secret moments in a crowded room

The Leafchange air was chilly as Alys walked the streets of New Haven, on her way to set up a stall in the market. Today she wore a burnt orange skirt that swished around her ankles as she walked and a matching headband that held her dark curls away from her face. Her dark top caught in the chilly breeze as she hurried past open shops, pressing against her and eliciting a shiver in response. Perhaps she should have chosen something warmer - after all, Deepfrost was fast approaching, and the temperatures were beginning to reflect that. It was rare that Alys had more than a few days to spend at home, traveling as often as she did with her partner aboard his skyship, but they'd elected to take a while to do some fall gardening before the first snow, and so here they were. They were due to head out in a day or two to whatever destination Tal's delivery business required, but for now, Alys was content to catch up with a few of her favorite tarot clients and see what was new in New Haven. As she hurried towards the spot where she normally set up her stall, she realized that perhaps she should have put out a sign or something, as her usual spot was taken by what seemed to be a mobile smithy of some sort. A large woman - more than a foot taller than Alys - worked there, all dark skin and red hair. Alys stopped short. There went her plans for the day. But that didn't mean she had to be rude. She'd never seen this particular stranger in King's End before, and it wasn't common to see a smithing practice that could pick up and move. Besides, with Deepfrost around the corner, she'd need to do some shopping for some of her friends before Longnight. Maybe she could purchase something and get a head start on shopping for the holiday. So up she walked, skirts swirling, and offered a friendly smile to the stranger. "Hello," she said. "Do you have any daggers for sale?" alys glasse

Bokkrid had rolled into town close to midnight, sitting in the back of a wagon with her tools on her back. Her smithy was a travelling one, and she usually mended items more than selling the small products that she had to hand. She had packed rather light and had opened her smithy, renting an anvil from a local blacksmith and transporting it with use of his mule which she had returned to him into the middle of town where the other pop-up shops.

In the wee hours of the morning, before the sun rose, the moon cast enough light for her to get a fire going. Scrawling her symbol, the one that she used to sign for things officially and which all of her wares that she made bore, onto a piece of paper, she used it to light the fire. She knew that praying for the fire to light wasn’t going to do anything, but she was able to coax it to heat the coals that she had bought in town into a hot flame, then fed it a mixture of Ash, Oak, and Hickory tree discarded remnants that she had picked through on the outskirts of town once she had settled in. It was a small town, without much in the way of roads. It certainly wasn’t the largest town she had been in, but she would mend broken kitchen knives, and work their edges to a razor’s edge for a bit of money, enough hopefully to get to the next town and perhaps buy a couple night’s stay somewhere warm. The season was changing, and Brokkrid wouldn’t be able to keep sleeping out of doors soon.

She looked to her empty purse, which was held down so that the wind wouldn’t pick it up and carry it away with her smithing hammer. It was going to be a dismal night if she didn’t get any business today. The first light of the day brought the first customer, who was a man who had broken his axe and had to have it re-hafted. She inspected it and took out a piece of oak, saying that she would have it lathed and ready by the end of the day. From where it had broken, he had been using the axe incorrectly, and it had eaten through the haft close to the head, splintering it so that working the handle out would be a pain and a half. She added the broken piece to the forge, covering it with coals and working the billows before the flames danced, she could tell that they were at just the right temperature for the metal to begin to soften again.

Finally it was time that Brokkrid decided that she would use her magic, one that she had been gifted with and which she had explored enough in her youth to know that she wanted to become a smith and artisan. She held out her hands toward the fire, concentrating until beads of sweat formed on her cold skin, her eyes held the fire in their depths, and the fire obeyed about as much as it always did. The flames took on an eerie uniform pattern as she willed the fire to remain as hot as it was. It would burn the fuel faster, but she wanted the temperature to stay as hot as it was, and working the bellows was not as precise as working her magic. A bead of sweat trickled its salty way into her left eye, blinding her momentarily, and breaking her concentration. Her muscles ached in the way that they did after a good half hour of pounding the metal, but the heat would make the steel more pliable, and therefore make for less time that she would have to work on this one project.

She would have to retemper the edge, but it was better to make sure that the man’s clumsiness wasn’t going to cost him an eye, if the blade shattered. She always wanted to guarantee her work, and would put her mark on this axe when she was done with it, right below the maker’s mark of the previous craftsman, so that she could identify her own work should she roll back into town. The nails that held the axe in place came out easily enough once the wood burned sufficiently, and the rest of the haft that had been buried within the eye of the blade of the axe came out smoothly with a bit of prodding.

