame as he listened to what exactly she needed. Kruger played what had become one of his favorite hobbies. Trying to pick out where the client came from based solely on their accent. He even managed to be correct occasionally. The problem with the game was there were so many more places than he had ever heard of.

A letter was sent to Kruger's Exotic Weapons Leather and Armor.

Dear Kruger,

Long time no see. How's the puppy doing" Probably isn't that much of a puppy anymore, hm' I would come by the shop in person but I've been swamped with moving and reorganizing the Seaside manor. It's been so hectic. Maybe once things cool down you could come by and we could chit-chat and have some coffee, or hot chocolate. After all - It's getting pretty chilly outside. Bring the little rascal with you! The beach is the perfect place to play with a puppy.

I'm also writing because I have some business for you...and I'd also like you to know that I used the katana you made for me for my barony match against Tical; but I should stop myself from getting side tracked with that.

Business!

I'd really, really like it if you would make me another weapon. This one might be a little odd to ask for since I don't exactly know how to explain it. It might take a little tinkering on your part with how it'll work...but I have faith in you! Included with this letter, though you might see them first before you even read this, is sketches and pictures of the basic idea.

I guess you could call it a gunblade" Yes. Weird sounding, I know. I just have a few things I'd like you to keep in mind. Lightweight and the ability to wield it with one hand comfortably enough with training. Do you think it's possible" I'm more worried about the lightweight part in all honesty. Now that I'm thinking about it - it might be better if we spoke about it in person' Maybe we could meet up in the marketplace when we both have free time" Then again I don't think I have much smarts in the brain department to help things along...( It's a joke! )

As for price...I'm not exactly worried about it. Anything you believe is fair for your material and time is fine with me.

Awaiting your response, Andrea

PS. I don't think I would of beaten Tical without your master-crafted katana. : ) Thank you so, so much for it.

Titanium, rare for him to acquire and difficult to work. It had what he required though, the strength the light weight. Kruger looked over the assembled pieces, various cotter pins held joint and would make it simple to work on if the need arose. He knew it would eventually, hinges could bind joints could seize. The metal would suffer eventually through use. The springs and gears would need replacing, as would the final piece he had needed to add.

He had it together once, spring loaded to open quick like a switchblade. The weapon nearly took off his fingers. It did what it was supposed to, snapping easily from gun to blade. The thing was dangerous though, to the wielder as well as the opponent. This wouldn't be acceptable, not for Apple and not for anything leaving his forge. He thought he was at an impasse until an idea struck him. He had needed to go to Batten to get what he needed. He hated it, hated the need to reach out to an industrial method in order to complete his custom build. Given time he might reverse engineer the thing and make his own version but there was no time.

The gas shock slipped easily into place and was secured, one end to the spring. Kruger pulled the gas shock fully open and affixed the bottom to the weapon. The retaining rod began to reseat itself inside the tube pulling the spring tight. He further adjusted the tension of the spring before testing. The gas shock did its job, the weapon moved, arms pivoted in their joints and from within that gun a blade appeared moving and clicking into place.

The only thing left to do was test the cranking mechanism. The handle was twisted to the right, a full turn on the long armed crank pulled it back into the original configuration. He was satisfied with the work. He would take it to the firing range to be sure it would be fully functional instead of one really expensive toy.

The smith's head came up, as the newcomer passed through the door. He was attuned to the acoustics in the place; Kruger had attuned this place to suit his needs. He watched as the man approached and took a lean on one of his work benches. The offer of a flask was a personal thing, and the smith had his own demons that he fought on a daily basis. Kruger turned away for a moment hanging a heavy hammer over the anvil. The leather apron that covered his chest left his back bare. The puckering of ancient whip scores covered nearly every inch of the smith's back. He turned a branded face back to the new client and his grin caused the wolf with the All Seeing Eye held between his teeth to bend as though bowing to him.

"I have indeed heard many a strange tale"I am called Kruger"welcome to my shop." The wide shouldered smith looked at the pieces of the once weapon, and listened. He already had an idea of what was necessary and of exactly what he was planning to do. "I would ask to keep the pieces of this blade'sir"I believe that I can use them to forge something new for you." A calloused hand reached for the broken pieces, covering a wash of revulsion as the metal began to recount for him its making.

"Darkness and pain"cruelties that I will not recount for you or any have tinged this metal"I can help you." He stepped over to the forge and shoved the pieces deep into the coals. "First I must cleanse them"make them fit for your new"station." Kruger's eyes of sundried grass watched the transformation of Dev from something human to something superior. His mind already raced with the things he could do. He was making calculations, and then the man put a restriction on him. No Religion.

"I have witnessed the beginning many times. I was not there, but the metal remembers the day it was formed, the moment all was formed. First there was nothing, then there was everything. Give me some time, I will inform you when I have completed this piece. There is only one problem I can foresee. I don't know your name, and where you will be found when that time has come." He held out his hand, to the other with a smile that spoke volumes on how much Kruger knew about his business.

"The cost will be assessed on the work; the need for materials will be minimal, fuel for the fires." His free hand indicated the forge itself as his head tilted. "I believe that I will end up consuming more than normal for this job"but not more than is necessary. You have provided the ore I need; the rest will simply depend on how long this takes."

The heat from forge fires rose to a stifling heat, the man at its edges needed to put on darkened goggles to see his work. The heart of flames was looked into with a smiling glee to send chills to the spine of any who might look on. Cruelty and anger had manifested this blade but it was his job to find a way to make it right. The act given greater difficulty because of the need to keep housed within the manifestation of its owners essence. Bonding, a term he used when attaching weapon to wielder in a way that fused one to another. He was more than familiar with the how, and the why of the act.

