Hialao is the nucleus, a modern, sunny and hospitable seaside realm; Wildewall is steeped in tradition, good for those with archaic roots and a taste for wilderness; Elestis is the fantasy land of ever-tumbling magic and whimsical imagination; Parse whirs like the massive digital machine that it is, advanced and technological.
Barrows is the breeding ground of chaos, with refrains of grunge and anachronistic crime; Tethya is the small but glorious underwater world reminiscent of Victorian times; and those who don't feel at home in any of these places, or simply like to wander, are known as Drifters.
We're a panfandom roleplay forum for animated and illustrated media: this includes anime, manga, Western animation and comics, video games, visual novels, and more. We are hosted on Jcink Premium and are over 3 and a half years old. Please register in ALL CAPITALS!
|gossamer||Help Search Members Calendar TAGBOX|
|Welcome Guest ( Log In | Register )||Resend Validation Email|
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Feb 2 2017, 07:58 PM
It had been a long time since her arrival in the New World.
Balsa had learned the names of each World within the greater world that enclosed it all. She had also learned that many individuals who lived within each were very much the same as she herself, drawn into the world from another. She had, on her first arrival, thought it was another world like Nayug, a world connected to Sagu. It was possible that in a sense, that was precisely what it was. But for the larger part, it was something entirely separate; as far as she could tell, each World within this one was a dimension all its own. To have a multi-dimensional world that was connected to Sagu was….too much for her to ponder. Nor, she supposed, was it really relevant to her mind. She was in an unfamiliar world; even if it had been Nayug, there was little she could do for the matter. She was stuck, with no way out. She simply had to survive.
So, she did.
She scoped out each world individually and learned all that she could from them. Wildewall became her home, as it was the most familiar, the most like her home. The Barrows were not entirely unfamiliar, but she rather disliked such a place all the same. There was violence for violence’ sake, something she could hardly condone. If she was to fight, it would be for a reason. Their sort was senseless and she had no interest in it. But, from time to time, she would be made to take contracts even there. Elestis was a strange place she did not like; magic she was familiar with, even if she didn’t much like it. Parse she liked even less for its heartless feeling of hollow dull machines. Hialao was dull, but it was hospitable. All the same she preferred the natural feeling of Wildewall. It was the closest to home she had. She would make any place home if it was needed, but comfort was certainly a factor.
It was due time for her, now, though, to see to her spear. It had been worn quite well with time; she rather hated it to be left in such a state. It was high time she see a blacksmith. But, unfortunately, she was not familiar with the villages on such a personal level that she knew who would best suit her needs. It would be an unfortunate venture for her - if she at least knew the people better, this would take less time. She had been...improving her social connections with the villages, at the very least; her name was known well enough that she was often greeted all the same by those who knew it. Conversation was easy to start and so she supposed she was glad that the name of the female bodyguard was known. At minimum, it made work easy to find.
She had, however, come upon the smith she had been directed to by the villagers on the trail. She came upon his shop, eyeing the sign only briefly before she stepped inside, standing tall with her spear held proudly in hand. For now, she would wait for him to return. It was likely that he was either out, or working on a project. She was patient - and currently without a contract to limit her time.
count on me▼
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Feb 7 2017, 03:34 PM
It was good to be home. Talion loved his scouting missions to get away from everything. Even though this time he hadn't been alone, spending a few weeks with Teemo hadn't been unpleasant, and he would venture to say he even had fun with the yordle. Still, he could only take so much roughing it, and was glad to return to his smithy, where the roof didn't leak, mice weren't constantly nibbling at his food, and spiderwebs weren't big enough to be used as a blanket. Most of all, he missed his own bed.
It was still early morning when he'd arrived, and as much as he wanted to take a quick nap, he still had to unpack and get the forge ready for the day.He shuffled through his tasks half-awake, his entire body complaining about a lack of quality sleep and overabundance of fresh air and sunshine. It was a good, dream-like tired, rather than one brought about by excessive fatigue, but it still made him feel too lazy to even hang up his bedroll to air it out. He sighed at the rolled mat, and decided to move on for now. It could wait a few hours.
