|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2012 5:27 pm
Price:
1 OOC token
Name:
crafting skill training
Description:
This mission is simply to train a crafting skill. A crafting skill is one that creates a product that can be used by the character at a later date. This quest is unique due to the ultimate reward of the quest being dependent on the objective. The number of posts that are required for the product to be created decides the required level of the quest.
Objectives:
craft the product.
Posts:
Rewards:
the object that was crafted will be awarded to the player, at an appropriate time. Large size items: 15 | 7 posts
Stone: 5 | 2 posts
Medium: 10 | 3 posts
Master Work: x 2 | x 2
60 | 24
Arin's crafting: 80 + 22 + [239/4]
102 + 59
161
Large size: 100 durability, +50% DB but removes half of all your attacks
Stone: 0 durability 0% DB
Medium: no modification
+15 durability +3% DB
masterwork: x2 durability, plus the (pre/suf)fix bonus.
230 durability, +53% DB
161 - 60 = 101
101/3 = 3
24 - 3 = 21 postsName: Mastercrafted Stone Shield Type: mastercrafted, +10Û Description: A shield made of compressed stone pumped from the depths of Orsa. In-game stats: 230 durability, +63% DB Special: Durability: 230 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Price:
1 OOC token
Name:
crafting skill training
Description:
This mission is simply to train a crafting skill. A crafting skill is one that creates a product that can be used by the character at a later date. This quest is unique due to the ultimate reward of the quest being dependent on the objective. The number of posts that are required for the product to be created decides the required level of the quest.
Objectives:
craft the product.
Posts:
21
Rewards:
the object that was crafted will be awarded to the player, at an appropriate time. Medium size items: 10 | 5 posts
Piercing: +15 | 2 posts
Stone: 5 | 2 posts
Medium: 10 | 3 posts
Customized Handle: +4 | 1 post
Master Work: Difficulty multiplied by 2 | post count multiplied by 2
88 DC | 26 posts
Arin's crafting: 80 + 22 + [239/4]
102 + 59
161
Stone: 0 damage | 0 attack bonus | 0 durability
Medium: no modification
Piercing: critical threat increased by 1 per 100 in anatomy
Master Work: adds a prefix or a suffix to the weapon, times two to durability and adds 2 to attack bonus and damage
Customized Handle:
+1 damage
Skill of the crafter: the skill of the person making the weapon influences the final result
+2 durability per 40 active skill.
+1 damage per 20 active skill
+1 attack bonus per 50 active skill
161/40 = +8 durability
161/20 = +8 damage
161/50 = +3 attack bonus
Name: Rapier
Type: mastercrafted, critical threat bonus +1
Description: A long, thin sword capable primarily of piercing. Being extremely light, it is significantly easier to move, granting superior speed to other weapons, though it is slightly weaker in physical power.
In-game stats:
+8 durability
+10 damage
+5 attack bonus
*2 durability
+2 critical threat range
Damage: 12-18 + dex mod
Requirements: nada
Special:
Durability: 23 * 2 = 46
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2013 10:53 pm
Arin sat on a bench in the caves beneath Orsa; this hidden place that the Orsans called the Hidden Village. She looked around her and attempted to get a grip on what it was she was going to do. Her strength was so terribly diminished that it was unlikely that she would be of any help in a battle, her skin so raw that she was afraid that being struck just once would destroy her completely, if not for the damage then for the pain she would suffer from such an attack. Even less agreeable was the loss in strength. She felt so weak that the idea of throwing a punch seemed a daunting, unaccomplishable task. She let her head fall into her hands as she sat upon a stone bench near the Smith's workshop. How pathetic her current existence! She doubted that if she summoned all of her strength she would be able to crack the surface of this bench, where she could have destroyed the entire planet not one week before. There was something even deeper about the change, though.. She could no longer get angry. There was something that approached her former natural state, yes, but it was nothing compared to the overwhelming saiyan rage that she once knew. Since she awoke, she was capable of new and varied emotions, but while everything else had gotten stronger, her anger alone seemed to be diminished in its capacity. She could not even rage about the loss of her power enough to satisfy her.. She sighed... It seemed that while her skin had gotten thinner, her 'skin' had gotten thicker. Two layers of skin, the outside wearing thin as the inner grows thick... Her head raised from her hands.. That's exactly what she needed. A second skin. Her flesh was too raw for something so terrible as armor, but a shield, the same type of object so many of the Orsans she had battled used; their shields had been capable of deflecting attacks much more powerful than their flesh would have been able to take, even protecting them from their opponents weapons. She needed a shield. She stood and began walking to the Smith's workshop. Her reception had not been particularly warm... She could not ask the Smith for a shield.. She would have to make one herself. She decided that she might make one in the fashion of the Orsans in the Village; one made from stone that had been heated and molded to be stronger. She nodded. And she may even be able to win into the Smith's better graces.. He seemed to despise the girl for not only slaughtering Orsans, but for being responsible for the Devourer's rebirth. Typical Anti-Arin propaganda; "You killed my people and brought the end of the world"... Will it never end? Okay, maybe I deserve this one.. But the new Arin was not one to lose a potential ally so easily.. On this world, assistance was a necessary thing.
