Logs

Logs Home

Logs pg 2

Logs pg 3

Logs pg 4

Logs pg 5

Logs pg 6

2008 September 22

2008 October 02

2008 October 05

2008 October 07

2008 October 16

2008 October 19

2008 October 20

2008 October 26

2008 October 26

2008 October 27

2008 October 28

2008 November 02

2008 November 09

2008 November 16

2008 November 19

2008 November 20

2008 November 23

2008 November 25

2008 November 29

2008 November 30

2008 December 07

2008 December 12

2008 December 13

2008 December 18

2008 December 28

2009 January 18

2009 January 20

2009 January 25

2009 January 26

2009 February 01

2009 February 07

2009 February 08

2009 February 11

2009 February 22

2009 February 24

2009 February 26

2009 March 08

2009 March 10

2009 March 15

2009 March 17

2009 March 22

2009 March 28

2009 April 05

2009 April 06

2009 April 12

2009 April 12

2009 April 14

2009 April 18

2009 April 23

2009 April 23

2009 April 23

2009 May 03

2009 May 10

2009 May 12

2009 May 17

2009 May 19

2009 May 24

2009 May 25

2009 May 31

2009 June 06

2009 June 13

2009 June 08

2009 June 08

2009 June 08

2009 June 08

2009 June 14

2009 June 15

2009 June 19

2009 June 21

2009 June 28

2010 May 16

2009 July 05

2009 July 12

2009 July 19

2009 July 26

2009 August 09

2009 August 23

2009 August 23

2009 August 30

2009 September 06

2009 September 13

2009 September 20

2009 September 27

2009 October 11

2009 October 18

2009 October 25

2009 November 01

2009 November 08

2009 November 15

2009 November 22

2009 November 29

2009 December 06

2009 December 13

2009 December 27

2009 December 28

2010 January 17

2010 February 14

2009 March 07

2010 May 18

2010 March 28

2010 March 28

2010 April 04

2010 April 11

2010 May 02

2010 May 09

2010 May 16

2010 May 30

2010 June 06

2010 June 13

2010 June 20

2010 June 27

2010 July 04

2010 July 11

2010 July 18

2010 August 01

2010 October 10

2010 November 07

2010 November 21

2010 November 28

2010 December 05

2010 December 30

2011 January 09

2011 February 06

2011 February 27

2011 March 13

2011 March 27

2011 April 03

When The Bough Breaks

When The Bough Breaks Home

Game Background

Mechanics

Maps

Dramatis Personae

Game Logs

Realms

Realms Home

Dishonored

Goblin Town

Neverneverwhere

The Whole of the Law

Waking Dreams

When The Bough Breaks


One-Shot

Retired

Birthright

Burning Man

Cosmic Guardians

DNAnimals/Tamashii

Fukusei Crystals

Heartwood

Hunter

Idlewild

Indigo

Inizii

Morning Rain

NachtMusik

Oloth

Paradon

Scarred Lands

Shattered Stars

Starfall

Weston


Style Test

Reality Fault

Home

Player

Character

Referee

Programmer

Administrator

Operations


Search RealityFault:

General Info

Glossary

Realms

Events

Credits

Help Files

Help Files (old)


Reality Fault

Realms: Bough Logs

Lotus Aria, Second Stanza

It is the middle of the night, when, as the old man said, 'The hour is darkest before the Dawn.' The town's smithy isn't hard to find, as in the merchant quarter it is the only place with light coming from it's windows and doorways, and the sound of hammer meeting anvil.

Mikal had wanted to come with the young smith, but Norris assured her that he would be okay, and honestly, he was worried about bringing someone with: the one who invited him did seem rather secretive. And he didn't want to blow this, considering his personal goals. Norris follows the song of the smith in, following it to see for himself what awaits.

That said, Mikal is an insistant and protective...alpha? Maybe? She's certainly the head of their little pack, and when she suggested that he take Raph for protection, he decided to give in...Raph, at least, will be quiet and stay out of the way. Plus...how exactly do you tell a huge raptor wolf what to do. So the big canine is at Norris's heels, sniffing curiously in the direction of the smithy. And making a small 'whuff' that sounds like the wrinkling of a human nose.

