[SE] Playing with Fire

The party didn’t precisely surprise Jigano – it seemed every season had its festival (except Deepfrost): Flowerbirth’s Fiat Lux honoring Rae and Frey, Longheat’s Midnight Party and offerings to Safrin, and Leafchange’s Festival of Light for Mort and Ludo. He had only overheard it from patrons speaking in the Rathskeller, however, and like Caiside had not exactly received a personal invitation… but if it was like Fiat Lux, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. And his friend had a good point, that they had missed the beginning of the season when they might normally have been more involved. ”Oh, probably,” Jigano agreed cheerfully to the comment on favoritism. ”Not much way around that. Obviously I’d prefer if what I make ends up going to one of my friends, but…” he gave a slight shrug. ”Ah well. We’ll sate our curiosity and know better what to expect in the future,” he decided with a wry grin for his friend as he set to work on the bellows.

The task was perfect for him, really. The large bellows didn’t take a lot of strength to pull, but it was a tiresome process that needed repeating off and on throughout the work, and one thing the slender bard had built up while frantically searching out scraps of information on the gods, the Spire, its demon, and now the Fae was a sturdy endurance that wasn’t easily worn down.

”She’s a lovely goddess,” Jigano agreed with a chuckle as he watched Caiside get things together and begin softening the ingots so they could be worked and divided between the two men. ”And a fierce one. Her mercy is almost endless… almost. She has a particular hatred of the undead, though, which I find myself in agreement with more often than not. Her light is particularly harmful to them.” Nasty things, ghouls and walking skeletons. He’d faced more than enough in his time, and had no wish to see them again in his new home. ”Hmm… that does give me an idea though…” he mused, eyes flashing with inspiration of his own for a moment before he turned his attention back on Caiside as the other man continued to speak. ”Melenos?” he tested the name, checking his pronunciation to make sure he had it right. ”No wonder you have a way with fire and forges, then,” the bard complimented with a smile. ”If your own soul was forged by the heat of the sun itself!” He worked the bellows again, keeping an eye on the metal as it heated through and adding more charcoal to keep the forge hot and fierce. In time, the dense bricks began to soften and glow. He raised a brow at his friend with a challenging grin, nodding to them and then the anvil. ”Shall we begin shaping our gifts?”