10th of Ash, 120th Year of the Age of Steel
Talon followed Lyra down the stairs into what could only be considered the inner sanctum of his workshop. This was where Talon truly came alive as a proprietor of the Skyforge. This was where the heart of his craft was made manifest. He could not recall how many hours he had spent toiling away at the forge, working toward mastering his understanding of how to manipulate the aether pathways within objects in order to forge artifacts of worth and wonder. As comfortable as he was in his shop, he was truly at home within the forge. The path down to the actual workshop was straightforward. The staircase lead to a broad open landing that gave an overview of an open floor plan. Polished wood lined the walls along with shelves where Talon stored the various non-perishable reagents that he sometimes used in his most basic crafting. Tools of all sorts, both those he used personally and some of which he was working to either reinforce or mend for others, were kept in separate neatly sectioned off stations.
On the right hand side of the workshop there were several workbenches. Upon the one nearest to the bottom of the staircase, there was what looked to be a sewing and leatherworking station. It was apparent by the tools upon its surface that whatever it was for, it was meant to be used for the crafting of more soft clothing as opposed to armor materials. Directly across from that workbench on the opposite wall to the left of the stairs was a workstation clearly dedicated to the work of a jeweler. Talon was only recently moving into the field of creating and fashioning his own jewelry. He was not a master of the trade but he was slowly working his way up toward creating finer pieces.
In the center of the room there was an island that, in any other setting one might have mistaken it for a bar except that there were no glasses or cutlery present on it. Above it hung various tools that looked like a combination of blacksmithing, jewelcrafting and even materials that befit more of a scribe. Strewn about the surface of the island were various dragonshards resting at the center of glyph circles. That was something else that stood out about the workstations. Each of the surfaces of the workbenches were not wood or stone but were slabs of what appeared to be gemstone. The surfaces were inlaid with carefully carved symbols that were obviously pictography designed to assist in the process of runeforging. At the far end of the workspace, dominating the far wall, was the aetherforge. A combination of dragonshard construction, stonework and iron, the forge was aglow with aethereal power. The gemlike surface of the forge swirled with the evidence of its arcane nature. The anvil resting just in front of it was made of the same material, and various basins and other aids to the main forge seemed to be crafted of the same substance.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Talon let his hands rest at the small of his back. He took a moment to survey his workshop and felt a great deal of pride within himself. He had built this place and made it into the shop it was that day.
“Welcome to my workshop, Lyra.” Talon took in a deep breath. The air was lightly scented with what smelled of roses, cinnamon and the sickly sweet and unsettling essence of decay tinged with ozone. They were the smells that Talon had come to associate with magic. The Novalys heir didn’t have to use his Semblance to know that the very air in this place was saturated with latent aether from the amount of work that went on in this place. Lining the walls were various glyphs that actively worked to keep things at a manageable level. At the very core of the magical apparatus forming what Lyra had referred to as Thallium’s Cage, was the aetherforge itself. The residual aether was pulled from the air and funneled into the aetherforge where it would mix and eventually Talon would see it discharged as viscerite. He then typically fashioned them into rudimentary crystals that he then used to create low-grade Sorcerer’s Sand or even Spellwright’s Ink.
“So, is it what you were expecting?” He could not help the slight touch of amusement that filtered into his voice as he strode forward. On each side of the room there were two open doorways. One lead to what appeared to be storage space. The other to the bare bones of the makings of another workshop of some sort.
Talon followed Lyra down the stairs into what could only be considered the inner sanctum of his workshop. This was where Talon truly came alive as a proprietor of the Skyforge. This was where the heart of his craft was made manifest. He could not recall how many hours he had spent toiling away at the forge, working toward mastering his understanding of how to manipulate the aether pathways within objects in order to forge artifacts of worth and wonder. As comfortable as he was in his shop, he was truly at home within the forge. The path down to the actual workshop was straightforward. The staircase lead to a broad open landing that gave an overview of an open floor plan. Polished wood lined the walls along with shelves where Talon stored the various non-perishable reagents that he sometimes used in his most basic crafting. Tools of all sorts, both those he used personally and some of which he was working to either reinforce or mend for others, were kept in separate neatly sectioned off stations.
On the right hand side of the workshop there were several workbenches. Upon the one nearest to the bottom of the staircase, there was what looked to be a sewing and leatherworking station. It was apparent by the tools upon its surface that whatever it was for, it was meant to be used for the crafting of more soft clothing as opposed to armor materials. Directly across from that workbench on the opposite wall to the left of the stairs was a workstation clearly dedicated to the work of a jeweler. Talon was only recently moving into the field of creating and fashioning his own jewelry. He was not a master of the trade but he was slowly working his way up toward creating finer pieces.
In the center of the room there was an island that, in any other setting one might have mistaken it for a bar except that there were no glasses or cutlery present on it. Above it hung various tools that looked like a combination of blacksmithing, jewelcrafting and even materials that befit more of a scribe. Strewn about the surface of the island were various dragonshards resting at the center of glyph circles. That was something else that stood out about the workstations. Each of the surfaces of the workbenches were not wood or stone but were slabs of what appeared to be gemstone. The surfaces were inlaid with carefully carved symbols that were obviously pictography designed to assist in the process of runeforging. At the far end of the workspace, dominating the far wall, was the aetherforge. A combination of dragonshard construction, stonework and iron, the forge was aglow with aethereal power. The gemlike surface of the forge swirled with the evidence of its arcane nature. The anvil resting just in front of it was made of the same material, and various basins and other aids to the main forge seemed to be crafted of the same substance.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Talon let his hands rest at the small of his back. He took a moment to survey his workshop and felt a great deal of pride within himself. He had built this place and made it into the shop it was that day.
“Welcome to my workshop, Lyra.” Talon took in a deep breath. The air was lightly scented with what smelled of roses, cinnamon and the sickly sweet and unsettling essence of decay tinged with ozone. They were the smells that Talon had come to associate with magic. The Novalys heir didn’t have to use his Semblance to know that the very air in this place was saturated with latent aether from the amount of work that went on in this place. Lining the walls were various glyphs that actively worked to keep things at a manageable level. At the very core of the magical apparatus forming what Lyra had referred to as Thallium’s Cage, was the aetherforge itself. The residual aether was pulled from the air and funneled into the aetherforge where it would mix and eventually Talon would see it discharged as viscerite. He then typically fashioned them into rudimentary crystals that he then used to create low-grade Sorcerer’s Sand or even Spellwright’s Ink.
“So, is it what you were expecting?” He could not help the slight touch of amusement that filtered into his voice as he strode forward. On each side of the room there were two open doorways. One lead to what appeared to be storage space. The other to the bare bones of the makings of another workshop of some sort.
