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Post by Deleted on Apr 19, 2016 21:00:45 GMT
Words: 501
Total: 501
"So... tell me about this Falcon Cloak, Dumah." The day was over, and yet simultaneously it was just beginning. Midnight was quite an interesting time, would you not agree? It was also the one time when almost all of Noihara was at rest, and the one time Dumah could be alone. He trusted his guild's members more than anything, but this was a matter that he wanted to keep secret. "You know, I hate to admit it, but as much as I can't stand Sark's constant hyper behavior and how much he's always wrecking my precious bar, the kid knows how to make a damn comfortable... Whatever these things are..." The Person of The Land reclined and practically sank back into one of the large bean bag chairs Sark had put in the guild's clothier room.
"They are called bean bag chairs. They were fairly popular in the world we Adventurers came from." Dumah seemed intensely focused on his work, feeding the fabrics through one of the available sewing machines. Given it was such a late hour and every other Noiharan - save for Dumah and his old friend.
Aleister readjusted in his chair, looking down at the morphing leathery object as he pushed down on it in a poor attempt to get comfortable. "The thing's barely a chair. A bean bag, most definitely, but I would never call this thing a chair. It's too hard to sit in without feeling like you're going to fall back. There is no firm seat, it's just a bag full of beans. There's just no stability." Eventually the bartender settled for just lying on the thing, surrendering to physics. He let out a sigh before looking back to his friend. "So that Falcon Cloak?"
"The Falcon Cloak was a legendary artifact in our world, a garment owned by the Norse goddess Freyja. She was a deity whose domain was love, beauty, fertility, gold, war, death, and so forth. The Falcon Cloak allowed its wearer to transform into a falcon and fly away." Dumah kept to the legend of the artifact, ensuring that the item would resemble the appearance of a falcon's wings. Very few colors were used in this project, the tailor choosing to stick to shades of brown and other such colors one may see when observing a falcon in flight.
Aleister laughed a rather boisterous laugh as his friend finished speaking. "Love, beauty, fertility, and death. I'll be honest Dumah, I cannot really imagine what you mean by 'so forth,' with the theme taking such a drastic and sudden change like that." He smiled, finally managing to get comfortable in his bean bag, seemingly by luck. "All though I have to admit, your old world sounds pretty interesting. I mean, to have such mystical artifacts as to allow one to transform into a bird and take flight merely by donning a cloak... It almost puts our own world - this one you Adventurers now share with us People of The Land - to shame, really."
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Post by Deleted on Apr 19, 2016 21:34:02 GMT
Words: 522
Total: 1023
Dumah looked to his friend with a face of confusion, taken somewhat aback by his statement that the old world was more mystical and amazing than the world of Elder Tale. "Are you kidding? The real world does not have monsters and magic, and we have long since grown out of the age of adventure and mythical tales. Now our world is much more... What is a good word for it... Our world is more understood, I suppose. We no longer have belief in the old tales of mythical wonder, and now most everything is easily defined by simple mathematics and logic." The Spellsword took his right hand off the bundle of fabric, opening his palm facing up towards the ceiling, a small ball of flame igniting in his grasp. "In the old world, I never would be able to something like this without a lot of work. The closest thing anyone has really had to spawning a ball of flame such as this would be spraying a combustible fluid on their palm and lighting the fluid with a lighter or match for only a moment. In any world other than this one, such extended contact would surely burn the flesh." Dumah clenched his hand closed, the orb of fire disappearing with it. The fire now extinguished, the Spellsword returned to tailoring his latest project. He had finished one layer of the cloak's 'feathers', and was now making a second, larger layer of similar design. The cloak could have easily been made with simply one layer, and perhaps such would have made it more conventional and a simpler item to craft, but this layered design will give the item a level of beauty, making it more accurately resemble the feathers of a falcon.
"Say what you will, but your old world still sounds pretty intriguing, Dumah. Frankly, I cannot even imagine how advanced you lot were; I've heard some Adventurers state that the level of technology in this world is nearly a thousand years old in your old world. Tales of steel ships, instant global communication, vehicles capable of soaring through the air, just imagine what I could do with those kind of innovations at my disposal! Hell, I could become a trade and commerce king!" Aleister held his hands behind his skull, grinning in awe as he envisioned the trade empire he could establish given twenty first century technology.
