[Flashback] Untraceable (Minerva)

[Aislin]

Timestamp: Fall 36, 511 AV By the time she reached the forge, the sun had come high in the sky. Its golden tendrils, streamers of light, locked behind the roofs of nearby buildings. Darkened by the shadow of wispy white clouds. The door had parted for her easily enough; perhaps fearing the curses she held at the tips of her fingers, or the heel of lent leather boot. Neither way did it matter to the half blood, who tore her way inside the building, strips of deep violet fabric dancing around her ankles. The soles of her shoes clicked against the hardwood floor as she marched inside, her deep blue eyes, darkened by the upturned rim of her hood grazing lazily over the Defiled Blade's contents. It were as though she were a doctor who having sliced open a cadaver, was studying each of the unearthed organs with rapt attention. A raptor's gaze. But still, nothing caught Aislin's eyes, not even bloodied entrails, which trickled down the sides, cascading over bone and skin grown grey. Sighing, for her cursory glanced proved to be less than extraordinary, the Chaon strode forward. The simple cotton dress flowing around her curves, as the sweep of the blackened cloak swished silently behind. The hood still pulled tightly over her visage, keeping most everyone from getting a good view. Glittering weapons were strewn on either of her sides; tacked to boards upon the wall. Armaments of shimmering steel and bronze hung proudly from busts littered the center of the long entrance room; designed to draw customers into the dining hall. It was not this that Aislin had come for. But for a sharpened blade. Thus, it seemed natural enough for her to stroll to the left and allow her eyes to linger on everything that was displayed. First, they danced over swords of curved steal, weapons far too exotic for her patron to achieve his needs. Even so, as not to seem peculiar or out of place, the woman drew her finger over the wire hilt, testing its firmness, its durability. Or so she would think, considering she knew so little of this sort of thing. After a few ticks, her nail brushed up against the indentations in the metal as her eyes traveled to other sights. Blades as tall as she, thick as her arms. Something only a man seemed capable of carrying with relative ease. For even she knew that many would need both hands for that. A few more of twice the thickness, with a sharper curve than the one her finger was trailing. These will never do, Aislin thought. They are far too grand to be easily concealed. To be taken into the task at hand. She smiled wickedly as she moved to her right, her fingers lazily trailing away from the sickle like make. Dangling in midair, as gracefully as a hummingbird would hover over a plant from whose nectar it supped. Perhaps one of these smaller molds would suit him, she thought, as she took in the sight of a number of gladius and other short swords. But still, they seemed too much for her needs. For everyone's needs. The woman sighed. "They should have sent someone else," Aislin grumbled under her breath. The vapors of her vowels lost beneath the hood. Shielded by shadow.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Working here was proving to be a constant learning experience. Which was good, because that was exactly what Tock wanted. She had already learned a bit about forging, and the other day she had learned to make gold leaf. Today, it was making wire. Copper wire served a variety of purposes. It could be used to wrap sword hilts, as a decorative addition to some pieces of metalworking, as a means to bind together some items that were too delicate to forge, or it could be used to solder together larger pieces of metal work, since the thinner wire would melt easier and could be applied to more precise and delicate joinings. Making the wire was a multi-step process. Following the directions of her supervisor, Tock set up a metal draw plate, which was filled with a series of holes of varying widths. She was shown which thickness they needed for the current task, and then she aligned the plate in a vise with the desired hole positioned on top. Then she took a long copper rod, and set it in the heat of the furnace for a time. Once the copper heated enough that the metal began to cool, she removed it with a pair of tongs and dunked it it in a barrel of water. This process, it was explained, softened the metal and made it more malleable and easier to work with. Then, under the directions she was given, she began filing the tip. She filed around each side of the rod at a deep angle, sharpening it to a fine tip. She then wiped off the filed copper dust, and fed the tip into the guide hole like a needle. A thick set of tongs was clamped firmly over the sharpened tip where it jutted from the draw plate. The rest of the rod was too thick to fit through the narrow hole, though just barely. To aid the process, she applied grease to the full length of the wire, which would lubricate it for its trip through the draw plate. It was then drawn through the hole with the thick tongs, the now malleable metal being squeezed and reshaped in order to fit. It became thinner as it was forced through the hole, the lost width converted into extra length, so that as the metal was reshaped it became noticeably longer. Once the first pass was done, the copper was threaded through a thinner hole and drawn out again, and then a third time, until the length of metal was reformed to the desired width. "We have a customer," Gondanir, her Isur supervisor told her, interrupting her work. Tock glanced out to the front counter, where sales were made. She saw some cloaked woman there. "Aye," she replied. She didn't see why he bothered pointing it out to her. She returned to her work. "Go and help her," he replied gruffly, continuing to use his stone arm in the process of etching a decorative shape into some kind of steel shield. "Huh?" Tock replied with a frown. "I's a builder! I ain't fer customers!" In his usual cold, gruff tone, the Isur replied, "You wish to learn. Learn to help customers." She glared at him for a long moment. That wasn't fair! She was apprenticed here to learn to make things, not to talk to people! He didn't accept any arguments, however, and after her repeated protests and whining failed to persuade him, she trudged up to the front, muttering and cursing under her breath the whole way. The woman would find the redhead dressed in stained work clothes, with leather gloves and a leather apron. Her clothes and face were stained from sweat and grease, and she wore a foul expression. She stalked up to the customer and snapped at her, "Whaddya want?"

