Forging the blade (Pine)

Jonathon walked through the city. In all his travels he'd never made a stop in any part of the dark nation, till now. He was battered and bloodied, a freak run in with a imperial patrol had gone south. Worse of all though was the fact that his sword had been broken. It was not the first blade he'd been given that his master had given him, no, he'd left that behind long ago, when he started to make his own name for himself. Still, this sword had been good to him, it was a broad sword that Jonathon managed to wield one handed, and quite effectively at that. It wasn't anything all that special though, he'd bought it from some bazaar. Now though, he wanted something that was uniquely his. He'd heard tell of a great black smith in the Dark Nation's capital, if you could call it that. Signs of the Empire's control was everywhere, including the posters with his face on them. Jonathon was glad he'd worn a dark hooded travelling cloak over his usual attire. Standing outside the building he could feel the heat from it making it's way into the street. "This must be the place." He said, entering the black smith's shop. "Hello? I'm looking for a black smith, I'd like to commission a weapon. I heard you were one of the best."

Dahashi had what the staff at the palace referred to as 'personal days'. Glorified holidays really. He'd never really liked holidays, the forge was his home and the only place he was really happy. Holidays were all about breaking away from your job to supposedly get some mental and physical rest. Bugger all that was all Dahashi had to say on that matter.

As such when there came a time when the reminder that he had amassed a worrying amount 'personal days' became an order to take some time off he had a habit of taking refuge in his old forge. The one he'd set up in one of the less wealthy neighborhoods of the Dark State capital. It wasn't as big, or as well furnished and equipped as the forge he had back at the palace. It smelled of neglect and its fire was extinguished for much of the year. But in that one week per year when he retreated to this place the forge roared back to life, and the clang of metal on metal returned. Most of the work he did in that one week he did for free, he knew many of the people in the area were too poor to afford food, taking their money always left a bad taste in his mouth. Weapons on the other hand he always charged for. He was well aware what blades were for, and in his mind the power over life and death should always carry a price.

The forge was quite small, a simple five by four yards rectangle, with a circular furnace taking up much of the space. Wooden tables with piles of tools of varying sizes stood against the walls. A heavy anvil and barrels of oil and cold water were arrayed around the mouth of the furnace so that the heated meta could be taken out and treated without anyone having to move anywhere.

Dahashi was working on a red hot piece of metal, holding it in one stone covered hand and hammering at it with another. He rarely used normal hammers, he had a large collection that was collecting dust both in this forge and the palace forge, but he rarely took them out. He found he could shape the metal with much more precision if it was his own arm (albeit with a little added stone) that did the work. A hammer just added another level of imprecision.

He noticed the young man coming in from the corner of his eyes, but he didn't stop his work.

"Hello? I'm looking for a black smith, I'd like to commission a weapon. I heard you were one of the best."

Dahashi didn't reply, he simply held up a hand in the universal gesture for 'wait there a bit' and kept working. He gave the metal rod he had been flattening an experienced look. To anyone else it looked like a shapeless, flat piece of metal, to his eyes it was exactly what he was looking for. He tossed the steel into a barrel of ice cold water before shedding the stony second skin and turning to look at his new customer.

"Maybe not the best, but I have faith that I'm probably among the best," the old blacksmith admitted with a smile hidden by his copious facial hair. He stepped out of the circle of liquid-filled barrels to come stand next to younger male. "So, give us a gander at whatever it is you need forging eh?" he added, putting a heavily muscled arm around the kid's shoulders and guiding him towards one of the less cluttered tables on which several rolls of paper were stacked.

Jonathon walked with the massive man, keeping his hood up. He was not yet sure whether or not he could trust this man to keep him safe from the empire. Standing over the table he pulled out what was left of his sword and set it on the table. It wasn't much to look at anymore, just the handle, guard, and a bit of the blade. "It broke during a run in with some bandits." He lied, not wanting to draw attention to his story. "It wasn't the best blade. I got it from a merchant who wasn't much of a smith or knowledgeable in weapons. I just needed the sword." He ran his hand along what was left of the blade, feeling the imperfections that were obvious. "If at all possible, could you perhaps make it so I can channel fire bending through it? If that is possible."