The problem was that this particular entity was powerful, and the blade wrought of so many evils. Delicate would be the process, Kruger pumped harder on the bellows, those fires enhanced by the air and fuel that burned. He had promised the man that it would take more fuel than normal. If he were looking on he would see the need, and likely approve. The pieces in place for this bit of unmaking waited only for the attention of the smith. He removed the white hot metal singing to it, speaking to it in that way that was his asking for the piece to speak of the evils that forged it. Images that would haunt him into the future rippled across his vision as he began to strike down at the blade. The easy work had been done first, a simple reweld on the broken pieces. But to make it forget its past was going to take many hours of painstaking labor and an iron resolve to look through every memory no matter how ghastly.

The first images were met with the heavy hammer. It pounded hard on the flat of the blade bending it round the edge of anvil and further back in upon self, shortening the forty eight inch piece of metal by half and welding it back together, never to be separated again. Throughout this action the smith sang of the beginning of everything reminding the particles of all that had come before the evil that created it. The purity of time exploding through space, was focused through his head and into the metal, and locked into place with the final weld. Within this fold also a piece of the entity that was left there long ago. Unable to escape, it raged against the maker, promising pains unheard of before.

The smith plunged metal back into the forge which had reached blast furnace levels of heat. Still he sang to sooth the spirit within speaking to it of many things, of the ascendance of its counter. He sang of the breaking of the nothing that had come before and transcendence of spirit. That would be the direction he took this entity, and its home. Every pull from flame gave the smith images to turn stomach and push him to the point where he nearly set the work aside and wept openly. He held strong though the weeping did come often. Every bend held a new memory for the metal, ones he knew from his works with so many other pieces. There were similarities in all metals, and every alloy. Every beginning was very nearly the same. When it came to newer memories he gave it the memories of purifying fires and the heat of change. Slowly the memories were folded away, one became one hundred. One thousand became ten thousand leaving a dense ingot before the smith with no memories of its former life.

The smith felt ached for the entity within stretched and bent between those folds, and its anguish only just beginning. The squared ingot would now need to be made again. Every fold already completed would hold that entity, every fold to lengthen the blade back out would contain it as well. Transcendence comes through great pain and effort. The effort in this is mine; the pain must be borne by you I fear.

The slow process of lengthening ingot into a blade was begun. Kruger understood the dangers he faced with this piece one wrong blow could undo all that had been accomplished to this point. He wasn't aware how much time had passed. Sometimes when he sang his swords the time seemed to stop around him, a rift of sorts where the only thing that existed was him and his work. The sweat still poured the metal still heated, the work went on but time itself refused to move forwards. Embers flew from his hammer blows and all else was void. The smith took no time to worry over those vibrant sparks. Even those that sprayed back upon him, scoring leather apron and singeing the flesh on his arms.

As the metal lengthened the folds of unmaking meshed with the folds of making spreading intricate spider webbing across the surface. No amount of polishing would remove those lines, though the smith tried in vain. A minute lattice work of intersections held a strange kind of wisdom to them as though telling any who viewed them that all decisions are connected. Looking on it Kruger could almost see the pathways of his life, decisions made and unmade lighting before him. He blinked and the lighted paths disappeared. The smith was left with a belief that somehow he had missed the most vital of information. The center of the blade held the tightest of those cross hatches much like the center of a spider's web. From this he saw one path and knew immediately what it meant. "The path to Transcendence."

The handle was full tang, and held his maker's mark. A thing that other makers might seek out but that didn't need to be visible. He had created such a hilt for this piece as he hadn't done before. An angel ascendants, delicately webbed wings outspread upwards and protected the hand of the wielder. The arms of the angel were spread down and out to function as a sword breaker. The legs of the angel locked the hilt into place on the blade toes pointed downwards towards the tip of the forty eight inch long rapier. It's head was pulled back in rapture and above it the grip of the hilt was a quadrupled helix. A twisted ladder with four posts, space between those posts allowed the observer to see delicately wrought rungs twisting around an inner core. When the golden angel snicked into place the spell holding back time seem do break with a cry of incomparable need from that entity within the folds.

AZRAEL!

"What is going on with you?" That was the Scath warrior priestess's question. Doubtless it was the question of so many this night. Answers would come, the reasons behind his attempted brawl with Panther, though many would fall immediately upon supposition. The smith knew the truth. He moved across the forge the blood still flowing from his head where bottle had found skin bone. He didn't hold her assault against him. Someone had to do something, or there would be more than just the smatterings of his injury to account for.

Across the anvil lay a cloth covered something. His hand caressed the shroud like a lover. "Few know what it is that drives the creators to sacrifice everything for that which they create. I know good Val"I know the bond as surely as you do to this thing." He pulled the canvas veil from the item on the anvil, a hammer long handled and heavy lay there. The large head was counterbalanced on the opposite end by a smaller weight, though this wasn't what made her remarkable.

His knuckles were cracked from the blows to the tough hide of Panther, but he ignored them to trace the beauty before him. Into the large head a set of scales, none could see what was hidden within the folds though, how he had carved words for the strength of the wielder. His secret wish for the ones who would take this up, for surely this weapon would outlast many a warrior. It would ensure that only she who was devoted to Scathach could keep her. The arm that held those scales was taken up in a lithe figure that was the handle herself, how he had agonized over the metals, mithril for the head. It was lighter than steel, but stronger, perfect for the hands that would take her up. The pedestal was the same though it held a different shape all together.