Brokkrid hummed while she worked and took out the blade, turning it over three times before striking it with her large hammer, reworking the steel and willing it back into shape. It was about this time that the woman with dark brown curls walked up to her stall. Between the beatings of her hammer, the woman asked Brokkrid about her knife. She smiled, put the piece of steel back into the smithy and took out a leather roll, there were four knives, a couple daggers, a short sword, and various farm tools, “I have here my pre-made selection.” Brokkrid said, and then turned the piece of metal in the coals over, adding more wood to the dimming coal heap that it sat atop, “The daggers that I have are for two different purposes, one is for self defense.” She said, moving a finger along the middle of a curved blade with a hand-guard, “It’s more commonly used for people who are in bigger cities and want to defend themselves or their purse.” She then pointed to the other dagger, her coal-covered glove “This one is technically not a dagger, but something called a Kris. It’s a stabbing weapon and, well, I won’t go into too gruesome of detail with what it’s used for.” She smiled at Alys and shrugged.

“Who’s it for?” She asked, “And what is it going to be used for? I guarantee the edge for everyday use for a year, fighting for a month, and being dumb until it leaves the shop.” Brokkrid chuckled, and waited for the response. If this woman was interested in a new piece, she would have to work out how much it would be for materials here, and it would probably take the better part of the next day to complete it. Then again, she might be able to get the cost of materials plus a good three night’s stay at an inn for a custom-order piece.

Alys hadn't spent much time around smiths, carrying only a small dagger of her own and, occasionally, a bow in the way of weaponry. She hoped that this woman was talented; at least she seemed to know her way around the forge. She had to, Alys supposed, if she was to travel and earn her coin. For a moment, the seer felt they were something of kindred spirits to the other, always on the move looking for their next source of income. She perused the smith's wares as the woman described them, her eye drawn to the weapon called the Kris. If she was purchasing for herself, she would go for something simpler, something made for self-defense; but her partner, Tal, tended to get into more trouble than she did, and it was common for him to have to fight his way out. Perhaps he would find some use in such a weapon. Chuckling at the woman's words, Alys pointed to the Kris. "Perhaps something like this?" she mused aloud. "It's a gift for my partner. He fights a great deal more than I do, and he already has weapons, but I've never seen him with something like that before. Is it better to buy something premade or get something custom that's made specifically for him?" She could imagine that a weapon tailored to an individual would be more effective, but she'd be the first to admit she was no expert. alys glasse

"Well." Brokkrid said slowly, parsing out the correct answer to the question, which was to say there wasn't one she slowly turned the l's around in her mouth, tasting each of them while she looked at the knives and then the woman, "If it's a gift for your partner, I would have to see him fight to make something 'for' him. You see, it determines if a guard is right or left handed, if he needs a guard at all, what kind of motion he uses to fight, and how long an instrument he prefers."

She pointed to the anatomy of the blade in question, the kris, "This one is for gutting people." Brokkrid said in no uncertain terms, "It's a stabbing weapon and if you run your finger along the blade for the first two inches past the hand guard, you will find that it's uniform and almost rectangular. The bit that does the work is the point, which you plunge in, then twist, and then pull. Most of the time the insides become the outsides and the kris does its work. It's usually for people who like to surprise others." She explained. She then pointed to the other knife and started in again.

"This dagger, or knife, or whatever you would like to call it since it's a bit short for a dagger, a bit long for a knife, was actually made as a self-defense weapon for a woman that was - she held up her hand to about Alys' shoulder height, "Yea tall, and she wanted something that she could defend herself with in an alley. It's short, well balanced, and can take a bruising. I asked if she wanted a sword breaker, she said no. I could add a serrated edge to this one to make it into a slashing weapon." She said, "But if your partner is your size or a bit larger, they'd want something different."

She smiled, "Long story short, a weapon used by anyone can be anything, the leg of a table for instance, but it's a far cry from a weapon made *for* a person." Brokkrid grinned and then walked over to take the axe head out of the forge and began pounding it again, making sure that all of the cracks were out of the meat of it before plunging it into the warm oil and stirring. She closed her eyes as it hissed, leaving an acrid odor in the air as it cooled the blade and she hummed as she didn't hear nor feel any metallic clinks, which meant that the blade was cooling well. She pulled it out and set it beside her, the majority of the work would be grinding the blade down and working the wood to create the new haft.