Dahashi listened in silence, sitting down at the table as they reached it, and motioning at a chair on the opposite side of the makeshift desk, inviting him to dot he same. As the customer spoke Dahashi scribbled down on the side of one of the rolls of paper on the table. The particular sheet he was writing on already had several other notes and small blueprints scribbled on to them, he wasn't exactly the most organised of folks when it came to his written notes, but it never stopped him from getting his work done.

"Well first of all I'm sorry for your loss," he said in a jokingly somber tone as he picked up some of the fragments of the blade, manipulating them with an ease born from experience in his worn and expert hands. He felt the grain the rough grain of the metal, tested its flexibility in his bare hands, carefully tested it sharpness on paper and observed the thickness of the craft, he grabbed a hammer and gave the metal a few experimental blows to assure himself of how brittle the steel was. He then moved on to the hilt, weighing it in his hands, feeling how well it fit in the human hand. He tapped the quillons a few times before finally carefully returning all the pieces of the weapon to the table.

Every time he had made a test or an observation he had scribbled some notes down on the paper filling up what little blank space was left on the sheet with his inky, cluttered writing.

"It wasn't the best blade indeed, much of the steel in the blade is actually reinforced with weaker metals, one of the many ways to cut production costs," Dahashi remarked with a slight shake of his head, after having been silent for a few minutes.

"Now I have a few questions for you. I am assuming you want this to be a custom piece, I don't usually deal in mass produced weapons anyway so I don't have anything to offer you if you're not looking for a custom made weapon. I'm also assuming this weapon will be meant for combat, given your tale of how it was broken in the first place. My first question would be, do you want me to use any parts of the old blade in the making of the new one? I'd rather not, and the presence of sub-par work might weaken the final product, but if this," he pointed at the wrecked blade on the table, "has any emotional value to you and you absolutely wish to keep a part of it that would absolutely be doable.

"Secondly, I'd like you to tell me about your fighting style, that will be helpful in determining the shape and balance of your blade. Just basic details of course. On a scale of one to ten do you prefer hacking or stabbing, how often do you use double-handed blows, things like that. And thirdly and finally, regarding that idea of channeling your fire bending through your weapon, would you care to go into further detail on that? You see there are many, many ways we could go about this, but all of them will have upsides and downsides.

"For instance I have a block of sky metal stashed away somewhere, that would sustain very high degrees of heat with only minimal warping or weakening, I have tested its invulnerability to heat myself, but it will cost you a lot of money to get me to relinquish such a precious material. Alternatively there are other metals which would resist heat better than steel, but those would weaken and warp noticeably with every time you exposed them to intense heat, forcing you to replace your blade every two to five times you use it. If that's not your cup of tea either there are oils and unguents you could apply to your blade before battle which would allow you to set it aflame without damaging the metal. You'd have to take the time to buy and sue the oils before battle though, and they'd cost you money as well. Or I could punch holes through the blade which would allow you to pass a chain of fire through it, but that would require some exquisitely fine control of your bending. The weaker your control, the larger the holes I'd have to use, the more compromised the blade's structural integrity would become. So tell me, how hot and how controlled is your fire?"

"I don't care what you do with that." He motioned towards the blade on the table as he pulled up his chair. "I had a sword that was sentimental to me. Given to me by my master. Lost it a few years back though..." Jonathon stopped and remembered his master and all the things he had learned. That was in the past though and he was here now. "As for my fire bending, well, I may as well just demonstrate." Holding out his hand he made a ball of fire above it. Focusing he turned the ball into a double helix type structure burning toward the ceiling. "I've had a bit of time to practice, to say the least." He chuckled. "My fighting style is primarily slashes with one hand. Though I carry a sword designed to be used with both hands, I've managed to train myself to use it wit one. I've never been a fan of stabbing. I was first trained with weapons that weren't meant to involve stabs and thrusts, so I just never bothered with the technique." He then began to weigh the options presented to him in his mind. "I think I'll take the sky metal. I know you said it was expensive, but I can pay for it." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a rather full bag of coin and tossed it to him. "That's imperial gold coins. Enough to make a man comfortable for a few months. I can provide two more payments of that size within a week, will it be enough?"

