12701/Resonants: Nidavellir pt. 3

Resonants: Nidavellir pt. 3
Date of Scene:	14 September 2022
Location:	The Grand Forges Under the Mountain
Synopsis:	The Dwarfs along with Colborn and Zatanna craft a suitable artifact for the bond between Midgard and Nidavellir.
Cast of Characters:	Thor, Colborn, Zatanna Zatara
Tinyplot:	Resonants

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Thor has posed:
    Below the halls of the Mountain Kings lie the life blood of stone. Surging and seething with great heat, the flow of blazing lava lends its power to the great works of the Dwarfs as they tend to the grim forges of their ancestors. It is evident in the heat that emanates from the walls, clear in the blaze of the stoves and the ease of fire being summoned at command for both the magical and the mundane.
    But here, down far below the grand hall where the heroes had celebrated with their hosts... and recovered with them as well, in a chamber that is so immense the walls and ceiling are lost in shadow... the king of the Dwarfs. Eitri. Stands before the four giant statues of his ancestors. Gigantic stern figures that look down upon the works of the smiths that toil away in this chamber amongst the gear and tools and equipment. That work on the blazing forges powered by that life's blood of the mountain. The genius of their creation is evident in the way the lava flows from each statue. One holds a great urn and from it flows the blazing rock. Another holds a goblet and from it comes more magma. The other two each bare their chests and it is from their very 'hearts' that the lava flows into an elaborate network of ducts that guide the melted stone to power the forges. To drive the automated hammers and presses as large as a giant's arm and all the stronger for it.
    It was in these depths that the Dwarf Smiths were tasked to create the billet to twin with the works of Midgard. And it was here that Colborn was given free rein, trust offered and accepted.
    It was only after several hours that the Dwarf King, smudged with dirt and grime, declared the combining of metals complete. Metals drawn from the heart of the mountain. Iron and copper then the finest steel from the vaults of the ancients... and even the smallest touch of Uru metal to lend the glimmer of portent. Several hours until Eitri announced.
    "It is done!"

Colborn has posed:
    The work was painstaking, slow and deliberate. Dwarves being dwarves.. they have skill and stamina to spare. Colborn has... for the first time in a -long- time, felt that he was among peers and potentially even his superiors when it comes to craftsmanship.

    An avid learner, he has taken the time to observe and asked intelligent and leading questions about their techniques. And then freely shared his own techniques with them.

    While sure, he worked with hammer and tongs, each swing of the hammer blasting the metal with upwards of twenty to thirty tons of force... who needs a power hammer after all? ... but there were times when he set his hammer aside and placed bare hands on superheated metal... closing his eyes to work the metal like clay, on a molecular level.

    So, rather than forge welding the different metals and alloys together, he bonded them on a molecular level, so that they were seamless, and truly united in one piece.

    When finished, his hands were soot-blackened, and yes... even reddened with the sheer heat the dwarves work with. Usually a few hundred degrees doesn't bother his skin. But this... this is Nidavellir.. where the merely mundane is only a starting point. Heat the likes of which Colborn has never felt, and workmanship he has never seen before his own eyes are a daily thing here.

    When all is said and done, he actually looks winded. Working that much cosmic power through his cells to manipulate metal on the scale he has done here takes a lot out of him. Especially when the levels of energy here as deep as everyone is, are not enough to rejuvenate him immediately.

    And yet, he has a smile that comes from pride in one's own work, and the knowledge that he feels that he truly learned from this experience. In the end, a ring about four inches across is the end result, with a crest worked along the surface of the metal. Symbolism -really- is important when it comes to some energy, magic more than others.

    "This billet is some of the best craftmanship that I have ever seen produced. Thank you to the masters here for helping me improve my skills." he says as he lays down his own billet. The metal combining copper and gold along with carbon and iron to make what the ancients referred to as Orichalcum. With my own twist. This is harder than steel. Harder than titanium. It should meld well with your own creation Your Majesty." he says to the King. And then he submits it for the approval of the Dwarven Master Smith.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Magic shimmers in the heat. Magic that pours through the life's blood of molten rock, the core of the dwarves' domain. The magician feels the currents against her skin, singing to the core of her being. To see it pouring from the heart and creative mind of the realm strikes awe from her with the force of a hammer hitting an anvil.