[Aislin]

The hood swayed, the darkened loop turning so as to present itself to the intrusion on its keeper's thoughts. Shadows shifted, creeping across delicate features, but presenting none, save for a single eye. The one on the right, which glistened like morning dew over the feathers of an exotic bird. The frayed edges, hung limply from the weight they bore, dripped away from the central stalk. Orbs of crystal liquid cascading down their length with such ease it was as though there were nothing in their path to obstruct their movement. Stained glass windows peered outward, irises and darkened pupils taking in each section of presentation. A disheveled bird's nest cast in reds as opposed to muddied browns, as though it could lend the construction a bit of elegance or grandeur. Skin paling, blanched from the infernal heat, secreting beads of moisture similar to that which stained the eyes only in that they were all transparent. Orbs which magnified whatever lay behind them, even when they streaked down one's skin. Degrees of separation existing only in content- one as salty as the spray of the sea, the other as pure as water fit for consumption. Eyes danced away from facial feature to the garb drawn loosely over skin. Dry places hanging limply over bony frame, while those sodden with sweat clung to skin. Chest, heaving to draw in breath with air so thick, and weight pressing so fully upon young shoulders. Simple work shirt beneath an apron, caked with both ash, grease, and dirt. Streaks of grey to black, the occasional brown, rubbed raw into worn cotton fibres. Boiled leather gloves and apron blending into the simplistic design. Crackling with each of the woman's subtle shifts of body, as though it were still resting beside the heat of the forge. Dissatisfied with the overall inspection, Aislin could only hint at her disdain with a subtle curling of lower lip. Frustrated also, by unpleasant tone, the Chaon couldn't help but feel a little less than unwelcome, causing the djed in the pit of her stomach to stir. Like a snake previously coiled, it unwound as slowly as a sailor may unfurl a length of rope to tie into the moorings. Her djed, growing warm now that it had been summoned, slithered up the length of Aislin's stomach and into her neck, where it split in two. From there, it wound down the length of her veins. Dazzling neon blue and green rivers, which pulsed unpleasantly beneath a thin sheen of milky skin. Each rippled, sending the flow of djed along smoothly, until they reached the other end. Settling just behind the tip of nails, and running back, where they eventually spilled into each end of the body. Settling against the mind, behind eyes; even more molten than before. That was unnecessary, the hypnotic djed whispered. Weaving its way into Aislin's thoughts as though it were a simple tapestry, and the magic itself, a sharpened needle. You shall not address your customers that way. You shall treat them with respect. For you are lowly. You are filth. The magic paused as though considering. "To buy a weapon, what the petch else would one be doing in a forge?" she asked. Idiot. Again it paused, its beady black eyes fixated on Tock's as much as the woman's unwavering gaze. Hardening now with the use of her magic, and her frustration, although her pupils had begun to dilate. Overcoming the waves of deep blue; turning them black as coals. That which was used to fire the furnaces. To keep them billowing smoke, and rising in intensity. You will do your job. And you shall do it with a smile. Even if it's little more than a falsity. "Now, as for what sort of weapon..." Listen carefully. Fool. We both know you need to lend both of your ears. "We're in need of something small. Something that can easily be concealed within the sleeves of one's clothes. The folds of longer robes. Against thighs if strapped in place by a simple scabbard," Aislin wore on, leaving her magic out of the matter for the time being. "It needs to be sharp, fresh, and without mark. Without blemish. There need be no hint that it came from this place, this very forge. It needs to be... untraceable." There was a pause as she allowed the woman time to consider her words. The needs her patron had in mind, and other things too, she had thought of herself. "It would also be rather, helpful, if the weapon was more of a blade than spiked monstrosity. If it were something anyone could use with relative ease. Even those with no upper body strength. No training in the martial arts. No knowledge of basic weaponry." There was a pause. "Something that could be dug between bone. Wedged between rib. Used to sever the strings of any vital organs necessary, should it be used in mortal combat." She shrugged, "but then again, one would hope that anything in here could be used for such means." Aislin waved her hand. A simple flourish, which turned the folds of her robes. Hanging loosely over her wrists. "Have anything like that?" she asked. "Apprentice." OOCAnything in italics is hypnotism stuff. Aislin's skill is quite low however, so feel free to not have it effect your pc at all. I'm not going to be even remotely offended. Also, if it's confusing, the stuff without quotations is subliminal. Unspoken. Not a grammatical error. Enjoy!