"Can you see it Val?"" He traced down that arm across blindfolded face. Neutronium, its color so much like bronze yet its weight was as nothing. It was strong also normally something he would make armor from. This pick had not been his, Kruger had made it for Val, and from her he required the choices. She had worn that blindfold and selected from his stockpile. Three pieces chosen, Neutronium made up the body of the woman, her blind folded features, the sword in her opposite hand pointed into the pedestal. Upon the pedestal a snake and a book, the blindfolded woman stood atop the book with one foot, and crushed her heal onto the snakes head with the other. It was the color of the dress that was pulled away from one breast that changed, the blindfold, and the woman's hair. They were a darkhued silver color, adamant had been selected, he shaped it rounder her made it part of her melding together bronze and silver colored metals.

"Blind Justice Val, yet so much more".you feel her I know you do, calling to you telling you of right and wrong"She tells me in everything I look upon." Wheat colored eyes moved from that hammer to the Scath. "Even myself"especially myself. Who am I to give justice when I have so many sins?" Some of those deserve my death"how many know" He lifted the hammer so intricately carved, lovingly smoothed by his hands. "Let me show you right and wrong Val?"

The sound of a spring loaded release hit reverberated in the air. With one quick pull the pedestal pulled away from the hammer. From within the woman a separate handle, shorter and uncarved save for the groove that would realign the pieces properly. He held the large hammer on one hand and pronounced like a judge passing sentence. "Culpa..." Next he held up the pedestal, a strange looking weapon more carved mace than hammer though an argument could be made either way. ?"Castus" Again the pronouncement of judgment. "Blind Justice is made up of both guilt and innocence"and the wielder will feel the weight of both"You will feel that weight Val. I am both happy and sorry for this. I have tried to rid myself of her bondage'she will not let me go. The best I will ever be able to do is give you the lion's share and fight to keep these feelings in check."

He slid the weapon back together and moved towards her with outstretched hands. "Take my hands Val"take them around the haft and open yourself to me."

Kruger looked at the pieces he had before him, the idea was simple enough, find a way to combine the four items into a single deadly weapon. He studied the design, and realized the flaw right away. The nails, they would do as much damage to the wielder as the weapon did to the target. He had a plan though, one that should make the entire thing feasible. He began to rework the crowbar first. It was heavy, this in itself wasn't a problem as they are supposed to be heavy, but the customer was a woman. That didn't bother him either. He'd had plenty of women come in for weapons, some were stronger than others. Still he replaced the steel with Titanium, to cut back on some of the weight. The inside end would be different though. It was meant to be a trigger of sorts, assuming he could make the bat work properly. It was a simple club in his eyes despite the nails protruding from the business end of it. He smiled though as he considered what he was doing. The bat replaced as well with one that he had bored out the middle of. The heavy end still had spikes protruding from it. The difference here was the bored out length of wood. He inserted the titanium crow bar into that bore until he hear the snick of a spring loaded lock falling into place.

Kruger took the handle of the bat and then gave a yank to the crowbar. The spikes slid inward, sheathing themselves into the wood. He nodded when another spring clicked and the crowbar was held in place by a pressure release button. He pressed the button and the spikes sprang out, as the crowbar descended into the bat once again. The smile on his face set the wolf branded into his face to creasing. He pulled back on the hook of the crowbar once again testing the strength of the spring. The mechanism locked once more, and Kruger tested the metal end to see if it would give accidentally. Once satisfied that the spikes wouldn't return by jolting, he turned to the next pieces.

A shotgun would be easy enough to mount, or it would if he sawed the long barrel off. At distance it would be far less accurate and devastating. Up close, though the effect would surely make a mess of anything it was pointed at. Kruger designed the mount so that the barrel would have a free path for the projectiles it was firing. The problem was that Darcy was asking for a spear gun mount as well. Kruger had modified the shot gun the wood had been replaced with another piece that allowed for a second barrel to be placed. He had added space for a second trigger easily reached from the grip of the shotgun. It was a design modified from the double barrels he had seen. One barrel had the hard hitting slugs of the shotgun. The other a held a spear, that one would certainly hurt when fired. It had been impossible to keep the pump action on the shotgun so he modified the firing mechanism on the shotgun into a semiautomatic set up. It was now in a load and fire set up, he had considered using a selector switch to make the thing switch from spear to shotgun but decided against it. It would be best to keep the spear for when she would need it most. The second trigger would allow her to fire both weapons at the same moment. The extended crowbar served as a makeshift shoulder stock. He looked on the weapon with some satisfaction at the logic in his method. Darcy would receive her weapon, and he would have his signature etched into place.

"Kruger!" She didn't yell, but she did announce his name a little loudly to try and see if she could flush The Anvil out.

"Kruuuger.." Calling out again. She tried to entice him with what she brought. "I have something to show you...Have you ever made a weapon out of space rock before?" Yes, she should probably call it pieces of a meteor...but Space Rock sounded so much better.

"I have a box full of it...and was wondering if you could make me a blade."

Kruger responded to the call more so than the announcement that Andrea held in her possession a stash of meteor rocks. She had been a customer of his on a few projects, and the warlord had never failed to intrigue him with her requests. The grin that he favored the redhead with was definitely the one he used so often in the Outback. She had indeed drawn out The Anvil.

He looked at the dolly she was struggling with and imposed his self between her and it. "It's been some time Andrea, but I have worked with meteor rocks before. Why not let me handle the heavy lifting from here?"

Kruger pushed the dolly along considering what he could do for her this time. "I'm glad you came by, it's been too long since your last visit. I think I have something in mind for you. Done in Damascus fashion"it'll mean cutting it into usable strips." He dug a hand into the box and pulled out a chunk of the meteor it contained. His practiced eyes scrutinized the metal in his hand. "Iron nickel alloy, that will cost me a few saw blades. Not to worry though, this is gonna be well worth the effort."

The wink he tossed Andrea landed as the dolly was pushed through the door of the forge and deep inside. "No Katana this time, I have something with a dual cutting edge in mind this time. Give me a few days. I'll need to add in some steel to aid in the welding, I think you will like the layered look of it though."

