Arts, Crafts, and Other Wholesome Activities

[Woe]

Woe made it known that he would want Wicker at the [Location] Egilrun Tannery Works (Formerly Slave Market) in order to receive the materials he'd brought to Egilrun, which had caused much astir in the harbor of the village. While the meat had been preserved and made to last for some travel that either Wicker or Woe would have planned, the skins of the snake, and its bones were left with Munge Tanner, the malodorous master of the tannery in Egilrun.

The tannery had a bad reputation, because of its former purpose as a slave market. And in truth, Mudge ran his apprentices not much better than slaves, in spite of the fact that they were paid for their trouble. Battery and beatings were commonplace there, whether between senior apprentices to lessers, or from Mudge himself. Wicker would be treated to these scenes of degradation as he arrived the tannery that had once been a thriving slave market.

Woe was busily refining some of the wells he'd gathered earlier in the season, hopeful that he'd be able to imbue whatever crafts he landed on making here. He had some boulder snake teeth of his own, much like the ones owned by Jinyel, albiet maybe a foot or two shorter. But no less sharp for the fact that they were gathered a full arc or more since the current trial. He also had a measure of boulder snake skins, from the very same adventure he'd shared with Balthazar. In the mountains, an adventure that had needed to be called short, for the destruction of their supplies by said boulder snake.

The mortalborn's gaze was bent upon the shadow orrery that contained the wells he was refining. Although the creation of a keen silver typically required a crucible and mold, Woe had a slightly different method from the one he'd learned from the Enchanted Empress from Yaralon. He used shadows and the interplay of light to shape and tap the impurities of energy from the wells.

The pivotal moment, when the dust of Imetyte was added to territe and imetyte, Woe concentrated a channel of ether directly into the darkened mass around the center of the shadow orrery. The resulting blast was less one of heat, and more one of light, which had to be withstood by the darkness in order for the keen silver to properly form. Woe manipulated hardened shell around the shadow orb, as it reached its explosive apex. The faintest hint of light could be seen emitting from the shadow globe.

It was around this time that Wicker would've been directed into Woe's work area. It was no less terrible smelling than the rest of the tannery. As he entered, Woe noticed, and cast a shadow cover over Jinyel, so that he would not be noticed. He held up a hand to signal his words, Don't worry, it's just a precaution so we're not noticed in the same space. I'm not entirely sure if I want our connection to be public, just yet.

Woe knew that Wicker had issues with Woe casting his powers willy nilly on him, but this was among the more benign and subtle powers, and wouldn't affect Wicker's mind like fearlessness had.

The blast of light from the center of the shadow orb began to coalesce in the misty darkness of the center of the orrery. Soon enough, however, the darkness cleared to reveal a very shiny piece of metal. Or what appeared to be metal. In fact, it was keen silver. An artificial well that was a product of imetyte and territe.

"This is keen silver." Woe said in Wicker's general direction. "It can do several things, not least of which is imbue any craft with an ability to inflict deadly cuts."

"Did you bring the Saltenrock? I can refine it for you, or we can figure out a method that works for you, and you do it yourself?" Woe looked into the darkness that covered Wicker, and frowned, "It'll be useful if you ever find yourself under water, and the sooner refined, the sooner it will not pose an explosive danger to you."

[Jinyel]

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Arts, Crafts, and Other Wholesome Activities

Jinyel didn’t have a good sense for people, but he did have a good sense for danger. When he learned about the stinking fortress of a tannery in the depths of Egilrun, he knew at once that it was the sort of place which Monya should not be seen near, ever. Even going to that place alone sprouted a pointless, irrational fear that someone would see him, think to themselves ‘He probably has a wolf at home with a very pretty skin,’ and go find her while he wasn’t there.

He’d had a lot of irrational thoughts since arriving in Egilrun.

Carrying around the Saltenrock was such a one, borne less from the Prince’s request and more because Jinyel simply didn’t wish to be parted from it. Or the snake teeth. Both of them had to be in his line of sight at all times, or better yet, in his physical possession, or he’d be grumpy until he had them. The fangs were adhered by the base to his shoulders today, lying flat down his back like skeleton insect wings. Jinyel knew he wanted to make something out of them, but had no idea what, and every few days would graft them in a different location to see if they fit. They never did.

