The creature was idling with the fish as it gave a moment for its observers to settle in, its head turned to watch over its shoulder. It was surprised to see the gryphon Gembound trying to use the Bauble spell to recreate images like its own. While its own magic was created with the idea of how the Light magic worked, its parent developed the magic after many centuries and its own self did not know all the bells and whistles behind the true development.

The caped wolf had been asking about what it had said about its imbued items, but as its attention slowly returned to her, it just barely caught a shimmering of the earth. Even so, she seemed very taken by the conjured copy of herself. Later, it decided, it would explain its job. The familiar spell was developed because its parent grew lonely living alone. Hidden behind its mask grew a frown as it remembered this story. The conjured familiars acted on their own, so they were some form of companion life. As the she-wolf sniffed her miniature self, it reached up to boop her nose. The painter couldn't help but raise a hand to its mask as silent laughter shook its body lightly.

Deep black eyes shifted slightly to the feline, who seemed to be genuinely interested in the story. Behind the painter also was a wolf whose eyes were transfixed on its painting. It shuffled to turn and view the wolf better, wanting to make sure it had taken in all of its observers, especially those with eyes on its story.

"These swords," it began, turning back to the painting and shooing the fish from its playing fingertips, "were entrusted to me because they are dangerous." It had ample time to analyze the language now. Indeed, the language had not evolved much. It was very easy to pick up. On the surface of the wall, its glowing fingers began to paint two swords in the river an equal distance from each other. At first, they seemed like any other metallic sword. The current continued around them. The fish were downstream. The leaves dissipated before the swords and reappeared downstream.

"As I said, one is the sword of life," the painter continued, emphasizing one of the swords with its fingers. It painted the sword with more detail, and it grew into a katana. Leaves flowed continuously down the river around the sword now, minding not the sharp edge of the blade. They passed by unharmed. Fish populated the area around the sword, and some even swam up to it curiously, unafraid. A few of them kissed the blade, and like the leaves, were unharmed.

The painter began to detail the other sword, and it too grew into a katana. "The other is the sword of death," it said sadly as leaves began to flow down its side of the river now, passing by the blade but being sliced by it. Fish populated this side of the river now too, but seemingly tried to swim away. They were cut up, and blood stained the water of the painting.

It drew back from the painting, watching the scene play. It said nothing for a moment.

"Masamune," announced the painter, gesturing to the first sword, "is the sword that gives life. It is wielded with the idea that one kills to preserve life. A just cause." Its body shifted to the other sword, its ears turning back. "Murasame is the sword that takes life. It is wielded with bloodlust," it explained, turning to view the Gembounds with a raised finger. "However, the lesson is, they are both fine blades. This story represents the age old tale of, "The River Test." Murasame's creator was an apprentice of the bladesmith who created Masamune, but could never understand the idea of fighting to preserve life. The bladesmith who created Masamune was the best who ever lived, so it saddened him when his apprentice fell victim to this bloodlust. Murasame's creator challenged him to this test, to see which sword was better," the painter told the story with hand gestures, but eventually turned back to the painting.

"When Masamune did not cut anything, Murasame's creator laughed and said that the sword was bad. "A sword that can't cut anything?" he cawed, but Masamune's creator only sighed. Truly, his apprentice did not learn anything," it said, moving its fingers along the far riverbank as it painted the two bladesmiths. One old, Masamune's creator, watching his sword with quiet pride. The other young, Murasame's creator, watching his sword with a crazed eye.

Then, it painted a traveling monk approaching them. The monk called out to them, "Indeed, they are both fine swords; but Murasame will kill anything it sees while Masamune does not take innocent life." The monk continues on his path, the painter lifting its finger off of the painting, watching the final image of the scene: Masamune's creator watching their blades in the river, with Murasame's creator watching angrily after the monk.

Turning to the observers again, the painter reached up to run its hands through its fur. "Murasame is a cursed blade. The air around it is cold. It is truly an evil weapon," it noted. "Masamune is picky with who it serves. Only those with honorable morals can wield that blade, its eyes drifted back to the painting for a moment. "But Murasame chooses a host, if they survive it."

Quietly, almost as if to itself despite its voice being a projection, it said sadly, "One would hope that friends do not come to possess these two blades." Its hands dug into its fur nervously.