"Yes. Yep, I can definitely work with that," Dahashi replied, letting a deep rumbling chuckle pass his lips, tapping the sac of coins that had landed on his desk. "And I can also work with that," he added pointing at Jonathon's hand where the fiery helix had been but a few short moments ago. "Although if you are going for the sky metal route it's likely you won't be needing such fine control. By my testing that material will melt only at extremely high temperatures to the point where any flames you shroud the blade in that is under two or three hundred degrees will cause no damage to the blade whatsoever. I'm assuming I don't need to mention that if you shroud the blade in flames the metal will heat up and stay very hot for a long time after the fire is extinguished. I would recommend keeping a good amount of water nearby so you can help the cooling of the metal in such situations," Dahashi had scribbled a few more things on his scroll of paper, numbers now instead of letters, as he was trying to estimate the price of the piece he was being commissioned to do.

"Are there any aesthetic preferences you have regarding the hilt and crossguard?" he asked after a few seconds of silent counting as he struggled with the numbers for a bit. To this day his knowledge of mathematics was functional on the best of days. "I don't let my clients meddle with the design of blades for pieces intended for combat. No offense meant of course, but the blade of a combat-worthy weapon is no joke and certainly not meant to look pretty, or cool, or whatever, but rather meant to do the job. That said I will entertain suggestions regarding the hilt and crossguard, provided they don't mess with the balance of the weapon of course. If you want an idea of what the blade will look like I can tell you it will be broad, with a fairly shallow point and that it will be unadorned.

"As for payment I will take it after the piece is complete and you are satisfied, not before. Expenses for materials and any specialised tools, if any and I doubt there will be such a need, I need to buy to make your piece will be added to the fee for my craftsmanship, but given what you've told me I'm assuming price isn't a problem for you," he added as he pushed the bag of money back towards Jonathon with a single dismissive hand. His voice, which had been infused with a certain passion and enthusiasm when he had been speaking of the piece and its specifications, now had turned flat and dull, practically blank and monotonous. Like this part of the conversation was a necessary chore before he could get to the fun, which was exactly how he saw it. Truth be told the whole statement was pre-fabricated. He'd written it down and memorised it years ago when he'd first started up his first forge.

((OOC: I'm using degrees Celsius in the temperature measurements above))

Jonathon tucked the little pouch back into his cloak and pondered the idea. He'd never had any sort of say in his past weapons, he just got them. Now that he had a chance to make a choice in how it looked, he didn't know what to want. He was so used to just having a plain guard and handle. No fancy colors, no nothing really. Well, except for one thing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the beat up coin on the ragged string. "I have no real requests for the design. Just make it somewhat practical and inconspicuous." He chuckled, somewhat practical and inconspicuous, just how he liked to live. "I just ask that you somehow incorporate this into it. It's sentimental to me." He handed the man the beat up good luck charm. "That is all I ask."
(Note, the coin is a Chinese good luck coin on a string)

Dahashi took the coin in a single cupped palm and gave the circular plate of gold a long look. The first thing he noticed was how light the thing was, which was a good thing, he'd have to change his own vision for this blade very little to implement this. Perhaps he'd just pop it in the pommel. That was always where people wanted their gemstones or valuables, then again a coin was poor material for a pommel. It didn't serve as proper counterbalance, plus it was generally far too thin, a pommel needed to have some smooth bits so that the hand could grasp it comfortably if necessary.

"I'll see what I can do about that," the old blacksmith replied after a few seconds of pensively stroking his beard in silence, gently placing the coin down on the table. "I believe this concludes our business for now," he added, getting up  and stepping around the table to stand next to Jonathon. "I'd say it'll be done and waiting for you within a week," he paused a second to take that estimate in consideration, guesstimating how long it'd take him considering the other commissions he was working on, counting it off on his fingers. "Ten days at most," he corrected, feeling more confident in that number, "and I should have your sword ready for you to go gallivanting about with it, stabbing, or hacking in your case, left and right. Naturally you are welcome to come in at any time if you wish to see my progress, but I can't think you'd be all that interested in watching me work."

