Helping Her Look Pretty [CFT/RSH]

[Saber]

Do you believe in ghosts?

The sound of a door creaking echoed through the massive underground Library, but there was no movement. Nothing budged, not even the flaming furnace sputtered or yelped as the winds from outside slithered through the stone walls and the ceiling above. Well, not until the door creaked closed. The torches then danced, twirled, and came to life in a beautiful blaze. The forge was yanked open, the hot metal oven raging angrily within its cage. Several books flipped open, their pages turning and flapping as if a gale of wind had ripped through the room. It was a strange sight to behold; as if Ghosts of the passed were acting out in a rebellion of the winds outside. Yet, there was one thing in the room unaffected by the sudden, creepy poltergeists. That thing was a black shadow which sat at the massive stone table in the center of the library; it was a player. A player who had several books in front of him, all open to various parts of the books, a player who had his head down and hood up, a player who was asleep.

“WAKE UP.” The screamed whisper was like a curse, and the player’s cape fluttered behind him. Like a zombie called back from the dead, the player sat up straight, his eyes half closed. He blinked a few times, yawned, stretched, and looked at the painful sight of words in front of him. And then he heard a door open, and then close…

“It’s been a while…” The man mumbled, cracking his neck, hands, back, and shoulders before standing up and heading across the long walkway to the distant door. It whistled for a moment as he approached it, but the man was far too focused on stretching and yawning to hear it. By the time he reached it and crossed the threshold to the stairs, he heard bells jingle once more. He nodded to himself at the sound and took his time with his ascent, now in even less of a rush. Due to how deep down the library was, it took Saber quite a bit of time to reach the top; but that was okay with him. The underground library was a secluded safe haven of his and not a single soul other than him knew of it. For now, it was a bastion of silence, peace, and solitude.

Though, that bastion of grandness was sometimes broken up by people whom Saber never met; people who required his hidden service. That service, which he was willing to provide to anyone brave enough to enter his domain, was one he was personally proud of. However it was one he would not disclose. As a player of his status, Saber wouldn’t dare reveal that he was creating weapons for other people to use. If it was revealed who was behind the weapon creations, it would come as no surprise to him if the attitude towards the Funeral Parlor was changed and the few souls which appeared stopped doing so. Although, the idea that no one would come to him for help with weapons and armor anymore didn’t really bother him too much. Being a blacksmith was a hobby, that was all. It was something to do during his downtime and when he was away from combat. He didn’t ask for payment, he didn’t ask for items, and he didn’t ask for a thank you. All he asked for was anonymity. He didn’t want people trying to seek him out; he didn’t want to be bothered. That was why he had the setup which he did. That setup was a pair of books, and said books had just recently been disturbed.

: Word Count :
617

Coded By Saber of L33T T3@M

[Saber]

Do you believe in ghosts?

As Saber reached the top of the stairs, he moved the stone wall before him and entered the abandoned, forgotten space which acted like a cover story for the ancient library underground. It did well as such, so Saber never complained about the mess. He simply ignored the dust, spider webs, and used his scarf as a ventilation system while he made his way over to the desk just off to his right. In it, there was a new entry… or several entries. The order was addressed to a female player it seemed; a name he recognized. He had met her just recently, but it seemed their meeting was cut sort due to other business. It was quite funny how she ended up coming to him this time, even if she didn’t know it. Saber chuckled a little at that thought and began to open his inventory, navigating the interface until he had a message box in front of him. There, he copied down what the woman had requested. He also noted the levels and the fact that the crafts would require status effects; reforges. Saber had not done those yet, but this would be good practice. If he was successful, he would be able to complete a whole new array of requests, not that anyone would know or anything.

“A sword…. A ring… Earings… and a chain.” The blacksmith mumbled beneath the cloth around his face, his subconscious essentially storing the request into a more permanent memory space. Saber didn’t even know he had said anything until he closed his menu, but it was too late by then. Yet, there was no one to hear him so there was nothing to worry about.

