Ember listened intently. Spark hadn't taken him up on his offer to help, so he'd turned his attention fully to the Blacksmith, now. They were to shape the metal--but what, exactly did that mean?

Sir Hammersly's voice rose in his mind, immediate and sudden. 'Look at the metal, son. There's a shape in there, just waiting to come out. It's up to you to use your tools and tease it from the raw ore! -Or the old ruined metal, in this case,' it added sourly. 'Takes practice, though. No way a bunch of fresh kids are gonna do this first try. That Blacksmith fellow should've started smaller! Like having you carry his coal for a few years first!'

Ember frowned a little, and studied the red-hot blade. His paws were cool now, so he picked it up by the hilt, turning to plod over to an anvil; once it was there, he hefted Sir Hammersly in one hand. 'Careful now! Find that shape first. I'd even out those edges. You'll need a grindstone later, this old thing's a mess.' There was disgust in that, though mild, and Ember tried to disregard that as he looked the old blade over.

He thought he knew what the hammer meant. Maybe. He tried to picture the blade a little thinner, still thick at its center, but a little longer and more sleek--less a hacking sword and more a cutting one. It'd weaken it just a little, but...

Sir Hammersly began to rant in his mind about how it wouldn't get weaker, if only proper materials were used, and Ember had to focus to tune out the hammer's long tirade on how those 'proper materials' were made and how, 'back in his day,' such things were done right, etcetera...

He took a breath, imagining that shape, and began to bring the hammer down in admittedly tentative strikes.

His work was not... great. Almost at once he'd made the blade uneven, weakening it in places, and with a final accidental strike he created a few warps and twists along the edge. Even a slender crack was showing in the metal, and he winced, and looked around to see how all the others might be faring.

He had to admit that Sir Hammersly was right (and he was still trying to ignore the enchanted hammer's roar of protest at his poor work)--nobody was really doing all that well with this stage. It was, as the Blacksmith had told them, likely a matter of practice; but Ember couldn't help feeling disappointed nonetheless.

He looked to Spark, and offered a gentle smile. "I think this step might take practice," he confided, a rare flicker of amusement in his tone.

image credits: [x] [x] [x]

One of the many more... lizard like qualities his harpy has, aside from liking heat and fire, is the fact that they can Stare, and not blink, without realizing it- and stare they do, as the Blacksmith moves around, corrects and praises, and then seems to... trail off in thought.

Resuming the lesson gets a series of blinks to their smarting eyes, and they nod. Thank goodness massive talons make it so they can tilt the piece this way and that, looking at the heat color carefully and mimicking the Blacksmith as best they can in finding out the dents in the main body of the bracer.

Each hammer strike, first from the teahcer's arm and then that of their classmates, gets a twitch of ear feathers, and eventually their head feathers are pressed flat- loud. They will deal, but maybe sometime they can make some sort of eye or ear covering device that muffles sounds and lights to make. Well, everything less intense.


Maybe I can ask after class for some personal lessons. I want to put a better handle on my shard anyway. A glance to their blade, moved carefully off to the side with a wing.


Back to the piece in their hands- lining the flatter parts with the flat of the anvil, they do their best to aim true. This needs to be flat, but... also curved, to go around the arm. The nose of the anvil gives a different type of curve...

"Blacksmith, I do have a question as well. For how my chosen project sits... how would I curl it in a way to make it fit my arm, since the anvil is a different kind of curve up there?" They ask, timing some handfuls of words for their question between bouts of hammering.




"When I speak"
When I think

The Blacksmith hammered for Lior as instructed, murmuring an apology when an unexpected flaw appeared. He'd been following the little one's instructions perhaps too closely, and had lost sight of the larger piece. "It takes practice," he reassured them.

Then he went about examining the rest as they worked, nodding and making comments here and there.

"That is... very resourceful," he told Kaimana approvingly.

And to Renasci, he gestured them over, and pointed to the way the rounded point of the anvil tapered down to almost nothing. "You can move it... to the size that you need--here," and he tapped the narrow tip, "or here," and he touched the broader circle of where this end met the wider piece. "Or find another item... to wrap it around... anything strong enough will do."

