13777/The Artificer and the Witch

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The Artificer and the Witch
Date of Scene: 08 January 2023
Location: Roof
Synopsis: Ariah meets The Artificer and preliminary plans are made to get the small witch sorted out with some new kit. Foundation building!
Cast of Characters: Ariah Olivie, Delores Klein




Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Nothing like a lonely residential rooftop in the dead of winter. It's been a week since the revelry of the new year has left the streets of New York and the gray, dreary din of January and life resuming after the holidays fills it instead. Even the streets are looking dull again as lights and decorations are stripped and stored for the coming of next November. For now there's more pressing things. Like dead gods. And other ... night terrors.

    Ariah had put a request out for a crafter with a very specific set of skills in the hopes a member of the tri-city's more mystic-oriented community could help her find. Surprisingly, she'd gotten a text and a tip to go hunting, and search out an artificer by the name of, surprisingly, The Artificer. And that's why Ariah stands on this windy rooftop.

    She stares at the skyline across the river at the taller, brighter Manhattan skyline, lips pursed. She's holding a metal quarterstaff, etched in runes, and wearing a long jacket over what seems to be like a black and silver uniform of sorts. She always did hate the cold. Perhaps this was meant to be a meeting place? Or she's looking for telltale signs on adjacent buildings.

Delores Klein has posed:
    The Artificer's description is a little vague, but there are details that are oddly specific. Black clothes with bits of what look like bronze here and there. A bronze mask. A hood. A cloak. However, the thing that set this particular night-time, rooftop parkour expert apart from others was the sphere, made of a similar bronze-like metal, following The Artificer at no more than 2m. It was an easy enough person to spot.
    Currently, somewhere far away, but close enough for the vampire to see, was such a person. Skulking as much as running, the sphere is just more noticeable than the figure, mostly due to the separation from the rooftop silhouettes.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    For one with eyes like Ariah's, catching the strange silhoutte in the night is simple enough. The flashes of bronze from what little light catches it, and that sphere. A curiosity, to be certain. The witch herself hadn't known of anyone or anything else with a pet orb following them about. So she watches a few moments more, counting heartbeats, wanting to be absolutely sure of the figure's path before cutting her own intercept course.

    Then a spark of light. The tip of her staff lights up, blue-white energy burning like a torch. A torch that follows her as she takes it up in one hand and leaps from the roof she's on to make her way towards the one she assumes is The Artificer. Or, at the least, perhaps someone who could tell where to find such a person if this was instead a messenger or a scout. Ariah doesn't quite know, and she isn't quite up-to-date on urban legends as many others in her profession.

    Ariah holds out hope that the light on her staff is enough of a beacon to not surprise the individual, and show intent to meet rather than ambush in the dark.

Delores Klein has posed:
    Skidding to a stop, the figure falls backward, but quickly hops up. Beacon is better than an ambush, at least. Imperceptable in the dim light, the surface of the sphere has twelve circular separations. One of them opens up like the lid of a submarine, revealing a lens beneath. There's a blindingly bright flash as a cone of light envelops Ariah. Pulling back, the cone of light carries a ghostly echo of her form. It shrinks down and hovers in front of the figure's face before disappearing back into the sphere. The circular lid closes back down, making the sphere nearly featureless. "Okay," she says, "you don't look like a bomb, despite the fuse. That tells me you're looking to talk, yes?" The man's voice is tinny coming through the mask, almost like a voice changer being done with baffles rather than electronics.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah is quick and agile, moving from roof to roof, up a fire escape and then... she skids to a halt herself. There's just a split second when she sees the aperture open in the dark and shields her face from the blast of light. She almost jerks back unnaturally, then waits for the figure to finish talking before she deems it safe to actually look upon it. Mismatched eyes stare out over the shielding forearm and slowly, she blinks. "...was that necessary, monsieur?" she asks, voice thickly accented in French.

    Then she douses the light on her staff, small threads of that blue-white energy simply being drawn back into her body. "Oui, talk. I was told to seek out.. The Artificer. And was given a ... very vague description..." she gestures to the sphere and the 'uniform'. Her voice is as cold as the winter wind up here, but as clear, too. "...and it would seem that I have found them? Or, mayhaps, a messenger?"