Arin stepped into the Smith's workshop and after a dialogue that consisted of "May I use your tools" and a grunt that could have meant anything but more likely meant "Only if you die by them" Arin was stepping out of the building and traveling to an outcropping of rock on the outskirts of the village. She was carrying a hammer and a chisel. The rock was made in layers, and each was separated by another layer of sediment. She wedged the chisel between two layers of stone and struck with the hammer attempting to dislodge a layer of rock. She succeeded. With very little effort, she had separated a rather large sheet of stone and it was a small matter to lift it with both hands and carry the hammer and chisel on it as if it were a platter. The stone was rather large for the girl, but not overly heavy for its size. She figured it was at least as hard as a rock, right? As she brought it in, she laid it down on a workbench and began imagining some way to punch holes in the stone. She looked around the room as she saw all manner of tools and weapons hung on the walls. It was there that she found a drill. She held one handle in a hand and pressed the bit to the rock and began turning the handle to slowly bore a hole in the stone. In this way she formed three more holes in the sheet and ran some leather strips through the holes to form a grip. She tightened them around her hand and wrist and the shield appeared to be perfect. She nodded softly and hefted the shield. It was no small weight, but she had no doubt that she could grow accustomed to it. She turned around and made to leave and instinctively raised the shield.
The Smith’s hammer came down and shattered the shield with a single blow. Arin was driven back by the attack and all that remained of her work was splintered stone on the floor, powder in the air and two leather straps that now fell from Arin’s wrist as her numb arm hung by her side ”What was that for!?”
”Have you no eyes, girl!? That was the most pathetic stone I’ve ever seen worked! If your goal was to make your enemies laugh to death, then I shall admit to one with more a sense of humor than I would have succumbed, but to hear tale of your ‘unrivaled abilities’ one would think you could accomplish a task that every Orsan child can complete on their own by their fifth summer.”
Arin was put down... She looked to the floor and swallowed another of those new emotions down. ”And how am I supposed to make a workable shield, then?” Arin was showing... Humility? It was a strange thing indeed. Somewhere in the universe, there were a great many demons who were unseasonably cold.
”You use a forge, to begin with.” And the Smith nodded his head toward a monstrous machine that took one entire wall of the building, and extended deep into the walls of the cavern and, unseen, into the depths of the planet.
Arin was stood and stared at the intimidating contraption before her. In truth it was a marvelous creation, and it was masterfully worked to allow the crafting of most any weapon or tool the Orsan Smith could conjure in his mind. She was not staring quite at the marvelous construction of the beast, to be honest. Neither was she marveling at the intimidating number of moving pieces that governed the release of particular flows of molten rock pumped directly from volcanic vents in and below the planet’s crust. More, so she was gawping at the construction itself and attempting to identify how exactly it was used. ”And... If I may... How exactly am I to use a forge?” Her voice was small and she was genuinely asking. Regardless of her pride, she needed a way to survive... And if the feeling coming back into her fingers was anything to go by, taking a hit was not in the cards for her.