The Saltenrock was carried against his chest, not unlike how a child would carry a stuffed animal. If their stuffed animal was large, jagged, weighed several pounds, and had the ability to explode if handled too roughly. A layer of excess stone still coated the outside, and it was terribly uncomfortable to hold, but not nearly so uncomfortable as leaving it behind.

Jinyel wasn’t blind to the abuses of the tannery. Oddly enough, it came almost as a relief. The scent of slavery still hung in this place, but it was familiar. Easy to navigate. He saw at a glance which person was a servant and which was a master, and which hands produced which bruises.

Many of those hands could be removed with no guilt on Jinyel’s part. Later. Once he was strong enough to remove things and wise enough to not get caught.

The hunter found his way eventually to the Hollow Prince’s workspace, although he startled a bit at the shadows which came to cover him. Startled, paused, and then adjusted.

Some powers, Jinyel would accept. Others, he would not. These shadows were easy, both external and practical, and he grew more accustomed each time they appeared. Now he knew the shadow-cloak meant, It is time for discretion, be stealthy, instead of, We are under attack this very instant, defend yourself immediately.

He still needed a moment to convince himself there weren’t wolves beyond that door.

The Prince was accustomed to more influence than Jinyel was willing to give, though it seemed less from entitlement and more from assumptions. The Prince had conceded many of those assumptions, in his sidelong, unspoken ways ― a dash of pink, a power withheld instead of cast. Jinyel didn’t have those sidelong ways to respond, not how the Prince did. Jinyel didn’t know how to accept an apology made of actions instead of words.

All he could do was go when requested, and hope that concession meant the same thing in return.

The laboratory was… not what Jinyel expected. But then again, he’d never seen a laboratory before, so perhaps this one was perfectly normal and it was his own ignorance to expect otherwise. Either way, he looked around once, twice, and then proceeded as if it were any other new terrain.

Unwilling to interrupt the wellcrafting, Jinyel set the Saltenrock in a corner and crouched beside it. He observed the Prince’s operation with a curious eye, the darkness, the light, and strange interplay between them which produced a refined well. Keen silver, the Prince called it.

When the event seemed over and done with, Jinyel made the cautious journey forward for a better look. He approached slowly, as if the keen silver might jump up and bite him, and glanced now and then at the Prince for any indication that he had strayed into dangerous territory.

Once close enough to lean in, Jinyel circled the keen silver to examine its every angle. He didn’t touch, but he came within range for it, and eventually gave a Somber gesture of understanding.

Two things can come together. He knew so little of wells, the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. To become something… more?

He glanced over his shoulder, and gestured to the Saltenrock.

Yes. It is here. I should learn this thing, I think. Do the… "Refinement," myself. As much as I can.

He returned to the corner, handling the Saltenrock with the gentleness of porcelain. He brought it for the Prince’s examination, turning the thing over in his hands to show the full extent of its rocky shell. Much rougher than the territe and imetyte he had just worked with.

[Woe]

“There are very few universally held practices when it comes to Ensorcelling, as we call it.” Woe stated it plain for Wicker. “However, they all share one process in common, that of cleaning the well before shallow and deep tapping. That means removing the well from the rough.”

Woe nodded, "And yes, two of these things can come together to be something greater."

He frowned, “It is best for you to do it yourself then, if you intend to learn. Think of a method that makes sense to you, something regarding cleanliness, and apply that to separating the rough and rock dust from the well.” He held up a hand, as if to signal a pause before Wicker went scampering off to figure out his method.

“I will guide you as best I can in this, and I will craft what you asked for. But I need a favor in return.” Woe reached a hand out, and his shadow limb went to fetch something from the corners, in the shadows. Once it grabbed hold, it began dragging the large parcel into view. It was none other than the skinned and tanned hide of a boulder snake. It was not Wicker’s boulder snake, but one that had been far larger than his own specimen. “You aren’t the first to encounter one of these beasts.” Woe smiled, a twinge of pride to his face. “Balthazar and I encountered one once.”

“But as for the favor, well it’s more of a small price. I require the part of your snake tooth. A very small part. Near the base, where there’s some blood attached.” Woe nodded to Wicker, “Yes I noticed that you had it on you. Don’t be alarmed. In truth, it’s fairly obvious by the way you move there’s something in there.”