Delores Klein has posed:
    The other figure puts hands on hips, looking a little bit like Darth Vader with different taste in masks and a choice of styles from about a hundred years before those movies were made. It's superhero cut, but it's definitely out of style compared to, say, Batman.
    "Well, drat, and here I thought I was playing hard to get," The Artificer says. "Okay, well, you're not a bomb, but I don't have a lot to go on. Low body temperature, maybe, but it's cold as ice out here." Lids on that dodecahedrally symmetrical sphere open up and light shifts this way and that. Snow is thrown around until it's a very crudly packed chair behind the Artificer, who sits, crossing his legs at the knees. "Alright, let's talk, though with all the light we're throwing around, we might want to be quick so we're not discovered."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Vampire or not, Ariah's body still appears to 'function' like a human's. Her body temperature is indeed more from the frigid chill of the winter night, but she's got a pulse. The only telltale signs of her being 'different' would be the magicks she's sparked up, albeit briefly. "...then I will give you the... elevator pitch, I believe it is the term?" she asks, unsure of the usage. She's a child of the 1930's. "If it is palatable, we can consider a more private--and warmer--place for discussion, non?"

    There's a small shrug, though she does refrain to call out the man for being the one to put on the real light show. "I am seeking someone versed in working metals that resonate well with runes and magicks. There are unpleasant things afoot and I seek to expand my arsenal with an efficient weapon. Firearms may be effective but they are... limited..." she purses her lips and idly tugs the hood of her jacket a bit more snug, though that bright white hair can't be hidden.

Delores Klein has posed:
    The woman dressed as a hero and pretending to be a man has an excellent poker face. The mask helps with that. She notices the vampire hasn't aged a day since the last time she'd seen her.
    However, the orb swoops around into The Artificer's lap. It is then pet like it's a cat. "Hmm. Someone good with magical resonance and enchantable metals. Hmmm." The 'man' stands without seeming to push off from the chair, stepping forward toward the other as the orb moves around to take its place behind.
    "You posted such fairly publicly, so I can't imagine you're out to do evil with such a thing. I normally don't take commissions, but mostly that's from lack of customers. Any allergies I should know about?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Of course, back then, Ariah hadn't been a vampire. She was just another soldier. A shock trooper and a support mage, yes, but still human. Even so, still young looking. Young seeming. And yet, having seen so much. Those eyes are filled with the ghosts of the war. She watches the artificer move, the orb too, and stands firm. The staff she's been carrying is pressed down into the snow, equidistant points from her toes. Centering her.

    "Allergies?" she asks, tilting her head slightly. "...oui." There's a slight hesitation, though, and she purses her lips. "...holy silver and other blessed metals, avoid please," she finally states. Then she shakes her head, "Non, not evil. It is to be used for fighting dark things susceptible to magecraft but immune to conventional weapons."

Delores Klein has posed:
    The Artificer nods and backs off a step. Sliding the fingers of one hand into that cloak, a round bottle is drawn out. It has a double-walled design and three stoppers, one big, two little. The little stoppers feed into opposite sides of the space between the walls. The big stopper holds back a powder that glows like someone's got a blowtorch to it. Oranges and yellows shift through the mixture. "In the meantime," The Artificer says, "if you find one that's susceptible to alchemical weaponry, toss this at it. It's a mixture I came up with, but doesn't really fit with what I do." There's a slight pause. "If you keep it for more than a week, probably a good idea to change out the coolant. I'm currently using liquid frost to keep the bottle touchable, but you can probably use magic, it sounds like."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "...an alchemical grenade?" Ariah asks, squinting at the flask. Then she frees a hand from her staff and politely waves it off. "... it is... not a dire need this evening..." she says quietly. "Non, what I wish is for something more in the ... longer term. It is why I am searching for an artificer and was pointed towards The Artificer." She purses her lips and then nods slowly, "...oui. I am. Something of a sorceress? Or. A witch. If you prefer. The title matters not. I am not a practitioner of spells and rituals, I am a wielder of energies primal."