The Smith sighed. As much as he disliked the girl who damned his people to extinction, he was not going to let such terrible craftsmanship exist within the borders of his Village.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 10, 2013 11:21 pm
Arin stood before the forge, trying to imagine what the shield was going to look like. Unfortunately, because she was constantly imagining everything that could go wrong and trying to remember the meticulous steps that the Smith had spoken to her not but a few moments before. Apparently, the wheels over here controlled the direction of the spouts, which were long half-tubes of metal that was forged to withstand the fiery heat of the molten metal they pumped. Depending on where you wanted it to go, you could redirect it to several different forms, molds of what the finished product would look like. The levers over there controlled which metals were mixed in their molten state in the reservoir before it pumped the molten earth down the spout and into the form. The plunger on that side controlled the pressure in the reservoir, and was pumped to increase or decrease the pressure in case you were trying to pressure-form a denser object, which was apparently one of the tricks to making a superior stone tool. The increased pressure formed different materials than if it were just regular stone (which is what Arin had been trying to use, remember). The Smith seemed to have forgotten who he was speaking to and had launched into an hour-long discussion on just how to craft an Orsan shield. He was very passionate on the subject, and it was the first time Arin had seen him anything but angry. She didn’t have time to dwell on those facts, though; as he had continued so quickly that she very seriously had other facts to focus on. Arin now tried to focus on the task at hand and recall all of the do’s and don’ts that he had reviewed. He watched her cautiously, although it was beyond Arin’s knowledge if he was considering throwing her into the fire or if he was watching to see if anything was going to go wrong. Arin picked some of the levers (as she tried to remember the perks to each type of stone) that she thought would make a light but durable construction.
For almost three hours, Arin had been carving out a model of the final shield. She had first had to carve the shape she wanted (which she merely modeled off of a shield in the Smith’s collection and customized for her own preference) from a very soft stone, which apparently evaporated when heated. She was supervised by the Smith during this time, and assisted when she was chiseling or filing incorrectly. ”Have you never held a chisel, girl?... No, no, no. You file this way. The grain of the stone will split and your whole model will crumble before we’re ready.” Arin had filed and chipped and chiseled a shield that she was proud of. It was a shield that could cover her entire upper body if she held it in front of her. The model weighed less than one pound, and the next step was to pack it in iron-based sand. They took care to place it into a box of a thicker metal and packed the iron in around the model. Normally, you could simply pour the molten rock directly into the form, the model would evaporate and the stone would cool in a different type of sand, which could then be removed. But the Smith had insisted that this be pressure-formed. ”If it’s worth doing, it’s worth overdoing. Consider it making up for bringing that atrocity into my shop.” He kept referring to the shield Arin had made before as ‘that atrocity’ or ‘that pitiful creation’. It did wonders for Arin’s confidence. She had been pretty satisfied with it... She sighed and snapped back to reality as the Smith cleared his throat. She remembered how they had heated the sand to the melting point and had had to balance the temperature to refrain from boiling out the model too early. Once the mold had set, its melting point was significantly increased. It somehow now stood up to temperatures well above normal, and the model evaporated away as the mold had turned into a solid steel brick around it.
Now that the model was gone, the mold was merely a steel block that was hollow on the inside. There was a single hole into the structure, and it was where Arin now attached the pressure-spout. To her surprise, it almost seemed like an airlock door. When the spout was pressed against the block, they had had to pull the stone plunger on the wall to create a vacuum seal. The Smith had showed her how to bond the spout to the block with a high-temperature, air-tight weld, and it was almost time to get started with the actual forging.
Arin stood, wondering about which levers to pull. It was a complex equation, and it was a difficult thing to mix the correct minerals to form a good material. So, naturally, Arin picked her best guess and began filling the reservoir with molten lava pumped directly from the molten pools of minerals under the planet’s crust.
She waited for the mixture to distribute thoroughly (but not long enough for the layers to differentiate) and opened the floodgate, letting the molten stone pour into the mold. For a moment, Arin was concerned about something so hot going into the metal box, but it held up to the heat just fine. She went over to the plunger in the wall, which was merely a huge stone cylinder with a ratcheted lever to push it into the wall. Arin pumped the lever, and the design of the lever kept the mounting pressure from pushing the cylinder back out. It moved as if it was designed in a modern world, flawlessly designed and perfectly lubricated. It was a marvelous work of art and function.