Astaroth studied the painting until it finished its sequence. When it was done leaping in front of the creature, almost running into Kin-Kin in the process. "What are those creatures that are speaking to each other? Are they more of your kind? And also, what are you?" he asked quickly, he had forgotten his worries of not being seen by the creature in his fervor of curiosity, he was as curious and amazed by all of this as Kin-Kin was when she saw the familiar of herself, his eyes were wide and he was panting with his lust for knowledge, his heart in the sort of levity that only occurs for him in these instances. He was sitting down on his haunches looking up to the mask of the creature in eagerness.
"Speaking."
Thoughts.
tags:
notes:

Kin-Kin wrinkled her nose as the strange creature began to speak once more, tail still wagging softly from side to side. A grin stole again onto her face as the tiny copy of herself reached up to touch its nose to hers, regardless of whether or not physical interaction was actually possible. Kin-Kin raised her head, settling back on her haunches and curling her gold-plumed tail around her flank as she listened, head tilted and curious. Her ears perked up at the mention of the two swords; regardless of whether that was the point. The tips of her ears flickering, the wolf grinned and shook her right foreleg, where the blue crystal wound around it. "I have a sword. I... 'forged', it myself..." she said proudly, as the crystal clinked softly.

She watched as the fish damaged themselves on one of the swords, and tilted her head, paying attention to the moving painting and once more listening to the story. As a youngling, Kin-Kin had never been told stories or fables, and to have the opportunity now, as an adult, seemed to entrance her. The story was presented as truth by the odd, robed creature that wove it, but Kin-Kin was seemingly more entranced by the beautiful, moving pictures than the words. Occasionally the golden wolf would steal a glance at the tiny, ethereal version of itself to see if it was watching as well.

The story carried on to its end, and although she appeared to enjoy the story, the true meaning seemed lost on Kin-Kin. Her brain sorted through the words and the solutions that she came up with were keep away from the swords. Magic doesn't work when it's put onto stabby things. Things that are strong are bad? Best be careful. And although the wolf understood, she felt that it seemed like the waste of a perfectly good blade. Though they had mentioned that few who used it survived, which, she assumed, was the main problem. That being said, though, Kin-Kin noted that the painted swords appeared to be completely the wrong shape for her maw. She turned over the story once more in her mind, before glancing up at the creature which was now nervously pulling at its odd mane.

"Are the swords somewhere in the cave?" Kin-Kin asked curiously, tilting her head. "Are you looking for them?"

The only true river that Kin-Kin had seen was, of course, the Crystal River in Polaris. Was there something sinister lurking in its depths?


" speech "