“Also a small patch of hide from your own skinned boulder snake.” Woe sighed, “That’s all I require. I have in mind a bit of ritual craft for those small things.”

“You can separate the base of the tooth from its blade can you not?”

[Jinyel]

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As he listened, Jinyel fixed the Prince with a straight, unwavering stare. Another of those things which might make a common citizen uncomfortable, but was perfectly normal in the wilderness ― whenever he encountered an odd rock or plant, Jinyel stared at it as hard and long as he needed to understand. At this moment, the Prince was that rock or plant.

Ensorcelling. That was the proper word. It had slipped Jinyel’s memory since he’d last seen Artiga, but this was the craft those pirates had wished for. The use of ‘wells’ to extract extraordinary properties, and to do… something with them. ‘Make deadly cuts,’ as with the keen silver, though he struggled to visualize what exactly that meant. Jinyel had seen a great deal of first steps, and not yet any final ones. The final product of ensorcelling, he had never seen.

But he was here to change that.

Jinyel set the Saltenrock on the worktable, as far from any tools or mechanisms as could be done. He ran his hands over the surface, feeling the roughness of raw rock and the occasional smoothness of the underlying well. At one small protrusion, he pressed his thumb sideways until the roughage crumbled. The stone wasn’t especially strong. Could he clean it with his hands? That would be the gentlest option, certainly.

My… fangs. Jinyel paused, and gave the Prince a slow blink. You want a piece of them.

There wasn’t any hostility in the hunter’s response, more confusion as to what ‘ritual’ could use such a small piece of bone. He was precious about the fangs, yes, but it was such a small piece that he wouldn’t mind to give it. Nor was it any great inconvenience to cut them out.

I… Yes. I can do that.

Jinyel straightened. He took a breath to measure the fangs’ enervations, then began the process of splitting a thin ring of bone from one base. Outwardly, he gave the appearance of staring motionlessly at the wall for multiple bits, until, with a clatter, one fang fell to the floor.

Jinyel reached to its anchor point with a grimace, and pulled at the bony protrusion still secured there. With a bit more magic, the prize came undone, and he set an inch-long chunk of boulder.

Wait. No. That’s… Jinyel frowned as he reattached the fang. That’s shorter now. They don’t match now. I don’t like that.

He shifted on his feet, spending more magic and more time to dislodge the second fang. Once that was done, he gave the Prince a second chunk to match the first. Only then did he reattach the fangs and give a nod of Satisfaction. That’s fine.

Back to the Saltenrock he went, with soft fingers and gentle nails to pry off the roughage. As the well came exposed, so too did its shape. Not a sphere, which Jinyel had expected, but conical and brilliant blue, almost like a conch shell made of starlight. Even without putting his ear against it, Jinyel was certain he could hear the ocean.

Once it is clean, Jinyel asked, What happens next? Is the well put inside something? Carved? Squished? Does this… light-machine of yours change it?

[Woe]

There were precious few ways to get Woe to open up and share information, whether it be general instruction or personal information about himself. Sharing in the joy of his few hobbies, which included brewing both tea and alcohol, leatherwork, ensorcelling, and then, far less often of late, torture. Maybe it was the mood that enjoyable activities brought about in him, maybe it was something that all people shared. In any event, Woe saw little use in withholding trade secrets from Wicker here. On some level, he relished the opportunity to have a template to carry on his intellectual legacy.

Among mages, even those lacking a spark, it was a common compulsion. What use was such a rare power if it did not change the world? The world began and ended with the beings that populated it. Any change or impact that didn’t involve others never seemed worthwhile to pursue.

So as he watched Wicker work at cleaning his shard of crystalized ether, he noted the brittleness of the soil attached to it. It had looked more solid than that, so it might go well, the cleaning. He wasn’t sure if water was needed in every case of ensorcelled cleaning. To Woe’s mind, every process demanded its own signature approach at every stage.

