Chapter LXXIII: Examining The Product
(General POV)
"Ooof" Reyvin lets out a quiet groan as he stretches his arms and back, bones audibly popping for an uncomfortable moment before the movement ceases and he leans his back against the wall once more with a contented sigh "Damn." He mutters "Haven't actually felt my muscles cramping for over a year now."
"You have no right sounding this chipper." Minthara grumbles, pointedly moving as little as possible "My arms feel like I just tried wrestling a dragon."
The limp form of Terryn twitches slightly as the quietest mumble leaves his dry mouth "Wat-r"
Malicious compliance in his very blood, Reyvin promptly splashes the older elf with a bucket of cold water he floated over, making him jump in surprise (a rather impressive feat considering his splayed form) before his muscles seized and he fell back into his position leaning against a wall. He went to glare at the obvious culprit but was stopped as he noticed a visibly chilled bottle of water floating in front of him.
Grumbling something about 'fuckin' monster kids' Terryn refreshed his parched throat and looked to his left "How the hell are you this lively brat?" He asks accusingly "I've been doing this for years and I feel half dead."
Reyvin, as ever the gracious one in victory, merely grins at the duo and lifts a hand, a dancing orb of vibrant gold rotating in his hand as he deadpanned "I used healing magic, obviously."
"Bullshit." Terryn grouches "I've been getting shouted at for the better part of a day and I still feel half dead."
Reyvin rolls his eyes "Getting slammed with instantaneous healing periodically is much different than constantly giving yourself a light trickle of the stuff to ensure you don't pull anything." He explains 'graciously' "Also I don't see what you are complaining about, that 'shouting'" He airquotes "Just made you decades younger."
"Bullshit." Terryn repeats, but is promptly shut up as a mirror floats in front of him and he notices his hair looking ever so slightly more vibrant and his skin slightly less dry "Bullshit..." He mutters again, his voice much weaker than before.
Looking just a tad too smug Minthara nods to herself before wincing at the movement, the cooldown period all of them fell into after the final stretch of the forging making her everything ache.
With one final grumble to herself she looked to Reyvin "Yes, yes, very amazing. Can I get some of that healing now? Pretty please." She preempts any fuckery with an attempted rendition of the dreaded 'puppy dog eyes'.
Reyvin's eye twitches and she and Terryn are almost blinded by the sudden wave of gold surrounding them both.
"Never give me that look again." She hears Reyvin say as she blinks the gold from her eyes.
Uncaring for the slight shiver of disgust of the Dunmer she grins "Sure thing!" As if she would give up something which actually worked.
His narrowed eyes told her just how much he believed the bullshit she had just spouted.
"Alright kids, let's see the weapons so I can fuck off and get a wash." Terryn interrupts them, his earlier astonishment now thoroughly under his control as he shakily managed to stand up.
"Right." Reyvin nods and floats over to the forge, staying in his sitting position before simply letting his lower half fall and standing up in one motion "Let's see here..." He ponders the choice for a brief moment and grabs the gold accented ebony hammer clad in royal crimson runes.
The whole thing looked like your usual mastercrafted polehammer, with the exception of a slightly wider head and a more elaborate flourish to its design, it was still very much so a weapon made for war with a hammer head, rear spike and speartip making it a versatile killing machine in the right hands.
Naturally, the moment he unveiled it, someone grew far too excited to control themselves.
He barely manages to hold it for a second before it is roughly grabbed from his hands by the excited demigoddess "Finally, an actual weapon that isn't a glorified knife!" She cheers and begins to swing the damn thing about with an instinctual precision.
Sadly, instinctual precision rarely took into account one's overexcitement.
"I swear to the gods if you fucking break somethi-" Reyvin begins to grouse before his tirade is thoroughly halted by the sound of metal hitting stone... and the sight of a good chunk of his personal forge getting turned into fine paste as the edge of the hammer made contact.
Like a deer caught in headlights, Minthara stops moving completely, her eyes moving to meet Reyvin's with immense reluctance as a complete and utter silence descends upon the forge.
"You are paying for that." Reyvin says simply, his voice unnaturally calm.
"Hey, let's not be hasty here." Minthara forces a chuckle, looking quite sheepish "It was just an accident, right?"
"No." Reyvin states simply.
"Fineee..." Minthara accepts her fate "How expensive can a forge be anyway?" She adds quietly.