In the smithy, it is that level of heat that is uncomfortable but necessary for the smith's work. The air smells of burning charcoal and of oil and metal. The song of the hammer is not being sung by the old man, however; this is a taller man, fairly powerfully built, with well-defined muscles upon his bare chest and arms. A dun-colored cloth keeps his long pale hair out of his eyes, and he is hammering at a length of steel, apparently for a steel sword.

Norris watches quietly for many seconds, needing a moment to realize what it is that the smith is worknig with. Norris had seen steel before, in stanton. But he had never seen it worked, before. Or he has. It's not clear to him, this overlapping of what he knows and what he Knows. From somewhere else. From the man that made the egg. He waits, however, not wanting to disturb the man during a bad moment in the forging. He is, if nothing else, patient.

Raphael is not impressed, and sits, and starts grooming his tail.

The man pauses in mid-swing, as if sensing someone there. He glances over his shoulder at Norris, then nods approvingly. "C'mon in, guy," he says. "The old man's going to be a little late. Always is. Never takes time seriously. But," he adds, as he begins hammering at the steel again, "he doesn't have to.

"Name's Wayland, by the way. What's yours?"

Norris steps forward, leaving Raph to his very important work. He's got to look good for Mikal, after all. Can't afford to let Iron Antlers sneak by into first place. "Norris, sir. Just admiring th' steel. Who're ya makin th' sword for?" he queries.

Wayland chuckles a little, holding up the cooling blade and examining it. "Honestly? Nobody in particular. See, it's what I do. What I've done for ages." It occurrs to Norris, abruptly, that Weyland isn't mortal; he's certainly an aethyr.

Weyland seems satisfied with the work on the blade so far, and he sets it in the forge again, pulling down on the bellows to make the charcoal fire burn hotter. "How long've you been a smith, Norris?"

Norris head tilts...it seems a strange concept to him. He's never made anything just to make it. There's always been a specific goal or task in mind. The aethyr's question, though, makes him self-conscious. "Uh...been a 'prentice for 2 years, sir. Take me a little longer t' learn, cause I'm slow, ah guess. But Master says I do good work. An ahm persistent. Got t' be. Gotta keep muh friends safe, an that means makin good armor." Norris realizes that he's babbling a little, and shuts up.

Wayland doesn't seem bothered. "Oh, yeah. I know that feeling." He finishes getting the steel hot in apparently record time, before pulling the nearly-white-hot blade from the fire with heavy pincers, and offering the hammer to Norris. "It's actually depressin'. So many people want swords, axes, pikes, other weapons. They kinda forget that smiths can make armor too. C'mon, have a few whacks. Not often you'll get to work steel like this. A good ingot of steel's like a glass of wine to a gentleman."

Norris looks a little wistful. "Nivver had wine before neither. Should take oppertunity, sometime." he comments, hefting the hammer, getting a feel for it. The weight and balance. "Cat once tol' me about this older woman traveller, shared a glass of wine wi' her. And then she..." Oh, wait. The last time he told that story, there was a lot of blushing, and a very angry inkeeper's wife sent him off to scrub a lot of pots. "Uhm, yeah. So, hammerin'." He lands a blow, and then another, cautious as he takes the opportunity to work his first steel. Even the halberd head he made before their first trip out was only iron.

Raphael rolls his eyes. Silly smith.

Wayland talks Norris through hammering a bit; it could hardly be called 'instruction,' the way he casually talks. But it seems to help some. Weyland is grinning after a while. "You know your hammerin', that's for sure." He's continues to talk Norris through several more steps, guiding him in hammering and folding the steel. "Have you done any forgin' beneath the Winter Palace?" he asks. "If you get the chance, talk with some dokkalfar smiths. You'll never see forges like those in the caves there. Pretty sure they'd be glad for the mortal help."

Norris smiles shyly. "Did it once...but was helpin more wi' an accident with ironwork. Mosta what we dew, sadly, requires we's be movin' out and away from th' palace...r' I'd happily stay a month there soakin up knowledge. Th' idee that mebbe ah make sommat like th Spear o' Thunders..." he explains as he hammers, slowly getting the feel of the differences between working iron and steel. "Yew work wi' steel a lot? Where d'ya get yer steel from? D' the rakshasa use weapons like this?" The questions suddenly come in a flurry from the young man in time to the ringing of the hammer on the sword.