Kruger hoisted the box from the dolly and deposited it on a workbench. Its weight shifted the balance of the bench enough that Kruger pushed it further into place before starting to sort through the pieces within. "We can work out payment in crowns"or"I get to keep what I don't use and we can call it even" The profit I'll make off the rest will more than cover the work and expenses. You think on it and decide, I'll come to you when it is done.?

He ran a hand through his hair ignoring the dirt that smeared across his forehead from the heavy rocks he had been manipulating. He waited a moment, a look like he was holding something back from her. He gave a small shake of his head and concentrated on the work instead of the secret he was sworn to.

The tempering would be done at cooler temperatures, the spine of the weapon running straight down the center between the double edges would endure the strikes made by the blade absorbing impacts and keeping the weapon from breaking. This would take many hours to complete though, Kruger had set aside most of his projects in order to devote his hours to this one.

He would work to exhaustion, never leaving the forge until he was satisfied that the weapon was as near perfect as he could make it. The tang must be full, and on it would go his signature that other fighters or smiths might know who made it. Kruger began to form the hilt from brass and bronze, the contrast between the red and gold would make the finished weapon even more pleasant to admire. Hours of forging, would end with proper quenching, brine to begin, and give the outside its hardness, then into the oils to cool slower, and leave the metal within able to absorb the punishment it would see.

A simple test for the blade to tell him if he had done his work well. The tip would be placed on the ground, his hand on the hilt while he pushed at the blade with his foot. It should flex a little, but with great effort and always spring back into shape. He had seen spring steel in those foils and rapiers that some used. He had watched it flex and been impressed with how far it could be pushed. Then he had placed one of those marvels upon his own anvil and struck the blade with a sword of his making. It left gouges so deep they nearly severed the spring steel blade. It was quite true that those others were faster, and could cut deep but they would never stand up to the punishment that a heavier blade would dish out.

Leather wrapped the hilt, perhaps the simplest looking part of the weapon but it held an elegance of its own. He was sure that Andrea would be more than pleased with what he gave her. What would her decision be about the payment though' There was always room in his stocks for meteor rock, and room in his coffers for silver crowns.

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Image Credit to Man At Arms. Watch the video.

Kruger looked to the new comer to his shop with a practiced eye. There were several types of men who entered here. Those who were looking to buy something or sell something tended to be less forward and more interested in the goods and their prices. Those looking for custom orders could be of nearly any shape or size but they did have a tendency to smell of wealth. Men like this though, if the weapon he carried hadn't been a sign the need Kruger saw in him would give it away.

He moved towards the taller man, with hands going to his hips in that way that only accentuated how wide his shoulders were. "You found Kruger, welcome to my forge." He smiled and that branded wolf on his left cheek bent as though ready to put the eye in its mouth down. "How may I help you this evening?" He raised an arm to invite the man in further, where the two of them had more space to talk.

Repairs were often a sticky business, especially if a weapon was enhanced in any way. Finding the original method of creation was essential in such cases, do it wrong and you risk not just breaking the weapon, but the smith as well. He looked to the sword carried, its length was unusual but the style was one he was very familiar with. Kruger's first thoughts were what the extent of the damage is, and does it become a fatal flaw. The katana like blade couldn't be unmade in any traditional style the metal within would be impossible to separate from that on the outside. Unless he melted the whole thing down and started over. While that worked it also removed those enhancements that the owners held so dear.

Amber irises went to the stranger's unmatched ones. He uttered only two words to the man as he indicated the workbench before them. "Show me."

Strength, it was something he had taken for granted, the swords under his gaze reminded him how fragile strength could be. In the end strength fades, it falters and fails when it is needed most. Where was his strength' He raised an arm to the bellows chain, a moment to think before continuing. All things, all purpose begins with motion. One pull a catalyst would be for the smith. Creation was easy by comparison, he'd spit in god's eye to deny it.

One easy pull and the fires rise, the heat washing over him taking him home with the smell of brimstone and the orange glow. Motion makes for motion, and time is all he knows. The difference tonight, remaking a loved one. Warriors have few that love them as their own weapons. Some grow more attached than others. A second pull and a blade plunged deep into blistering heat. In his head the seconds tick away. His purpose found in the song in his head overwhelming but still it must be listened to. It was all he knew, all he would ever know.

The chain was left, the athame taken this sword would require more. The blade was affixed to his tongs, and his circle began to be traced. The scrape of metal on stone and the muttering of words would close this place from the backlash of the outer worlds. Still in his head the music was swelling, a driving beat that would echo forth from hammer strikes. A complex melody of his chants that would be directed...driven back to the man and back into the method. He was the maker...could he remake this?

More chants and a gaze back into the soul of the flames, he had no space in this for doubts. He would hold off until such thoughts no longer existed. Burning came his sign, a sound from his patient telling him it had reached its first mark. There was more here than met his blind eye. This thing before him was the machination of another mind. He could find the way though. Cracks can be repaired but the question of what lies within is something else. Ever before it had been to remake a blade was to fold it back upon itself. In some cases all the way back to ingot state. This one could not be done so. It could not be separated from its core so easily. The pair could never be folded together, because that would take from its strength.

This would require all of his abilities. It would pull from him those energies that he downplayed as nothing. They were more but he was never one to simply allow himself to become that. Better to die powerless than to let his head fill with notions of grandeur.

Repairing this would be easier than fighting the urge to release what it held, or giving in and joining it as well. The song in his head pounded like an ocean on rock cliffs. He could feel every cavern that existed, each place that the breach had created. There would be more as the fires sang and the forge breathed with his life. The first wash of flux steamed across the blade, and from an insulated reservoir liquid steel. In this state it could be anything save he had prepared before he began. The delay had been justified, without a way to use the metal on itself he would need to fill the gaps instead. The near white hot metal of the sword accepted the pour of the reservoir, but Kruger needed to give the element instructions. He needed it to know exactly how much to penetrate, how much to leave for when it cooled and shrank into place.