Amras Though he was eager to try again to replicate the spell now that he knew he could get close Amras decided it would be best to wait a while and actually listen to what the figure had to say. Turning away from the softly glowing pebble the gryphon and padded over toward the rest of the group to sit down. It was a bit of a strange feeling; for one thing he had only recently come to really be aware of the existence of greater gembounds and for another he seemed to be a bit different than the other listeners. Speaker excluded so far he had only seen canines and felines, and even the speaker did not have feathers as he did. Was he an oddity? Certainly not, if he were too strange then surely the other listeners would have been wary of him, right? Thoughts and worries shifted toward the background however as the storyteller turned to the wall and began to weave his tale, invoking that strange magic once more to manifest two anomalous objects in the scene. As before the gryphon took careful note of the nature of the magic, but this time an equal portion of his attention was focused in on the story itself. The blades were of interesting design; seeming to be made for hands like his or the speakers and very different from the weapon held by the golden wolf next to him. He'd seen tools similar to them before in the ruined city, but hadn't given it very much thought. Were there more creatures like the speaker somewhere in these caves? If so why was the city in ruins in the first place? "Masamune" he repeated in his mind, watching the image of the curved blade rest in the water, harmless to anything that passed by. Such a quality seemed useful, yet something else bothered him about it. If it was unable to cut then what was it actually used for? If it was in the shape of an instrument of death then surely such a quality would surely be detrimental. The other blade, however, not only excelled at its job but worked a little too well. While the clean cut of the leaves was admirable its almost gravitational effect on the fish was disturbing, leaving a vaguely horrified look on Amras's face as he witnessed the emergence of red in the painting. "Murasame" he echoed internally, this time with a good bit more apprehension. With the appearance of the two swordsmiths it all became clear however. The one who had created the sword of life looked on with a peaceful expression, but the sword of death's maker seemed to burn with a spirit of zealotry. With such an image a new theory behind the story popped into the gryphon's mind: Both blades were the exact same! The qualities swords of life and death possessed were not results of their own design but the spirits of those that both used and made them. The most deadly blade could preserve life if only wielded by one who wished it to be so, just as an equally deadly blade could be made twice as fierce by one who was out to prove their own strength. Perhaps this was a false conclusion, or perhaps the truth was a hybrid between literal and allegorical. If the blades themselves possessed a small portion of their makers intent perhaps that intent could be passed on to the next wielder, but it was difficult to say. One thing was for sure though; no matter what the real truth happened to be he wanted to stay as far away as possible from anyone with a spirit that could forge or wield a Murasame. As he contemplated the story the grey wolf that had been following him spoke up with a question echoing his thoughts as the tale had first started. Who indeed were these beings? Were they creatures of old? Inhabitants from a different area? Perhaps even physical manifestations of entities whose consciousness resided in magic itself, explaining how they might impart such intent on the blades. The other wolf to his side, to be expected, asked about the blades and presented another point he had not thought of. The speaker had indicated that the swords had been entrusted to him, yet he didn't see them anywhere on its person. Were they lost? Was that the purpose of the storytelling, to employ their help in locating them? Then again, it seemed to want to make sure they knew the dangers, and while Amras might have been able to wield one he seemed to be the only other here capable of standing as the swordsmiths did. "I may not know much about this place yet, but if you require scouts to seek them out from an unsecure location or guards to ensure that no one disturbs them I will be glad to give my time in exchange for a portion of your knowledge." he spoke out loud, his voice clear and crisp at this normal speaking volume. Take hold of the power within "And shape the fabric of reality around you" Tags:

Zevruu listened intently to the story. He watched as the creature continued to paint, bring his painting to life even more. He vaguely heard Kin-kin mention a sword of her own, though he paid her no attention. He watched as the Masamune sword - the sword of life - seemed to make the river flourish. Fish came up to it, and leaves flowed around it. As the other sword, Murasame, the sword of death, was drawn, his ears seemed to prick with interest. He was already entranced by the story, desperate to hear more. He watched as leaves were cut by the blade, and the fish killed. The blood spreading in the water made him lower his ears. It was an interesting sight, but not exactly a pretty one.

He continued to listen, his ears slowly perking up until they were completely upright and turned to the creature. The idea of having a sword, be it blessed or cursed, was interesting. Still, he couldn't imagine himself with a sword. It would be a real pain, similar to how he used to carry the baubled stone with him everywhere he went, until he hid it in Orion. Except the sword would be a lot heavier.

At the creature's last words, he turned from the painting to it, his head tilted slightly. "Why not?" he asked. Was there a particular thing that would happen if two friends possessed the swords? He didn't see how it would affect them. They were just two swords, after all. Even if one was cursed.

"Speech" l 'Thoughts'

"Why not?" came the voice of the cat, and the creature shifted to look at the feline sadly. Its hands were kneading its fur with a trembling betraying any confidence the projected voice had. "The swords have been in my care since my parent left them to me," the voice said softly. "I am not sure how long my parent had them, but the story is that if two friends were to come to own these swords, they will come to feud, until one has to kill the other or one murders the other. It doesn't matter how close they were. Brothers, lovers, best friends?"

Its voice shook as it continued, "It is said that Masamune's owner will feel pity for his friend, and wonder where along the path he misguided him and lost him. He will still love him." Its eyes cast downward and its voice grew more solemn, "Murasame's owner will feel hatred for his new rival, and it will grow and fester until he ultimately loses himself to the insanity of the sword's bloodlust... Until the day he tries to kill the owner of Masamune." Its body was still for a moment. "Doesn't that sound sad?" the voice whispered.

Its focus was hazy for a moment as it drifted through its thoughts, but the dark wolf's approach and questions brought the creature back to its senses. It listened, the last question sitting on its mind for a moment. What was it? Its eyes, deep and black as the true night sky, shimmered with an iridescent gleam as it thought very seriously. What were any of them? That was quite the question. Finally, the creature lowered to its knee so that it could be more level with the rest of them.

