Onyx-Three was surprised at the Blacksmith's response to what they thought had been a silly remark. It made them wonder if he was experienced in such things. Did he have a mount? Had other gembound tried to do such a thing before, even earlier than Renasci? "I will. Thank you." there was sincerity in his tone, and he found himself starting to like this figure called the Blacksmith. But this trip was to acquire weaponry, not aid in catching deer. Perhaps he could ask the Sentinel about visiting this place again at a later date. A quick glance at their father told them to bring the tea with them. They hadn't even sipped it yet, so it only made sense to keep it until they had at least tried it.

As they entered the next room, Onyx-Three found themselves hit with a sense of amazement at what surrounded them. There were so. Many. Weapons. And even some that he didn't know existed, with varying lengths, blades, colors- everything. He could get lost in here. There were so many to pick from, to train with. But even if you could take multiple, which he doubted you could, it was not a smart idea. He understood one could not be good at everything. You had to choose. Pick a single thing, a single weapon, to master.

Following the guidance of the Blacksmith, Onyx-Three proceeded to look over the weapons that he was recommended. He watched as his brother experimented with a sickle. Impressive. The tea was left on the ground, placed somewhere far enough that they wouldn't accidently step on it. They tried out first a spear. It was long, but it was not to their liking. Too long. Not to mention if you were to throw it, you only have one spear. If you missed, well, that would be that. The pikes were too similar to the spears. And so, he finally came upon the bows.

The bows were incredibly different in comparison to the other weapons. For one, it consisted of what looked like a lot of mini spears paired with a wood stick bent into a curve by a long string. Upon first glance, Onyx-Three did not understand how it worked. The other ones seemed self explanatory. Stab. Whack. Cut. But this, this was not something that had a blade exactly. And he could not figure out what the curved stick was for. "How does this work?" he asked after giving it some thought. He held up the stick in one hand and a mini-spear in the other.

Both young ones, after some testing and experimentation, found an object to catch their interest.

The Blacksmith stepped over, nodding. "Ahh... a good choice," he said, approval in his tone. He went to first one, and then the other, offering simple advice.

"It is held... here, like this--with this hand so..."

Grips, movements and basic technique were offered then to both.

V-Onyx-Two had explained to him the purpose of a sickle: once a weapon of the harvest, adapted for reaping of a different sort. Short swings and stabs in the right hands might make it deadly, the Blacksmith explained, gently guiding his movements with his own hands. It could catch an enemy weapon, too, and deflect it. "It is not meant... to be used alone. I could make... a double. Or a small shield," he reasoned. "But that... would take some time."

And on to the bow. "This weapon would take... a great deal of time... to fully train. I will show you... the basics, and... if you enjoy its use. You may return... for training... if you wish it. I am no... expert marksman, but I know... the basics." How to nock an arrow, how to draw the bow and fire, how to avoid catching oneself (or one's fur) in the string... How to aim, how best to release the bow; all were shown, if in brief, to V-Chaos-Three. "Your arms... will need training... for these muscles... to hold it drawn for long."

He explained the enchantments, as if in afterthought--and then stood back, regarding the two with gently tilted head. "Do you find these... weapons, to match... what you had hoped for?" he asked them.

His resentment of all things not-Forge was forgotten in favor of studious concentration. He was interested, truly interested, in this lesson: his jaw went tight, forehead furrowed as he closely followed the Blacksmith's movements and did his absolute utmost to correctly imitate them.

"I like it. And... a second... I think, would be good? Will that take long to make?" He glanced to the Blacksmith, daring to hope that he might be able to leave even today with two--and then went back to following the lesson.

He put perhaps a little too much enthusiasm into it: eager ferocity that at first likely made him look, if not skilled, then a good student, at least. But when he turned and tried to apply what he'd been shown, to bring the sickle to bear on the torso of the training dummy, he blundered badly. Rather than cutting through the hay-filled sack, he struck the metal pole that held it up as its "spine"--and the horrific clashing ring of metal-on-metal filled the room with its ear-grating sound. He twisted away, tried to tug the sickle free, and instead brought it crashing toward him--and tripped over his own feet as he leapt back to try and avoid its fall.

The end result was one half-grown elf-beast floundering on the ground, wings half-crushed beneath him, his sickle several feet away and the weight of the training dummy atop his chest.

He had been bested by the inanimate hay-and-metal object.

He was not concerned about the fact that he had chosen a rather difficult weapon. It had a distinct usage that many other weapons couldn't offer. Range. And it seemed there would always be more to learn concerning the bow and arrows. Accuracy, distance, perhaps even aiming while moving. Versatility was something he valued, and it made up for his weak points. Onyx-Three did not use magic, and so was limited to hand-to-hand combat. A bow would allow for ranged attacks. "I will take on the challenge."

With some basic knowledge on how it worked, they nocked an arrow and pulled back the string. They were surprised by how hard it was to stay in this position, arm shaking as they tried to aim it at the center of the target. The Blacksmith was right, his arms did not have the strength to keep it still for very long. Onyx-Three let go of the arrow early. A split second later, the arrow just barely hit the dummy, burying into its side. The enchantment caused further damage, creating a hole larger than normal. It was hard for burlap to hold up against an obsidian arrow.

This may take a lot of practice to get the hang of, but Onyx-Three could see the power of having such a weapon. And it fit him surprisingly well. "Yes. It is fitting. Thank you... very much." The scent of the bow was sweet, pleasant to smell. Not to mention the aura which definitely fit his vibe. "I will be back in time to practice." A pause. "And the deer."