When asked about the machine, Woe nodded his head. “My process will differ from yours by necessity, unless you have some method of altering the flow of light and shadow. I designed my own tools, with the aid of an Master ensorceller. Manipulating shadow is second nature to me at this point, due to… well, my talents for doing so.” He gestured toward the orrery, with its chamber for the well, the keen silver that had formed at its center. “Have a thought about how you might shape your own well, given your interests, talents, or whatever else you have to bring to bear. But there are a few rules of thumb.”

Woe listed them off on his fingers, “For one, you shouldn’t put the raw well anywhere inside of you, nor try to eat it. It would poison you, if it doesn’t explode in the chaotic environment of your body.” The mortalborn returned Wicker’s stare, and frowned, “Then again… your talent for Graft makes me wonder about that in particular… But for now I would advise you not to put a raw well inside of you.”

“Secondly, be patient in your process. Tapping takes breaks, if not days between sessions of shallow tapping and deep tapping. Tapping is when you release the pressure points near the surface, or deeper inside of the well. Points of vulnerability that render the raw well unstable, as it surely is.”

“Thirdly, the craft you imbue with the well should exceed the skill with which you needed to refine your well. Even when refined, the magic is strong in a well-crafted item. It requires a stronger piece of work to endure such stress.” Woe looked to the boulder snake’s skin, and shrugged. “You don’t need to know how to craft, but fewer hands can render the process less complicated. It’s difficult to work with another who might have a different crafting ethic and pace that doesn’t match yours. Maybe that’s just me, though.”

This said, Woe received the small shards of fang, two of which belonged to the same snake. Yes, that was good and he could work with them. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. He held up the shards for Wicker to see. “In my magic, you need three substances in order to produce a totem object. The fluids of life, whether blood, saliva, ichor, sap or venom, otherwise known as life force.” There were only trace specks of blood on the snake’s fang shard, but whether that blood had belonged more to Wicker than the boulder snake, Woe couldn’t say. He hoped it was enough.

“Visage, or skin, hair, that sort of substance, is the second needed substance for the totem object. Then there’s Structure, which is bone, tooth, nail, or claw. It does vary based on the type of creature that the ritual is focused on.”

“I hope to make a sharp snake whip.” Woe said, in as simple terms as he was inclined to put it. “This totem will carry the essence of the boulder snake you slew, and I will be able to take its form at need. If this succeeds. This is my first time trying to make a totem with the aid of a well, so…”

He shrugged. “Much could go wrong, and I’d advise you to go ahead and take care of your well, clean it thoroughly until you’re absolutely certain that the well has no external matter on it.”

“I won’t be able to talk while doing this, it would be difficult to maintain concentration, let alone working this marvelously tough skin.”

This said, he took aside the material, his own portion of snake hide, and began breaking it down into thin string-like strips. This process took a long time, but Woe was fairly skilled, with sharp enough tools to do it neatly. Very little material was lost to this process, but by the end, Woe had so many strands of leather, that he would be able to make the whip he had in mind, with a braiding method.

Woe began molding the handle, knotting it in a form and shape that resembled a snake’s head. To this, he adhered with some strong glue and resin, the teeth, setting them into the ‘head’ of the snake so only the small tips showed as fangs in its ‘mouth’. This was wrapped around the keen silver, which Woe had polished down to a small, shiny sphere, almost the size of a marble.

He continued along the way, considering the form of the boulder snake, and thankfully he knew it well, having encountered one before. He did incorporate some of Wicker’s own material into the craft, but only a small strand, a token portion so that the totem would actually work.

By the end of it, he had a silvery black whip, about four and a half feet long. Really more of a signal whip than anything, but probably good for close-quarters fighting. The handle’s pommel resembled the very head of the snake, with its fangs sticking out, and two open areas showing the shining silvery keen silver beneath.

The whole crafting process, and dedication of the totem, which was done simultaneously, took nearly two breaks. By then, the sun was getting low in the horizon. But Woe was not finished until he demonstrated the craft he’d made. He’d still need some time to let the totem settle up with his soul, to which it was dedicated. In truth, he was apprehensive, and not sure if it would work with as little life force as he’d dedicated to it. But it should be enough, if even a speck of it had belonged to the boulder snake.

The fact that it had existed and been kept ‘alive’ in Wicker was some cause for concern, whether it would create a proper totem. But Woe supposed the worst case scenario was that it hadn’t dedicated to him, and that he wouldn’t be able to transform. That was all.

