Dec 03 08:31:15 108 PA - Everyone Wants to Look 'Bad-Ass'

From Chronicles

Dec 03 08:31:15 108 PA.

PAVEL'S MEADOW AND HOME

Below freezing again, with overcast skies and fluffs of snow. Once more an insanely intense wind is blowing out of the northwest, almost as if Tolkeen's battle is reaching out to announce itself to other distant regions. Otherwise, it's a pleasant afternoon. Pavel's meadow is piled thick with two feet of collected powder, with his huge black mare stomping through it looking for grass and leaves. He himself is where one might expect to find him - working away in his forge, where a massive fire blazes away, larger, brighter and hotter than normal. The pounding of metal can be heard for a good distance, as can his off-key singing in his native Russian.

Bartholemew drives on out to the Smithy having gotten word his items are complete and ready for pickup. It might not be snowing, but when the huge hover vehicle comes down the road, it sure could fool Mother Nature, the large hover jets blowing ground snow out in all directions. The loud roar of the engines alerting anyone that he's just pulled up. Hopping down from the vehicle, he heads on up the walk to the main smithy area where he usually finds the big man, Pavel. "Howdy!" he calls out as he gets closer to be heard.

The roaring hoverjets can't be ignored, not even over the noise of his own fire. Pavel sets his materials down in the fire, and looks through the snow to the source of the voice. After a few seconds, recognition flashes across his eyes. "Ah, allo, Bahrthohlemev! Have cohm fohr vehpons? Pavel szeenk yoo be vyery hahppy. Ohr, Pavel hohp! HA!" He reaches into a barely-used drawer and withdraws the language translator again. "Pleese, fohllow." Turning, he walks to the hillside and rather effortlessly rolls the big boulder aside, exposing a short tunnel leading into a chamber within the rock. "Eensaheed, pleese." Then the blacksmith waites politely for his guest to enter.

The hill adjacent to the large meadow that holds Pavel's forge contains a large natural cavern, though expanded artificially in a few places. It is largely a single-room affair, dominated by a circular floor plan of twenty-five foot radius with a dome-like ceiling that itself reaches roughly twenty-feet. Perhaps not surprisingly, the room is lit entirely by open flame torches and wall sconces. There are some rather odd holders of coal that glow unnaturally bright and with heat that may be uncomfortable for less hearty visitors. The floor is covered in rather gaudy rugs of maroon, purples, greens and gold thread. A few low tables have been positioned, one of them centrally where various papers and drawing implements lay out in the open. Cushions, pillows and other forms of enclosed fluff that sometimes approach mattress status fill in for seats; colored tassels are obviously a favorite bit of décor. The walls are decorated mostly by pieces of metal sculpture and embossing likely to have been made by Pavel himself. Weapons of various types sit in rests and holders fixed to the walls; swords, axes, bludgeoning instruments and a highly unusual bow that occupies a central location. In one room carved off to the side is obviously the deliberate bedroom. A huge bed, lots of pillows and gaudy colors probably indicate that the owner does a lot more than just sleep there - and does it pretty often, too.

Bartholemew follows and heads on inside the hole uncovered by the big guy. "Nice front door ya got there. Musta been a bitch to hang it straight." chuckling with his jest. The items hanging on the wall catch his eye first, "You make all of these?" looking back to the smith.

Pavel laughs along with his customer and perhaps burgeoning friend. "Da, Pavel mehk all szeengs on vahlls. Noht ohnly mehk vyepons, boot laheek to mehk preety szeengs, too." He closes the door behind him - not much of an effort, and thankfully, not hanging. The translator is then switched on. << Sorry, I hate using these things. Figure if I can't learn to speak clearly myself, there's no point. But in this kind of thing, it's obviously important that the details are right. >> He motions... around. << Please, make yourself comfortable. I have water, medovuha and vodka, if you're interested. Let me get your things. >> The beverages are obvious, if desired. He makes his way toward a long table, where a large bolt of purple cloth is folded on itself.

Bartholemew goes over and helps himself to a shot of Vodka, slamming it right quick and pouring another for himself and one for Pavel before moving over to set the drinks down and take a seat himself. "Nice work. Have you ever done fortification type work? I'm thinking of having my vehicle out there done up with steel fortifications of spikes and barbed wire to keep boarding a hassle. Few other things I gotta work out first, but it's in the thought process."

Pavel nods, as he brings over the large bolt of cloth. << Yes, I can make those things for. As long as it doesn't require much in the way of wiring, I can make just about anything for you. >> He then takes a seat on a big cushion near the other man. << As I said, these are not the strongest weapons that I can make. But you will be remembered, particularly by the undead. >> He slowly unfolds a few piles of purple cloth, exposing what looks like a rounded meat cleaver, only far more deadly in every way, and much larger. Beautiful silver, expertly engraved with the images of dragons. He holds it so that it lays across the length of his arm, offering the hilt to Bartholemew. << It is modeled along a falchion, mostly for swinging, but I did give it a point for thrusting. It will hurt armor, and it will hurt the undead even more. This is called Moon Silver. Very pure. It grounds the beasts, hurting them more than any normal swing. >> He then waits for it to be taken.