"Gembound," it answered, patting itself. "Shape created, like my parent. Your shapes are borrowed from somewhere else," it explained, pointing upward. "Once I had friends who cared very deeply for all those they helped to create. Now they look after the surface," the projected voice grew solemn. It gestured to the figures in the painting. "This is human," said the voice. The painter turned to the wall, and drew a crude and quick outline of the human body. "They have limbs like this. They are not down here," it noted as it sat back, then erased the person with a wave of its shimmering hand.

It was fidgeting. One hand had fingers playing in its fur while the other had fingers touching at its mask, where its mouth might be. Jupiter had been back in the cave, and she had come to back to the workshop to visit. She had shared a lot of information. She knew its parent, and after its parent passed, she had gotten to know itself as well after she returned. It had helped to improve her bow as they spoke. There was a lot going on, and much of that it did not want to share. Part of the reason for its visit was to find Jupiter, because it had finally found a good material for her bowstring that it had wanted to replace.

Its ears flicked as another question came to it, and more words from another. Ah, the swords. It returned its attention to the Gembounds and waved its hand innocently. "Oh, thank you," it said, the projected voice quiet. "The swords are in my workshop, they are safe," the voice explained, at a normal level now. Shifting its gaze to Kin-Kin's forged sword, it remembered now she had mentioned it earlier. Right, a good shape for her maw as well. There were all sorts of shapes and varieties of things for different creatures in its workshop, and left forgotten elsewhere. Oh! That's right.

"I imbue items at my workshop," it added. "What am I?" Going back to the question, it tilted its head up, then returned to them with its eyes closed in a smile. "Often, my title is 'The Blacksmith' to most. I forge and create things too," the voice grew proud as it spoke, the smith's eyes blinking open to admire its painting. "My passion is creating, but I was not born into a creator's role," said the voice, falling in volume. It thought of Jupiter, and wondered then if it could have done it anyway. Perhaps it was spoiled by its parent with the life it did have.

That the gryphon was eager for its knowledge made it feel humble. Its hands rested in its fur as it shifted its eyes toward the other Gembound. "Hoh? What kind of knowledge?" it asked, a shimmering passing over its eyes. The magic it was trying to recreate?

Amras The brilliant blue gryphon shifted as the story continued, mind reflecting on the troublesome nature of the swords. Indeed it did sound like the blades themselves contained a form of magic that subtly took hold of the minds of those that wielded them. Was that a thing that really existed? Then again just moments earlier he had been exposed to a magic that implanted the concept of words directly into his own mind. That usage of the magic had made it obvious that the thoughts were not his own, but if there existed a type of magic that hid such a distinction... In a subtle maneuver Amras tilted his head to one side and then the next, as though he were simply stretching his neck. That kind of magic indeed sounded like it could be terrifying, and learning of it emphasized even more that he had to expand his knowledge to be able to recognize and defend against such things. The next explanation was much more relieving than the first. The swordsmiths were not strange entities they had to worry about but rather gembounds just as those present here were. Sure they were likely advanced in skill to produce such masterpieces, but there was nothing completely abnormal about them. The usage of the word parent in the explanation was a bit odd, but the gryphon disregarded it for now as it had seemed mostly minor. Amras's piercing silver eyes fixated directly on the mask of this 'Blacksmith' as it pressed its question. "I cannot speak for everyone here, but it is apparent that your knowledge of this place, of its history, of the nature and manipulation of magic vastly outstrips my own." he spoke, taking a tone of diplomatic flattery. He meant every word of it, but even if this creature had been benign so far there was no telling what kind of power it commanded. "You weave the flow of magic as though it were an extension of your own mind. Though it appears I have little to give in return but my own time and attention I would be humbled to receive tutelage in the ways of your craft." A part of him wondered if he'd overdone it, and another part of him wondered if he was jumping the gun a bit; that another teacher would be more knowledgeable of these things. He had only recently come to realize the presence of other greater gembounds after all. Even so, based on the questions of the others around him, there was a high likelihood that this was too prime of an opportunity to pass up out of fear of missing a better one. Take hold of the power within "And shape the fabric of reality around you" Tags:

Cuan was doing what she did best; wandering. she saw a crowd, and something she had never seen before. It was obviously not a daydream. The light still stung her eyes, forcing her to squint. Cuanakrys had unknowingly wandered into the crowd, staring in awe. She had never seen things like this, not in her daydreams, not ever. She simply blinked in amazement. The creature spoke. She listened in on whatever may be said, hoping to gain knowledge and insight for her daydreams and stories. This time, Cuan did not ramble. She stood, and watched, something she rarely ever did. There was the odd twitch here, a flicker there, but otherwise, the she-wolf was completely silent and still.