Truly, it has been a day unlike any other. She stands next to the Runemaster, Ianfin, her dark hair stirring in the drafts of heat from the crucibles, witness to the creation of the billet that will be the core of the Gateway between their two realms. Witness to Colborn's prowess and skill, melding with dwarven craftsmanship.

The magic in her blood recognizes the Runemaster's power. The Runemaster deserves his title. He channels the magic of his realm with the sure hand of a great mage and stands among the great. With no doubt or trepidation, Zatanna feels confident working in tandem with him, eager for the next step in the forging.

Thor has posed:
    It had, indeed, been a long and laborious task. And the attention and respect paid between the craftsmen was a palpable thing through that time. Techniques were shared, knowledge offered openly. At the most one or two dwarfs grumbled grudgingly about the idea of such an exchange...
    But that was until they saw how Colborn worked the metal. For respect for craftsmanship in such a culture as this... reaches beyond social barriers.
    When Eitri and Colborn had completed a billet each they were set upon one of the stone work tables, the dust from dragon's flux expanding outwards from the metal in a small puff of glittering stars as the metal dust floats away leaving the heroes with the two core elements that would create the ring.
    Nearby one of the sculptors had an insignia upon the end of a metal rod ready to brand into the heated metal when the time was right. But for now...
    Reflection was called for as they looked upon the billets. Beards were stroked thoughtfully. Eyebrows raised in curiousity. Some dwarfs nodded knowingly. While a few thumped Colborn on the back with heavy /thud-thud-thuds/ of congratulations.
    Ianfin had stood mostly in silence during this time. Early on he had been smoking a pipe and looking thoughtful, but as the time passed he had let its ember die, so rapt upon looking on the work. He only showed some animation when the insignia was brought forth on the end of that metal rod. A nod was given to Zatanna as he presented it to her as they joined their focus. She likely could tell he was offering a touch of his own power to the symbol, not quite crafting of a rune, but giving it recognition as something that holds a future that would be worthy of story. And, in turn, opening that connection with her for when the crest would be seared into the metal.
    

Colborn has posed:
    And yet, all of that work. All of that energy expended, and the job was barely half finished. Taking a minute to go and take a large drink of cool water, Colborn actually needed the break to gather himself. That, and to call upon the Mother Box to rejuvenate some of his energy reserves for him. It's a good thing that the sentient computer stores such things for just such occasions. Almost like someone planned ahead. Weird, I know.

    But it is a refreshed Colborn that returns from the water trough, and he smiles as he gets back to work. "We should join the billets such that they are one. Unbroken the way true friendship and true worthiness is. One, made up of many different parts, and yet... undeniably a single fused ring."

    It's not like he is saying anything that everyone did not already agree upon. But it was again... symbolic to have stated aloud. It's like when everyone is thinking something and one person voices that thought verbally... giving even more power to the thoughts in the minds of those present.

    But he is just one of many workers on the project now, lending his skill and power to the true fabrication of the fused item, ready for enchantment. One thing he learned here is that Uru as a mineral is fairly easy to work with, but once it is enchanted... once magic is infused into it, it becomes one of the most durable materials in the universe. Magic... a metal almost -designed- to accept enchantment. No wonder the smiths of Nidavellir treasure it so.

    He fully intends to ask for a tiny sample of the material to take home with him. That he might learn its molecular makeup... who knows if he can replicate it right or not. It may require some mystical origin that he does not possess. But that does not mean that he is not going to try.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Ianfin's and Zatanna's magic touches on a planes invisible to the others. Minds meet, will and magic meld like the two metals making the billets laid before them sparking stars of dragon's flux.