At last, he came back to the anvil. He took a breath, and dipped down, pulling up a number of items from behind his little workbench.

Smooth cloths, and jars of polish; heavy sandpaper and thick leather. "An imperfection... on your metal... can be taken away with this... before you even begin." He lifted a heavier piece of sandpaper and an old hammer, showing how to scrub away a little rust. "But afterward... too, you can do that... and you can polish it to a shine... an oil will protect it from water. But it will make it slippery, too." He lifted soft leather, dipped it in the oil polish, and selected an old blade from his rack; then he set about polishing it, showing the others how to put this finishing touch onto their item.

"Try this now. Afterward... we will finish this lesson. I will give you all... a gift. And if you wish to come again... another time... I will show you different metals... how to make them. How to pull them... from the rock. How to combine them. Every kind of metal... is individual. Different heats... oil or water... weak or brittle, strong or flexible... All different. And I will show you how... to decorate your works... with carvings, and colors, and mixed metals. But for now... sand... and polish."

---

Gembounds have been instructed to finalize their work by polishing and/or sanding it down. Participants may use any type of roll that fits for this attempt! A Critical Success will perfectly polish the metal, and even correct a little for prior flaws. A Successful roll will leave it looking almost as good as new. Barely Successful will leave the surface passable, but not perfect. A Failure will leave rust, pits, scratches or malformations on the metal, and a Critical Failure will introduce new flaws from scratching the metal with the chosen method.

Anyone may still join this thread, and catch up in their post! Feel free to double-roll according to the thread's progression as your character catches up with the steps, if you are joining late or missed a round.

@Renasci @Ember @Spark @Kaimana @Zhusha @Lior

Practice? Lior wasn’t opposed to practice if they had the opportunity. The more weapons they could add to their collection the better, after all. The little hatchling gave a surprisingly thoughtful nod in response to the Blacksmith’s statement.

As new items were revealed, Lior observed them with a curious gaze, listening intently to their stated purposes. Additional lessons were discussed, and Lior eagerly nodded their head. "I'd definitely attend those!" They squeaked.

Right afterward the explanation, they were quick to snatch up some sandpaper to try and remove some of the aged look to the sword. Then they grabbed a cloth they dipped in polish and used that on their chosen sword. They set to work with determination.

This time around, the little gembound was successful, managing to do a rather good job since they were not limited by their size so much, nor their words. They proudly gazed upon the shiny sword, only somewhat flawed from previous steps, and then they turned their gaze back to the Blacksmith.

Gifts had been mentioned, and though Lior had never received a gift before, they knew what one was. They unintendedly chirped in excitement, eager to see what the Blacksmith had in store for them.

As the Blacksmith steps over, they follow him to the anvil and follow their hands carefully- they hadn't considered that, and they nod in thanks before returning to their piece, setting it to loosely fit their forearm before letting it cool from the alterations.

Additional lessons? That gets a small, hopeful smile- sounds good! They'd seen the occasional different metal when using the spell from the first time they'd met the Blacksmith, and wonders what they can make with some of the lighter looking ones... the bird's brain had coasted right past the mention of a gift, thoughts flooded with ideas.

Oil for polishing gets a nod- makes sense, with how it makes their feathers shiny. Checking the bladed bracer over, they hum thoughtfully- a bit of sanding there, where they'd hammered out the rusted dent, and then oil over so then it won't rust again in the future.

"May I use both the sandpaper and oil, please?" they chirp, looking for a set to use at their table- not wanting to take one of the larger polishing leathers, leaving it for Kaimana or someone who has to use their mouth, and avoids the smaller ones to leave for Lior... 'cause he's baby.

They then set to work, concentrating with their tongue stuck out of their mouth on their project.

"When I speak"
When I think

Kaimana was ready to try her hand paw at the next step, hoping to be more focused on carrying out the process than inventing a way to actually do it. She was pleased with the praise for her innovation though, so all in all this was turning out to be a rather serotonin-filled experience. Thankfully this next part appeared to require less digit dexterity. The sand paper felt like her own tongue and the oil reminded her of spit. This might be an uncomfortable comparison for animals who are not felines, but to Kaimana it felt like healing the wounds of the metal. She wondered if adding her own spit to the oil would help with the repair or if that only worked for organic creatures. Probably the latter. Probably.