"Sorry about that." Brokkrid said, "Steel waits for no woman, you can't leave her unattended or she becomes weak. But if you fuss over her too much she cracks and becomes useless." Brokkrid apologized and then turned her undivided attention to Alys, hoping that she had enough time to think.

The smith was knowledgeable indeed, far more so than Alys, who listened with something of a blank look on her face as she took in all of the information the woman offered. She was almost relieved when the woman turned to work on what looked like an axe, leaving her to her thoughts for a moment. The seer mulled over all that she had learned. There was no way for her to choose a weapon for Tal, if the smith was to be believed - not unless she wanted something generic, and she most certainly did not. Her partner deserved something just as wonderful and special as he was. So if not a gift for Tal... perhaps she should ask for something for herself. After all, her tarot reading business paid her well, and she had a shop in Halo and a shop in King's End that sold herbs, crystals, and other oddities. Overall, she was fairly well appointed. Why shouldn't she splurge on something special for herself? Caido was dangerous in the best of times, and current events were far from the best of times. When the smith returned, Alys smiled ruefully. "Perhaps I will think of another gift for my partner," she said. "But what would you suggest for me? I'm not much of a fighter, but having something more than just a generic dagger for self-defense might be helpful." She unhooked the knife that hung from her belt. It was plain and simple, but nothing special. "This is what I currently carry, but I'm sure there are better options." alys glasse

Brokkrid tilted her head and looked at the smaller woman, crossing her arms under her bosom and rolling her head so that her left ear lay on her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed, sizing her up in her mind's eye. How could this slight woman protect herself with a blade. Something with one edge to it so that she was able to defend herself was a given, without hurting herself. A hand guard probably. Brokkrid sighed explosively and ran her hands through her curled hair. It bounced back into place and she shrugged.

"You know, miss-" She actually hadn't been given the stranger's name yet, but she pressed on, after a pause to signify that she didn't know what the woman's name was, "Let's take a look at your fighting style with that blade there." She nodded to the proffered knife. It was a double edged, straight bladed dagger. A knife that was made for multiple uses, just as much for hacking at wood as stabbing something. Probably wasn't very suited for throwing either, just unbalanced enough and unwieldy enough to be dangerous in an actual fight, and probably would snap at the handle if push came to shove.

"To be honest, I am still coming into my power." Brokkrid admitted, "There are probably others that could make a better blade than I can with magical qualities-" She had no experience with making magical weapons, and her control over the elements was limited to keeping a flame as intense as she needed it for a short while longer, which saved some on the bellows. She was still trying to get the hang of anything that was close to useful.

"But if you want a mundane blade," She continued after the short silence that punctuated the fact that she had to make it out of steel, not out of the fabric of the universe, "I can make you something that suits you. So, let's get you to um-" She took out a piece of hard leather armor and stuck it on an armor stand, "Attack this and we'll see what your fighting style is. It'll help with determining the blade's width, weight, etcetera." She said, "And it'll probably take me a couple of days to actually get it to be battle ready." She raised her eyebrow, "No objections to that I hope?"

The smith regarded her shrewdly, and Alys shifted beneath her gaze, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious. She winced as the woman called her miss and interrupted - "Alys, please," - before falling silent again to inspect the proffered blade. It was double-edged with a straight blade, not unlike the dagger that Alys usually wore on her belt. She picked it up carefully, weighing it in her hand, and nodded. "Alright," she agreed. "But I'm not a very experienced fighter." In other words, this might be a bit... difficult to watch. But before she could start to display her style, the smith spoke again, and Alys smiled encouragingly. "We're all coming into our power," she told the woman. "And a mundane blade will be sufficient for my purposes. I don't mind waiting." Besides, if she wanted it enchanted, she could always take it to one of the gods and ask for their help, at least until the smith was more comfortable with magical weaponry. That is, if Alys liked her work and wished to return. With that out of the way, Alys faced the armor stand and took a deep breath. She wasn't quite sure where to begin, but at least she'd had some training from Deimos in the past. So she took a quick sidestep, as though to evade an attack, and lunged for the armor stand, palming the blade in a backhanded grip and reaching out to slash at its shoulder, aiming for a place where the armor wouldn't quite cover on a person. fin alys glasse