Although the strange being had made the swords' darkness clear, Kin-Kin still found herself slightly disappointed at their response. Whether that was borne from a slight yearning for adventure or something else entirely was unclear, but either way, the caves had been slightly uneventful as of late. Something to spice things up certainly would be welcome, in Kin-Kin's book at least.

Still she listened, her ears twitching to their story. It did indeed sound quite sad; but Kin-Kin herself didn't think that any mere object would ever be able to change her for the worst. she was too stubborn, too strong. Her sword hadn't changed her, and she was the caves' magical champion! Kin-Kin's tail swished beneath her cape, eyes full of contemplation as she examined the odd creature still. "Hm," she grunted, although in a tone of mild agreement that betrayed her wandering thoughts.

Her gaze flickered to the glowing figure of herself for a moment, her eyes drawing over it. Gradually, her expression shifted ffrom contemplation to curiosity as she once more began to wonder if shecould create such a thing. The patterns on the wall were similarly fascinating.

Kin-Kin cleared her throat, remembering what she'd set out to do before her attention had been stolen by this strange creature's storytelling. She was, as always, here to impress; and the she-wolf firmly believed that a glowing jewel of some kind would work wonders for this being's artwork. But once more, their words drew her attention away. Kin-Kin's smirk faded somewhat. "'Borrowed'? What's that supposed to mean?" it was an odd choice of words, the things that they were saying... even odder. "And... the surface of what?" 'Down here'? she also wanted to ask. Where else would they be? The cave was all she'd ever known. Of course it was.

That was all anyone had ever known.

Kin-Kin was silent, her mind slowly digesting their words. She did not respond as they spoke of their title, and their 'role', which of course sounded like a chore to Kin-Kin. What was the point of living if you didn't get to choose how you lived it? It was better to go out early but strong than to never get a chance at the life you wanted.

Looking down towards her paws, Kin-Kin pawed at the earth, her glow brightening. And then it drained into the earth at her paws. there was a soft creak like the sound of glass under pressure, and the earth fell into a hollow at her paws. When she looked down, Kin-Kin was examining a delicate gem, turquoise in hue like her sword. Looking up, Kin-Kin tried to catch the gaze of the 'blacksmith' and then nudged the gem towards them with a paw.

" speech "

Listening to the gryphon, the smith felt humbled. Were the children so interested in what it knew? And here, it had come to study them, offering its stories as payment! It thought for a moment and considered what it could share, what it should share, and what it might actually be able to share, in terms of passing over magical ability. "Well," it said, holding out its palm, "Truly, I am plant based." It grew a small flower within its furred palm, then plucked it, uprooting it from its skin. Small traces of blood stained its fur, but the smith broke the bits of root from the flower so that only the stem and flower itself remained. It held the flower, pale blue in color, and twirled it as it continued to speak.

"However, my parent did pass down to me two creation spells it developed itself. I do not know the true properties behind them, as I was not yet born when the spells were developed. But they are the familiar conjuring spell," it gestured toward the miniature Kin-Kin as it said this, "and the pattern painting spell, which I use to paint stories with when I have the chance. Truly, it is not meant to be used that way. That is an adaption I developed." It craned its head around to view the painting, which was looping in its movement. "The patterns do not generally have movement, but I try to weave some of the familiar conjuring into the pattern painting. Hmm," it paused, in thought, then turned back toward the gryphon.

