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Character || Ruelash
Stage || Knight
Crafting || Necklace
Crafting Stat || 23
Difficulty || 7
Roll Needed || 50-100
Rolled || 87
Outcome || Success

14exp + 20 = 34 exp

“What are you doing?” Ruelash asked. It came out angry, fierce. He didn't regret it as he said it, but he had not intended to snap at her, though he did.

Volkarosh looked at him levelly. She never reacted to her friend's moods - they happened so often that it didn't really matter. She trusted him. She knew he would never hurt her unless they were sparring.

She was going to try, she said, taking a carving tool in hand, and a tooth in the other. She was going to do it better.

“Oh yeah?” he said, sitting down and taking up a carving tool of his own, “Well I'm betting you won't! How about that, huh? Huh?” He grabbed a tooth, fired up with competitive spirit. He could not fight her, but this was the next best thing. She smirked.

Lets see about that she said.

Oh he would see about that.

He began to carve a new skrimshawed tooth, fury giving him the inspiration to make something other than an element. This time, it was a nehredile, the long time nemesis that still – even after all these years – eluded him in Zena's waters. One day he would have it's tusk, a trophy testament to hunting and failure and persistence.

But not yet.

In fact, he had forgotten about that chubby, elusive, prey until this moment, and had not visited it's lake in years. He hoped it had not somehow died on him, eluding him forever. He did not want it to die – he wanted to kill it. He wanted to tear it apart with his own hands and roast it's flesh and be the general, overall, agent of its destruction.

It had better not have died.

He blew away chalky dust, pleased with the carving he was making. “Mine's better!” he taunted, turning to see what she was doing. He was foiled, however, by her back. “C'mon, show me.”

It wasn't done, she informed him, glancing at his work, and hers was better.

“I'll show you!” he said, taking the charcoal and darkening the marks, “I'll show you good!” his blood pumped, his face flushed, and he felt good – really, supremely good. Who knew that carving could give him such a rush? Only fighting was better, and since he could not fight here, then this was good enough.

He carved a perfect hole in the top of the now-finished tooth, and set it down. “There! There, see?!”

Volkarosh looked over and smiled. It's not a necklace, she informed him, without beads or string.

“Auuuugh!” he roared, only half in agitation. “Fine! I'll make the damn beads!” he set to carving beads out of bone and teeth, sweating in the dry fire heat as he worked to make little, perforated, ivory spheres. He picked up a leather lace and began to string them through, tying knots in the leather to hold the beads in place. Finally, he held it up, triumphant. “There! See?” he said, tauntingly, “Better than yours!”

Calmly, she turned around to show him... an intricate necklace. The carving on the tooth was delicate and precise. It looked roughly like the view outside their shelter, of mountains and forests and rivers. The beads were small, but they had carvings on them too, precise and waving.

Ruelash's jaw dropped. “H... how'd ya do that?”

She smiled secretively. It wasn't done yet, she said, putting it aside, but she'd won anyway.

“Ugh.” Ruelash put his version down, near the pile of other necklace bits. He'd lost... and he found he didn't mind.