The Art of Supreme Crafting Begins
Nov 26, 2023 14:37:39 GMT
Velania Kalugina, willjenkins, and 1 more like this
Post by Andy Davy on Nov 26, 2023 14:37:39 GMT
The story includes great contributions from the great DM willjenkins
It was the best dagger Mendal had ever made. The magical elvish hammers he recently acquired - fit for the forge and fit for war - had brought out of him his finest work. And, as Mendal would be quick to point out; that’s saying something!
At 4’7” Mendal was a tall and robust, muscular dwarf, a physique earned at the forge, and in battle. He was a mason, a tinkerer and smith. He was also blessed with divine magic, a Forge Cleric of Moradin. Mendal had a well groomed, short black beard, and a moustache he stylised with blond and orange fiery highlights, because, as he put it, “I’m so fucking hot.”
Mendal was the furthest a person could be from modest. But, his boasts, when it came to crafting, were not without merit. He was after all a Clan Crafter - trained in the ancient, dwarven traditions.
The Clan Crafters’ artisanship earned them respect from all over, but no one held them in higher esteem than the dwarves themselves. Mendal had talent. He knew it, and with his boasting; he made sure everyone else knew too.
Talented as he was, Mendal grew exasperated with his recent efforts with crafting. Mendal had spent day after day trying to make the perfect return gift for General Manteen of Vorsthold. He made many daggers, and each perfectly crafted dagger he made he rejected as ‘perfect, but still lacking’. It was only until Mendal used his new hammers, ‘The Closing Hour and The Rest of Eternity’, did he feel satisfied with the dagger he had forged. But, it was more than satisfaction that Mendal felt. The hammers had brought out in him a new level of expertise in smithing. Although he had not made an actual magical dagger, the artisanship of the dagger he made was such that its lack of imperfection would foul anyone to the contrary. Mendal himself was astounded by his own work, and that was no boast.
“Is this it? Is this how I become the world’s best crafter? I mean, of course I already am, but then again…” and for the first time in a long time, Mendal had doubts. Was he the best crafter out there? The hammers, after all, are not just finely crafted tools, they were sentient.
The hammers house the souls of two elven master crafters, Carric and Navarra, who, Mendal reluctantly admitted to himself, might have talent that far surpasses his own. Furthermore, they had all eternity to make sure they alone could claim to have made the finest battle gear ever made. Then again, this itself was not entirely true, to their grave disappointment…
Mendal, having used the power given to him by Moradin, had casted the Identify spell, and learned the sorrowful curse that Carric and Navarra’s desire to live forever had cost them. Mendal had also learned that unskilled artisans might actually be able to craft as skillfully as he, if they were attuned to the hammers. “Maybe better,” he thought, “the corner cutting cheats!”
But, maybe Mendal could become greater? Learn for himself the elven masters’ skill? “I don’t see why not - I am Mendal. Who else could do a better job of learning the elven craftsmanship than I?” And so Mendal had an idea.
Mendal instructed both Archie and Kavel not to enter the workshop if they heard him talking to other people they could not hear. They should, as he said, “just bugger off and mind your own business!” With some pause for politeness, he added, “just know that I’m trying to be better than brilliant, alright.”
In the workshop, Mendal put the hammers in the top rack, and separated the special set from the other work hammers in the middle, pushing the others away from the magical pair, giving them prominence on the rack. Mendal moved a chair in front of the rack and sat down.
Mendal breathed in deep, and then exhaled, readying himself. “Conversation with hammers. Here we go.”
“Hello Carric! Hello Navarra! It’s me, Mendal Vultan, Clan Crafter,” he said aloud, greeting the magical hammers. “I rescued you from that maniacal prick dwarf, in the Plane of Fire, do you remember? Oh, what did you think of the dagger I made? Brilliant right?”
…
The voice that rang out was imperious and commanding. Although confined exclusively to Mendal's head. 'A single dagger over the course of two months?!' 'And no fight worthy of mention.' 'Why do you mock us thus?' 'Do you fear the act of creation?' 'Or maybe the act of destruction?' 'Are you, Clan Crafter, afraid of using tools such as we, of achieving perfection?' The last phrase is laced with derision, making the term clan crafter, a title Mendal was so proud of, sound insulting.
The second voice was milder, more tempered but not lacking edge. 'Master dwarf, we could show you so much, we could elevate your craft to dizzying heights. But we do so long to be used. Do not let us lie idle or you will feel our wrath and forfeit that which we would give you.'
The sharpness and the mocking manner in which Carric spoke to Mendal cut through the dwarfs’ thick skin. There was no denying Carric and Nevarra were better crafters than he. Mendal hadn’t worked with them for months, because he felt embarrassed that the dagger he made using them was immensely improved by their magic, and not by, say, his growing talent. The crossbow he had intended to make with the hammers rested on his workbench as diagrams on parchment. And so Mendal had no comeback for Carric’s barbed, indignant words. Not even a sarcastic response about whether they, the hammers, would have preferred to stay in the hands of the maniacally twisted dwarf instead.