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

OOCWhile my knowledge of the Hypnotism Lore is limited, my general inclination is to 'go along with it.' Tock's been hypnotized quite a few times IC (usually for very minor urges and pushing). Generally, I see it as, unless the desired effect goes WAY against what she is naturally inclined to do, she'll be affected without realizing it. Only if someone was trying to push her way out of what her natural choices would be would I figure to resist it, since that's the point where she knows something isn't right. So in this case, I'm going to go with 'mixed results'. Some of the 'suggestion' will implant just fine, some clashes too strongly with her core persona. Hopefully the results work well for you. Tock immediately disliked this woman. The way she held herself. The look in her eyes. The disdain on her face. Even the way she dressed made her seem like someone who was way too full of herself. Like she had nothing better to do than fret over each piece of cloth that wrapped her, and the careful alignment of each hair on her poshy little head. While the woman looked upon her with subtle disdain, Tock stared back with unrestrained disgust. Unnecessary... shouldn't address customers that way... treat them with respect... Tock grumbled under her breath, feeling like Gondanir's eyes were on her back. If she didn't treat customers the way he wanted, she could get fired. And she needed this job... She was low on money, and needed to save up for a trip OUT of this wretched city... But then there was something in the woman's eyes. Lowly... filth... She felt even more disgusted... and angry! What right did this woman have, to look at her like that!? She absolutely hated people that thought they were better than everyone else! And that's how this woman was making her feel... Tock was suddenly all too aware of how sweaty, greasy, and dirty she was, compared to the customer's clean silks and perfect hair. And Tock couldn't stand it when she felt like she was beneath somebody. Deny it as she might, she was Sunberthan, born and bred. And in Sunberth, nobody was above anyone else. And when someone ACTED like they were above someone else, they were torn down, until they were on the same level as all the others. Tock felt lowly. She felt dirty in this woman's presence. But rather than trying to clean up her act to reach the woman's level, her gut reaction to that feeling was to drag the woman down into the muck with her. She just had to do it without getting fired. Do your job... do it with a smile... even a false one... Tock smirked, forcing a smug grin onto her face. Bitch wanted to look down on her? Fine. She'd be treated with some good old fashioned Sunberth charm... "Aye, we gots jus' whatcha need, Shelia," Tock said with a condescending smile. She dug around behind the counter for a nice, thin bladed stiletto. She pulled it out and stalked right up to the woman, still smiling the whole time. Respect? she thought. Aye, I shows 'er some respect... Tock got right up in the girl's face and quickly whipped the blade out of its little sheath. She didn't know the first thing about wielding one, other than 'pointy end goes in the bitch,' but the customer didn't need to know that. The fast motion with the blade was right near the woman's face, close enough that most people would step back on reflex out of fear of being cut. Tock held the weapon up, point aimed towards the woman's voice, and in the most respectful tone of voice possible, asked, "'Is whatcha need, Shelia? Pretty dang sharp. Might wanna be careful not ta cut yerself..." She held the blade out to the woman, but 'forgot' to offer the hilt first. She kept her eyes dead locked on the customer's, showing a hint of madness. But she kept smiling. This woman made her feel low and dirty (though unaware of the magic at work, she thought the feeling came merely from her own filthy state of dress compared to the woman's fine appearance). But she had to be helpful and respectful and not do anything that would risk her job. So she'd treat the customer just the way she deserved to be treated. She'd be helpful and considerate and smile the whole time. She'd just do it the Sunberth way.

