2022-04-09 Heeding The Call (II) - Gerhard [Crafting DTA]
Apr 9, 2022 15:09:01 GMT
Velania Kalugina, stephena, and 2 more like this
Post by Gerhard on Apr 9, 2022 15:09:01 GMT
The last of the patrons of Daring Academy's library filter out into the night air, and I am left alone once more. The table that I have made my workspace these last few weeks is barely visible underneath the books and scrolls that I have collected, and it is in between these tomes that I begin to bring out the materials I have collected these past few nights.
The only sound in the library this night is the sound of leather on parchment as I take out the few small bags I've tucked away. Clearing a space on the table, I open one of them and begin to draw a circle. A stream of powdered quartz and silver pours out onto the table. It surrounds my longbow, The Call, until it is perfectly enclosed.
I retrieve a piece of chalk from within the pockets of my coat, and begin drawing on the table. The runes on my arm were clear about the designs, and how precise it needed to be to work. Finished, I withdraw some small vials of mercury, emptying them into three bowls that I place carefully along the edge of the chalk.
I take a deep breath, checking my notes, and close my eyes. I place both hands onto The Call, and concentrate. I try to capture that feeling of opening a door to The Staircase, and push with all of my will into the bow.
I'm speaking, now, in a language that I do not understand. The words slide over my tongue as if I have been speaking them all my life, but I do not know what it is I say. As I speak, I open my eyes, and the table is a flurry of movement. The powdered circle is flowing, shifting, covering The Call and entering in through the doors etched onto its surface.
Once the powders have been consumed, the mercury begins to flow as well, following the lines of chalk until it reaches The Call where it covers the entire surface. My hands, pressed tightly along the side of the bow, feel as the liquid metal seeps inside.
The Call begins to glow red hot, the voice in my mind screaming at me to let go, that I will be burned. But I hold fast, my hands glued to The Call, and I feel no heat. A few seconds pass, and the glow subsides.
Suddenly, fatigue washes over me. I have not been sleeping well, that is for certain, but this is something more. I can't sleep here again, unless I want to get scolded in the morning.
I gather my things, wiping the chalk off of the table and attempting to stack the books, before I rush out of the library, out of Daring Academy, and into the night.
The only sound in the library this night is the sound of leather on parchment as I take out the few small bags I've tucked away. Clearing a space on the table, I open one of them and begin to draw a circle. A stream of powdered quartz and silver pours out onto the table. It surrounds my longbow, The Call, until it is perfectly enclosed.
I retrieve a piece of chalk from within the pockets of my coat, and begin drawing on the table. The runes on my arm were clear about the designs, and how precise it needed to be to work. Finished, I withdraw some small vials of mercury, emptying them into three bowls that I place carefully along the edge of the chalk.
I take a deep breath, checking my notes, and close my eyes. I place both hands onto The Call, and concentrate. I try to capture that feeling of opening a door to The Staircase, and push with all of my will into the bow.
I'm speaking, now, in a language that I do not understand. The words slide over my tongue as if I have been speaking them all my life, but I do not know what it is I say. As I speak, I open my eyes, and the table is a flurry of movement. The powdered circle is flowing, shifting, covering The Call and entering in through the doors etched onto its surface.
Once the powders have been consumed, the mercury begins to flow as well, following the lines of chalk until it reaches The Call where it covers the entire surface. My hands, pressed tightly along the side of the bow, feel as the liquid metal seeps inside.
The Call begins to glow red hot, the voice in my mind screaming at me to let go, that I will be burned. But I hold fast, my hands glued to The Call, and I feel no heat. A few seconds pass, and the glow subsides.
The Call is ever so slightly longer than before, I notice first. Upon closer inspection, the etchings on the silver material have changed, too. Where it once showed many closed doors, now each is slightly ajar. Faint staircases connect them all together, where there was nothing before.
Suddenly, fatigue washes over me. I have not been sleeping well, that is for certain, but this is something more. I can't sleep here again, unless I want to get scolded in the morning.
I gather my things, wiping the chalk off of the table and attempting to stack the books, before I rush out of the library, out of Daring Academy, and into the night.
Gerhard pays 7 gp for a modest lifestyle, and finishes Crafting