27th Trial of Cylus, 718th Arc
Woodlands outside Etzos
His hands were a mess. Sometimes, to get what you needed, you needed to get a little messy. Of course this mess was much more manageable than his usual. The darkness of Cylus had settled in completely now. And Neronin knew he needed to prepare for a cold season ahead, and his return to Etzos in earnest. Still under Vuda’s thumb, the mage wanted to find any long mission away from Al’Angyryl to avoid his obligation to spy on them. He was squatting outside of the tiny cave that had been the home to a bear in a more harsh winter. Neronin had found the evidence. It suited him for now.
He knelt down and hissed as the cold water touched his oily and pitch covered hands. He had bought a few pelts of leather from a merchant in one of the small villages outside of Etzos and had stollen some oil from the same merchant. One of the oilskins had ruptured and leaked all over his hands. Neronin was washing them before eating. It had been a painstaking task, but he required the fur and the oil to survive the season. Immortals only knew the next time he would get a warm bed to sleep in.
The thought excited his spark.
Neronin rummaged in his sack and found the old bit of dried meat he had been saving and put it in his mouth. He let his saliva soften the meat as he laid out the leathers. Neronin found it easier to work in the cave, though the light was even dimmer. The wind, however, was much depleted. Neronin labored for nearly half a break to get the small bundle of twigs he had gathered lit with the flint and steel. When it sparked, he crouched over it and shielded it from the wind. Finally, the spark became a small fire and he fed it with more wood.
The problem was it was raining, a cold bitter rain. It was preemptive of snowfall. Neronin knew he would need to fix up the leather before that happened if he didn’t want to freeze to death. So he began to work after the fire was stable, still chewing away at the dried meat.
Neronin’s work began as a coating of the mossy brush he was working with. He would dip it in the oil and make sure the stuff was well soaked. Then he brushed the clump of oiled moss across the leather. Neronin worked it diligently into the leather. The process of oiling the stuff took nearly a break by itself. The fire was roaring by the time the leathers were suitably oiled. Then Neronin set them close to the fire.
Once the leathers dried he would repeat the process and eventually they would become something of a water-resistant shelter. He could drape them over his furs and retain heat at least. Neronin knew it was sloppily done, but he hadn’t been at it for long, so excused himself. He had also been through quite a lot recently and had more on his mind than proper alchemy procedure.
Neronin looked up quickly as he heard a sound outside, something more than the rain...
Woodlands outside Etzos
His hands were a mess. Sometimes, to get what you needed, you needed to get a little messy. Of course this mess was much more manageable than his usual. The darkness of Cylus had settled in completely now. And Neronin knew he needed to prepare for a cold season ahead, and his return to Etzos in earnest. Still under Vuda’s thumb, the mage wanted to find any long mission away from Al’Angyryl to avoid his obligation to spy on them. He was squatting outside of the tiny cave that had been the home to a bear in a more harsh winter. Neronin had found the evidence. It suited him for now.
He knelt down and hissed as the cold water touched his oily and pitch covered hands. He had bought a few pelts of leather from a merchant in one of the small villages outside of Etzos and had stollen some oil from the same merchant. One of the oilskins had ruptured and leaked all over his hands. Neronin was washing them before eating. It had been a painstaking task, but he required the fur and the oil to survive the season. Immortals only knew the next time he would get a warm bed to sleep in.
The thought excited his spark.
Neronin rummaged in his sack and found the old bit of dried meat he had been saving and put it in his mouth. He let his saliva soften the meat as he laid out the leathers. Neronin found it easier to work in the cave, though the light was even dimmer. The wind, however, was much depleted. Neronin labored for nearly half a break to get the small bundle of twigs he had gathered lit with the flint and steel. When it sparked, he crouched over it and shielded it from the wind. Finally, the spark became a small fire and he fed it with more wood.
The problem was it was raining, a cold bitter rain. It was preemptive of snowfall. Neronin knew he would need to fix up the leather before that happened if he didn’t want to freeze to death. So he began to work after the fire was stable, still chewing away at the dried meat.
Neronin’s work began as a coating of the mossy brush he was working with. He would dip it in the oil and make sure the stuff was well soaked. Then he brushed the clump of oiled moss across the leather. Neronin worked it diligently into the leather. The process of oiling the stuff took nearly a break by itself. The fire was roaring by the time the leathers were suitably oiled. Then Neronin set them close to the fire.
Once the leathers dried he would repeat the process and eventually they would become something of a water-resistant shelter. He could drape them over his furs and retain heat at least. Neronin knew it was sloppily done, but he hadn’t been at it for long, so excused himself. He had also been through quite a lot recently and had more on his mind than proper alchemy procedure.
Neronin looked up quickly as he heard a sound outside, something more than the rain...