[Aislin]

Aislin didn't flinch. Not a single muscle rippled, causing her flesh to pulse. Nothing came out of place in an attempt to avoid the weapon, for somewhere inside herself the voider knew that Tock wouldn't dare, and even if she had, there were healers enough. And the insult would be license to kill. Satisfied with herself, the Chaon allowed her lips to curl into a smirk. Crystalline blue shards melting as they were overcome by smoldering coals; reflected in the crisp silver of the dagger. It was as though the weapon held an icy gaze of its own; fixated upon the apprentice. Steel tipped lips dangling dangerously close to Aislin's nose, as though attempting to taunt her with pungent odor. But the blade had no scent, it no longer wreaked of the ford. Rose petals parted, splitting only enough to expose the stamen. Slithering softly towards the opposing as the girl's right hand came up, all but the middle and index finger furled into the palm. Gingerly, she pressed her fingers into the side of the blade; the flattened side, where metal rippled into a pyramidal point. Softly, the girl pushed, forcing the hand down. The blade to turn in a soft crescent away. "No, this won't do," Aislin whispered as her eyes danced over the metal, imagining it still lodged in the heat of the forge. Smoldering iron, melting into a misshapen mass. Waiting to be drawn over mold, and twisted into something of worth; of substance. She imagined that her thoughts mirrored the pain which coursed through her system, cast by the awakening of her mark of faith. The taint on her skin offered by the dark god's blood, which seared as though a brand in the shape of molten sun had been set to her bare flesh. She could imagine it glowing softly, lost beneath the folds of her lent cloak; the blanket of the night. "It's simply not long enough to run all the way through. To sever the strings which need to be cut." She paused a moment as her gnosis' magic trickled through the tips of her fingers and into the stiletto blade, causing it to grow warm for a moment, before receding. "We need something that could silence without a doubt. Ensure that an enemy hold their tongue. Or lose it..." There was a short pause as Aislin pulled the tips of her fingers away, releasing her hold on the weapon. Sealing the curse she had lain bare in the hopes that it would ignite swiftly. Catch like a wildfire; plaguing the girl whose fist was still wrapped tightly around a simple wire bound hilt. "Why don't you put that away, and display some of the other things the smithie has to offer? Blades that stretch a little longer, are easy enough to wedge between ribs?" she asked, as her hands sought the folds of her long dress. Beseeching it to hide that which she had used to spread chaos; do a wrong. It was not for shame that they begged, as they receded into the folds, but to hide the evidence, which was as apparent to the eye as a still air, hung heavily over the room. OOCOk, so, my understanding is that at this level, the curse will not take hold for a few days. A week at most. It will also only last a few days before going away. Thus, chances are your pc will have absolutely no idea that my pc was the one that lay the curse out. Also, if it's unclear, I was attempting to make your pc lose her voice. Not so sure I did a good job with that, my apologies.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock scowled when the woman wasn't phased. Tch, she thought, gonna 'as ta step 'er up a notch... She pulled the stiletto back, unaware that anything more had transpired between them. She sheathed it and tossed it back in the cabinet. She rooted around for awhile, searching for something 'more to the lady's liking.' She pulled out two larger weapons, briefly considering how far she could take this. She wasn't going to be satisfied until she cracked that cool exterior, but she couldn't do anything quite bad enough to get fired. Maybe bad enough to get reprimanded, however. She turned back to the woman with a two foot long short sword in one hand, and a Kris with a sinuous blade, like a snake slithering through the grass. Tock didn't know weapons, but the wavy blade on that one looked deadly enough. She stepped around the counter and aimed the short sword blade-down, throwing it into the floor so it wedged into the floorboards. The wood cracked and the blade vibrated with the sudden motion, landing not far from the woman's feet. The Kris she tossed casually at the woman, hilt first. If she was agile enough, maybe she could snatch it out of the air by the handle. Tock knew she herself could never pull off such a graceful move. Or maybe the woman would try, but cut herself on the blade. Or maybe she'd have to back away from the blade in order to not hurt herself. Tock was curious what it would be. "One o' 'ese good?" she asked, still smiling. She was being 'helpful'. She was attending to her customer's needs. And if anyone asked, she'd say the haphazard way she was going about it was a 'demonstration' of the weapons' capabilities. Worst case scenario, she'd get yelled at, and have to repair the floor. But she was a good carpenter. Replacing a few floorboards would be a small price to pay if she made the woman jump.