Bartholemew rises to accept the sword from Pavel, his eyes follow along the designs engraved along the weapon. A slow smile fills his face, hefting the weapon to get a feel for the weight and balance. "This is exactly what I was looking for, I don't think I could've come up with such a spectacular image for this. Awesome, just awesome. I'm definitely impressed with your skill in metals."

Pavel dips his head happily, "Spaseeba." << There's no point in doing anything, if you don't do your best on whatever it is, right? Here. You wanted a weapon that you could use at the same time? And keep you looking... 'bad ass'? >> He smirks at the terminology, but in a friendly way. << That, that is for cleaving and slicing. Arms and heads coming off. But this? >> Another piece of cloth is unrolled, exposing... the ultimate brass knuckle, save that it too is made of the same silver, and this time engraved beautifully with images of rampant lions. One long, thick, harsh point. << This is a katara, >> Pavel explains, gently taking Bartholemew's free hand and fitting it over properly. It is held somewhat like a glove, the point ahead of the curled knuckles. << You stab, *stab* >> he motions the action, << but when it comes time to finish, you may also slice! >> The blacksmith works Bartholemew's arm slowly through a motion.

Bartholemew holds the chopping sword in one hand, accepting the Katara in the other, the expression on his face shows that he likes the way this feels in his hands. The motion shown by Pavel definitely gets a happy grin. "This just keeps getting better, if they don't remember me wielding this, they are just plain dead." he chuckles, then quickly makes a fierce face and mean sword pose, then chuckles some more. "Nice, very nice."

Pavel is grinning very widely at this point. << Yes! I don't usually get requests for 'bad ass' weapons, so this was very entertaining for me, as well! I can't imagine that anyone would ever forget seeing you stride into battle like that. >> He steps back, analyzing Bartholemew's visage. << Very good! I shined it as well as I could, too, so that even at night, moonlight will announce your presence, like a shimmering bit of death to evil. A flare that says, 'you will not escape me.' You may block with them, and parry. Be aware, however, I did not make them indestructible. If someone targets them to intentionally hurt those weapons? >> The smith shrugs. << They can be hurt. But that is no different than what you would find with almost every other blade you'd ever come across. Perhaps, as I said, when I know you better, I'll make them stronger. For now, I do have one more piece for you. >> He needs to take a moment to move back to the table.

Bartholemew grins at the description given, he's as happy as a kid in a candy shop right now. "Understood." commenting on the indestructible part as he watches the man move back over to the table for the last piece. His eyes like a kid at Christmas waiting in anticipation to open the first present.

A smaller roll of cloth comes out this time. Pavel unfolds as before, and this time, it is a brilliantly silvered knife. A short only, only six inches long, but built like a stiletto; a stiletto that can hold its own in any fight, not just a quick puncture. Its guard is designed almost like wings, or fangs, and its own blade inscribed with sphinx, flying and fighting. << It is small, but it's a knife that may save your life in an emergency. Plus, it again will hurt vampires more than a similar blade. With this trio? I can't imagine someone seeing you and not hesitating just a little. Or if they don't? They would be fools. >> He once more extends it. << It is meant to thrust, but its edges are sharp as razors. >>

Bartholemew sets both the sword and Katara on the table to accept the Stiletto, "Nice little back up weapon, rounds out the whole ensemble." Extending his free hand, "Thank you Pavel, this is exactly what I was looking for. Excellent craftsmanship."

"Spaseeba," Pavel says once more with a short bow. << It was my pleasure. But, oh! I did promise. I am a fair person, I don't take advantage of customers. >> He retreats to the weapon table, and comes back with a small pile of bills. << I will keep some money so that I may make things for others, but you deserve to have this back. Particularly if you use these weapons to do good things. That will be payment, too. >> The money is extended. About ten-thousand credits worth.

Bartholemew is a bit surprised at the refund, but is definitely impressed with the man's honesty and business ethics. "Thanks again, I'm hoping these will cut down many blood suckers in my path. All the way to the head honcho that infects this city. That'll make these puppies worth double what I paid."

Pavel chuckles. << Oh, they are worth many, many times what you paid. Making them was inexpensive. But their *worth*? That is very high. Many times higher. >> His eyes do narrow a little bit. << But they weren't made to be sold for profit. I know you won't, I just want to make it clear. >> His face then changes to very amicable again. << You know about the vampire problem? Because I have a friend with a vampire problem who says that he can't tell me about what his problem is. It's quite frustrating. >>

Bartholemew gives a firm shake of his head, "Oh don't you worry, someone is going to have to pry these blades from my cold dead fingers to get em from me. These here are family heirlooms from this point on. Jaxain is the one I am supposed to go hunt down some vampires with. Been stocking up on gear to fight em. Water guns, crosses, wooden stakes, and these swords of course. Jax is afraid to talk openly about the problem cause it could raise an alarm or something with the vamps. But hell, we gotta come up with a plan sometime."