"It's hard to explain. Anyway, this magic was passed on to me, but was developed for us. If I pass a version to you, it may not be as strong," the smith explained, holding out both hands to demonstrate. "For example, familiars dissipate after some time, but you can always reform them; and patterns may only be as potent as the amount of magic you put into it, but may fade with a few days' time. We smiths use the patterns when we enchant or imbue things, and they are forever," it explained, again patting its own robe. The material shimmered again. "Here, you cannot see it. Sometimes the pattern is not always visible, unless its magic is called upon. That is how we use it, but yours," its voice broke as its head tilted, "may only be for decoration, I'm afraid. Only we have the magic to enchant and imbue with the patterns."

During its explanation, a new wolf had approached. Its eyes flicked over to the newest she-wolf, who had been quiet during its speaking and only listened. It offered her a gentle, friendly wave. The caped wolf then asked for clarification on some of its spoken words and it turned to her, nodding. "The surface..." it echoed, but then remembered that these Gembounds were only children. "There is another world. You live in this one. You know them as the caves, maybe? There is another world, called the surface. There, animals with shapes like yours run about, but do not possess magic or stones," explained the smith, pointing to her chest where her stone was nestled. "You are special, the Gembound. The children," it added softly.

As the caped wolf created a gem at her paws and offered it toward the smith, it reached forward to take it delicately. Its eyes shimmered with an iridescent blue as the stone lay in the palms of its cupped hands, the stone glittering like the stars of Orion were held within it. "There is no place more safe," the smith spoke quietly, its eyes focused on the turquoise, "than the caves. Creatures with no minds live on the surface, and time and time again, they have fought each other. It is pointless and there is so much death." Finally, the light in its eyes faded and the turquoise shimmered with iridescent black and the faint traces of stars. It closed its hand into a fist, covering the stone, and moved its hand until it nodded, pleased.

When it opened its fist, the stone was in the shape of a ring. "This does not fit on canine toes," it noted, glancing up to the wolf, "but could be attached to your cape or ear." It had gestured toward the front of her cape, near where her stone was, when it mentioned clipping the ring onto her cape. "You seemed quite taken with the familiar. If I may pass the conjuring spell to you, this will strengthen the bond between you and the conjured shape. It will last longer, but still eventually fade. Oh!" Its voice broke suddenly, as if it had just remembered something. "You must not bring them too close to the Spire," it said, as it turned to view the gryphon, who was most taken with its knowledge, "They will dissipate quickly if too close to the Spire, I've learned."

It was quiet for a moment, and then pointed up to its eyes. "Ah, and one spell that is not quite a spell, and is not creation magic," it said, still facing the gryphon. It let its eyes shimmer again with the iridescent, glowing blue. "I am not sure if my parent developed this for show? It tends to happen when I am using some of my magic, but also I can use it on my own," the smith explained, letting the shimmering fade. It shrugged with one shoulder, twirling the ring on its fingertip. "Maybe it had a purpose for my parent, but it does not seem to have a purpose for me. Anyway, I saw you trying to recreate the painting with Bauble, which was quite clever. Were you most interested in the patterns?" it asked curiously.

Glancing back to the she-wolf, it held the ring between its thumb and index finger. "Where would you like your Ring of Conjuring?" the smith asked, its eyes closed in a smile. "For listening to my story and giving me such genuine company, I would be very grateful to share what I can with you," it said, its eyes drifting back to the gryphon. "And it is I who am humbled," the smith corrected finally, and it felt a great deal of sadness that it would have to leave them soon.

Identified Item!

Kin-Kin has received an identified item from The Blacksmith!

1★ Ring of Conjuring (Unawakened) A turquoise ring that enhances the spell Conjure Familiar.

☆☆☆☆☆★ Ring of Conjuring A common ring made from a turquoise stone summoned by Kin-Kin using the spell Gem Form during the Story Painter Event. The Blacksmith shaped the stone into a ring and imbued it with familiar bonding properties, so that any familiars conjured by the wearer will last longer and have a stronger existence. ELEMENT: Non-Elemental MAGIC LEVEL: 50 DURABILITY: 50 SPECIAL: (+roll add 10) # familiar days MATERIAL: Turquoise ATTACK: N/A ADDED: N/A DEFENSE: 5 WEIGHT: 2 EQUIP: Clothing, Ear, Finger, Toe, Nose, Lip, Brow Currently owned by: Kin-Kin

Item implementation still under development. Images and profile pieces coming soon!