But, the less abrasive voice of Nevarra lifted Mendal’s spirit up a little, hearing that they, his superiors in crafting, could in fact improve his talents.
Mendal tried to choose his words carefully. He had thought that as the one magically attuned to the others in this conversation, that he might have more power when it came to negotiating a mutually beneficial arrangement that would lead to him bettering himself at crafting. To his shock; he was wrong. Perhaps, boasting at this time, could be paused?
“Look. Alright alright, I’ve been slack with crafting and adventuring recently,” Mendal said to the hammers, as if confessing to one’s boss that you had indeed been underperforming. “But I need magical recipes if I’m going to make the most of your talents, don’t I?” This was a point he had thought about before. Carric and Nevarra, he had learned, were best used in magical crafting. But, there was a hitch there for Mendal.
“I have Moradin’s divine gifts, but I can’t just make magical items without some guidelines to follow. Can you help me out with that? I’ll go to dangerous places to get the materials if need be, and fighting may have to break out if the materials are guarded. So you get a two-for-one there; fighting and blueprints to
help me craft great magical items!”
A second or two went by. It felt longer for Mendal. Then Navarra spoke once more into his mind. “While we have indeed crafted a great many magical items, a master smith pours the same effort and attention to detail into every piece that lies upon their anvil.” A touch softer, “I understand that we could be intimidating, we have centuries of experience and were born with innate talent. But we worked hard to perfect our craft. Together we can help you do the same, if you promise to not let us lie silent then we will impart our knowledge as you craft, help take you from good to great.”
Carric spoke next. Gruffly but not unkind. “Indeed, dwarf, keep us together, let us sing upon metal, both in the forge and on the battlefield and we will train and instruct you in our art. Prove that you can master the basics and we may be willing to impart the location of some of our repositories of knowledge. Hidden amongst our journals, sketches and plans lie the instructions for several magical items we never finished, some that we never even started. We've been apart from the world a little too long to help you get the unique materials, but if you are determined to better yourself, then you will find a way yourself.”
Both Mendal’s eyes and mouth were wide open in an unmistakable expression of joy. The conversation had started a little hostile. A part of Mendal understood that he hadn’t been fulfilling his end of the attuned bargain, a little embarrassed at the gulf of skill between him and the pair of elves. But when he had sincerely mentioned his desire to make truly exceptional, magical items; it seemed it had earned him some respect from the elven partners. Perhaps it was that in Mendal, Carric and Nevarra could see a kindred spirit, another master crafter in pursuit of crafting only the finest items and weaponry.
“This, this sounds amazing!” Mendal said, slapping his thighs in excitement. “Of course I’ll keep crafting with you two as my hammers! I was merely taking a little time off after I made the dagger. Just a short break because I knew I’d be working, and I guess fighting, non-stop soon enough. And don’t mention it - I wasn’t the slightest bit intimidated. No. I’m just a little bit testy, is all.”
Whether Carric and Nevarra believed Mendal’s motive for taking a break, the dwarf had seemingly convinced himself, and was himself too excited to self-reflect deeper.
“This will be bloody brilliant!” Mendal carried on, “I’ll be working on something, anything every week and I’ll have my eye out for adventures that give us an opportunity to battle gloriously - no hopeless situations though! I don’t see how my death will benefit either of us.
But yes! Lots of crafting and some good, but well chosen battles. When you’re happy with my dedication, I’ll be as eager as I am right now to be your pupil and learn your methods. This! This has to be the best coming together of master elven and master dwarven artisanship there’s ever bloody been!” Mendal shot both his arms up in the air to support his exclamation, and then slapped his palms back down on his thighs. “Bloody brilliant! Clan Craftsmanship and elven genius combined!” Mendal was shouting loud enough for the neighbours to hear. “We’ll make the finest items and weapons ever! I feel this needs a toast… Wait! Do you drink anything now that you’re hammers?”
Silence. But as Mendal lifted the hammers they felt lighter. He reached for the crossbow plans he had left on the workbench.
…
As Mendal began to create the metal parts of a crossbow, he felt unspoken advice sharpening his instincts, guiding his blows to better shape the hot metal on his anvil. It was difficult at first, having a second and third mind contributing to his creations. They spoke rarely, indeed so rarely that the first time Carric gave an imperious command about changing the quenching oil Mendal dropped a hot piece of metal on his leg and let out a string of expletives. But once he had settled into this new way of smithing his work took on a subtle improvement, producing a fantastic crossbow, and then a beautiful, well balanced and wickedly sharp battleaxe. Some of his best work. The hammers felt warm in his hands and he received a single short compliment from Navarra. 'This is good work young dwarf. This is our purpose. Together.'