All along he heard the screams of Heron, not unexpected, such abuse would call for the voice of any sword. This one was all too human though and with every passing moment he felt like he was torturing her. The sound made him think once more of freedom, of a moment over a year ago when the chains were broken and a soul released. Did that make it into his song" The sound of cracking well before the hammer fell again came to his ear. The guard glowed for a moment longer and then went out. Kruger felt the release of her, felt her slip across the forge to Laictus though he had no idea what she had wanted there. The blade was repaired, it would still serve any who could wield it properly but it was changed forever.

The smith looked to the warrior and shook his head. "I'm sorry'she is gone.?

The smell of brimstone lingered in the area at all times though it was perhaps thicker now than earlier in the day. Kruger found working at night was easier, fewer interruptions than during the day. He was open generally though he spent daylight hours designing his creations and taking commissions. The darkness was pierced though dully by the light from the open forge door which let the heat escape and was the source of the sulfurous scent in the air. The nearest shop was dark, a carpenter who lived outside the city walls. Once he would have felt mildly guilty for the distinct racket caused by his trade.

A callused hand pulled at the bellows chain, the skin covered in soot and the streaks of perspiration that came with being next to the coals whose heat grew with every pull. He'd grown used to being near the flames, the leather apron covered his front giving some relief. He wore no shirt finding that fabric could catch the embers that sprayed from his hammer blows.

The small Fey, being new to town was in a curious mood. Her want to explore the town had escalated throughout the day and she took the time at night to fulfill her curiosity. It was comforting to have the shadows of the street envelope her as the soft footfalls of her leather boots kick up some of the dirt and dust along the stones of the roadway. A sudden scent of brimstone filled her nose as her ears twitched to the sound of someone working just ahead. It seemed familiar, the sound and scent as she drew closer, she couldn't place it just yet but she knew it was something that triggered her memory.

Along the path she finally came upon an open doorway, feeling a gust of heat hit her upon drawing closer. Almost immediately a trickle of sweat beaded along her spine after being in the cool breeze of the street. She blinked slowly as her eyes adjusted to the sudden light and a warm smile spread across her pointed face. Oh yes, this is why it had seemed so familiar. A Blacksmith, like her grandfather was. She stood awkwardly in the doorway, enjoying the heat of the forge. She had always loved watching her grandfather work his creations with such precision. She decided to linger for a moment, silently watching and hoping she wouldn't disrupt this man's work.

He worked the chain slowly, the huffing of the bellows tuned to his own deep breaths. The entire place seemed to be a reflection of him. Softly he hummed a slow tune that may or may not have words. He listened to the voice of the flame as it rose with a voice like dried leaves under footfalls. There was something more though. The acoustics had changed slightly with the entry of the Fey. The light flickered off the walls and work benches. Across the tops of those benches well kept tools were organized. It was early yet in this crafting, he had yet to call his circle. An odd order even for what he was used to.

Kruger's wheat colored eyes watched as the hood came away. His gaze took in each subtle nuance of her coloring and the markings. The woman was looked at as though she were one of his craftings, symmetrical, and exquisite every element complimentary to the next. It was hard to say if the firelight was an enhancement or a detriment to the whole of her. His head shook a couple of times though the motion was hardly detectable. "You are not intruding, some do come just to watch..." He turned away from her, for fear of offending her with his scrutiny, that and he found her mildly mesmerizing. "...or just to get out of the cold." He took a deepened breath, regaining control over his thoughts and with that his presence of mind.

She spoke of the anvil, there was still an ache in him as he looked at it. Kruger wet his lips and clenched down on his jaw to stop his self from becoming that reaching smith once more. "A gift....one I wish I could take credit for."Mo chroi. He swallowed hard fighting his thoughts once again. He needed to keep them here and now, there was no time for the longing tonight. "I don't believe I have ever seen another quite like h....it." The flames, the forge yes his gaze was torn from the anvil and refocused on the chaos in the flames. He felt stretched now, if slightly between two places, two times. That wouldn't do for tonight's work. He needed the precision that he had spent decades learning. "You are welcome here....Stay if you will, leave if you must." The fires had the cure, he knew that much....they told him often enough that everything burns. "I am simply a smith though, I need no title." Control regained he looked back to her and let his grin out once more.

She noticed the pained look in his eyes as he spoke of the anvil, whether he wanted it to be known or not. The soft twinge of almost despair from talking about what he seemed to hold so dear to him. She decided to change the subject as she made her way over to an area to rest herself onto. "Alright then, Kruger without the title..." A warm smile twitched her lips upward as she seated herself upon a crate she discovered nearby, close enough to watch but at a distance not too distracting or close to the flames. "I am Faerdae, though many just call me Fae." She removed the wool, forest green cloak that covered her shoulders and placed it beside her, no longer needing it in the heated room.

Beneath the cloak showed a well-fitted, white leather corset type top, her uncovered shoulders held intricate lace designs of her marks, completely different from those on her face. They were softer and more feminine in their manner, instead of the harsh angles and lines of the marks upon her cheeks and forehead. The marks etched along the outside of her arms, across her elbows and down to her fingertips. They were colored the same pale lavender as the rest of the designs. She laced her thin, dainty hands together before setting them into her lap, her also well-fitting white cloth pants to match her top.

The song had begun for him, the diminutive Fae had become part of his world within the forge. There was more though, a shifting in what could be seen. It was as though other places, other forges were visible and melding into this one. The anvil never changed but the rest of the major tools were in a constant state of flux. Kruger seemed not to notice, or perhaps he was the cause, the humming he had left off earlier had come back the sound carried to Fae in words of power that never passed through the air over the anvil. It was as though he was standing next to her whispering them directly into her ear.