"A highly specialized and enchanted forge." The elf notes and she instantly deflates "But I am sure whatever imperial stipend you are getting will be able to cover it... eventually."
She winces and mutters an apology.
An amused chuckle draws their attention as Terryn fails to contain himself "Precious as this is" He fails to suppress another chuckle "I think we'd best get back to the weapons now, you can extort the girl later."
"Extort?!" Minthara's eyes widen.
"Of course." Reyvin nods, ignoring Minthara's exclamation of "What does he mean by that?!" He looks at her and asks "Care to hear the full list of enchantments? I did mention some may or may not translate perfectly."
She narrows her eyes in suspicion but acquiesces a moment later "Fine."
"Right then." The younger elf present claps his hands and begins staring at the hammer as if he were reading something, a moment later he speaks up "We've managed to make it retain the sworn Blades, they should work pretty much the same, possibly even stronger considering Dragonbane was added to the mix."
Minthara's expression turns practically radiant then.
"The weapon is made to be nigh unbreakable, especially resistant to the effects of time magic." Reyvin continues without a care "So that no one can break it like the troll they are."
Her smile disappears as she glares at him "I am not a troll you arse!"
He ignores her once again "It should go through armor and most dragonscale as if it were parchment and the wounds it creates will be far greater when hitting said dragons, and to top it all off it should count as just about ten times more heavy than it actually is as far as striking force is concerned." He rubs his hands giddily "All in all, an absolute monstrosity for its intended purpose."
As if she didn't just smash a very expensive forge to bits, Minthara begins swinging the hammer around again, her excitement almost palpable as she no doubt imagined the head of a certain black dragon turning to mush under the strikes.
Terryn lets out an impressed whistle "Damn, I've heard of Daedric artifacts that are less impressive."
"Don't let the Daedra hear that, some of them might take it as a challenge." Reyvin immediately says.
"I hate that you are right in saying that." Terryn grumbles.
"I do as well." Reyvin commiserates before clapping his hands "Right then. Names!"
The duo give him curious looks.
"We obviously got to name the bloody thing." Reyvin points out "Can't have the peasants come up with something idiotic and then have it stick."
"They are usually pretty good at monikers." Terryn shrugs.
"Better safe than sorry." His fellow Dunmer points out and the elder nods easily "Any ideas, Minthara? It is your weapon." Reyvin looks to the Dragonborn.
She stops her excited moving about and cups her chin "Why not just keep the name Dragonbane? No need to overcomplicate it."
"That would be lazy." Reyvin grouses "Besides, someone known as Dragonbane wielding a weapon of the same name would be irritatingly confusing to most people."
"Wouldn't that just make it more fun though?" She points out with a sly glint in her eye.
"Point." Reyvin grins back at her "But I still feel like we should go for something else."
"Yeah, you are probably right." She admits easily "What about Dragon Breaker? Simple and to the point."
Reyvin nods but still looks to Terryn "Ideas of your own?"
"You kids do it." He shrugs "I was never a creative lad outside the forge itself."
"As you wish." The younger Dunmer accepts his decision.
"Come on then Reyvin." Minthara waves him on "You obviously have an idea of your own."
"Ah, have I truly become that predictable?" He pretends to lament, clutching at his heart and earning a rather unimpressed look from the resident demigod "I thought about coming up with some fancy ass name in Tamrielic, but then I got a magnificent idea!"
"Yeeess?" Minthara leans in.
"You know how absolutely anal dragons get about getting the words just right?" Reyvin grins conspiratorially.
Her eyes widen as she realizes what he is implying, a grin stretching across her face in an instant "Go on."
"So I thought, why not make up a word in bastardized Dovahzul?" His grin somehow manages to become even wider "Imagine the sheer insult of killing them with something like that."
For a moment, Minthara remains completely silent, and then begins to giggle, the noise slowly turning into a rather familiar cackle as she began imagining the opportunities. She calms down a few moments later and grabs him by the shoulders "You obviously came up with something already, spit it out!"
"Well, since you asked so nicely." He narrows his eyes, stretching his suddenly free and suddenly very pained shoulders as he dislodged himself from her grip with a rather blunt application of telekinesis. Uncaring for his fellow dragonslayer's glare he speaks "My own thoughts went along similar lines of your own idea, so why not meet at the middle and go for something like Dovakren?"