"Actually, much of innovation can be attributed to three motivators: Profit and commerce, which gave rise to technologies such as the assembly line and minting; sloth, which led to technologies improving many aspects of life and making them much easier on the human body, such as many construction tools easing the burden and heavy lifting; and the most grim, yet equally most impactful motivator: Warfare. Warfare has led to countless innovations, but amazingly it leads to many safe and productive innovations. For example, we had a device known as the microwave oven which could heat up any item put inside. Originally it was built to utilize radioactive microwaves for warfare, but the technology was then used to make an invaluable cooking utility."
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Post by Deleted on Apr 19, 2016 22:19:26 GMT
Words: 537
Total: 1560
Aleister smiled and chortled, half of Dumah's words being lost on him. "I don't know what an assembly line is, nor do I know what microwaves or radiation are, but don't sweat it Dumah." He looked up to his guild master, taking notice of his assumed expertise on the topic at hand. "Nevertheless, you sure sound like you know what you're talkin' about, so let's just pretend I know what you just said. Some of it I understood, but you lost me at a few moments."
Dumah smiled as he set aside the second layer of cloth feathers, setting them aside by the first layer. Once again he repeated this process, speaking as he tailored the third and final layer of the cloak. "I am a writer, Aleister. Rather, I was in the old world, at least. Being a writer, I had quite the understanding of legends and stories, even those that are non-fictional. Being a writer, and an actor, I had portrayed and created many stories inspired by countless myths. Being a writer often involves the understanding of the old tales, having the knowledge to dissect these legends for their symbolism and deeper meanings so that one can take inspiration for their own works." As he finished his statement, the Tailor had also finished the third layer of feathers for his craft. Now all that remained was to begin sewing the individual layers together. Dumah took the first two layers, one partially over the other to resemble the layering of a bird's feathers, and began to feed the fabrics through the sewing machine, making for quick work as the pieces were stitched together. Once they had been well secured and tightly connected, Dumah pushed the now larger singular piece of fabric to the side, making way for the third layer of cloth feathers. The process was repeated once again, attaching the third and largest layer to the middle of the underside of the second layer. Once it was completed, he lifted his work up in the air, waving it around and watching the seams to ensure they were secure. He bravely stretched at the cloak gently, satisfied with the secure stitching of the cloak. He smiled, proud of his work, taking a small pair of sewing scissors and cutting a small slit near the top and center of the cloak, then grabbing a golden button and sewing it onto the opposite side of the small opening he had cut. The Spellsword stood from his seat, throwing the cloak around him and sliding the fancy button through the hole, letting go and feeling a satisfied victory as it stayed on and fit perfectly. The user interface appeared, prompting Dumah to set the name and description of his latest work. As always, he spoke aloud as he entered his answer. Though for the purpose he had in mind for this cloak, Dumah could not include his typical brand name of Dumahim. "Falcon Cloak. Once owned by a beautiful goddess, this artifact grants its wearer increased speed. With the cloak's resemblance to the wings of a falcon, legends have told of those donning the cloak gaining the ability to transform and fly away in the form of a falcon."
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Post by Deleted on Apr 20, 2016 0:43:09 GMT
Words: 550
Total: 2110
"Ever so eloquent with your words and writing, Dumah." Aleister yawned lightly, standing up and dragging all three of Sark's large bean bag chairs together into a straight line. Once they were aligned and pushed together, the bartender lied down on all three, resting on his side and closing his eyes, one arm supporting his head and the other resting on his stomach. He smiled as he reclined, speaking in a manner that simply emphasized his exhaustion. "Eloquent or not, you still have to add on that little bonus you described. You know, involving the increased movement speed and stuff."
Aleister was right, and this was honestly the first attempt Dumah had made at applying a reforge bonus to his work. He did not even know where to begin... Whereas tailoring was an easy matter, magical enchantments were another story. They were a new concept to Adventurers, and not a single one of them - no matter how skilled a craftsman they were - had ever been granted the opportunity to apply a bonus to physical damage on their latest costume or cosplay. "Perhaps..." Dumah held his chin inquisitively, he did not even know where to begin with reforging... It was like a whole other craft, and Dumah felt completely lost.