Arin hardly felt the structure pushing back against her. It was remarkable. The Smith stayed silent as he watched Arin pump the lever tirelessly. Effortlessly. Far beyond the talents of any Orsan... She continued to pump the jack until it got too difficult for her (a pretty significant time, during which the smith’s eyes got wider and wider) ”Now what?” She watched the Smith pull himself together. He explained how to proceed and they did so, the high pressure having kept the stone hot. Arin locked the plunger in place and made sure the box was sealed tightly to the pump. It was a matter of waiting now. The stone would cool slowly, and it was merely a matter of waiting for it to happen. A slow flow of water ran over the mold, allowing the heat to be wicked away more efficiently without accelerating the process. Stone that cools too quickly balloons, and softens. She sighed. Being patient was not her strong suit. Or at least it didn’t used to be. The new Arin didn’t quite know what she’d do. So she sat down on a bench on the wall. She took a deep breath and felt none of the stiffness creeping into her body, none of the wild need to move creeping into her mind. She felt... Peace. For want of another word, peace was what she felt. She didn’t know if it was the calm, blue light emanating from the stone around her or if it was the utter distance between her and anything else, it may be some combination of them or something else entirely, but something had made it possible for her rapid nature to be tamed. She leaned back against the wall and felt the cool stone on the bandages that wrapped her in a full-bodied embrace. She sighed and felt herself drifting into a gentle, dreamless slumber. She had been having so many nightmares recently... Uncontrollable memories from another life. She dreaded sleep every night now. She tried to go without it, when the need for it overwhelmed the pain of being alive. But now... Now she slept content with the world. It seems that after a lifetime of destroying things, Arin had finally found peace in creation.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jan 12, 2013 2:09 am
Arin awoke slowly. She was curled into a ball on the bench, and she felt an extra weight on her body behind her bandages. She looked down, blinking away the sleep in her eyes and saw that she had been covered in a blanket. She was quite alone in the smith's workshop, and her eyes focused in on the sealed box of her shield, the seal preserved by a masterfully welded plate on the box, trapping the superheated stone in the shape of her model, slowly cooling, the way the Smith said works best. She sat up and the blanket fell off of her as she rubbed her big, black eyes to get the sleep out of them. She stretched and felt her scars pulling; uncomfortable, but not painful, and felt rested. She did not know how long she had been asleep, but that peculiar blue glow that bathed the Smith's workshop seemed to remove her from time completely, so she didn't particularly care what time it was. She saw that the forge had been made ready and used while she was asleep, and she spotted several other molds cooling, the Smith having apparently been busy in the time he hadn't had to look after Arin's failings. She stood up and felt an unfamiliar restlessness in her bones. She didn't want to move, she wanted to create. She took a block of powderstone and began chiseling out a new form. She had to saw the block down to get it to the right size, a block about three feet long and six-by-six inches. She smiled as she worked, finding it a simple matter to narrow the end of the stone block, separating a cube that was six inches at the edge, to use later. She proceeded to file the stone down into a long and narrow block, and shaped it slowly into a crude blade. Shw wasn't sure why she was making a sword. She didn't particularly seem like a sword person, especiallly (as painful as the act was) remembering her attempts to use a sword before. She remembered Aki's favorite move with the bo staff, a long, straight thrust that would pierce a defense as easily as anything. She tried to imagine what sort of blade could do that. She settled on a blade that was slightly narrower than a normal straight sword, so as not to sacrifice the ability to slash if she chose it. She didn't want to snap this sword in half. After a good amount of carving and a little more detailing, she had a rough sword blade carved out, straight and without an edge. She figured she would need to sharpen the sword anyway, and decided to put the blade on later. She didn't want to risk messing up the whole thing, so she was going to make the blade and handle separately.