CRASH! Their head quickly turned to Onyx-Two. That looked like a disaster. Bow and arrows were set gently upon the ground as they walked over and attempted to help lift the dummy off of him. "You alright?"

The Blacksmith seemed to beam, pleased with Onyx-Three's decision. He would teach this one, then! It would be fine. Perhaps in the gardens; they could hold tea, and meditation. "Consider it yours, then," he murmured. "I will teach you... to create new arrows, as well, for... when the-"

The crashing-to-the-ground was alarming, but the child beneath the dummy seemed mostly unharmed. And as Onyx-Three was moving to help this one, anyway, The Blacksmith padded to the scythe where it'd skidded across the floor. "It is... chipped," he observed, lifting it and turning it over in his hands. "Leave it... with me, if you still... wish it. Yes, I will make a... twin for it. And you may... collect them both."

He then looked to both children again, and to the Sentinel. "You are welcome to... stay. To have tea... to practice, if you wish. Otherwise... I look forward... to your next visit."

---

V-Onyx-Two may return (offscreen or onscreen) to collect the repaired weapon damaged by his critical fail roll, along with an unenchanted mirror version of it.

V-Onyx-Three may train (offscreen or onscreen) with The Blacksmith over time to learn to use the bow. While not a perfect archery master, the Blacksmith can teach the basics, and will offer tea and fletching lessons, often outdoors in his meditation garden formed of raked sand and mossy little stones that look like islands in a bay.

The Sentinel watched, and twitched toward action when one child fell--but, ah, the other was there to help him up. "Teamwork... is good," he rasped, in approval.

Other than that, he simply sipped his tea, bits of it occasionally spilling forth from lipless mouth. Most if it went in, though, and he seemed to enjoy it well enough. "We... offer thanks," he wheezed at last, standing a little straighter.

And to the children: "You may stay... or we may go... it is your decision."

He had nowhere else to be.

Shame flushed his cheeks a bright and luminescent red, and when his brother shoved the training dummy free (his own efforts weak beneath the weight), he looked away with a scowl on his face. His makeshift hood had fallen back, and his embarrassment and subsequent, undirected anger were both clear.

"I'm fine," he snapped, rolling to his feet and stalking off a few paces. Not even a thank you, then. It wasn't anything new; he was always moody and snappy, and he faced away to pull his hood back up. It registered belatedly that he'd managed to damage the weapon, though, and the glance he fired back was mortified. Enchanted metal, and he'd chipped it-?

What a fool I am, he thought.

The Blacksmith was a well-respected mentor in his eyes on par with the Sentinel, or at least, almost. It was quite impossible for them to consider anyone on exactly the same level as their father. The arrows were of as high quality as the bow was, and enchanted too. Perhaps in making new arrows he could also learn to enchant them in different ways? That would allow flexibility in usage. Man, this was all so cool.

Onyx-Three felt a sense of pride at Sentinel's approval, but this was quickly squashed by his brother's disdain at his help. But that was expected from Onyx-Two. "That is good." was their response, at least he hadn't been injured. He was surprised that the scythe had been chipped. The metal looked incredibly durable, though he supposed it couldn't be indestructible.

They were ready to leave when another thought crossed their mind, half prompted by the Blacksmith's offer to make a second scythe and also their realization that a bow was definitely not good at short ranged fighting. They had claws and teeth yes, but a weapon to make up for this weakness would also be useful. "I hope this is not too much to ask. Is it possible to have a sidearm? Something for close combat?" Onyx-Three did not want to bother the Blacksmith too much, but he was not expecting a weapon nearly as pristine as the bow and arrows. Even something simple would be much appreciated.

The Blacksmith considered, and then gestured Onyx-Three to follow.

He shuffled delicately past a rack of spears and greataxes, carefully pushed aside a training dummy decked out in thick platemail, and then knelt before a small, unassuming box.

This he lifted, and turned, carrying it to a nearby table. The lid was lifted back on its hinges to reveal a collection of old daggers: some thick and some thin, some with squat triangular blades, others narrow stilettos or wavy minature flamberges in shape. Hilts with cross-guards or simple round grip-guards, some with none at all; some in steel of silvered tones and others in black or brassy. All, however, were old: chipped, even rusted, tarnished and cracked.

"Try these... tell me if any feel... good in your hand. I can repair them... either on my own, or... if you wish to aid in... reforging?" he asked.

Onyx-Two leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Where his father stood silent, sipping tea, there was an ominous power: a strength to The Sentinel that needed no posturing. Onyx-Two was the opposite of that. He was deliberately brooding, scowling, wanting to be left well alone but without any sense of menace to him. Embarrassment provoked it, and shame kept it going, so that he glared out at the ongoing conversation as if it threatened everything he stood for.

Which was--nothing, really.

Truth be told, beneath it all he was interested in what was going on. The bow and arrows--he'd never seen a weapon like that, before. The idea that you could hit someone, from far away, without magic was fascinating to him. He already had his scythes (or would, once one was repaired and the other actually forged) but he vaguely wondered if he, too, could request some kind of long-range... thing... on top of them. Onyx-Three was requesting a sidearm, after all-?

Was there such a thing as a ranged sidearm?

His pale eyes cut around the room, but saw nothing... but then again, the daggers had been in a box. He kept quiet for now, not interrupting, but watched, his interest piqued.