RP: Polishing Armaments
It's Korday, Hattanani 26 13:25:09 1018. The full moon isn't up. The tide is low and rising. Fair weather clouds sail across the blue sky, propelled by light breezes from the west. It's warm in the sun, cool in the shade, and the air is clear and dry.
A05: Adventurer's Guild, Guild Hall
Raniq sits at a table, his cape draped over the back of his chair. On the chair to his right, against which a finely-wrought quarterstaff rests, sits his shoulder bag and a snowy white ermine which occasionally looks around or sniffs around. Everything about the rich young man seems... white. His hair, his skin, his clothes, everything. but richly crafted. He is using a white rag and a squat white jar of some kind of white goo to polish an exquisite dagger. Off to the side, is a bowl of chicken noodle soup, mostly consumed.
Kravar stands in front of a wooden armor stand adjusting a brightly gleaming breastplate. He turns it this way and that, adjusts a strap so that it hangs straight, and finally steps back to view his handywork. Next he glances around, spotting Raniq and his table. "Is that some kind of metal polish? Will it work on armor?"
Raniq looks up at the big Aesir with a quick smile, and says, "It is, but only made for ferrous metals. Judging from what I see, though, that breastplate of yours is already dazzling in its sheen. Is it... mithral?"
Kravar nods. "That's right." He raps his knuckles against the front of the armor, making a slight clunk sound. Just that small impact is enough to shift the armor on its stand, but he easily nudges it back into place with a light tap on the shoulder. A testament to the relative lightness of the metal. "It's for sale, if you're interested," he adds, a half-smirk on his lips indicating he already knows the answer.
Raniq sets his rag down and rises from his chair, awe sweeping his young face. He approaches the man's armor and says, "Ooh. It's tempting, but I doubt I could meet your price. Besides, I don't even know how to use armor properly."
Kravar's smirk widens into a full grin. "Yes, that would be a problem." His gaze shifts to the dagger. "At least you're not completely unarmed. In the right hands, a good knife can make all the difference."
Raniq holds the dagger out to show it. "It is cold iron; my lord father gave it to me when I came of age. As for being not completely unarmed, though, my spells are much more effective in my hands." He smirks.
Kravar squints at the weapon. "Cold Iron?" he repeats, seemingly legitimately interested where previously he was mostly making conversation. "Does that make it more effective against demons? No wait - spirits?" Kravar chuckles at himself. "I always get them confused."
Raniq nods, "I think most demons and many fae have natural defenses that this aids in getting past, but as yet I haven't had the experience of trying it against such."
Kravar sobers slightly. "With the way things have been going lately you may get a chance. That villain, Asumit - he's still out there. Demon attacks within the very walls..." The swordsman shakes his head.
Raniq likewise assumes a graver demeanor as he responds, "Yes, I've heard of the Binder and his perfidy. I have come across a few hounds from the lower realms, no doubt due to his treachery. I hope he gets taken soon."
Kravar's brow raises. "Hounds? That's a new one. I've seen the fiends kidnap children - or try to," he quickly corrects himself, with a hint of pride. "I've seen them drain poor citizens of their very lives...I've even seen one try to bring war to the streets - or pain. It's hard to understand them sometimes. But hounds? Never saw that. What did they want? What did they do?"
Raniq sheaths his dagger and says, "I'll buy you a drink and tell you about it, but it sounds to me like your tales are far more interesting." Extending his hand, he says, "I'm Raniq, often called Fairhair, but third son of Lord Alvar Aiglos. I was born and raised right here in Alexandria."