Back to Basics [Solo/Craft]

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Words: 604

Dust flew through the air as the Guardian dropped a stack of blank parchment onto a dusty old desk. It swirled around the room like a thick fog, threatening to clog Oxford's airways if he breathed in too much of the musty particles. He walked across the room and threw open the windows, coughing and breathing deeply of the fresh air that now filled him. Despite it being in the middle of the winter, it was unnaturally warmer compared to last year. Even most of the grass in the wide expanse of lawn below him was green, patches of it brown and dead. The first to succumb to the frost's withering bite (whenever it was cold enough for frost to form). However, he was glad for this unusual weather, as it allowed him to keep the window open as he shuffled more stuff around in the headmaster's office. It was still dreadful, moving large boxes of parchment, documents and other crafting materials unique to his trade. Whenever he set a box down, more dust would rise up. The more the dust rose, the more Oxford began to sneeze. The more he began to sneeze, the more dust it kicked up. And so the cycle continued until Oxford was fairly certain he blew all the dust out of the room (as well as some of his brain too). Once all of the larger packages were moved in and settled, he began to unpack them. Bit by bit, he transformed the office into his own personal 'thinking quarters', giving his guildmates easy access to him if they had any questions/remarks/notices to bring up while also giving him his required amount of solitude needed to perform his crafts. Placing the last of his affects on one of the many shelves in the room, Oxford took a moment to admire how organized his working space was. Alas, it can only last for so long, for no doubt Oxford would have the place filled with stacks of papers. A Scribe safari, complete with parchment trees ready to topple on top of you if you sneezed too hard. Oxford made a mental note to make sure the room was thoroughly rid of dust. The Guardian slowly sat down in the creaky wooden chair that accompanied the desk. The creaks and sputters the chair gave out made Oxford wonder if he was about to take the poor piece of furniture's life. After gingerly putting his full weight into the chair and deciding that it would hold him, the Guardian grabbed a bottle of ink and a handful of Mana Crystals from his alchemist days and began the science. Some new recipes had emerged on the market when he was busy playing hypothesizing magician and he wanted to get back into the swing of Scribe things. The current item of interest for today's crafting was Magic Ink, which seemed simple enough to craft. All it seemed to call for was powdered Mana Fragments to add magical properties to an ordinary bottle of ink to perform more advanced crafts. A 'gateway craft', if you will. Taking one of his many fragments, Oxford set it on the desk and crushed it with his fist. At his level, crushing something this small was easily accomplished...that is, if the powdered remains stayed on the desk. When he removed his hand, he saw nothing that indicated that he had smashed the tiny crystal of magic. A tiny surge of insight flashed through him, and that's when he realized his blunder. "Duh, I should have known...adventurers absorb this stuff like a plant with sunlight." OOC Notes: Post 1 of 2 for Magic Ink.

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Words: 380

Realizing his error, Oxford grabbed a sheet of parchment from his pile and tore it in two. One sheet would hold the powder as he crushed the crystals, the other to act as a barrier between his hand to help prevent any accidental absorption like last time. Taking another fragment, he placed it on the first sheet, placing the second one on top of it before firmly pressing against it with his fist. A sudden blow could cause the powder to expel out the sides and back into the air to be absorbed once again. A small crnch could be heard from between the pieces of paper, the unmistakable gritty feeling of small particles traveling through the sheet to Oxford's fingertips. Gingerly removing the top sheet, he smiled slightly as he saw the unmistakable blue of magic powder before him. This time removing two fragments from his pile, he gently dropped them onto the aetheric dust, grinding out a generous helping of powder. He gently tapped the shielding piece of parchment against the other one lying on the desk, shaking off the loose bits into the small heap before rolling it up and sticking it in the ink bottle. By using it as a funnel, it was easier to ensure that all of the powder found its way into the inky blackness of the bottle. After securing the cap onto the bottle, he gave it a couple of quick, hard shakes, then swirling it in his hand like a scientist would with a flask full of an unknown mixture of chemicals. Once he felt that his homemade centrifuge method had effectively done its job, he removed the cap and dipped his Sorcerer's Quill inside the bottle. With the quill, he wrote the first word that came to mind: BUTTS. On and on Oxford went, filling an entire piece of parchment with nothing but the sacred message of BUTTS. Each letter faintly shone with a blue brilliance, fading quickly away as the ink dried. Compared to messages written with normal ink, these seemed to hold a power--no, a potential to unlocking a tool that could provide an infinite amount of uses if wielded correctly. And thus began Oxford's crafting journey, it's entrance heralded by the majesty of the word 'BUTTS'. OOC Notes: Post 2 of 2 for Magic Ink.

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Words: 443

As Oxford stared at the two pieces of paper sitting, he tried to recall how the parchment of this world was fabricated. In the old world, most paper was derived from either a wood or linen pulp, flattened out into sheets and then dried on racks until they were ready to ship. In the land of Elder Tale, large manufacturing plants didn't exist to provide an abundance of paper like back in the real world. The only time he remembered someone actually making it by hand was his good ol' surly friend Scoria. However Oxford hadn't seen hide nor hair of his friend in ages, so getting in touch with him to discuss the process was out of the question. So Oxford would have to start small. Luckily, he had plenty of scrap paper to work with, so the process should be relatively simple. The first thing he would need first is a giant tub of water to create the pulp. Oxford grabbed his stack of expendable testing paper and moved down to one of the dining areas that the vast guild hall offered. After clammering around inside the shelfs, he found a container big enough to suit his needs. Sadly, the building lacked a running source of water at the moment, so Oxford would have to fill it up from the nearest source and bring it back. [insert water gathering montage here] After the laborous task of water gathering was finally complete, Oxford took several sheets of his paper and ripped it half. Then he proceeded those halves into halves and repeated the process until the halves were so small he couldn't get a good grip on them. When all of the paper was gone, he dumped it all into the vat, stirring the mixture with a big wooden spoon he found in one of the kitchen drawers. After letting it sit for a couple of minutes, he poured the mixture into a large rectangular pan, then flattened the entire thing with a rolling pin. Gently, he peeled the moist piece of almost-parchment and draped it over a empty curtain rod to let it dry. The whole process felt more like he cooked something instead of crafting a piece of necessary Scribe material. The orange rays of sunset filled the room with a dim light as the sun began to sink lower and lower beneath the horizon. "Yeesh, how much time did I spend on this?" When he pulled up his menu, he realized that he could've simply skipped this whole process if he had just bought more of the raw material and speed-crafted it from his menu instead. Good job, Oxford. OOC Notes: Post 1 of 1 for Parchment.

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