In truth Dahashi didn't now if the young man would like to see him work. He wasn't a mind reader, he didn't know this guy. he did know himself though, and more than anything else he liked to work in peace. He always offered customers the courtesy of telling them they could come see him at any times, hoping they'd not take him up on the offer. Sadly that didn't always happen and far too often he'd get idiots crowding his workshop staring at him. It was one of the things he likes most about this forge. The palace smithy was easy to find and in a very pleasant area, that did not serve to discourage anyone. This workshop though was much less appealing, and in general not a nice place to stand in. The chairs he and his customer had been sitting in were rickety wooden constructs that were never comfortable, no matter how you were sitting in them. The ground wasn't exactly comfortable either, nor was it clean. The roof was low and the whole space would be considered oppressive by most. On top of all that it was uncomfortably warm in the workshop. The forge was always burning during those few days when he was here and the ventilation was beyond poor. Dahashi was used to all this, compared to his old prison cell this was luxurious, but most of his customers weren't.

As he finished speaking he extended a hand towards the young man, a handshake was a common way of sealing an agreement after all, and the smith despised paperwork. He always lost the slippery sheets anyways, that or he ended up scribbling something on them.

Jonathon reached out and shook the smiths hand.  "Thank you sir."  He turned but stop.  "If you don't mind me asking, do you know anywhere I could stay here?  I'm not quite familiar with everything around here.  I'm not asking for the royal palace inn.  Actually, I'd prefer a more run down establishment."  He said, looking out the door, checking for any sort of imperial patrol.  "I've just come to prefer a bit of grit in the places I stay over the years."

ONE WEEK TO TEN DAYS LATER

He walked back up the steps of the forge and entered the shop. "Is it ready yet?"

Once again Dahashi was blind and deaf to the young man's approach, focused on his work as he was, but for once it wasn't some piece of metal that was the sole receptor of his attention. He was bent over a scrap of paper, working on his inventory. He was leaving this forge to return to the palace tomorrow and he liked to know what he was leaving behind. The list was a little underwhelming, even if he knew that the supplies he had here paled in comparison to what he had at the palace he still liked to know if he needed to get anything new for his 'vacation forge'. When the customer spoke the old blacksmith was torn away from the rather boring paperwork and looked up, putting down the piece of charcoal he'd been using to write as he recognised the newcomer.

"Ah! Hello there mister..." he paused for a short moment as he realised he'd never asked for the guy's name. Then again he was known for not asking questions, so he just left it at that and continued as if nothing had happened. "Your commission is completed yes. Your timing is impeccable, I just finished adding the last few grinds of polish to it a few hours ago," he answered jovially. "Let me go fetch it for you," he walked to the back of the forge, retrieving an item wrapped in cloth that looked to be about seventy five inches long, give or take an inch. Dahashi brought it to the table, laying it down carefully and taking off the cloth cover, revealing a simple steel scabbard and a shallow angled V shaped crossguard. The smith grabbed the green hilt, long enough to accommodate two hands, and drew the blade. The first three or four inches of it were blunted and surrounded by smoothed metal, forming a ricasso long enough to fit a full grown human hand, for those instances when reach was to be sacrificed for control. The rest of the blade slowly thinned and tapered to a point, but the weapon was obviously meant for broad, sweeping hacks than stabbing, it's sheer size made it a poor poking tool. The blade had  strange set of circular grooves in it, a product of Dahashi's technique and of the unique nature of the metal.

"Meteorite, as promised, structurally as sound a blade as you're likely to find in you travels and it'll handle most lethal fiery attacks without breaking a sweat. You've got a ricasso for when things get a little too close," the smith tapped the blunt beginning of the blade. "I'm not one for boasting, but I have to say I'm quite happy with how it turned out. Not one of the mot artistic pieces I've had to dish out, but its raw practicality gives it a different sort of beauty which is pleasing to me, and I hope to you too," it was true. The whole piece barely had any ornaments, the pommel and the blunted metal around the ricasso being the only slightly decorative bits. The whole weapon looked deadly, cold and bare. "You should probably take her for a spin for a moment or two, make sure the balance and weight are to your liking," he added, tossing the blade in the air and catching it on the ricasso, presenting the hilt to the nameless customer.