"Dovah and Kren?" She mutters "Doesn't that just mean dragon breaker though?" She asks with some exasperation. Really, was he truly that prideful that he couldn't accept taking inspiration from her idea?
A small part of her mind quickly informed her that he may have come up with it before she did, but she waved that off immediately, there was no way he thought of it months prior... was there?
"I wanted to go with Dragon Shatterer, but the word for break and shatter is the same." He shrugs "So, thoughts?"
'Same difference!' The petulantly proud part of her grumbles. She considers for a moment before slowly nodding "Good enough for me, besides I am too tired to come up with anything else so we will go with your idea."
"Poor thing can't even go a full day of work without rest." Reyvin mocks and turns back to what remained of his forge, pulling out a long stiletto dagger, looking much the same as his previous sidearm except for being a fair bit longer and the rather cruel addition of a trio of thin gleaming blades attached to the central spike in a triangular arrangement.
The whole damn thing practically radiated danger, as whoever was unlucky enough to survive being stabbed by the weapon would need quick magical healing lest they bleed out in seconds.
"Honestly I am surprised we managed to make it not look like the usual Daedric abomination." Terryn notes with satisfaction "Why the fuckers insist on using weapons and armor that look like they were forged by an idiot I will never know."
"They are showoffs, obviously." Reyvin points out, earning immediate agreement from his fellow dark elf.
"What does it do?" Minthara cuts in "You know about mine, it is only fair you tell me about yours!"
He narrows his eyes at the easy mark but holds himself back "It stabs real well and steals lifeforce."
The redhead deadpans "Really Reyvin?"
"No, that is literally it." He lies "It just does a shitton of damage, that is basically it."
She narrows her eyes "You are hiding something." She points at him.
"Duh." He admits immediately.
Her eyes narrow even further, she leans in, point at her eyes, then at him as if to say 'I am watching you'. A moment later her posture relaxes "What about a name."
"Oh, that is a rather easy one." Reyvin grins languidly "The Mortal's Razor."
"Fitting." Terryn grunts in approval.
"Yea-" Minthara stops and once again finds herself staring "Wait a second." She mutters "It stabs that well?"
"Yep." Reyvin gives her a thumbs up "It stabs really fucking well."
[The Mortal's Razor
Lifedrinker: Steals lifeforce in an almost perfect ratio and stores it for later use.
Spider's Own Liar: Grants power over all lies, allowing an extremely minor form of reality manipulation with enough lifeforce used.
Destruction Incarnate: All strikes which may be considered as 'Critical' activate a surge of conceptual destruction, doing immense damage and ignoring all defenses.
Ambition Incarnate: This weapon is capable of doing damage to anything and everything.
Unstitchable: Wounds caused by this weapon are far harder to heal.]
'Dear Poledancing Fucking Dagoth pops.' Scorch chirps 'Makes you want to stab a certain squid, doesn't it?'
'Just make sure not to eat any eyes when we do.' Reyvin chuckles internally 'Really wouldn't want to see what would happen to you then.'
'I'd probably die but I am still doing it out of spite.' Scorch decides with 0 hesitation.
Reyvin blinks 'Can't argue with that.'
"Well, I do believe I won't be topping this ever in my life." Terryn brings his attention back from the mental conversation, the older Mer looking at him with something approaching respect "You may have forced me into your service kid, but for letting me help create these masterworks I have to say I don't mind it one bit."
'Still don't like you all that much but there is no need to be a dick' Reyvin decides and nods "And I am happy that my decision has proven to be correct."
"Right." The old elf grunts and offers a lazy salute "I'll take the politely worded dismissal and fuck off now."
"You do that." Reyvin snorts and the ex Champion of Boethiah walks out of the room.
"Done playing around with the new toy?" He looks to the side where Minthara was still swinging the hammer about, even if she was now doing it with greater care.
"Never!" She retorts immediately.
"Alright then." He nods slowly, slight amusement in his voice "I guess I will just have to enjoy the opulence of my home on my lonesome then."
"That an invitation?" She stops swinging.
"We gotta scheme somewhere." He shrugs, his amusement growing.
"Yeah, yeah, I am coming with." She 'surrenders' "Before we go though, about that for-"
"You are still paying." He interrupts.
"Damn it all." Her shoulders slump.
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Any avoidance of paying the mandated stone toll shall result in the house's schemes being directed at your no doubt regularly taxpaying selves.
You will not escape.
And remember the house always wins ;)
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