The forge had altered, it had become a great ebony monstrosity that spewed dark flames that had clawed fingers which reached for him through the air. Shadow and light still flickering but somehow the dark flames cast a darker light of chaos. The briny quench boiled in its depths steam rising, and caressing everything within. The moisture creating a visual haze that ran along that invisible sphere and made it seen. Now perhaps she would understand why he had moved her. Further from the fire and the water. deeper into the amphitheater of the work area. He turned, shadow hiding his face though his eyes held a shine that seemed leftover from the flames.

He reached for a hanging hammer and at his touch it began to glow with an electric blue intensity. It changed shapes as well, much like the forge, and the quench. Even the bellows had altered into something so similar but different. The haze of steam finished surrounding them. It hisses off the metal of the forge. Kruger's tongs dipped into the coals and brought out a bit of metal so hot it was nearly white. He looked to Fae, only once, his lips never stopped moving until he held the piece over the anvil and brought the hammer down on it. A bell tone, the sound of hammered metal, and an anvil ringing....still the anvil never altered his altar his sacred place and the one thing that would never change in these creations.

The vibrations carried from that blow resonating around the sphere. Now he smiled at her, the hammer striking again, the space above him trembled. it opened into a swirling maelstrom, a breaching of the sphere, but more than that the barrier between the physical and the metaphysical. Few understood what it took, fewer still the why of it. This is where his scars came from, a master who could never explain what he didn't understand the one who tried to break him of his questions and curiosity. The boy had grown, he had accepted what was given him, yet he had broken. Not from the lashings....surely everyone could see it there at the center of his soul, at the void that surrounded him the stripping away of that which he cared for most.

He rarely questioned the thing he was asked to make. There had been too many killing tools created for him to believe refusing one would ever make a difference. The headless spine was sent into the quench, the boiling increased bubbles across the surface and roiling away from the edges. He didn't have time for the brine though. There was more to do....there was always more to do. From the depths of the fire the tongs brought the largest piece. He'd worked on it a little, now those hammer strikes were bringing out a shape. A glance spared for Fae, had she understood his invitation when he gave it' Did she know that within the sphere she had become the guardian'

He'd placed her in the north, guardian of that which was earth, or this realm. For some it was pretense, a simple ritual. He could see the way she seemed attuned to the entire process. That was his need, and perhaps her offer. He knew this shape had seen it as it was in the symbol of time, the snake head, and its mouth open to consume its own tail, but this head was not doing that. Its fangs were long and wickedly pointed hammered metal that and bone. Kruger could only guess that there were enchantments that kept the flames from burning through bone. The entire thing seemed some terrible beautiful necromantic engine.

He pulled the spine handle from the briny depths with his bare hand, the water swirling away from him and liquid mirror of the breach in the quantum barrier above. The top of the handle was laid into the flames again. Those bellows kept sighing pumping as though worked by his diaphragm. Mastery, it meant much by itself. He had tried to explain it to others but it was something to be seen to be believed. The forges of power, numbered seven. The knowledge of them however was nearly lost, or like in Kruger's case, waiting to be discovered. Fae could see even if she hadn't heard of them the seven tools.

One to each forge of power. The dark forge and its black flames. The electric blue hammer that was in his hand. The quench that never seemed to lose its brine despite the way it boiled. The bellows that rose and fell, and had reshaped itself before her eyes. The whispering gallery that the sphere made up. The Pendulum, unseen, but heard in that slow tick that seemed to alter the flow of time itself. The only thing left, the one item that hadn't changed was The Anvil....the altar for the smith's offerings. Time, without the pendulum this work would take much longer, weeks, months. Or had it been that long already? Confusion within the sphere, a strange ordered confusion that seemed centered on the man with the hammer. He pulled the newly heated handle from the forge and lined it up with the base of the snakes skull.

She quirked a brow at him, a hint of a smile on her face as she kept her hand positioned on his arm, she was a healer of both wounds and energy. She had healed even the worst fatal wounds with little scarring in her many years of life. She knew how to use her own energy and push it onto others to heal them internally and externally. Would a major wound leave her drained? Of course. But she would gain her strength back over time.

Her energy was like a cool breeze on an autumn morning, crisp yet soothing. It left an almost tingling sensation from her touch, like the most gentle of electric currents. It was a rejuvenating energy she used on him now, and she brought her crystal gaze up to meet his eyes, she did wonder how he saw her. She was unbelievably small, dainty, looking delicate. Yet beneath her thin structure held tight and tone muscle, and a strength that most didn't know about unless experiencing it themselves.

Though she was skinny she was also well filled out in her hips and chest, ruining the illusion of her being too young. Instead she looked to be in her early 20s, hardly 21 though it was her eyes that gave away her true age, they held the pain and sorrow, the experience and knowledge of someone who had lived a lifetime or two, perhaps more. It was a moment before she responded to him, "I don't really know what I set out to accomplish tonight, perhaps a part of me knew that there would be a soul in need of my presence. Or perhaps it was merely my curiosity of this strange new place. All the same, I'm glad whatever had brought me here....did." She let a soft smile break across her face, hoping it would hush his apologies, as she felt he really didn't need to apologize for anything. She didn't want to think about what could've happened had she not been there, him having to deal with this by himself. She downcasted her eyes, a few strands of her waist-length opal hair cascaded around her soft face, seeming to shimmer with her own energy now.

Kruger could feel the strength returning, that slight tingle where she touched him could have easily been explained away by simply having a touch where there hadn't been one before. He knew a little better. Normally he would have simply lay down where he had fallen and slept. Her size was not so odd really. It was nice on occasions not to have to look up from his own height of 5' 6". He was heavy though, thicker through his chest and shoulders from years of hammering.

