All That Glitters

[Anastasia]

"We all have room to improve, or we would be in Chronias," Raliel laughs a bit more, "This quest need not be done today or tomorrow - prepare first and be ready, for Sharrans rarely go down without a hard fight. Do not dally overlong, but be prepared and ready before you go."

[Nephrite]

"Trust me, the first thing I was going to ask was whether there was a cafeteria in here or something..." Moore shakes his head. "I realized how silly that would be about halfway through thinking about it. Anyway, yes, my intent will be to do some preparation and research before we go, I owe Lord Crystalle a great deal even beyond the debt, so it wouldn't be right to keep him waiting."

[Anastasia]

A mere nod at that, "Do as you see fit, it's your responsibility now."

Meanwhile, Cresiel's gear is taken to the forges. Holy words are chanted over them, hammers lightly tapping them. Only lightly as one calls, "Raliel, the maker's mark is Afina's symbol! You know, the Aurora general?"

Raliel's ears perk up, a low whistle coming out. "I'll be right there. Make yourself comfortable while you're waiting, Moore."

[Nephrite]

Oh, she'll have to hear about that one. He'll find a way to get a message to her on that.

"By all means." He agrees.

How does one get comfortable in a space literally filled with forges, exactly? If he were a different type of pixie, all the shirtless celestials would do something for him, but alas...

He decides to just turn and fly in a random direction -- he'll end up wherever he needs to, after all, so he isn't going to worry too much about how he gets there.

Oh! Maybe someone can use some encouragement?

[Anastasia]

So gonna look for someone who needs encouragement? What's your parameters there?

[Nephrite]

He's trusting that he's just going to find someone who looks like they might be struggling with something. Or maybe he won't, if everyone's doing fine! He doesn't quite understand the bizarre space he's in fully so he's pretty much just assuming whatever controls it will take him where he needs to go.

[Anastasia]

Roll 1d100 here.

[Nephrite]

[23:25] <Nephrite> roll 1d100
[23:25] <Serith> Nephrite roll for Serith < 1 > [d100=1]

Well, this is going to be exciting.

[Anastasia]

You wander. Everyone is working in harmony, no one that catches your ey-hello.

A large trumpet archon pounds away at a suit of armor, glowing red as he works. He sweats, skin covered in a sheen of it as he labors away. His expression is one of concentration and annoyance, working hard.

[Nephrite]

Moore will cast a quick spell and fly over to get a closer look, but not so close as to be in the way.

Spell is Divine Insight in case there's a secret ban on magic inside here or something.

[Anastasia]

It's a set of gleaming, golden armor. Yet something seems off about it, something obvious and yet subtle. Something that gives you an impression of being incomplete. The smith pauses and scowls at the armor, giving it a long look over.

[Nephrite]

"If you don't mind -- I think I might have an idea that would help you." Moore offers.

[Anastasia]

The smith pauses, turning to you. "Oh?" he asks, "I'm listening, fairy. I can't figure out what I need to do for this armor."

[Nephrite]

Alas, he'll have to work on the 'famous' part of things a little more... It's fine. Also, he's not a fairy, but that's beside the point...

"I think you're just lacking in inspiration." Moore says as he takes a breath. "Try again, knowing you've got some extra help this time."

Another spell as his voice raises slightly in order to offer his words of inspiration and encouragement through the Words of Creation.

He's using Shared Talent the spell to give +2, then Inspire Competence and Song of Fortune for +14 total, so +16 to his next skill. Moore could probably aid him too, in theory, for another +2.

[Anastasia]

The archon pauses again before smiling, then raises his hammer and slams it down hard on the breastplate of the armor. A beautiful RINGING sound echos throughout, like a bell being struck. Before you the armor cools, celestial runes engraving themselves all over the armor. A silvery sheen then spreads over the armor, any imperfections fading away afterwards.

"Perfect," The archon looks it over, then turns to you and bows. "Thank you. Let me repay you - those bracers you're wearing, are those bracers of armor?"