With the request copied and noted, Saber reset the two books for the next player who could arrive at any moment, then quickly disappeared behind the hidden door made of stone. He sealed the door closed, tapped twice, and then descended back into the Library. It welcomed him with a gentle breeze, one that he found both strange and comforting. There was no entrance into the library aside from the door which he had just closed, and he knew this because he had searched for a secondary point of entry for almost a day. Yet, due to the sheer size of the place he called home, it would not surprise the Assassin if there was another way in or out. Maybe it was just really, really, really hidden? Well, as long as no monsters came barreling through or anything. That was all he asked for. He preferred to keep his books not covered in blood, thank you.

“Reforging… eh?” Saber mumbled to himself and made his way over to the forge he had personalized. The previous owner had done well to take care of the little area, and Saber did the same out of respect for whomever it was. The anvil was always finely polished and shined, the coals in the forge were always warm and clean, his tools were always organized and ready for use, and the materials Saber had gathered were kept in neat piles and containers off to one side with labels all over them to ensure even a drunk person could know what went where. Saber took pride in how his forge looked, and it paid off. He could perform several quality crafts very quickly and didn’t have to waste time worrying about where he had put down his hammer, as it was always in the same spot he left it. That was another benefit of having a secret hiding place; no one could touch your stuff.

: Word Count :
604

Coded By Saber of L33T T3@M

[Saber]

Do you believe in ghosts?

“Right then.” After checking his area and turning up the heat in his forge, preparing it for some metal work, Saber took a stroll into the library. He picked up a candle from the table he sat and studied at, and then walked to the opposite side of the sea of bookcases, his eyes scaling the tall paperbacked walls in search of something. Something he knew the location of. It was one book he had seen before and one he had told himself to look into but just never found the time. He also had not needed too just yet; now he did.

“There you are.” After scouring the tall bookcase for only a few moments, Saber caught sight of the black and green book. He quickly got a ladder, wheeled it over to alongside the book, locked it in, then ascended to get it. The book was named “Glowing Equipment; Magical Weapons”. It was a book by a Shaman named Eltius Soverignstile, a man who was a great magician in the older days. Saber had never met him but the Shaman had a few books about magical weapons scattered around the Library. So far, Saber had found six with the Soverignstile name, and all six were filled with an almost infinite amount of knowledge. It came as no surprise to Saber that the book he now held was heavy, thick, and filled to the brim with words and symbols. Still, he took it off the shelf, marked its resting place by tilting two books towards each other, and then returned to the floor. Thinking ahead, he left the ladder in its place as another form of telling where the book would need to be returned too. With that done, the pages were opened…

“The world is strange. It is filled with countless anomalies that even I cannot comprehend. However, we deal with them and live with them on a constant, daily, unending basis. Some of these anomalies help us live, some of them help us fight, some of them kill us, and some of them heal us. I have recently come across another one of these anomalies, but I do not know what to think of it. Yet I have chased it and searched for answers to the dozens of questions I still have about this world. One of which is why? Why is this place so… strange? Many of us live with the fact that magic is natural in the world and many people do not question it. But how can this be? How can a world be in such a state but not live comfortably? As I write this, I am eating hard, cold, dry bread. My wine is flat, and the soup my wife made looks more like a green ocean of algae. I have not bathed in two days due to there being a lack of proper hygiene supplies and my breath would surely fend off even the bravest of creatures. My home is comfortable to live in, but this cottage is nothing spectacular like a noblemen’s. My wife is a beautiful being, but her clothes cannot do her justice. Such things make me curious, and in this world; I am confused.

And again, I have been surprised. After all of my years as a sage, and after all of my years of searching for answers to questions, I am still learning, still finding, and still yearning. Today I found a man who lurked deep within the forests near Lorium, a town to the east. He was a quiet man; short, skinny, and probably lighter than the piece of bread I have beside me. Yet, he looked sturdy. His skin was tanned, but not by the sun. His face was covered in a black substance, soot most likely, and his eyes were tired. When I found him, this man was sitting in an old rocking chair on the porch of a small home. His name, which I found out after an hour of selfishly trying to pry my way into his life, was Ruther, and he was from the Middle Eastern lands. At first, I thought that his man was just a strange being. Oh how was I wrong. This man was a genius, and behind those tired eyes was a mind which even I am jealous of.