He wasn't overly surprised by her strength either. He saw things from the perspective of someone who had folded metal and made weapons of varied sizes. The metal was always equal, the length rarely made a thing less deadly. People weren't much different. He let her eyes meet his again, though it had lost....or he had grown used to them. Perhaps though there was more to it an odd bonding that occurred through his work and now hers for him. He didn't claim to be an expert in all things magical. His area began and ended within the walls of his forges.

November 3rd



What are you doing"

The Little Boy's voice might have been inside Charlie's head, but he couldn't resist conjuring up the image of the Red Opal's manifestation looking over his shoulder like a curious child. He had been sitting on the little island in his kitchen for the better part of two hours, legs dangling and swaying like a child's to the tune whatever Nell had playing on today's edition of Turn Around Sound as he tinkered with the host of three-dimensional digital images he had produce from both ominitools. A bright orange image spun on it's axis in one palm while the matching tips of the fingers on his opposite hand manipulated it in places to his satisfaction. He pretended not to hear the query until it was repeated twice more.

"Jin Chae will be facing the half-orc Jake Thrash in the arena soon," he said aloud. "He is larger, stronger, and more experienced than she is, and despite his perceived good nature it seems possible that the nature of his genetics could still produce a savage reaction when they face one another."

So' She's not defenseless and it was her choice to challenge him over anyone else? And you can't be in the ring with her.

He couldn't counter the point, dark brows knitting together pensively when he spared another glance down at the schematic in his palm. "Agreed, but I can do this."

Gesturing with his fingers, Charlie expanded the holographic image to a large size. As he did so, tiny lines of pixelated energy extended from it and spawned copious amounts of text that provided a number of explanations for the image. It was the silhouette of a female body, very specific and a shape that he (and the Little Boy by extension) was intimately familiar with. Overlapping the outline in various places were fresh additions to the body, slowly covering it and spawning more text-based explanations until it was all too apparent when he was working on.

Really' You're going to do that for her" The tone was an odd mixtured of dry humor and piqued curiosity.

"I'm a realist," he snorted. "And I've seen enough to be well aware that I can't always protect her, no matter how much I would like. There's some battles that Jin Chae will have to fight on her own, like this one. She'd likely be offended if I tried. But that doesn't mean I can't offer her some protection. Some defensive edge."

There was a short bout of silence, allowing the drumming of his heels on the cabinets and Nell's voice in the background (Hey, was that Grace on the show with her") to fill up the lull in the conversation, before the Little Boy spoke again.

It's not that I'm not somewhat impressed that you're letting your ticker do a little of the driving here, Nine, but that is a lot of tech to be hunting down and you don't even believe in this other stuff, remember" So I'll ignore this one part over here" but where are you going to get the materials for something this involved and who is going to put it all together"

"I left a message with Kruger at his shop, asking him to meet me in the morning to discuss the details of him making this happen. This is, to some large degree or another, his forte and I have seen some of the things he's done for Andrea. I would imagine that if he can't do this, and in such a short amount of time, then no one can. Money I'm not worried about." Part of the Red Opal's question had, of course, been ignored. It hadn't gone unnoticed.

Nine" where are you going to get the material" Some of it's"

Charlie grimaced.

No. Are you insane" Okay, forget I asked that. This is madness! Ugh, forget I said that too. It's suicide. The infernal thing pulling your strings watches you close enough as it is, Nine. Do you think you're just going to waltz right into her den and raid the Armory for the rest of your old stuff" Seriously. You're going to get yourself killed!

"No I won't," came the guarded reply as the images winked out of existence and he slipped off of the island to move towards the bedroom. "I'll succeed."

Oh, really" The tone was droll. Am I missing some incredible detail here or part of the plan that's going to allow you to easily win the day here"

"I never said it would be easy. It's going to be hard. But I refuse to let her down."

....

Well, if you're going to pretend to be a superhero, could you at least put on some pants before you march us into danger?

(OOC note: This is posted with many thanks to the player of Kruger, who wrote it, and all the credit in the world should go to him for this piece!)

Time was short, would it ever be any different for those who came to him' There had always been great need for them. Kruger understood this above all things, it was something inherent in people to wait and see. To hope that the need wouldn't arise, he knew better though. That's why he was so successful. The need would always arise for his services. The difference was that he could serve them so much better if they came at the beginning. It was Charlie Nine this time, not that the who mattered really. He was coming not for himself but someone else.

Jin Chae knew little of what Kruger was beyond those fighting rings. What she knew was what he allowed. Others knew and had come to him for such specialized items before. This time it would be armor. Kruger would do the job, he pushed everything aside once Charlie provided him with the necessary supplies. Kruger would spend the intervening time studying, drawing out his thoughts and ideas. Those would become the blueprints, measurements scratched onto the pages that he'd need to build to. He hoped she'd appreciate the skill that would go into this making.

Leave it to Charlie to give him something that probably should have been turned out by Batten Industrial. He'd do the job though, it would be his own defiant thumbing of his nose at the Ranger. Truly he didn't hate Batten, truth is he admired the man and his accomplishments. However, Kruger did have a problem with how quickly Batten was able to turn out his equipment. Not because of anything other than the assembly line process. Everything that came from Kruger was touched by his hands, created to the apex of his skills. It wouldn't matter in the end. Batten's machines would compensate for the wear to bearings and moveable parts making the last pieces as precise as the first, and just as inhuman.