Woe had set up some straw dummies to the side, to demonstrate the weapon he had wanted to make, and had made. To these, he stepped within a few meters, and then snapped forward with the whip, channeling a small amount of ether through it as it reached the apex of its snapping motion.

This strike cut the dummy into two, cleaving through the straw flesh, and biting into the thin iron rod at its center. Woe stepped forward as he recovered the whip into a coil. Then he approached the dummy, and inspected the cut in the metal of the dummy. He frowned over it, and noted that it was a very clean cut, as if it’d given way to the mere air in front of the fall of his whip.

“That worked… better than expected.” Woe said, but then turned to Wicker. “Depending on how powerful the well is, it can only be strained so many times a trial, in this way.” He smiled, “But every well-crafted item might have an innate property that also gets conferred to anything it’s imbued into. This should make the whip cut sharper than ordinary, even if it falls short of that demonstration, in potency.”

Woe sighed, slightly exhausted by the whole dedication process and also the stress it’d taken to craft and ensorcell all at once. As he’d said, this was his first try doing this, although he was by now very experienced at trying and failing at ensorcelling.

“Now, you wanted me to make you some armor?”

[Jinyel]

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Soft hands were enough to slough off a great deal of the roughage, but not all of it. The full shape of the well came uncovered, and with it, the thin layer of stone which still remained. He scraped and picked at that last layer, but it was so light that his sideways touches made no difference.

Cautiously, even more gently than he’d done with his fingers, Jinyel brought his knife against the roughage. He didn’t turn the blade against the actual well, but he nudged the tip between it and the last of the dirt. Piece by piece, the last roughage flaked away.

Jinyel had never given a single thought to eating the well until the Prince mentioned it. But once he mentioned it, a powerful urge rose within Jinyel to at least lick the thing. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t that foolish. But he was certain beyond all doubt that this well would taste salty.

It was heartening to know that he could process the well over more than one trial. As it grew cleaner, Jinyel grew more familiar with its texture. The well was malleable, like nearly-dry clay. Something that had to be manipulated gently, or else risk cracking. But it was also semi-transparent, and once the roughage was gone, he could see the distortion of his hand on the other side. That distortion illustrated… what had the Prince called them? Pressure points? Points of vulnerability? The distortions were a visual map of where the well was compressed in some places, and thinned in others.

Water? the hunter signed, and looked around the workshop for something he could use as a softener. There was a barrel and bucket in one corner, fashioned almost like a blacksmith’s quenching station, and because the Prince wasn’t using it, Jinyel helped himself to what was inside. Freshwater, smelled like, a bit stale but not polluted.

Jinyel offered a few perplexed glances at the Prince’s talk of bones and rituals, submerging the well as he did so. It became slippery under his hands, like nearly-dry clay once again turned soft. It also became more sharply transparent, its imperfections all the easier to see once he brought it back to open air.

Liquid, structure, and skin. Those were the three things the Prince needed for his other magic. Jinyel paused, and stared thoughtfully at the Saltenrock as he compared these Three Substances to his own magic. Skin and structure were all well within his reach, but liquid? Sap and blood, the things which moved inside a body? Jinyel had never contemplated them. Could he affect blood, in its liquid form? Destroy it, or replenish it? He knew how to limit blood loss, but it would be a mighty skill indeed to replace lost blood once a wound was closed.

A question for another time. Now, Jinyel and the Hollow Prince each had their own work to do.

Jinyel settled comfortably beside the barrel, pressing his thumbs across the surface of the well and dunking it into the water whenever it became too firm. There were three imperfections near the surface and two more near its core. The surface imperfections, he could feel like knots of stiff muscle on tired shoulders. He treated them the same, by carefully massaging the tension until it came loose. It wasn’t alive, there weren’t any reactions of pain, but the well distorted whenever he pressed too firmly or in the wrong direction. This, like every other aspect of magic, was something best done with utmost gentleness, and the well told him how it wanted to be handled.

Also unlike a living knot, these imperfections took breaks to massage. Jinyel was patient, and the Prince was engrossed in his own work, so time crawled by in focused silence. By the second break, Jinyel had only undone one knot, and begun work on the second. He looked up as the Prince stretched out his new whip, and then brought it to bear against a training dummy set. The practice strike was more vicious than Jinyel could have ever imagined from a whip ― and he could imagine many things.