A dwarf holds the crest before them while the two mages forge their magic into one. The two streams flow, now visible to onlookers, two streams, red as molten metal and bright silever, forming into one. Bright gold, it is hard to focus on as it burns the retina. Together they direct the flux into the crest, outlining the symbols of the three realms as it is readied to be burned into the newly forged rings.

Thor has posed:
    "Into the fires then once again," Eitri says, wiping his brow with a heavy forearm and mainly serving to smear that smudge upon his forehead. He takes a deep breath as he takes up the two billets and Ianfin steps forward in that moment. The elder runemaster looks sidelong toward Zatanna and uncurls with a hand to gesture toward the two metal bars that rest side by side connected.
    It is with her aid that they will focus their shared magic, the ways of Midgard and Nidavellir joining in the effort to cause the edges of the metal to connect and sear so they hold themselves together for the treatment of heat.
    The King nods to Colborn and then turns to thrust the metal back into the flames of the forge. There's a rush and a /whoosh!/ as several great bellows are worked, the fires kicking up and seeming to flare as jets of flame burst from various outlets in statuary and hall.
    It takes time, minutes though the temperature rises quickly. For many an earth smith it would be too fast, too hot, too hard to gauge. Yet Eitri has the eye and when the color suits he pulls the joined and burning yellow billets from the forge and sets them sizzling upon the large rune-covered anvil in the middle of the room.
    The Dwarf King looks to Colborn and says, "Now." He raises his hammer while the tongs hold the billets. "With me. I strike first."
    As he says that he nods and looks for agreement...
    Before the hammers begin to fall in rhythmic thunder.

Colborn has posed:
    And the Eternal's personal hammer is in hand and ready. It's a negligible bit of energy he uses to just... maintain the heat level of the metal with his mind. Extending the time available to work it. It's one of his simple little tricks that he uses at home. And he uses it so often than he doesn't even think about it. He just does it.

    But then when indicated, he waits for his moment, and then brings down the hammer. No, it's not Hammer Time. It's... okay whatever, it's time to hammer. Yes.

    Metal clanging on metal is easy to hear, and the shockwaves from such force are nearly visible to the naked eye. Repeated strikes making it seem like a series of neverending shocks in the minds of everyone witnessing it. There are those who can handle such sounds, and those for whom they cause migraines. One does not become a smith if they are the latter sort.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Each hammer strike reverberates deeply in Zatanna's bones. She stands close to Ianfin, the forge fire burning in their eyes. The magician whispers words of power obscured by the clang of tool on anvil.

Between each blow, the two mages lay their forged magic onto the billets as they are hammered into one. The air sparking with the joined sorcery, blending with the evanescent stars struck from the metal with each blow.

Thor has posed:
    It takes time for the work to be done, a handful of minutes with the hammers ringing against the metal, forcing it together and creating that bond with the urged on power from Colborn and the mystical efforts of the two mages present. It is only when the heat has started to fade just ever so slightly that the dwarven king raises his hammer and pauses as he looks upon the twin billets with a sternness. Until finally. Finally he grunts and nods.
    "Now," He grabs the tongs and takes up the joined metal moving over to the stone twisting jig that is upon the large marble work table. The still red and yellow burning billet is pushed into the vice. A vice that is closed around its base as the twisting wrench is slammed hard upon the top of it. A wrench that has two ends for the pushing and turning of metal in its heated state. He looks to Colborn, "Together then."
    Which is when Eitri /spits/ into his hands and grabs one end of the wrench, waiting for Colborn to do like and when they're set they will start to work together to twist those billets together into a spiral, even as the metal resists them for Uru at times has a mind of its own.

Colborn has posed:
    Grabbing as indicated, Colborn does as he is instructed. The work requires pure muscle and determination... grit, as they call it. The twisting is not super difficult so much as coordinating and working in the conditions of the heat, the timing, the magic... all of it combined does require a level of teamwork that Colborn is not used to.

    He usually does his work himself. Sure, he has taught students now and then, but when it boils down to it, forging is -usually- a solitary job. This... is not.