[Aislin]

Aislin eyed the short sword; the way it quivered like a leaf. Like virgin man eager to lay his hands on first woman, bought, for his capabilities with tongue and hand proved incapable of proving him worthy enough for more than a simple whore. Soft lips curled into a smirk as she listened to the floorboards creak. Watched crackling fissure dance across the length of deep browns; a winding river, flowing towards toes. While the hilt whorled so rapidly that it reminded her of a hummingbird's wings flapping incessantly in soft buzz as it hovered beside parted petals; elongated beak drinking nectar from inner reaches before moving onto another stalk to dine. Icy eyes didn't settle for long, breaking into twisted shards they shifted. Gaze settling on the blade in Minerva's burdened hand; a kris, a slithering snake. She kept her eyes fixated on the head, beady eyes and forked tongue, leaving lips to taste the air before slinking back inside scaled roofs. Past pointed ramparts and spiked gate into the dripping, dank world beyond. It came as little surprise then when coiled reptile sprang from its den, body unfurling as it flew directly towards a woman's claws. Bemused expression overcame satisfied action as the voider took a single step back to avoid the snake's bite. Venomous fangs recoiling before they sank into wooden bed; body clattering against the floor, laying lifeless. Or perhaps, simply motionless so as to bide its time. Aislin's eyes settled on it for a mere moment before she turned back to Tock, her eyes molten pools of moisture. Boiling above heated kettle. "Did you not listen to a word that has been spoken to you?" she growled. "You were supposed to find something small. Something that could be easily concealed, and you toss those monstrosities at your customer?" she continued as she waved her right hand at the fallen blades before sweeping them back into her lithe form. Her body sauntering towards the apprentice as her level of agitation continued to mount. "Do you think a weakened man could bear those things easily?" she asked. "Sure, they could be twisted into flesh far enough to sever the strings, tear entrails and organs alike away. But what good could that be if unskilled hands are wielding it, and they lack so much as the courage as to finish the job properly?" Aislin asked, her eyes flashing menacingly as she considered laying another curse upon the woman, wondering if it'd even work. She wasn't sure, she had never stuck around long enough to see the effects of her plague. The magic she had been gifted by the god who watched over the city; Rhysol, the defiler. Enraged, Aislin ripped a nearby dagger from the board behind glittering nails. All that was on display trembled with loss of weight, before they slid silently back into place. The voider's fist tightened around the dagger as she glided forward, closing the distance between herself and the apprentice. Herself and the front counter. Her thumb danced over it idly as pupils, dark as coals, smoldered with flickering flame. Her wrist flicked, length of arm twisting as she slammed the weapon on the table. Blade sinking into the wood. Muscles bunching in her fingers, clinging to the hilt desperately a moment before the storm calmed and she pulled away. "You were supposed to offer something like that, fool," Aislin chided as she reached into her pocket and pulled out enough money to pay for the weapon. "How the petch did you even get a job here?" she asked as an apprentice behind the counter wiggled the dagger out and handed it to her as she offered a hand. She held onto it tightly a moment, as though it were some sort of lifeline before loosing it into the folds of her attire as she kept on walking. Kicking open the door of the forge before slamming it tightly shut behind her. ---------------- There it was. The dilapidated building. The chipped and peeling paint. The unsightly mass; unimpressive architecture. The door which rusted knob serving as the passage between the two. Street and opposing inner world. Aislin peered from left to right, hood barely moving as she checked the street. Although, she didn't know why. It wasn't as though she were performing an act too dark. Something the city guard and its constituents would question. Even so, with pounding heart she made her way inside. Only to be met at the door. She could feel a meaty hand winding around her right wrist. "Do you have it?" a man's voice asked as she pulled down the hood of her cloak. Aislin nodded as he released his hold on her, and she pulled off her clothes. Leaving her only in undergarments. "It's in the pocket, just as you asked," she whispered as she handed him the bundle. "Let its aim be true," she added as she leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek before sauntering off, to see if there was another in need of assistance. Or more importantly pleasure.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