What couldn't wait was the forge. The mere idea of building it up to the proper temperature was almost too much for Talion to handle, but he'd planned on being back in business today, tired or not. He forced himself through the process, lugging around wood and working the bellows as best he could to get everything going. Beyond that, there wasn't much to do except wait for the wood to burn down to coals, and his eyes wandered back over to his pack, everything still rolled up tight.
He rubbed at his eyes, dismissing the pack and lumbering up the stairs to his room. Without even undressing, Talion flopped down onto his bed, revelling in the softness. He groaned in protest at something digging into his chest, and he rolled over just enough to undo his sword harness. The gear slipped away from him, rattling to the floor in a mess of leather straps and dual blades, and he let out another groan, this time of content, as he buried his face in his bed once again.
He must've fallen asleep for quite some time, but to him it only felt like he'd shut his eyes for a second when he heard a bell jingle from downstairs. He knew the sound, but his sleepy brain couldn't make sense of it. Had he really heard the bell? Did he even have a bell? He pushed himself up, away from comfort and warmth, shaking himself to try to ward off that full-body fuzzy after-nap feeling. He did have a bell, he slowly realized, and it hung above the door downstairs... He followed the train of thought, absently staring at the floor while sitting on the edge of his bed. Oh. He had a customer. Wait, how long ago had he heard the bell?
He finally figured the situation out, and started down the stairs, stopping to glance back at his sword harness. He didn't like not wearing it, but the jumble of straps and blades would take too long to figure out to be practical at the moment. He had no idea how long his customer had been waiting, so he needed to hurry up. After a quick descent, followed by a couple of turns to get himself into the shop proper, he emerged on the sales floor, stifling a yawn.
"Can I help you?" he asked drowsily, not really paying attention to whoever was standing in his shop as he went to take his position behind the counter. He was completely unaware of his appearance. His beard was scraggly and unkempt from too long away from a proper razor, and his hair existed in whichever direction it pleased, unassisted by his brief lie-down.
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Feb 17 2017, 12:16 PM
Her arrival had rather been sudden and unexpected - it was not as though she had been in communication with the smith beforehand. She missed the days of conversing with her former blacksmith, missed his frowns and scolding, and how he thought that his unpleasant demeanour fooled anyone. A blacksmith who aimed to make the perfect weapon, the weapon that would kill no one….such a project he had upon his shoulders. But, the old man was stubborn. One day, she imagined he would be able to forge such a magnificent weapon.
But this was not New Yogo. This was an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar smith. True she had come at what she believed to be a reasonable hour, but she did not know the mannerisms and patterns of this smith, thus did not know if he was ready for her at this hour. Patience, however, was a virtue which Balsa had in ample quantity. She waited, standing tall, standing quietly. At least she wasn’t in a pressing situation, or else she might have been on edge. Not angry, though - after all, she had made the choice to wait as long as she did to get her spear seen to; she could hardly blame the smith. It was her own negligence, in the end.
She heard footsteps - heavy, plodding. A man, and one moving at an odd pace at that - the footsteps were somewhat quickened, he was in a hurry. Perhaps he just now realized he had a customer. She kept her wits about her, straight-faced and poised. After a few more loud steps, she was presented with a tall and broad man, and one who seemed both exhausted and….if she had to admit, unclean. Not in a way that was terribly obvious, but he looked to be one who had been sleeping in trees and caves for the better part of a week. She wondered what stories he had to tell, but not enough that she ventured to indulge them. What a man did in his time was his business, as hers was her own.
”Yes, I believe you can.” she answered pointedly, stepping forward and pulling the cover from her spear. ”I hope it’s not too much to trouble you. My spear, though, could use some work.” She stepped forward, relaxing slightly; if he wished to take a closer look himself, he was welcome to take it off her hands. ”You are fortunate as for the time being I’m without any immediate obligations. Time is not a heavy concern for me. However a rough estimate would of course be preferred; work tends to find me swiftly, and I need my spear in working order when it does.”
count on me▼
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Feb 26 2017, 11:36 PM
Talion stifled a yawn, straightening as the woman - oh, his customer was a woman - approached the counter. He rolled stiff muscles, and casually started to tie his hair back as he realized how much of a mess he probably looked. Without a mirror and the proper grooming facilities, it was pretty much the best he could do at the moment, and he hoped she was alright with having a more shaggy blacksmith than usual. He rubbed sleep from his eyes as a final step to ward off the post-nap fuzziness in his head, but his brain took a little longer to catch up and switch from napping bear to professional smithy.