The two of us spoke for many hours until he finally allowed me entrance to his lovely abode, and it was then that I realized how little I knew about the world. His home was filled with machines which operated on their own. They cleaned his home “autonomously”, cooked his meals with just a few basic touches of some device, and a few little machines actually created things, Ruther simply needed to supply the materials and instructions. As surprised as I was, those machines were not all Ruther had hidden away. This Middle Eastern man had ways of creating powerful pieces of equipment and clothes which would easily outmatch even the best of blacksmiths. Somehow, someway, Ruther had discovered how to bind magic to physical objects. It took me a while to gain his trust, but as a scholar I needed to know. I needed to find out how it worked. I was curious, and Ruther was very good at keeping me just out of arms reach of what I wanted to know. He knew what I wanted, but he needed to keep secrets, secret. I could understand that but my need was strong, and so I continued to see Ruther until he finally enlightened me. My friend, dear reader, or fellow scholar; what I am about to share with you is something even I cannot understand after all of my years of traveling. I shall provide you with as much information as I can, but please do me one wish; Ruther is a kind man, and he has spent years learning his trade. Should you follow his path and create these items and pieces of equipment, do so wisely…”

Saber set down the book by the Shaman, his eyes taking in every piece of information the lingering spirit was willing to provide, and he silently nodded as if he had just accepted a contract. The process was known as “reforging” and it was the same process he had heard of other blacksmiths using to create stronger weapons. Reforging was simple, but tedious, and much of the time it ended in failure for the unlucky person, which meant that Saber would most likely have some issues are well. Even so, he pressed on and continued to read. As the Shaman had wrote, the process was the binding of invisible magical power with physical objects, and doing such a thing took a lot of time. It required specific materials and the method needed to be followed very strictly. Any misstep could end in either failure or complete loss of the weapon. Saber had plenty of materials, but he didn’t exactly like the idea of having to start from scratch, so he would have to remain vigilant.

: Word Count :
1178

Coded By Saber of L33T T3@M

[Saber]

Do you believe in ghosts?

However before he could do any kind of reforging, Saber needed the actual items; a sword, a ring, a set of earrings, and a chain. They were all very simple to make and would not take long so he quickly got to work. He was going to start with the smaller accessories, but decided to form the sword first. The fellow adventurer had provided a very brief description for Saber to work with, leaving it open to speculation of what she really wanted. Though, the small details were a good set of pointers; the weapon would need to be light and very simple in design, and the hilt needed to have some sort of cushion to protect her hand from being hurt as she wielded it. The woman had suggested a black wrapping, but he would go further than that.

It only took a few moments for him to paint the image in his mind, and it took even less for him to get the materials together. He grabbed his hammer, a pair of long tongs, poured fresh water into his trough, and prepared one large iron bar. He cleaned the bar off, dipped it in the water in the trough to clean it and stabilize its temperature. Once it was as pure as possible, he placed it into the center of his forge. The raging fire inside instantly turned the water to steam and the pure iron bar started to glow. Saber grit his teeth and pulled his cloth scarf over the lower part of his face, protecting it from the heat as he watched the bar begin to warm. The blacksmith shut the front cage and moved to the left of his forge. There, he used the bellow he had set to blow air into the bottom of the coals; this increased the temperature dramatically, causing the iron bar inside to melt even faster. The assassin only pumped his little tool three times before it was enough. Then, he returned to the front of the fire, his eyes watching the one greyish-colored bar turn into a blazing hot yellow.

The pair of eyes latched onto the metal bar as if it was some form of strange entity from the heavens, alien in nature, but it was for a good reason. Saber watched every single piece of the iron bar, searching its orange surface for something very specific. Something that would initiate the more stressful and tiring process…

“There.” Saber pulled open the door, grabbed his tongs, and reached into the inferno. In a flash, he had the orange bar of iron out of the fires and onto his anvil. The reason? One of the corners deformed; it was ready to be molded.