He was deep under the city, few knew this place. He told only those he trusted most of his underground facility. It had grown beyond a simple forge now. Would Charlie be surprised if he saw the extent of what Kruger the smith had wrought' Not at first perhaps; Kruger stepped onto the platform ninety meters above the floor and still far beneath the high dome, halfway between Heaven and Earth despite being underground. That was due to the fresco in the high dome of the night sky. Stand above the dome on the surface and the sky above would be the exact same that appeared inside that dome.

Kruger spoke one word and the entire forge began to hum with power, there was a cruelty in the smile on his face. It was a far cry from what he'd ever show to those people in The Arena or Outback. The darkness was diminishing in a soft pink glow as around the entire forge crystalline conduits vibrated with life and lit up. In the depths of the forge a clicking sounded as a great multirod pendulum began to swing. It had a full three hundred sixty degree arc possibility and was probably the best physical example of Determination Chaos that Kruger could think of. The bellows began to breathe life into the forge, they moved in time to the smith's breathing. Heat rose black from the coals and the scent of brimstone permeated the air once again. The smith stepped forward, fingers caressing the intricately carved anvil and base. He began to feed the metal pieces into the coals, lifted his hand and pulled down a heavy hammer.

It was time that had him moving, but knowledge had his finger working, his tools creating. The songs, they didn't understand what it meant to him, what it meant to creation. He knew but he refused to talk about it to almost everyone. One knew, one had helped him to see. Others would benefit from what he knew and they did not. Sweat poured from him, but he worked on knowing beyond everything what Jin required.

Some armor was meant to stop cutting, others to pad blows. Jin would need the best of both worlds for this. She would need everything the smith could provide. He could hear his song as it wound those spirals up to the top of the dome. He could hear the shuddering of the quantum barrier preceded by the tearing which preceded the opening of the tunnel. Now he was set for working on the level she would need. Kruger shaped the bits and scraps of metal provided by Charlie. He'd needed to determine which were meant to turn edges and which to accept kinetic damage. These he used to create the shell of the armor. The inside would be even more kinetic insulation. This designed to channel energy outward along the entire section of armor and away from the delicate form within. It wasn't invulnerable, but it could take a pounding greater than anything shy of a full grown dragon.

Sandwiched between those layers was an alloy that was unfamiliar to the smith. It was already at is greatest potential. The smith needed only to cut it and shape it; a blade making it through the outer shell would be turned by this layer. How else could he protect those vital areas on Jin and keep them looking young and pretty' Those bits of crystal throughout the forge were so much more than just pipes to direct the elements of his forging. Kruger had recently had a rash of shattered conduits that needed to be replaced, these he had crushed into a fine powder. Those bits were still linked to the neural network that had been created from their counterparts. At his thought they began to grow and form circuitry. Charlie's request had not been an easy one. The smith hoped he understood what he was getting bound up into a suit of armor. Slowly piece by piece the smith hammered and joined the layers. Leg armor grew, chest plate took form and the smith sang on telling the metal and the crystal within exactly what he needed.

Around the left leg at the ankle coiled the long scaled length of a water dragon's tail. It expanded and rose coiling around calf and thigh. It transitioned around the hips and waist finishing upon the chest plate. A great head looking at its four clawed limbs which held a Yeouiju. This orb was unlike anything any other artist or armorer had made though. Its shape was that of an opal, and Kruger had every intention of JC inserting her opal into that spot, and imbuing the armor with the very abilities of the opal itself.

Upon the gauntlets appeared the faces of a Go Dokkaebi, one face for each gauntlet. The Red devil was known to be a trickster, but it was also known to be a great fighters and weapon handlers. Kruger believed that Jin would need to be able to call upon those skills. Upon the Pauldrons which would protect her shoulders a pair of Haechi appeared in that same not quite pink color of the crushed crystal. Their forms were somewhere between a lion and a watchdog with a great wide mouth and a horn in the center of their head. These guardians were said to stave off disasters and even eat fire. Perhaps the smith saw such a need for a wielder of Ice Dancer.

The helmet was small, designed to fit Jin's head only, it would cover her entire face, head and neck and had a dark transparent alloy that had Kruger's interest peaked. A heads up display would be visible to the wearer. It was a shame that was all he had been given. In great pink design upon the dark metal was a three legged bird or Samjoko, and its power was said to be greater even than the dragons. Inside the helmet a neural web existed, receptors were visible upon inspection and would tie Jin's thoughts directly to each piece of armor. Kruger brought all the pieces together upon the same work bench and pink crystalline circuitry reached out of the places where they would join together and connected. They seemed to pull the armor together tightly leaving the full suit lying on the work bench.

The smith pushed a button seated in the spot where a belt buckle would occupy. It was a set of three spirals curving inward, one in red, one in yellow, and one in blue. They wound around each other in a shamanistic symbol that represented respect for ancestors. The entire suit began to retract into itself layers folding over one another. It folded until it was a tiny backpack in the shape of a nine tailed fox. The padded shoulder straps had a five point connector, the very center of that connector was the red, yellow and blue swirl.

Elessaria took Kruger's mentioning of his own fragrance as a personal challenge. He was a complex man whom she did not know extremely well. She wanted to capture his essence; a scent reminiscent of him, yet even better. She included various accords in her creation to represent the heat of the forge, the sharpness of metal anchored in leather, warmth and woods.

Kruger's custom couture fragrance included but was not limited to these notes:

Top: Bigarade (for that fresh/tart/hot/spicy); bergamot (adds a clean, almost metallic accord); osmanthus; and safraleine (for its unique, hot, twinkling effect.)

Middle: Black elder; leather; orris root; coumarin; hot embers

Base: Black patcholi; kephalis (for the sense of warmth, amber, tobacco and light animalic effect); oud and a touch of peat.

All of this she decanted into a crystal flacon that was shaped like an anvil.

She had a messenger deliver it to with a simple note: No stinky feet or old boots. Enjoy! ~E