"No trouble at all," he replied as amicably as he could, though any degree of friendliness was lost in his raspy voice. He realized, dimly, that his throat was completely dry. He excused himself momentarily, ducking into the back to get some water. He returned moments later, clearing his throat and wiping small beads of water from his beard.
"You are fortunate as for the time being I’m without any immediate obligations."
The words were a simple statement, but they were enough of a slap to dispel the rest of his grogginess. Or maybe it was the cold water hitting his belly. Either way, he was suddenly very aware that he was setting a terrible first impression, something he only cared about where his business was concerned. "My apologies, my lady. I don't mean to make excuses, but I just returned from a very long trip and may have fallen asleep while waiting for my forge to heat up."
He reached over the counter to take the spear from her, laying it on the counter and stepping back to appraise the weapon. It was well-worn, both in haft and head, and he knew that if he wanted to restore the weapon to peak performance, he may have to simply build a new one. For most seasoned veterans, that was simply out of the question, and most would opt to replace their weapon parts piece by piece, in an effort to keep it more or less the same as they were used to.
"What were you looking to have done with it?" Talion asked, meeting her eyes for the first time during their exchange. He felt a stab in his heart as he saw his late wife standing before him, just for a moment. He blinked, and she was gone, replaced by a woman who held various similarities but was markedly different. He'd been seeing his wife in many women lately, but this one seemed to hold the closest resemblance to Ioreth so far. How he missed her.
"I can-" Talion stopped to clear his throat as his voice broke, his thoughts of his dear wife stirring up emotions that hadn't calmed down since his arrival here. "I can build you a new one, in the same style, of course," he said, looking away to try to quell some of his feelings. He ran his hands along the length of wood. "I understand that you might not want an entirely new weapon. The tip of this one is well-used, but it won't fail for a while yet. You'll lose the haft before anything else. I could turn a new one for you, lacquer it, wrap it, and have your spear battle-ready in a few days to a week, depending on the availability of materials. Did you have any preference to the type of wood to be used?"
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Mar 13 2017, 05:45 PM
It wasn’t her business to chastise the smith for his appearance. She wasn’t here for a handsome, well-groomed gentleman, after all; she was here for an individual who was skilled in his profession. She gave a short nod as he spoke, noting the sandpapery texture of his voice. She gave no objections as he took a moment to himself - undoubtedly to quench his obvious thirst.
As he returned, he seemed to...consider her words with far more thought than was required. Then again, it was something Balsa was accustomed to; by her nature, she was extremely direct - there was no hidden meaning behind her words. What she said was exactly what she meant. On the other hand, she also realized that this was not the way of most people. Kanballans were blunt, but that was the way of her people and hers only - New Yogo had been quite a bit more polite - they were a people who beat around the bush, so to speak. What was intended by their words was often hidden to some degree - not out of malice, but simply because it was….polite. She was accustomed to it by now, having others overanalyze her words. She didn’t call him out on it.
She quirked a brow at his apology. While it wasn’t her business - of course it wasn’t - there was one thing that stuck out to her, one thing that she did have to correct him on. She pursed her lips, giving a shake of her head. ”That’s your business. I don’t mind waiting. Like I said, I don’t have any immediate business. Though there’s no need for ‘My Lady’. Balsa, please. Just that will do. No titles are needed for me.” She held the spear out for him to examine, remaining neutral in expression as he took the weapon to inspect it. She herself knew that it was quite worn, but all the same, the weapon held a certain….significance to her. It had belonged to someone in her past, someone important. All the same, a weapon was a tool for killing. If the damage was too steep, then Jiguro...he would understand.