He flinched. Once. Clawed past old memories into the present reality, and that he was safe, and that the whip was on the other side of the room and pointed away from him.

I see, was his simple acknowledgement. His next response was more open in its surprise. I… yes. That is what I would like. It still felt wholly bizarre to ask the Prince for anything, even more so how casually the Prince accepted. Armor was no simple thing to create, but he spoke as if it were no more troublesome than picking fruit up from the market.

At this, Jinyel set the Saltenrock back in the water. He padded to the rolled up snakeskin, and began the long task of unrolling all sixty feet of it, because the piece which concerned him most was in the very middle.

Here. Jinyel pointed to the snake’s head and throat, where the scales were smaller and more flexible. Something that can move easily, quietly. Be hidden under clothes. This scale― He pointed to one particular point on the forehead. ―I would like to go over the heart of whoever wears this armor. And I… would like to help. You. With this.

[Woe]

Woe tilted his head slightly when Wicker asked that his armor be made to fit beneath clothing. His brow furrowed at that, "That's... not typically how armor works. Usually you want it to go over clothing, because the armor tends to be uncomfortable against bare skin. Too many things catch and the rough texture of it... But that's more a matter for the style of armor. If you want something fairly flexible with specific portions hardened to protect, that much I can do. But won't offer a great amount of protection apart from direct strikes to vitals."

Woe shrugged, but nonetheless, he invited Wicker to join him in the process of crafting the armor. It was not quite as simple or nonchalant as going to the market. Making a suit of armor was a project that would take several trials, after all. But they could figure out the design now, prepare the materials, and craft it lateroff screen. "Armor is not easy to make, of course. It requires knowing the measurements of the person who it'll be fitting."

As they continued with the details, supposing Wicker shred the measurements he'd wish to have for the armor, he'd notice that Woe's own crafting, of a separate suit of armor, was clearly not intended for him. It was for someone smaller of than his current form.

Breaks passed, and the sun began sinking beneath the Horizon. The leather had been tanned, prepared and cut in such a way that it would be ready for the next steps, over the next few days. Woe deliberately softened the suit of armor, giving it some lethrodan silk lining to make it more comfortable against the skin, where the stone serpent's skin was abrasive.

His own suit was much different from Wicker's proposed designs. The one Woe was crafting was obviously built more for durability, and almost like a plate-armor, with hardened scaled cuirass, and just some soft hide cover skirting the lower torso and greaves. The half-skirt was open at dominant foot's side, allowing a full range of motion at least for the lower body.

The rest was fairly hardened against impacts.

Once Woe has put the final touches on preparing his materials, and also the design was sketched out roughly in terms of measurements and rudimentary illustrations on parchment, he turned to Wicker, "After you finish up what you're doing, we'll go home and figure out the next steps of our work. Armor is not a one-trial project, after all. Especially three suits."

This said, Woe tucked his new whip under his arm, and led the way back to the Cabin. They'd likely have their work cut out for them over the next few trials, building their equipment. But in the end Woe was sure the results would be worth it.

[Jinyel]

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Armor under clothing was not the typically done thing, Jinyel knew and the Prince said. Still, the Prince was familiar enough with leather, with armor, and with clothes that tailoring such a thing was merely impractical instead of impossible. That would be enough for Jinyel; the armor’s intended wearer had a talent for secrecy and for working within narrow limits. The neck would be dangerously unguarded, but that was simply the price of mobility.

It was more protection than the wearer had now, at any rate.

Jinyel watched carefully as the Prince smoothed out the boulder snake hide and made careful decisions for each cut. The pattern was only vaguely intelligible to the hunter. The shape of the bracers and greaves were clear enough, and from that he inferred that the larger arrangements of interlocking shapes would become three separate cuirasses. How those shapes would fit together once cut and treated, he could not begin to imagine.

helped where he could, either by clearing away scraps or marking the different sets into clear groupings. When the choices were finalized, Jinyel rolled up the remaining snakeskin and moved it aside. The silence did not discomfort him. If anything, the deep concentration with which the Prince regarded the leather did more to relax Jinyel than any spoken promise of peace could have. There was a familiarity to all of this which ran deeper than craft, deeper than learning.