As he contemplated where to begin, he heard the door to the clothier open casually, his attention turning to see who it was. As he turned his head to witness the person walking in, his daughter Alette walked into the clothier, wearing a simple dress she often slept in. She looked exhausted, and even the small Magic Light orb hovering by her head was shining a light more dim than the spell usually emanated. The glowing orb seemed to take on the mood of its master, mirroring Alette's exhaustion with a soothing blue color and its eyes half open and its little smile bent down in a tired frown. It yawned in unison with the young sorceress as she approached her father.
"Alette, what are you doing up? It is late, you should be resting." Dumah spoke softly as he pushed against the table, turning towards the girl. Aleister was casually roused from his rest as he heard the young girl's name, lifting his left hand a bit in a gentle wave, muttering gibberish that one could only assume was him trying to greet the sorceress.
Alette walked towards her father, looking at the recently completed cloak with eyes half opened. "I couldn't sleep... What are you working on, dad...?" She sat beside him in the small chair, Dumah eventually lifting her onto his leg so she was not shoving him off of the seat.
"It is the Falcon Cloak, it was a mythical artifact from my world that was said to grant one the ability to transform into a falcon and fly. Since I cannot add that, I am simply giving it an increase to movement speed. Rather, I would if I knew how to apply the reforge..."
"I heard it just kinda happens if you work extra on the craft... Like... I don't know, I'm not a tailor..." Alette yawned a bit once again, looking closer at the cloak resting on the table. "It looks like a bunch of feathers, honestly. Was that what you were going for, dad?"
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Post by Deleted on Apr 20, 2016 1:03:51 GMT
Words: 501
Total: 2611
"If I just work extra on it..." Dumah held his chin again, pondering the words and contemplating them deeply. "I suppose I could work more on the stitching, tighten the seams connecting the layers... Perhaps I could add some embroidery to the inside of the cloak..." The Spellsword smiled a bit, nodding to himself, content with this idea. "Yes, that should work I suppose. Alette, could you bring me a spool of gold thread?"
At her father's request, the young girl nodded and got up, walking to the wall where all of the tailoring materials were stored. She dug through a shelf of different spools, all in a disparity of colors. Soon she spotted the fancy golden thread, taking it in her hand. "I found it!" She returned to her father, handing him the material he had asked for.
Dumah smiled as Alette retrieved the thread for him, taking it from her and placing it down on the table. "Thank you, Alette." Dumah unfurled the Falcon Cloak, opening it up and lying it flat with the inside up. He took a needle from a small sewing kit by his workstation and carefully began to thread the needle, managing to easily feed the thread through the eye. With the gold string now tied to the needle, Dumah held the Falcon Cloak in his left hand, using his right to slowly embroider a beautiful, ornate design on the inside of the cloak. Embroidery by hand was a slow task, and by the time it was complete, the Swashbuckler had managed to lose track of time as he was fully involved in his own little world where little else mattered but sewing and diligent craftsmanship. "There, that is finally finished." Dumah smiled, looking around for Alette. It seemed time must have truly passed quite a bit as he spotted the young girl sharing a makeshift mattress of leather and beans with Aleister, using the man as more of a pillow as she slept sitting against the bean bags.
Dumah chuckled, standing up and walking to his sweet slumbering daughter, gently lifting her up and taking the trip to her bedroom, opening the door and placing her down in her bed, smiling at her as he pulled the blanket over her. "Sleep well, Alette." With that, he walked out of her bedroom and returned to the clothier. It was much easier on the return trip, the fact that he was carrying a child making the trip to the bedroom seemingly much more strenuous. As he had returned to the clothier, his old friend still in a deep slumber on all three of Sark's bean bag chairs, Dumah chuckled and spoke softly to his resting friend. "I am afraid you are too heavy for me to carry to bed, Aleister. Still though, you seem to have set up a sufficient mattress yourself." Dumah sat down at the table where he had been working, making the last cut of the thread now that his embroidery was complete.
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