She could hear a faint cracking in his voice that indicated feeling and memory. Balsa herself was hardly the sentimental sort - she remembered Jiguro with fondness, yes, but she was never like that herself, emotional. She hadn’t been since she was a child, since Jiguro raised her. This man...had someone dear to him, someone he was missing now. She would do her best not to intrude on his emotions. She simply nodded as he went on to speak further - in the same style, that was good. It would mean less time reacquainting herself with the weapon. ”I am aware its condition is lacking. If a new one must be built from scratch, then I understand and accept. This spear has seen many battles. Perhaps it’s time to put it to rest.” She gave a moment’s thought, her eyes tracing her old and trusted companion. ”Ash or hickory would be my preference. Whichever is readily available.”
count on me▼
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Apr 4 2017, 12:07 PM
She really didn't seem to mind waiting for his services. How frankly she spoke was a little unnerving, but also refreshing, in a way. It meant that this deal would go smoothly, even if there were problems. They would be swiftly identified and his customer, for once, would have no issues telling him what they didn't like or wanted changed. Nothing was worse than watching someone squirm and try to politely tell him to change something while trying to keep his feelings intact.
His job had nothing to do with his own feelings. A person's weapon was theirs, and as the smith, it was Talion's job to ensure that the customer was completely satisfied with their purchase. If he had to redo a job three times before his customer was satisfied, then so be it.
He put a hand to his chin, regarding the spear and considering his options. He idly rubbed his scraggly beard and wished desperately for a shave. "Better make it ash, then," he replied, picking up the weapon and bringing the tip-end close to his face to get a better look, "hickory's too expensive nowadays. It's popular for smoking meat, so the price rose quite a bit. I don't have any ash on hand at the moment, but that won't be a problem." He set the spear back down and looked at Balsa.
"The head is definitely still good. I'll clean it up, give it a good sharpening and polishing, and it'll be good as new. Should last for quite a while yet if you maintain it properly. If you don't know how, I could teach you, or you could bring it back to me once a month or so and I'll do it for you, but we can talk about that later." Talion ducked below the counter for a moment to reach for something, then placed a clipboard and pencil on the counter, along with a roll of measuring tape. He took a few quick measurements of the haft, jotting down his numbers as he did. "I do have a few questions for you, if that's alright. To make a better fit, I'll also have you run a few offensive and defensive drills, to see where you typically keep your grip."
He scribbled a few more things on his paper, then held the spear out for Balsa to take. "The first question is the most important. Would you like me to make the spear longer, shorter, or keep it the same length?"
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Apr 26 2017, 05:37 PM
She was not what he had expected, Balsa knew that from the very start. Not because she was particularly adept at reading the man’s emotions; on the contrary, even her own were a mystery to her - a stranger’s were a maze she dared not tread. Simply, that she was a woman of her disposition was uncommon. But then, she’d been raised more as a man than a girl. Jiguro had been as rough with her as if she were a son, since the day he took her from Kanbal. She wouldn’t have it any other way. Jiguro had given her her life, and the skills that kept her from dying. If it meant sacrificing femininity, she would do it again.
She gave a curt nod as he explained his reasoning for ash. She could understand his explanation - to say that money was not an item was an unfortunate lie in most civilisations. Ash would serve. She found herself more watching him than her own weapon, intrigued by the workman’s scrutinizing gaze. To observe a blacksmith at work - even in such mundane tasks and appraisals - was a small fascination to her. Jiguro had done the same, she remembered as a child that she would watch Jiguro watching the smith. She’d not understood at the time, but now she found that the fascination with watching the smith was in observing the thought process visually before he spoke.
Though she maintained a polite air about her, she near broke off with a scoff; if she didn’t know how to maintain a spear, she most certainly wouldn’t be here now. Jiguro would be rolling in his grave if any of his teachings had been forgotten or ignored. She quite imagined he would rise up and drag her down with him. For now, she didn’t speak, though, allowing the smith to continue. He pulled a clipboard and pencil and placed them down, along with a...ah yes, measurements. She glanced at him and nodded in approval to his request. ”That’s quite alright.” It was a simple response, but there was nothing more that needed to be said for now. She reached forward, taking the spear from him once more. The first question he asked was rather simple to answer; after all, she’d always used the same length of spear. ”The same, if you would.” She was sure she could manage with change, but familiarity was something she preferred, particularly in her line of work.
count on me▼