Using his hammer, the blacksmith began to smash the iron bar, hitting it in a very consistent pattern to get the metal piece to start flattening out. His arm worked like a machine, pounding away at the thick chunk of material with all of its might. The Library filled with the echoes of metal hitting metal, and Saber breathed rhythmically with the noise. Every hit was followed by an inhale, and every swing proceeded by an exhale. It was a science, and Saber’s both had become accustomed to the process. His arms, once used to only swinging blade at monsters and sometimes people, were now familiar with the force it took to mend metal. His strength increased as his arms became used to the fatigue, and the power behind his swing increased with it. After only a dozen swings now, Saber began to see the shape of a sword, but it was not over.

: Word Count :
608

Coded By Saber of L33T T3@M

[Saber]

Do you believe in ghosts?

Quickly, Saber returned the iron bar to the fire and let it rest in the hellish blaze once more. The amount of time it took to heat up was substantially less, and the half-made sword was ready within seconds. When it was, Saber pulled it back out of the fires and returned to his anvil. Again, his arm shaped the once square iron bar into a long, slender, flat piece of orange flesh. Saber had seen the woman whom had requested the weapon, he knew her height and he knew her arm length. She was several inches shorter than he was, and her arms were just as much shorter. Too long of a weapon would be inefficient, so he kept it compact. Once he had its length just about right, Saber then began to work on its cut.

Returning the flattened piece of metal to the forge, Saber continued the process in his mind and put the pieces together. The female adventurer was a magic user, so the weapon would need to be able to flow with her abilities. It couldn’t be jagged, it couldn’t be serrated; it would have to flow just like the magical powers flowing through her veins. The blade would be sleek, straight, and would have to be able to channel power through it. His design would need to be perfect.

Pulling the piece of metal back out of his forge, Saber quickly returned to shaping it. Much like the way a katana was formed; Saber began to fold the metal and pounded the layers together. It would not have seven folds like many Eastern weapons had, but this weapon would have five, all of which would steadily decline in height on the back of the blade. This gentle slope and staggered folding would leave ruts in the backside of the weapon, allowing the ability to send magic through the spine of the blade much quicker. The five folds would come together at the tip, which would act like a distant center point for the magical user to feed her power into. But that was not all Saber paid attention to.

Using the folds not only to create the mage-ruts, Saber formed the sharp edge of the blade to be just as strong as his own blades. It would be lighter than a wakizashi and would not be as strong, the one-handed form of a katana, but it would be just as sharp. The blade would just as easily cut flesh as any other Eastern weapon, allowing the user to use it just as effectively in close-quarters combat as she would at range with her magical abilities. Then, once the main shape of the blade was formed, Saber carefully reheated the weapon once more, but this time he began to etch into the metallic sides. He carved two shallow lines into the weapon, both dropping down from the half-way point in the blade and both turned sharply towards the tip. However, they did not curve back up. Instead, they ran right off the edge. These four runs, two on each side, would distribute the magical powers the user would put into the weapon, increasing the surface area of the magic reinforcement. It would also increase her accuracy with any projectile skills.

Once it was formed and Saber was content, he dipped the blade into the trough and leaned away as the massive cloud of hot steam poured into the air. The man grimaced at the sight and waited a few seconds as nearly half of the water supply was dissipated into the air. Once the weapon was cooled down, Saber pulled it free and held it over the fires inside of his forge for a split second, just to make the water evaporate completely. Once the blade was dry he set it down on the anvil and grabbed a few other tools for his trade; his tampering kit as well as his branding kit. First, he briefly reheated the handle just enough so he could press in the Funeral parlor emblem at the base of the hilt, branding that the craft before him was his. Then, he prepped the weapon for heat treatment, one that would last until the sword broke. It took just as long as forging the weapon to apply the correct amount of tampering, but when it was ready, Saber was confident of himself.

: Word Count :
731

Coded By Saber of L33T T3@M

[Saber]

Do you believe in ghosts?

He set the prepped weapon off to the side in a set of hooks and returned to the pile of materials he had on hand. He took a seat at his little desk and made himself comfortable. The woman he was creating items for was short, her neck was thing, her hair was black, and her eyes were red. With that in mind, the man acquired two emeralds, and three small pieces of yellow topaz. Then, he took a small cylinder of gold and another of silver out of the small collection to his right. Both he had formed for accessory purposes. The cylinder he set down was purified gold, and the gems were just as finely cut. The Blacksmith was no jeweler, but his patience was never ending. Every gem he had was one-hundred percent of its own kind, and he had every single one looked at by a dozen or so jewelers with better eyes than his. The man smiled at his work and placed the five gems in front of him. Very carefully, he arranged the five in their positions on what would be a person’s head and then placed the metal ores beside them, visualizing their end results. It was quite pretty, to say the least.