Wayland smiles, almost nostalgicly, turning the steel every now and then. "Ah, yeah. The Thunder-Bladed Sword... that was a fine piece of work they did. Yeh, I think you'd be able to do that someday. Take time to get up the skill, and almost as much time to make the thing... but you'd be able to do it." He's happy to answer Norris's questions about steel: how to forge it, where to get the best iron ore from with which to make steel (near about three days' Mirror-ward from Uluru, where there's hills made from red clay rich in all the stuff that makes good steel.) He also briefly describes the rakshasas' terrible weapons, not only their wickedly-curved swords but also the vajras that elder raksasha such as Lord Ravanna wield.

"Smiths make them, too," he says, "with maybe a bit of help from sorcerers. But most of the work is done by a smith and the person who's goin' to be wielding it. Swords, though... anyone can make a sword, but making a good one... that takes time."

And then Norris hears the voice of the old man from the doorway. "And sometimes forging a sword can take much more than merely time."

Norris listens to it all, only speaking to prompt Wayland further as he unearths his smithing lore. Weirdly enough, it seems to come easier to him now, the actual whys and wherefores of it, and not just the instruction. Good smiths know what to do, and have good instincts. Great smiths surpass that, combining knowledge with instinct. Perhaps Wayland is right, and some day he will be able to forge legenary works. He's bemused as the old man speaks up, and looks towards him, seeing him for the first time. "Ahm sorreh? Whatchu mean by that, sir?" he queries politely.

The old man dodders in, which gives Wayland a chance to sit back and cool off a little. Meanwhile the old man says, "Forging a weapon makes one think of what that weapon was used for, concern and worry that can color your every thought of that weapon.

"Forgive me, I fear I have you at a disadvantage. But Wayland here told me of the consternation you have felt. My name is Masamune Goro. Like you, I am a blacksmith, though I specialize in swords rather than armors."

Norris looks confused. "Conster-what?" Maybe he's been getting smarter, but even that word is beyond him. He thinks about a moment more, and the realizes what the man said. "Wait, how do Wayland know that ah've been all hinky 'bout th' idee of makin weapons?"

Masamune says, "Because Wayland is the Throne of Smiths. He is the sole surviving embodiment of the ability of mortals to create with their own hands. It was he who told me of your... vision. And we both knew that here was one -- yourself -- who has the potential to make great things. It would be remiss of me to not make your acquaintance."

Wayland says easilly, "Masamune's been lookin' for someone to pass on at least some of his knowledge to for a while now."

Norris looks startled, staring at the ordinary looking aethyr in a new light. "uh." he says intelligently. He has no idea how to adress a Throne. Especially one that can apparently pluck his thoughts out of the air. He finally just nods. "It's nice t' meet yew both, sirs. Uhm." He looks at Masamune. "An who are yew, sir...iffn ya doan mind me asking."

Masamune bows formally and politely, in a way Norris has seen Okori do. "I am a mortal, like yourself, Norris. In the Waking I forged many swords, and many of them were considered excellent. But there was a time when I looked at what swords I have fashioned were used for, and I doubted myself and wished I had never taken up the smith's hammer."

It doesn't take long for Norris to get it. "So, yew didn't jus' happen to stop by. Th' Throne sought out sommat who knew what ah been worrin' about t' help me work through this mess, hey?" he suggests. "Fergive me fer askin...but why's that important?"

Masamune smiles quietly. "Because of what I finally realized, Norris, in those days of doubt. Any smith can make a sword that will kill, and will kill well. An excellent smith can make a sword that can cut a river's flow, can cut a fluttering piece of silk in mid-air, can draw flesh to it as if a lodestone. My old pupil, Muramasa, was said to be one who could make such a weapon. But what I relized is that it takes a truly gifted smith, a smith who works in harmony with nature and the elements, to make a sword that will not cut except that which needs to be cut.

"Once I realized this, I ceased being a mere smith. The word in my language is katana-kaji. In that moment of enlightenment, I began to make swords that some could only dream of.

"They still speak of the sword I forged which, after being thrust into a river, when removed was perfectly dry. It was a weapon which would not cut that which did not need to be cut. I could not have forged it before that moment. And yet, to get to that moment, I had to see my swords being used for great evil." He pauses "Do you see what I am saying, Norris?"

Norris blinks, and is listening to every word, fascinated, and clearly wanting to understand. But the light does not appear to be going on over his head. "Ahm not sure ah do, sir. Is you sayin yew kin forge magic blades without bein magical? or issit sommat else?" Even if insight into the modern world comes from his Dreaming self, insight into metaphor and spiritualism does not come from the same.