Kaimana found herself liking this part too, albeit in a less intense way than the heating element. It was introspective, gave him something to do with his paws while he thought. The more he polished and oiled, the more 'finished' it became, gaining that perfect sheen that made objects of its kind look professional and usable. Very visually pleasing. He could do this for hours probably, just him and his thoughts against the malaise of boredom. She would definitely be coming back for further lessons.

Sir Hammersly was muttering in his head as Ember carried a bit of sandpaper back to his workspace. The muttering was guidance--helpful pointers--infused with a good number of irritable complaints, and the hybrid did his best to pick the useful parts from the ongoing tirade as he worked.

Little bits of advice--like "don't sand polished metal" and "just buff off the rust" and information about sandpaper grain size was imparted, along with the knowledge that sandpaper was an odd thing to use on metal. Sir Hammersly, it seemed, had had a grindstone, at some point.

Ember wondered if this meant that Sir Hammersly had ever had a body outside the hammer, but as the hammer didn't offer that information up, he didn't press it; he shifted his focus instead, carefully, to the hammer itself.

Despite Sir Hammersly's advice--and to his roaring chagrin in Ember's mind--the wolf-dragon managed to muck it up a bit. He sanded perhaps too hard; deep scratches were left across the surface of the blade, and he found, too, that sanding away pits in the sword was near impossible. Sir Hammersly's anger and the following flood of information on how to fill pits was so overwhelming that Ember had to stop, staring at his sword, simply listening.

image credits: [x] [x] [x]

The Blacksmith made his way around the room one final time, observing and making murmured notes here and there. "Of course you can," he began, to Renasci. To the rest, as he wandered among them: "That looks... good. Reliable..." "Very good... perhaps next time, we can... try a grindstone." -and "I see the mistakes, but... that is only practice... a way to learn what to avoid."

Once the Gembound had finished, and his encouragement was complete, the Blacksmith made his way back to his own anvil.

"That is... the end of this lesson... but I offer you now the last gift. Bring your items... to me, and I will weave magic... and leave your works... enchanted."

---

This thread is now closed to new participants. Those Gembound that have completed each step (failure OR success) of their item's improvement under The Blacksmith's guidance may bring the item to him for a random enchantment (to be rolled by GM)! The item's quality will be higher or lower depending on how well the character has performed overall in its improvement. (If a character needs to catch up, they are free to post several times with rolls!)

The enchantments and information for each item will be given next round, in the final GM post!

@Renasci @Ember @Spark @Kaimana @Zhusha @Lior

Spark looked up from their mangled work at their father's comment, seeing his own piece. It didn't look much better, metal bent and weapon misshapen. That did make them feel a bit better. They hazarded a look at everyone else's progress, seeing much the same. It seemed that most were struggling at this stage, even those who had succeeded previously. This task required a finesse not many were capable of it seemed. There was a sense of camaraderie in the failing of this activity then, here they were all on the same level.

Spark looked back at their blade again, cracked and mournful. If a thing could feel pain, the dagger would be wailing. Good thing that objects cannot feel pain, and better that they cannot express it. They got to sanding at the more stubborn rust, polishing the metal until it sparkled. They could fix this, they knew they could.

"speaking" and thoughts

The work was therapeutic, compared to the train wreck hammering had been. Rust came away as if it had been nothing more than mould, the polish bringing new life to the weapon, almost like the reigniting of the soul. A glimmer in their golden eye, they took the knife in both hands, examining it once again to admire their work. While the warping from the furnace had been lessened greatly, the crack still remained. Gazing upon it, Spark gave a little sigh, one of both disappointment, pride and relief. What’s done is done.

They puzzled over how they would move it to the blacksmith, whether walking with in one talon was worth the risk of tripping over and ruining it. Instead, they wrapped their jaw around the handle, firmly carrying it to the blacksmith and his anvil. Placing it gently on the metal, they looked to the creature expectantly. “What kind of magic?”

"speaking" and thoughts