    He exerts himself, twisting and pulling as indicated, the muscles of his arms and back straining to apply the required force.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The two mages working in concert stand stock still, eyes locked on the billet as they bend their wills around the twain flows of magic. Ianfin's white beard bristles with the effort, Zatanna's sapphire eyes spark light and her hair streams raven behind her as though by a strong wind.

Together every twist of metal turned by the force of Eitri and Colborn's muscle is reinforced by their spells uniting the two realms, ensuring safe travel between them.

Thor has posed:
    Once the twist is many turns to completion, once it is almost impossible to discern the boundaries of that metal, only then do the two smiths hold and ease. Deep breaths come from the Dwarf King as he lifts the hem of his leather apron up to wipe at his sweat-slickened face, then shaking his head he scowled to himself. "I..."
    The King looks to Colborn, then Zatanna and Ianfin as he smirks. "Am getting old." He says that with some amusement even as he finally takes up that billet that has held onto its heat all this time, partially due to the magics and partially due to the talent of Colborn. "Put the anvil on its ass!" He snarls to one of the assistants.
    An assistant, young for a dwarf with a short beard but with thick arms the size of tree trunks rushes forth. He grabs the horn of the anvil and /pulls/ the object over onto its back side with that sharp metal point aiming toward the heavens. Once that is done Eitri wraps the yellow and red metal around that horn creating the shape of that ring and touching the two ends to each other. But that final bit of joining is not for them, instead it is for the mages...
    "The crest!" Shouts the King and one of the other assistants rushes forward to /stab/ that insignia into the hot metal pressing into it to create the 'head' of the ring.
    "Now, Lady Zatara." Ianfin says as he extends a hand to touch the metal rod. His eyes close as he lets his head tilt back and finally unleashes his power to create that final bond.

Colborn has posed:
    And indeed, this is the point when Colborn simply steps back and makes way for the others for whom this is going to fall onto. He reaches for a skin of water, and takes a gulp of it before holding it out to the King.

    But no words are required from him, and so none come. He merely observes and recovers, taking a few breaths with his part of this finished for now.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The insignias of the three realms, Nidavellir, Asgard and Midgard glow with the twin sorcercies wielded by Ianfin, Runemaster, and Zatanna, Mistress of Midgardian Magic. The two mages lean forward, hands extended, palms upward.

Both their brows knit, Ianfin's eyebrows bristling, the arch of Zatanna's fine brows furrowed in effort. Each in his own unique manner command the occult forces of their realms to unite the rings.

Sparks flow from Ianfin's fingers tips, bright comets flaring and sinking into the metal. Zatanna conducts the magic of Midgard flowing in her blood and shapes it with her words. Like Eitri and Colborn they stamp the rings with the forces that run deep in each realm, elemental forces of fire, earth, wind and water. The crest glows bright as the inner furnace of a sun and welds the rings into place.

Thor has posed:
    It's only once that crest is burned into the metal through the power of the magical beings giving fully of themselves to this act of creation... /then/ is it allowed to cool on the horn of that anvil, resting there as it solidifies and darkens while power continues to surge through it with slow steady pulses. Until finally...
    There is peace in the grand forge and they have their Resonant. Complete and forged, carrying with it the sentiment of three realms and the hope for the morrow. It is a moment for reflection as the smiths and spellcasters look on what they hath wrought and only then do some of the dwarfs exhale softly as if they had been holding their breath this entire time.
    There's the ring of metal upon metal as Eitri takes the armband sized ring off of the anvil's horn and holds it up, peering at it as he twists it one way, another...
    Then he slowly nods and murmurs, "Not a bad day's work I'd say."
    A pause as he looks around and quirks an eyebrow. "Who's for a beer?"
    Which is when the dwarfs cheer.

Colborn has posed:
    "So." says Colborn as things wind down, "What would it take for me to take home... with your blessing, a small bit of Uru mineral?" Yes, he just asked that...

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna fixes Ianfin with a serious gaze. They both look like they have been carrying bars of metal for the last few hours., sweat shining on their brows.

"First one is on me! I'll race you to see who is under the table first." Of course, all the while upholding the dignity of Midgard.