<< Yes, I suppose. Well, it isn't Jaxain. I guess if I don't know the details, it's difficult for me to find help! >> Pavel looks.. confused and amused. The large bolts of purple cloth are handed over. << I'm afraid that I don't make sheathes or scabbards. But the cloth will keep them covered, keep them from getting dirty. They may be expertly made, and they may be largely indestructible - but nature's mud sticks to everything. >>

Bartholemew nods setting the weapons on the cloth to wrap them up for safe transport. "No worries, I'll find someone in the market that can make or may have scabbards that will work to start. Eventually I'd like to find someone who can make scabbards that will match the quality of the blades. So who ya tryin to find help for if it ain't Jaxain? I haven't heard no one else looking to tangle with any vampires. Gabriel was talkin like he was gonna go with me and Jaxain, but ain't heard much more of it since. An that was a bit ago."

Pavel states, << If you can find someone to make the leather, or wood for a scabbard, I could then plate it in metal, and decorate it appropriately for you. I suppose that I could make a metal scabbard, if you really wanted, but most people are looking for the other materials these days. >> He returns to his weapon table and starts to clean it up. << I have never met a man named Gabriel. In fact, I'm not really sure that I've even herd that name. HA! >> A loud laugh echoes through his cave. << Maybe he forgot? >> The blacksmith allows for a long shrug. << It's Sebastien. He says that he has friends going into a fight, and I'm not sure, but I think that he's telling me that he's going to kill them, if they try. Even if he goes with them to fight. He was rather confusing. >>

Bartholemew tilts his head a bit, "Kill them, like the vampires or his friends? I know the guy you're talking about, Knightly kind of guy, rides a big horse so to speak. I hope he's talkin bout the vampires. Not very knightly to kill your friends."

<< Yes, yes. Big horse that's not a horse. Just a machine horse, >> Pavel confirms. << He says that if his friends make their attack - whatever that means - that there is a good chance that he will turn on his *friends* and battle them. There was more, something about doing.. I dunno, I'm not even sure. But turning on his friends was the part that I was able to take away. He said that his mind was being controlled, which is why he couldn't tell me more. So... I don't know what he's talking about, I don't even know who the friends are. But perhaps if you and Jaxain are 'plugged in' to the vampire problem, you know? I hope? >> He looks a bit bashful. << I feel rather useless, myself. >>

Bartholemew gives a nod in answer, "If it's not the group I am going with now, I will find out who it is he is planning to go with and make sure they are warned. I really hope it's not our group he is talking about. I would hate to have to go toe to toe with the guy, I like the guy. I appreciate the information, it may save some innocent lives."

Pavel smiles tightly but happily, and disengages the hated technological language translator with twinkling eyes, tossing it onto a stray cushion. He extends his giant right hand. Then his left. Then moves in to kiss the other man's forehead, mumbling the appropriate Russian blessing. Who knows? He might miss.

Bartholemew is not quite weirded out by the man's strange custom, but it shows he is not used to anything close to this, but he does let it happen in respect for another culture or maybe just to not offend the very strong man, after all, he's seen him pick up a Skycycle with no problem and would hate to get bent in half. "How long ago did you have your chat with Sebastien on all this?"

"Eet vahs ohnly lahst naheeght. Sehbastien cehm to Pavel, seh szees prohblems. Tell of mahn nehm 'Kaomas' faheet beeg rohboht mahcheenes. Lohng stohry. Pavel noht oohndehrstahnd messahge." He shrugs. Yup, only a few hours ago.

Bartholemew gives a bit of a shake of his head, "Haven't heard that name before. Good to know though, I'll run it by my group, maybe they know 'im. Did he mention when they were supposed to head out?""

Pavel thinks hard on it. "Nyet. I do noht szeek so. Boot, eet seem laheek he vohrry fohr soon." He offers a shrug and a face that expresses his lack of information. "Vhen seh cohntrohl by vahmpeer? Pavel szeenk he noht cahn seh fohr hyelp."

Bartholemew nods, "Far as I know, he's said more than most would under vampire control. I'm not too experienced in vampires an such, most of my info is coming from others who do know about em. I'm gonna head out now so I can find my friends and maybe something can be done to help Sebastien before anything bad happens. Thanks again for the blades, an I'll call ya when I know something more about all this. I'll keep ya in the loop."

"You ahr vehlcohm, Barht. I hope yoo uoose szem vyery good." Pavel escorts the man to his door. "Tehk cahr fohr vampeer? Sehbastien sound vyery... noht good. Fohr mahny peepohl. Oh, eef vahnt scahbbahd, cohm back, cahn mehk. Have good deh."