Masamune gives a soft chuckle. "Something else, yes. Knowledge can be gained in an instant, but understanding takes time. But for now, let us focus on you, shall we?" He continues softly, "Wayland told me that you had a hand in creating the first of the lotus seeds, before they were even called a lotus seed. How did it make you feel when you learned this?"

Norris's face falls, and he looks almost ashamed. "Sick, sir. Like ah did sommat bad. Like ah wuz ..." He trails off, searching for words. While the dream ended there, there's hints in his mind, that what began at Alamagordo later claimed many lives. "Like ah wuz sommat like th' Architect. Creatin', and destroyin', an not carin' much bout th' consequences what ah did."

A large ladle with water, the sort of thing you'd find in a smithy, is thrust into his hands by a not-unsympathetic Wayland. Meanwhile Masamune nods. "Yes. But you do care, don't you? You care about protecting your friends, you care about defeating the spider-wasps. You may even care about what the Architect has or has not done. But the important thing, Norris, is that you do care."

Wayland says, "Yer not the Architect, guy. Ain't nobody has that level of uncarin' and selfishness." He leans forward. "Yer worried about havin' a hand in the Trinity lotus seed, Norris, but I can tell ya, the value of a weapon is in the hands o' the person carryin' it."

Masamune adds, quietly, "Which isn't to say that the crafting of the weapon itself isn't important. Because the smith provides one great thing to the making of a weapon: It's purpose. Muramasa would make swords that could kill anything they touched. But the swords I forged after that one perfect moment of clarity would kill only that which the wielder needed to kill. When you had a hand in making the lotus seed, did you not feel the same? That it would end a terrible war and bring peace?"

Norris's brow knit. "Ah dunno. Ah knew it wuz important. Ah new it wuz mah job, and doin mah job wuz my life. It's allus been important t' do the best work ah kin ever do, e'en if ah nivver saw the fruits of it. Cause iffn ya don't do yer best, then yew's not a craftsman. Jus' a fella tryin' ta make a buck. Guess ah feel like mah sin in that case was more like...doin, an makin, without knowing r' questionin whut ah wuz doin. Cause my reputation wuz more important."

Norris blinks, as his brain rewinds. "What...whut's the Trinity Lotus Seed?"

Masamune and Wayland seem to share a brief, approving look. "That's why I had Masamune here go lookin' for you, guy," Wayland says. "Yer bein' honest wit' yerself. You'd be surprised at how many folks don't do that." He takes in a deep breath, then says, "Th' first lotus seed created by mortal hands was set off at a place called 'Trinity.' Dunno if it was irony, or the name of the place, or if they jus' had to give it some mysterious-soundin' name. Since then, though, 's been called the Trinity lotus seed."

Norris doesn't know how to respond to the Throne's approval, and so he just blushes and remains silent. At his explanation, though, his face makes a little o' of understanding. "Ah see. So it's just...just a name. Aint got nowhut t' do with th' Architect."

Norris's brain is still processing what Wayland says. And then he gets this look on his face, like a confused dog. "C'd it be that ahm like this naew cause o' what ah did when I wuzn't dreaming, or sommat? Lak...karma, or punishment, or sommat?"

Wayland hehs, "No, it don't have anythin' to do with the Architect. An' if yer talkin' about this life you're livin' in the Dreamtime? Honestly, I couldn't tell ya that. If anyone can, it's yerself. 'S a matter 'tween you an' yer heart, guy."

Norris wilts a little. "Kin yew at least tell me whut ah needs t' do next? Ah mean...t'be like yew, Mr. Masamune, sir? Ah kin do instruction. Feelings ahm still workin at."

Masamune smiles kindly, and sets a hand on Norris's shoulder. "I will teach you, Norris. I have not had an apprentice in ages, but here in the Dreamtime, we have plenty of time."

Wayland stands, grinning. "I'll go an' get more steel. Looks like we're gonna be here for a bit...."

[Previous Log] [Index] [Next Log]





Last modified: 2008-Oct-04 19:17:18

All material on this site is
Copyright © 2008-2024 Reality Fault
unless specifically indicated on each document.
All Rights Reserved.
Administrated by Reality Fault Webmaster