Tarag's Forge: Fine Weapons & Armor to save your life - Page 6
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  1. #51
    A young, tall man with black hair and grey eyes enters the shop with a shy smile, looking around. He wears a well-made chain shirt. "May the winds bless your forge, Master Smith." the Sairundani man greets Tarag. "I... would like some counsel, if you will. There is a very light metal, I believe mithril, and I am considering armor made of it, like the one I'm currently wearing, but I am uncertain of the price..."

    (Doesn't seem like there are any special rules. The mithral shirt in the SRD doesn't mention any special costs to create, for example. It would seem that mean that the costs are added much like the masterwork quality?)

  2. #52
    OOC: You're right - the SRD does read that way. And since there's a precedent on the boards (here) I think we can safely go ahead with the deal.

    IC: Tarag looks up from the buckler he's shaping and greets the young man.

    "Chennet's blessing!"

    He becomes quite animated upon hearing the Sairundani's request.

    "Mithral? Yes, certainly I know of it. I haven't yet had a chance to work the sweet metal but I would be keen to do so. It's light, and strong, and fair to the eye. They say that you hardly know you're wearing it."

    He waxes lyrical for a time, then recalls himself and scratches a few calculations on a parchment nearby.

    Looking up again, he says, "I can make the shirt for you but it won't be cheap. It'll set you back 880 gp. Mind you, if you can help me procure the metal, and perhaps assist in the smithy, I'll knock another 110 off the price. What say you?"

    OOC: That is, paying half the CP cost (which comes to 55 CP) will result in a gp cost of 770 gp.

  3. #53
    Semabin thinks a bit, juggling numbers in his head. "I've made some money from a few jobs after the di Senzio tournament, that covers most of that. I'll need to sell my old armor of course... 880 gold, you said? I'm only getting to about 810 gold, so I'm going to take that offer of helping..." the Sairundani said, a bit anxious at the thought of working near fire, but he trusts that Tarag is well capable of keeping the fire safe, and he survived that burning building during the tournament, so it should be all well.

    (Using two DM credits to gain 400 gp total. Semabin took a number of guard jobs, delivery jobs, and performance jobs after the tournament.
    With the 285gp 7sp 8cp I already have, and the 125 gp from selling the old armor, I have 810 gp, 7 sp, and 8 cp, which covers the price with helping.
    Semabin never crafted anything or used craft points in any other way, so the 55 craft points are well within my reach.)

  4. #54
    "Right," says the smith, "let's get started."

    There follows an intense day's labour. Semabin spends far more time than he would like tending the forge but after a while Tarag, noticing his discomfort, sets him to a variety of tasks away from the flames. Soon enough the ache in his muscles and the blisters on his hands from winding the fine silvery wire on a mandrel make him long for something as simple as pumping the bellows.

    Although he is inexperienced, the young fighter's nous, as well as his manual dexterity, soon see him weaving sections of links which the indefatigable dwarf combines into a gorgeous cascade of white metal. Hard pressed to match Tarag's stamina, Semabin is nevertheless pleasantly surprised to find that the whole day has fled under their busy fingers, when the smith holds up a shimmering coat of rippling silver and says, "Well done, lad - a good day's work indeed. Ah, but how she glistens in the light!"
    Attached Files Attached Files  
    Last edited by Boddynock; Tuesday, 1st January, 2008 at 06:43 AM.

  5. #55
    Returning to the Forge the next day, after a well earned rest and a few beers, Tarag counts the profits of his busy week and rubs his hands in glee.

    "Finally, I can afford that plate mail I've been wanting. Right then, let's get to it."

    There follows a daunting flurry of activity as he throws himself into the creative process. Hammers clang, bellows pump, and from time to time, when flames flash forth and sparks jump from toe to top, he can be heard to mutter, "Ko'vetiye Chennet' - ch'pak na gaven? - Thank you, O Forge God - may I have another?"

    Finally, after gargantuan effort, he stands back and looks approvingly at the work of his hands.