Just to the side of his desk were small molds, created for the simple purpose of creating the accessories he was tasked with making. Due to the game taking them from him after each use, there was a large pile of the molds there; he grabbed two earring molds, a ring mold, and one necklace mold. Next, he grabbed his cast iron bucket and returned to his forge. Before he put the bucket into the forge, he placed the golden cylinder inside. Then, he simply dropped it inside. As the gold began to melt, Saber grabbed another smaller cast iron pan and placed the silver ore into it. When he returned to put it into the forge, the blacksmith checked on his gold; it was melting quickly. Rather than walk away, Saber simply set the silver pot inside and waited patiently for the gold to completely liquefy. The silver was right behind it, but would take a little more time.

Once the gold was a pure, yellow substance, he pulled the iron bucket from the fire and place it on his anvil. The man grabbed the necklace mold and put it beside his bucket. Then, he filled the mold very carefully with the liquid gold; not a drop was wasted as he poured every bit inside. He then put the bucket on the floor, placed the two earring molds and the ring mold on the anvil, and returned to his forge. The silver cylinder was now a bubbling liquid, and Saber wiggled his nose at the sight.

“Too much…?” He mumbled, but reached in anyways. Just as he grabbed a hold of the pan, the silver splattered. The airborne hot liquid metal didn’t land on Saber, but it skimmed his right forearm. It burned a red gash into him and caused the player to almost yelp in pain. But he endured. His hands were wrapped around the pan and any sudden movements would spill the material, wasting it. Fighting it, Saber pulled the silver out of the fire and clenched his teeth together. Blood boiled at the skimming point and the third-degree burn bubbled a little; disgusting. It would have scarred if this was reality, but it was not, and that was why Saber ignored it. Rather than tend to his battle scar, Saber returned to the anvil and poured the silver ore into the three molds, filling them up.

Immediately after, Saber dropped the pan beside his bucket and dipped his arm into the trough he had. The water was not hot, but it was not cold either. Due to using it to cool off the sword, its temperature was just above body-temperature. It soothed his burn and helped ease the pain by cooling it off. The man breathed raggedly and clutched onto his arm, just below his elbow, and eyed the burn wound. Blood leaked out of several spots and his flesh looked terrible; it bubbled and looked gooey in a few places where the metal liquid had touched.

: Word Count :
711

Coded By Saber of L33T T3@M

[Saber]

Do you believe in ghosts?

“Damn it.” A justified curse was whispered, and Saber pulled his arm free from the water. It hurt, but he had made a mistake of not wearing any protection aside from heat proof oven gloves. Essentially; it was his own fault. With that in mind, he wouldn’t make the other player wait for him to cry and be a baby. Instead, he returned to the tempered sword and placed it into the forge, lowering the temperature of the blaze as to basically “slow-cook” the weapon.

The entire crafting process was now in its final stage, and he would simply have to wait it out for now. So he opened his menu, summoned a pear, and began to nibble at it while he waited. Though, at the same time, he returned to reading the book he had pulled down. The reforging process was about to become in his way, and he would need to know it by heart if he wanted to do it correctly. However, as Saber read the words before him, he began to munch at the pear more slowly… and a little more angrily.

“…Oh no… No no no. Don’t you tell me this now.” Saber hissed as he flipped through the Shaman’s book. Apparently reforging meant exactly what it said; reforging. Saber needed to forge the weapon and accessories all over again if he wanted to get the special abilities on them. There was no actual linking of magical power or any of that; it was simply reinforcing the piece of equipment by recreating it. It was like the method of reincarnation; create, live, die, come back stronger. Like a phoenix of sorts, but more weaponized. The thought of that trouble Saber and made him sigh, but he dealt with it.