She had no idea what kind of stone to use... She decided on an experiment to figure out what she should use. She tried various combinations of levers to mix different types of magma, and met with varying results. She found materials that mixed to be very light and very heavy, and very brittle and very stiff and every combination in between. She finally found a combination that she figured would work best; a light, durable material that didn't crack when she bent it a little. It seemed about perfect, and she remembered from Aki's memories that a weapon should be able to bend a little before it breaks, just to account for the stresses of combat.
If it was too hard and too uncompromising, the weapon would snap the moment it hit something that was harder than it. Arin nodded and began packing the blade in the black iron sand that they had used before, making sure to leave a hole in the end of the form for the stone to be poured in. She began heating the sand to allow it to melt and form the mold, setting it aside to cool and beginning work on the hilt of the sword. She recalled an Earth weapon called a rapier, and conjured an image of the hilt into her mind. It was perfect, because it could be used to punch if she did happen to break the blade. The final work that she came up with was a rather elegant hilt, with small dome around the juncture of the blade and hilt, to let any weapons that came toward her hand slide off. She finished the model of the hilt and packed it in sand, placing it on the fire to heat. By the time she'd finished, the blade was ready to pour, and she attached and welded the mold to the spout.
It was a simple matter from that point to pour both molds and set them aside to cool in the flowing water. It was but a matter of time before she was done and the two forms set curing. She sat back down on the bench and was suddenly overcome with a great exhaustion. It seems that this temporary burst of energy was just that. She pulled the blanket around herself and slipped into a sweet and peaceful slumber.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 14, 2013 4:37 pm
Arin awoke in a daze. There was not much noise, per se, but there was activity. The Smith had apparently come into the shop, and while not working, was currently setting up shop as it were. He was tying a thick leather apron around his waist and turning to face the molds. He cocked his head slightly as he noticed something off about the arrangement. He shook his head softly and let out a breath that might have been a chuckle, were he an Orsan that were prone to such things. He looked around and saw the child sitting up and rubbing her eyes, her bandages disheveled as she raised herself on her scarred hands. She looked at him and smacked her lips to try and get the awful taste of sleep out of her mouth. Arin slowly pushed herself up and fell once as the raw sensation hit her hand. It was always like this. When she woke, the pain was at its worst. She took a moment and acclimatized herself to the sensation, pushing herself up with a determination that rivalled her old saiyan pride. The Smith nodded to a point beside the child, and Arin looked over. It was a gray concoction that she recognized as her medicine. She sighed with relief and reached for it. The Smith must have retrieved it from the Herbalist.. It had to be brewed fresh or it would become useless. She gulped the potion down and almost immediately felt the cooling rush of whatever alien herbs were ground into this creation. It reminded Arin of being in a healing tank. She felt like ice water was being poured over her, and the pain of being alive dimmed to a dull roar. She muttered a 'thank you' that went ignored by the Smith (gratitude not being something he was known for recognizing) and the girl stood up from the bench. She stretched out as she stood to wring the tightness out of her muscles. She checked her bandages (they were pretty tired) and began walking toward the smith, who held out a --much smaller-- leather apron. It looked new, not just unused. Arin took it and began to tie it around her waist. She decided that it was best not to ask what the apron was for; she had a feeling she would find out: and that her bandages were probably flammable, anyway. So a little extra protection wasn't too terrible an idea --that was the point of this whole exercise, right?-- and just turned her attention back to the matter at hand. It just now struck her that they were staring at the cubes of steel, and Arin couldn't think of a way to get them out. The objects inside had to be weaker than the mold they were in, right? But wait... If the objects inside weren't as hard as the objects inside then why didn't they just make the weapons out of the material on the out-
Arin was startled out of her thoughts as the Smith raised his hammer and brought it down on a peg on the block of steel. The entire construct exploded into a shower of sparks that flashed every color of the rainbow as the cube disintegrated into a psychedelic shower of fire that expanded to fill the whole room before finally subsiding, leaving the final construct on the table, alone and unmarked. Arin had a bit of a headache, but she figured she'd be alright. She rubbed her head and blinked the remaining sparkles out of her eyes in time to see the Smith find the appropriate point on the mold and set another pin. Raising his hammer high over his head, he began to bring it down, and Arin closed her eyes before she was dazzled by the explosion of the dancing lights. It did her no good. The light was so blazingly bright that Arin's eyelids could not protect her. It was an outstanding pain, but the beauty of it was profound. This was the second instance of color on this whole planet that Arin had seen, and both had been in this room.