    Gleaming in the forge light, it is covered with symbols of the Forge and the Forge God - a palpable declaration of Chennet's might.
    Attached Files Attached Files  

  6. #56
    Exhausted, but happy, Semabin starts counting out the 770 gold coins he owes Tarag, occasionally massaging his fingers. "Thank you, Master Tarag. Forge work may not be for me, but it was an interesting experience nonetheless." With all the coin owed now in Tarag's hands, Semabin takes the chain shirt, marvelling at its lightness. He quickly dons it and performs a quick weaponless dance and drill to test out his mobility. "This... this is amazing. I mean, I heard the stories, but experiencing this lightness... as if it was forged out of the winds themselves. Thank you again, Master Tarag."

  7. #57
    Tarag comes in reading a hastily scrawled note.

    "Dwarven waraxe, eh? A good choice for dragon-slaying, Elthic. Let's see, now ..."

    He spends some time sketching plans on parchment, muttering to himself, refining the angle of the blade, until finally he nods, satisfied with the result.

    "And now to bring it to life," he says quietly.

    OOC: Here is his axe.
    Last edited by Boddynock; Sunday, 15th June, 2008 at 10:41 PM.

  8. #58
    "Morning, Tarag," calls Keldar Warbray. "We got back last night after some strange happenings. Here's the strangest: Galwynn didn't object to my carrying the things Thyrin made for you." He takes a finely made leather pack from his back, opens it and pulls out, oddly enough, another much shabbier backpack, which he returns to his back. "Your cloak is in a side pocket," he says. He frowns. "At least, I think it is. It's difficult to tell exactly where things go when you put them in there. You could probably convince Tommy to stick his head inside, or even climb all the way in, to find out."

    "Um... here's the odd thing," he continues. "We left Grenton, following the road we'd taken each time before, but, well, Grenton had moved since the last time. I mean, it wasn't where it had been. It took us the best part of a week to find our way back to Orussus! Now, none of us are woodsmen, so we might get lost in the wild, but I tell you, we followed the road all the way and we kept near enough to north-east all the time. The whole land was different, until we were a day out from Orussus, and started to see familiar landmarks. Tommy was muttering endlessly under his breath about highly morphic planar this-and-that, and Galwynn and Rapture I could tell were praying a lot more than usual, and I don't mind admitting I was a little nervous myself, but I was kept busy wondering if that's why I never found Warbrayvia when I tried." He shakes his head. "Maybe I looked in the right place - and it just wasn't there!"

    "Anyway, we made it. Gods only know what will happen when we try to go back to Grenton. Oh... I didn't tell you yet." He slaps his forehead. "We found a tunnel dug from the woods right against Thyrin's tower by those thieves, and a shovel, and a book of maps or plans or something. You'll have to ask Tommy. Thyrin wants us to look into it, to find out just who went to so much trouble to rob him. He has suspicions of the architect who drew up the plans for his tower. He gave us another fifty crowns each to cover anything that might come up."

    Keldar counts out five platinum pieces into Tarag's hand. "Yours. Now, to business. I think it's time I let you have the honour of making the Warbray rapier, don't you? 192 crowns, I think you said? Well, I have the money now, though Galwynn is still stubbornly refusing to pay me back for saving his life, twice, and my grandmother's birthday is coming up, and I have no idea where I will find the money to buy her the present she deserves... not that I'll be seeing her, in Warbrayvia and all, but it wouldn't feel right not to buy her a new set of toothpicks, and after all, I don't know what she's been doing without...."

    Keldar continues talking, but it's doubtful that Tarag is still listening.

  9. #59
    A small hammer falls from a work table behind Tarag with a resounding crash. "How odd," says Keldar, with eyebrows raised.

  10. #60
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    OOC: Just took a look at Elthic's War Axe. Friggin' awesome, mate.

    Regarding Galwynn's MW Greatsword - I just dropped the money to get it done the quick way. I'll save my Craft Points for when I need to buy the magical sword, y'know?

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