As he finished his pear a little while later, Saber returned to his forge and watched the blade he had rested inside of it shine in his black might. He took a good look at the weapon, memorized what he had created, and then increased the heat in the forge without even pulling the weapon back out. To his sadness, the weapon began to melt back down to its pure form. It went from a dark black to a bright orange, and then began to breakdown. Saber grimaced at the sight and frowned, watching his hard work become nothing more than a pile of orange metal once more, but he was not deterred. Instead, he yanked the door open, grabbed his tongs, pulled the melted weapon free, and returned to his anvil. During his time eating, he had moved the jewelry pieces off to the side and cleared his workspace. Now, he began to create the sword again.

One swing after another, Saber reformed the blade to fit the female player’s height and arm length. Then, he reheated it. When the sword was ready again, the flattened piece was folded five times, rutted, and then its blade was shaped. It returned to the fire again, glowed hot, and then was pulled free one last time. Saber worked tirelessly, ignoring the fatigue in his arms as he carefully carved the four lines into the blade. Rather than risk cooling and heating the weapon again, Saber swiftly branded the hilt and tempered it. Before it was cool enough to hold without gloves, the Blacksmith had it back into the fires and began to slow-cook it. His eyes were fixed on the weapon as he eyed it, watching every second of it being in that flame…. And then a miracle.

: Word Count :
591

Coded By Saber of L33T T3@M

[Saber]

Do you believe in ghosts?

As he watched, the blade began to glow for a moment, sparked, and then shimmered. It went from a flat black to having a glossy sheen to its edge, and continued to have a gentle glow to it. Saber grinned at the sight and removed the weapon as the black temper set in much quicker this time around due to it already being applied once before. He placed the sword off to the side, letting it cool with the help of the air, and grabbed the molds of the jewelry. With a light tap, he cracked the molds open, removed the pieces of jewelry, and disposed of the used molds. Then he placed all four pieces into two pans, separating the gold from the silver, and set the pans into the forge. In only a minute or so, they were returned to their liquefied states. Once again, he removed the pans from the fires and placed four molds across his anvil. With a steady hand, Saber poured the gold ore into the necklace mold, and split the silver ore into the ring and two earring molds. Much like with what happened to the sword, as the accessories began to cool and take shape; they shinned inside of the molds. Light escaped from the four pouring holes and lasted for several seconds each until finally dying out. When they were finished cooling, Saber popped the molds open.

Before him set five pieces of equipment, each with varying abilities that he did not know just yet. It would be soon, however. He would have to equip them himself or at least deposit them into his inventory for the game to register what he had just done. But, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had done it; he had reforged a sword and four accessories, granting them all blessings for his fellow player to take advantage of. All that was left was placing the gems into their designated slots; three emeralds into the necklace, one topaz gem into the ring, and two topaz gems into the earrings. Very carefully, Saber adjusted and pressed, and then added a light brushing of a clear sealer to the edges of the gems, ensuring that they wouldn’t fall out.

“Crafting complete…” Saber whispered to himself, staring at his creations. A smile crossed his face as he admired his work. The pieces of jewelry were beautiful, and the sword was something even he wished he could use. However, the items before him were not his. And, so, he opened up his menu and entered the name of the player whom had requested the items be made. He removed his own name, entering two brackets instead as to erase the name of the sender. Then, he entered the following.

Your crafts have been completed. Your weapons will be available to be picked up at any time you wish. They will be placed in the large urn behind the desk to the left. Your accessories will be within the black box, your sword will be sheathed beside them. Please leave your payment in the smaller urn beside it. We hope you enjoy your new items.
--Funeral Parlor

After sending the message, Saber promptly took a hold of the blade and began to work on the hilt; which took him about twenty seconds. The request was simple; a black wrapping on the hilt. Saber did just that, but he also added some fluffy felt underneath the wrapping to make the hold a little more comfortable. With that, Saber carefully packaged the sword into a premade black sheath and then wrapped it in a cloth to protect it. Next, he gently boxed the four pieces of jewelry and placed the box in a small felt bag. Now that he was actually done, Saber returned to the surface, placed the items into the designated urn, checked off the request in the books, and then returned to the library below.

: Word Count :
658

Coded By Saber of L33T T3@M

Recipient of the crafts above: Lavinia