It was the best dagger Mendal had ever made. The magical elvish hammers he recently acquired - fit for the forge and fit for war - had brought out of him his finest work. And, as Mendal would be quick to point out; that’s saying something!
At 4’7” Mendal was a tall and robust, muscular dwarf, a physique earned at the forge, and in battle. He was a mason, a tinkerer and smith. He was also blessed with divine magic, a Forge Cleric of Moradin. Mendal had a well groomed, short black beard, and a moustache he stylised with blond and orange fiery highlights, because, as he put it, “I’m so fucking hot.”
Mendal was the furthest a person could be from modest. But, his boasts, when it came to crafting, were not without merit. He was after all a Clan Crafter - trained in the ancient, dwarven traditions.
The Clan Crafters’ artisanship earned them respect from all over, but no one held them in higher esteem than the dwarves themselves. Mendal had talent. He knew it, and with his boasting; he made sure everyone else knew too.
Talented as he was, Mendal grew exasperated with his recent efforts with crafting. Mendal had spent day after day trying to make the perfect return gift for General Manteen of Vorsthold. He made many daggers, and each perfectly crafted dagger he made he rejected as ‘perfect, but still lacking’. It was only until Mendal used his new hammers, ‘The Closing Hour and The Rest of Eternity’, did he feel satisfied with the dagger he had forged. But, it was more than satisfaction that Mendal felt. The hammers had brought out in him a new level of expertise in smithing. Although he had not made an actual magical dagger, the artisanship of the dagger he made was such that its lack of imperfection would foul anyone to the contrary. Mendal himself was astounded by his own work, and that was no boast.
“Is this it? Is this how I become the world’s best crafter? I mean, of course I already am, but then again…” and for the first time in a long time, Mendal had doubts. Was he the best crafter out there? The hammers, after all, are not just finely crafted tools, they were sentient.
The hammers house the souls of two elven master crafters, Carric and Navarra, who, Mendal reluctantly admitted to himself, might have talent that far surpasses his own. Furthermore, they had all eternity to make sure they alone could claim to have made the finest battle gear ever made. Then again, this itself was not entirely true, to their grave disappointment…
Mendal, having used the power given to him by Moradin, had casted the Identify spell, and learned the sorrowful curse that Carric and Navarra’s desire to live forever had cost them. Mendal had also learned that unskilled artisans might actually be able to craft as skillfully as he, if they were attuned to the hammers. “Maybe better,” he thought, “the corner cutting cheats!”
But, maybe Mendal could become greater? Learn for himself the elven masters’ skill? “I don’t see why not - I am Mendal. Who else could do a better job of learning the elven craftsmanship than I?” And so Mendal had an idea.
Mendal instructed both Archie and Kavel not to enter the workshop if they heard him talking to other people they could not hear. They should, as he said, “just bugger off and mind your own business!” With some pause for politeness, he added, “just know that I’m trying to be better than brilliant, alright.”
In the workshop, Mendal put the hammers in the top rack, and separated the special set from the other work hammers in the middle, pushing the others away from the magical pair, giving them prominence on the rack. Mendal moved a chair in front of the rack and sat down.
Mendal breathed in deep, and then exhaled, readying himself. “Conversation with hammers. Here we go.”
“Hello Carric! Hello Navarra! It’s me, Mendal Vultan, Clan Crafter,” he said aloud, greeting the magical hammers. “I rescued you from that maniacal prick dwarf, in the Plane of Fire, do you remember? Oh, what did you think of the dagger I made? Brilliant right?”
…
The voice that rang out was imperious and commanding. Although confined exclusively to Mendal's head. 'A single dagger over the course of two months?!' 'And no fight worthy of mention.' 'Why do you mock us thus?' 'Do you fear the act of creation?' 'Or maybe the act of destruction?' 'Are you, Clan Crafter, afraid of using tools such as we, of achieving perfection?' The last phrase is laced with derision, making the term clan crafter, a title Mendal was so proud of, sound insulting.
The second voice was milder, more tempered but not lacking edge. 'Master dwarf, we could show you so much, we could elevate your craft to dizzying heights. But we do so long to be used. Do not let us lie idle or you will feel our wrath and forfeit that which we would give you.'
The sharpness and the mocking manner in which Carric spoke to Mendal cut through the dwarfs’ thick skin. There was no denying Carric and Nevarra were better crafters than he. Mendal hadn’t worked with them for months, because he felt embarrassed that the dagger he made using them was immensely improved by their magic, and not by, say, his growing talent. The crossbow he had intended to make with the hammers rested on his workbench as diagrams on parchment. And so Mendal had no comeback for Carric’s barbed, indignant words. Not even a sarcastic response about whether they, the hammers, would have preferred to stay in the hands of the maniacally twisted dwarf instead.