"This is known as The Striking. By following the internal warps and weaknesses in the metal, you can strike it one time and split it. The Sand of Fire is the only metal that, when so struck, will completely consume itself in this manner. Care to try your hand at it?"
Arin looked at the stone block. It was a perfect cube, and there weren't any flaws in the surface that she could see. "Ummm... How can you tell where the flaws are?" She was utterly confused. It had taken the Smith no more than a few seconds of looking at the metal to know where to strike it. Arin could stare at it all day and be no closer than before.
The Smith pointed at the metal and traced a line slowly with his finger. "Here, do you see this line? Do you see how it bulges and breaks here? And how, with every cycle, the Beat never quite reaches this place? That is where you should strike." He tapped his finger at a spot on the steel where the lines of color were all absent, and the metal was black as opposed to the many varying colors it was laced and pulsing with.
Arin stared at the blank, flawlessly smooth point he had touched. And had two questions; "What's a Cycle?"
"The Cycle is what the Orsans call the pulsing of the planet's core, like the Heartbeat in every living thing. Everything has a heartbeat, and the way to find the weakest part of any structure is to find where the heartbeat does not reach. It is said that in the Old Times, before the Great War, there was the All-Smith. A smith so powerful and so clear-sighted that he carved each of the Great Cities with one strike of his mighty hammer." The Smith tightened his grip on his hammer, perhaps in remembrance of what had made him contemplate being a smith in the first place. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do you see it now?"
Arin saw nothing of the sort, no matter how she stared. "No, no I don't... I suppose that my kind does not possess that ability." It sounded beautiful, but Arin did not particularly mourn the loss of this skill; she had gotten by without it, and did not feel that it was too important as far as the abilities that she already has, although those seem to be failing her nowadays. She could have sworn that she was supposed to be healed already. She'd taken a considerable amount of punishment before, and come back long before this.
"That's a true pity.. Perhaps you should go to the Herbalist and change your dressings. I can take care of things here." There was no aggression in his voice, no sarcasm or bite. To the Smith, not having the Sight is the cruelest handicap of all. The Smith raised his hammer high to bring down on another block and cleared his mind of other thoughts.
Something about the way the Smith spoke made Arin want to comply. She'd give him a little time to himself. She left her apron in the workshop and began pacing back to the Herbalist's shop, just next door, but still twenty yards away. With every Striking, the entire Village was filled with the sparks. They literally filled the entire massive cavern, and collided with the walls before extinguishing. Arin wondered if this might be why the entire place glowed blue. She sighed peacefully and stepped into the Herbalist's shop, zoning out as the woman fussed over the bandages and the wounds of the girl, tlaking all the while about the progress Arin had made, and how she shouldn't be Smithing while she was still this injured. It was always this way when Arin came in to get her bandages changed or to get her medicine. Arin didn't speak much during these procedures, she just let the Herbalist go on until she could finally thank her and leave. When the Herbalist was done "Thank you." And Arin left.
Arin went back to the Smith's shop where, thankfully, the Striking was done. On the table lay an assortment of gears and cogs of varying sizes, along with the shield, hilt and blade that Arin had completed construction on the night before. arin walked up to them and ran her fingers along the smooth, flawless stone, colored the deepest black.
"Very fine craftsmanship, to be sure, child. You could have a future in this business."
Arin smiled slightly as she took the blade to the grindstone. It was a smiple matter to sharpen the blade --she remembered the proper way from Aki's time in the weaponmaster's school-- and to fit the blade into the hilt, secured with pegs through the tang. A few leather straps attached to the shield through a couple of loops, and the weapons were both complete. The best part of both; as Arin gripped the handle of the shield, it felt perfect in her hand. She slid the sword into the scabbard built into the shield, and it looked as if the two were made for each other. She nodded and smiled again. It was perfect.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