This bitch was starting to piss Tock off. "Ya bloody said the other one's too small..." Tock snapped, sneering at the woman, "now 'ese is too big? Tch." She yanked the short sword from the floor and snatched up the Kris, tossing them none too gently back in the cabinet. With her back to the woman she growled, "Does ya even knows WHAT ya want? All 'is bloody talk o' entrails 'is an' organs 'at..." She started taking out blades of various length at random and setting them on the counter. The bitch was so focused on HOW she apparently wanted to kill someone, but apparently didn't know the first thing about the right tool for the job. Like a rich jackass that wanted a carving made without a clue what type of chisels it would need. Unfortunately, Tock didn't know weapons. She was here to learn to make tools; items of creation, not instruments of death. She didn't know which kind of blades would suit the woman's murderous needs. By the time she had picked out a few more possibilities, the woman had just gone ahead and chosen her own. As the bitch was handing over the money and walking out the door, Tock shook one of the blades at her and shouted, "If'n ye'd jus' said so fer ta start wit', ya bloody coulda saved me all 'at trouble, ya blimey bitch!" The NERVE of the woman! All that fuss, all that trouble, when all she wanted was a simple dagger? The way she'd been going on and on about how fancy the killing would be, one would have thought she wanted something special, instead of one of the simplest, most basic weapons possible. She hoped the bloody bitch slit her own damn wrists in the petching thing.

[Verilian]

Aislin +1 Observation +1 Hypnotism Lores: Nerves of Steel Tock +1 Metalsmithing +2 Intimidation Lores: How to Make Copper Wire, Trying to piss off a customer You Question My Logic? : Not a whole lot I could award here, since it was just a short social type thread, but if you ahve questions, feel free to ask. Notes: A word of warning on hypnotism. While you did point out that your skill is rather low and might not affect her, just remember that hypnotism works best when combined with eye contact and speech. While it is possible to impose a sudden thought, it is a more advanced technique. Also, saying one thing while trying to hypnotise another is rather difficult. For instance, when you said, "To buy a weapon, what the petch else would one be doing in a forge?" You tried to hypnotise her into acting right, and putting on a fake smile. Being rude while trying to make someone like you goes against each other. It would have been easier to have been polite, and stick with a simple suggestion subliminal suggestion such as, Like me. The simpler, the better. But, again, this is just advice. You can do it however you want, you are just making it harder for your magic to be effective. Anywayz... keep up the good work, keep writing! Notice As per the request of the Founders, threads cannot be graded unless your CS is up to date. This means you need to add threads to your thread list when you make new threads, keep your skills up to date, ledger, living expenses, ect. If you aren't up to date, you'll get a PM from me before i grade your thread. If you are up to date, disregard this notice.