But, the less abrasive voice of Nevarra lifted Mendal’s spirit up a little, hearing that they, his superiors in crafting, could in fact improve his talents.
Mendal tried to choose his words carefully. He had thought that as the one magically attuned to the others in this conversation, that he might have more power when it came to negotiating a mutually beneficial arrangement that would lead to him bettering himself at crafting. To his shock; he was wrong. Perhaps, boasting at this time, could be paused?
“Look. Alright alright, I’ve been slack with crafting and adventuring recently,” Mendal said to the hammers, as if confessing to one’s boss that you had indeed been underperforming. “But I need magical recipes if I’m going to make the most of your talents, don’t I?” This was a point he had thought about before. Carric and Nevarra, he had learned, were best used in magical crafting. But, there was a hitch there for Mendal.
“I have Moradin’s divine gifts, but I can’t just make magical items without some guidelines to follow. Can you help me out with that? I’ll go to dangerous places to get the materials if need be, and fighting may have to break out if the materials are guarded. So you get a two-for-one there; fighting and blueprints to
help me craft great magical items!”
A second or two went by. It felt longer for Mendal. Then Navarra spoke once more into his mind. “While we have indeed crafted a great many magical items, a master smith pours the same effort and attention to detail into every piece that lies upon their anvil.” A touch softer, “I understand that we could be intimidating, we have centuries of experience and were born with innate talent. But we worked hard to perfect our craft. Together we can help you do the same, if you promise to not let us lie silent then we will impart our knowledge as you craft, help take you from good to great.”
Carric spoke next. Gruffly but not unkind. “Indeed, dwarf, keep us together, let us sing upon metal, both in the forge and on the battlefield and we will train and instruct you in our art. Prove that you can master the basics and we may be willing to impart the location of some of our repositories of knowledge. Hidden amongst our journals, sketches and plans lie the instructions for several magical items we never finished, some that we never even started. We've been apart from the world a little too long to help you get the unique materials, but if you are determined to better yourself, then you will find a way yourself.”
Both Mendal’s eyes and mouth were wide open in an unmistakable expression of joy. The conversation had started a little hostile. A part of Mendal understood that he hadn’t been fulfilling his end of the attuned bargain, a little embarrassed at the gulf of skill between him and the pair of elves. But when he had sincerely mentioned his desire to make truly exceptional, magical items; it seemed it had earned him some respect from the elven partners. Perhaps it was that in Mendal, Carric and Nevarra could see a kindred spirit, another master crafter in pursuit of crafting only the finest items and weaponry.
“This, this sounds amazing!” Mendal said, slapping his thighs in excitement. “Of course I’ll keep crafting with you two as my hammers! I was merely taking a little time off after I made the dagger. Just a short break because I knew I’d be working, and I guess fighting, non-stop soon enough. And don’t mention it - I wasn’t the slightest bit intimidated. No. I’m just a little bit testy, is all.”
Whether Carric and Nevarra believed Mendal’s motive for taking a break, the dwarf had seemingly convinced himself, and was himself too excited to self-reflect deeper.
“This will be bloody brilliant!” Mendal carried on, “I’ll be working on something, anything every week and I’ll have my eye out for adventures that give us an opportunity to battle gloriously - no hopeless situations though! I don’t see how my death will benefit either of us.
But yes! Lots of crafting and some good, but well chosen battles. When you’re happy with my dedication, I’ll be as eager as I am right now to be your pupil and learn your methods. This! This has to be the best coming together of master elven and master dwarven artisanship there’s ever bloody been!” Mendal shot both his arms up in the air to support his exclamation, and then slapped his palms back down on his thighs. “Bloody brilliant! Clan Craftsmanship and elven genius combined!” Mendal was shouting loud enough for the neighbours to hear. “We’ll make the finest items and weapons ever! I feel this needs a toast… Wait! Do you drink anything now that you’re hammers?”
Silence. But as Mendal lifted the hammers they felt lighter. He reached for the crossbow plans he had left on the workbench.
…
As Mendal began to create the metal parts of a crossbow, he felt unspoken advice sharpening his instincts, guiding his blows to better shape the hot metal on his anvil. It was difficult at first, having a second and third mind contributing to his creations. They spoke rarely, indeed so rarely that the first time Carric gave an imperious command about changing the quenching oil Mendal dropped a hot piece of metal on his leg and let out a string of expletives. But once he had settled into this new way of smithing his work took on a subtle improvement, producing a fantastic crossbow, and then a beautiful, well balanced and wickedly sharp battleaxe. Some of his best work. The hammers felt warm in his hands and he received a single short compliment from Navarra. 'This is good work young dwarf. This is our purpose. Together.'