The Prince might notice that Jinyel possessed an instinctively eye for which small conveniences would be most helpful, and how to make them happen without needing to be asked.

Shadows lengthened. The sky darkened. Slanted light through the workshop shifted from gold to red to purple. The light set of armor was lined with a cloth softer than any Jinyel had seen before, to be more comfortable against bare skin. The Prince’s own set, harder and with more plates, was skirted and set aside by the time the light failed. Jinyel observed what was done with the first set, then silently assisted in doing the same with the other two.

Acknowledgement, Jinyel signed to the Prince’s explanation, a cold habit that came along with everything else. Then he blinked, and shook himself out of those old habits, and managed to give a much warmer, I understand. Tomorrow, then.

He gathered up the Saltenrock, and with less guardedness than he had carried in many seasons, began the journey back to the cabin.

[Jinyel]

Rewards Requested

Notes/Warnings: None

Thread: Arts, Crafts, and Other Wholesome Activities
City/Area: Egilrun

Renown: None
Do you want this to be considered for Mark Progression? (Y / N) No
If any PC in this thread is in a faction, please list them: Woe, Forged
Faction Points: N/A
Wealth Points: N/A
Collaboration: Yes
Local Language Thread? Scalveen

!	Message from: Sade Sauterne
	Done!

[Sade Sauterne]

All Players

Feedback

Family crafting time! It’s nice to see Woe and Jinyel getting to work together in peace and start to bond over their shared interests, especially when so many of their interactions have involved some sort of conflict or problem they’ve had to work through. It’s clear that they still have a long way to go, but also that both of them are putting forth effort in their own ways to navigate the connection that they have. I also loved reading about the different methods that both of them used in refining their wells – Woe making use of his talents with light and shadow, and Jinyel going about it with a more hands-on, pottery-like approach.

Rewards

• Language: Scalveen

Woe

Feedback

From the first post, Woe’s skill and craftsmanship really shone through here. Your descriptions of all the processes he goes through, from refining to ensorcelling, crafting and dedicating his totem, to drawing up plans and beginning work on the armor sets, were all very well-written and detailed in a way that made them easy to understand exactly what he was doing. Having zero knowledge of what enscorcelling entailed before reading this thread, I appreciated Woe’s explanations and feel like I have a much better understanding of the skill myself!

Woe is such a fascinating character, and it’s interesting seeing him figure out how to adjust his usual habits and behavior with someone that reacts so differently to how he has come to expect. He is a sensible teacher and clearly cares a lot for both the craft and for the pseudo-nephew that he’s teaching. This was a nice insight into his feelings regarding leaving behind a legacy in some way, as well as sharing his hobbies with someone that he might consider a part of his found family.

Rewards

• XP: 15

Knowledges

• Leatherworking: x8
• Becoming: Totem: Form of Jinyel

Loot

• Good+ Quality Vorpal Boulder Snake Leather Whip
• Totem object of the form of Jinyel.
• Tier 8 Armor, Good+ quality Boulder Serpent leather Plate

Jinyel

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Jinyel’s craftsmanship takes a very different approach from Woe’s here, and in a way that feels incredibly fitting for his character. I really enjoyed reading about the way he cleaned and began working out the imperfections of his well the way he would massage knots from muscle, which feels all too fitting for someone that works with flesh the way he does. His tendency to hold on so tightly to the things that he acquires and his subsequent grumpiness upon being parted with them is endearing, and makes sense for someone that has not always been able to keep precious things for himself.

Wonderful writing as always, and as in all Jinyel threads that I read, his character comes through very distinctly in the way you write his observations and thoughts about his environment, and his automatic responses to the triggers he encounters. Even though he is still wary of his pseudo-uncle, and reluctant to rely on him, it was nice getting to see him learn some new skills and get a little more comfortable with him in the process.

Rewards

• XP: 15

Knowledges

• Ensorcelling: x7
• Sculpting: x2

Loot

• Tier 8 Light Armor, Good+ quality Boulder Serpent, lethroda silk lined
• Tier 8 Armor, Good+ quality Boulder Serpent Heavy Plate
• 1 refined Saltenrock well