    Her words, all the while, come with a cold, almost-deadpan tone. "But it is why I am seeking to augment my toolset. My well of energy is not infinite, not in the middle of a fight."

Delores Klein has posed:
    "Yeah," the Artificer says, "I didn't check for that." The bottle is put away. "Well, I'll see what I can do, but we're going to have to come up with something to use for payment. I'm not exactly set up to take Bitcoin. Perhaps you could find me some dragon tooth or demon horn or something. Orichalcum isn't hard to make, but it's expensive, and I'd like to get something rare more than I'd like to get money." A glance back toward unrelated sirens before that mask is turned back at the vampire. "Any other requirements?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "I can offer services, and if you would prefer something more... tangible... I am certain we can come to an arrangement. I am not exactly flush with Nazi gold but I can bring you plenty of their blood..." she almost growls. Her composure returns in a split-second, though, and she considers the question. "...I would like to offer feedback for the design process. I have a very specific.. ammunition source in mind that is not difficult for me to come by. It is... the linchpin of the weapon and why it is more efficient for me to use than simply... blasting a torrent of energy at something." There's a blink, "...heat resistance as well."

Delores Klein has posed:
    The Artificer seems to dismiss the last part out of hand. "Heat Resistance isn't a problem for Orichalchum." There's some thinking. "How much can I trust you? If you sign an NDA, are you bound to it for eternity, physically unable to break it, like a fae? Because I might need you to come to my workshop, and I am very secretive."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "...does it conduct heat well? Or dispel it?" Ariah asks, eyes suddenly wandering her staff. "...because this gets very, very hot..." she muses aloud. Then she blinks at the Artificer's question. "...I am not fae non. And I cannot simply tell you that 'you can trust me'. We have only met this night, oui?" she asks. "But.. paperwork is paperwork and people are very fond of contracts. It would not be of benefit for me to betray your confidence especially if I am in need of your talents. Should anything you create for me end up needing repairs, who would I turn to for such a task if I have burnt bridges between us?"

Delores Klein has posed:
    "An excellent point," The Artificer says. One of the circles on the sphere opens up again, this time projecting dim light. The Artificer focuses on the shape of a flat sheet of material--without color, it's difficult to tell what it's supposed to be. Material is removed the longer the focus is held, and eventually, there's a hovering, false plate with letters cut into the material. "Go to this address," The Artificer says. "One week from today. The terrace above has several geodesic dome greenhouses. Find the woman working the plants. I work through her. In one week, she'll have everything necessary to fit you with a handle and look at this power source of yours. Please don't hurt her. I'm rather fond of this woman."
    The address plate disappears. "Anything else?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah takes the time needed to squint at the projection and commit the address to memory. "That is... a unique method of information sharing... I find it fascinating, and... I appreciate it," she says quietly. Then she focuses on the one in the mask and listens keenly to the instructions. "I do not hurt those who do not deserve it. I suppose you have no reasons to believe me or anything I say, oui? But, merci, for taking the time to talk." She adjusts her hood again as a gust kicks up some of the powder snow around them. "I will share with her my thoughts, for her to pass along to you. One week."

Delores Klein has posed:
    "One week," The Artificer confirms with a nod. Then the cloak parts and a flask is tossed. It breaks, kicking up snow, but also smoke. Oh no! The Artificer pulled a Batman! Not quite as stealthy as The Bat, there's the sound of something landing several stories below. When the slight wind clears the air, if Ariah goes to the far side of the roof and peeks down, there will be evidence of a hard landing on two legs, then footsteps of someone running off down the alleyway. She could follow, but The Artificer was clearly making an exit.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    At least it wasn't a flashbang or something. Ariah just exhales a quiet sigh as the smoke bomb is cast and the veil of it engulfs the rooftop. She doesn't chase to the edge, either, she just listens, hearing the hard landing and the sound of running into the distance. She turns, and starts heading the opposite way. She has some stone to source and carve before the next week is up. "Here it is.. hoping that this all works..." she muses aloud, lips pursed. "Mmm. Strange people. Such theatrics..."