Albrecht von Wulfhard, "Főnixkarom"

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*Our mother, whose name shall no doubt be hallowed one day throughout this world of shadow and dust, may or may not have heard the hasty prayer of her much-suffered child(e).
But would she even listen?
Would she even care?
Is he not cast off from all her spirits, for all practical purposes, permanently?
Albrecht's thoughts darken, his throat sours and his vision blurs as he approaches the blood-sucker with his trusted friend. Not even the wretched Discipline works. But it's Friderich alright...*

-/Ger/ Ah, such speed. Have you at least whipped the court of Vencel with the flat of your blades?

*He talks silently, but perhaps not silently enough. And the sheer cynicism in his voice could certainly not be mimiced by any Tzimisce upstart on this much-suffered world of shadow and dust.*
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[RedDrake]

<You're brave, Tristan.>
*Brave and poetic. He could've been the best galliard. Having him near always gets me nostalgic. These times I feel that my mortal ages are not that fair.

It is a lie, but an interesting one. One can call it a delusion, a false hope. But, everybody has his false hopes as an undead to carry on moving, chasing a nearly-impossible dream.

Dear goddes of the earth, Gaia, please hear my prayer.

Mater noster, qui es in caelis,
sanctificetur nomen tuum,
adveniat regnum tuum,
fiat voluntas tua sicut in caelo et in terra,
...


But I'm interrupted..
sed libera nos a malo. Amen.

I finish my prayer quickly
He is... oh a white tabard.
I see. Can it be?

I draw my sword, and sign to Tristan, not to attack.
I'm beginning to walk slower, showing that I'm not the enemy, and saluting with my sword. I think I know who is there. But, just to make sure, I'll use the power of the undead, to doublecheck if it isn't a leech using Obfuscation*

Auspex 2: Perception + Empathy vs 8

Dobás:

Eredeti dobás sorozat: 5d10 Rögzített 10-Sided Dice Results: 4, 3, 6, 8, 1 (Total = 22)

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"Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust.
From ashes you've come
And to ash you'll return!
AMEN!"
(Angel Dust Andersen)

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*Though hesitating for a moment, Tristan ends up following his master down the slope and into the glade.
Cautiously.
The cloudy nature of this night provides desperately little light to work with, but Albrecht's undead senses have gotten used to it somewhat without any sort of magic.
They get behind the horse-leading figure and begin following him. It takes less than a minute for him to notice their approach.
He stops.
He turns around.
He draws his sword without a sound.
And he wears a white tabard now unmistakable from this distance.*
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[RedDrake]

- /Ger/ - I know my friend. I know it very well.
*But I have no intention to let him die in a battle against the pagan fleshcrafters. Our goal lies elsewhere.

But our current destination is here. Remnants of a corrupted empire. It has built wonders but spawned monsters. If only these cursed leeches... if only...

Enough! There are too many tales about the fair folks listening to such desires. If only is the calling word for them and I'm not in the mood to meet an another one of them.

But fresh and clean water, every good people should deserve this. Yet it is in ruins the great spirit and the evil heritage of that empire can be found everywhere.*

<Hmm?>

*It is strange to find a horseman there, but yet there is one. And going to the ruins. This can be a good opportunity. We begin to follow this figure, caotiously but not stealthy*
_________________
"Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust.
From ashes you've come
And to ash you'll return!
AMEN!"
(Angel Dust Andersen)

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*Tristan gulps. Discreetly, since obviously, a bard never shows fear, no, sir.*

-/Ger/ I see. Well, sire, as always, you know you can count on me to have your back.

*Leaving the town of Buda, the two of them return to the maze of scattered glades, fiefs and serf hovels that lie to the north of the city along the river Danube. Indeed, they're in for a thorough search, having only approximate clues of where to find this old Roman theatre; likely among the remnants of the old Roman settlement by the name of Aquincum further north.
Riding around the place and even rousing a peasant or two (compelling the poor ghoul to cross the language barrier with sign language), they're quickly orienting themselves into the right path, finding what perhaps used to be a watter-carrying aqueduct. Why do humans no longer construct things like this?
Even more time passes with searching here, and when the duo come by a more thickly-wooded area to the west, the abominable senses of Albrecht make out a single figure among the lightly-spread trees, tall and leading a horse by its reigns, progressing forward slowly and carefully towards a peculiar clearing.
Upon closer inspection... the clearing is quite round-shaped and more ruins are to be found there.*
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[RedDrake]

*It seems that my frozen heart will remain calm.*
/Ger/ - They have mentoined a theatre, to be more precise, the ruins of an old theatre, it should be somewhere where the ruins of the former roman city lied.

*That sums up everything I know about the location.*

/Ger/ - Hopefully fleshcrafters, or clues about his strange cult, which have attacked us.
_________________
"Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust.
From ashes you've come
And to ash you'll return!
AMEN!"
(Angel Dust Andersen)

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*Still no luck about Luna; the clouds are omnipresent tonight. At least it might serve to hide the sneaking pair of living werewolves; a small consolation for Albrecht.*

-/Ger/ I agree.

*Says Tristan, now looking over to the north while the horses start out in a walk.*

-/Ger/ Do you know where to look though? And what we'd likely find there?
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[RedDrake]

*We follow the old smith with my loyal friend. As we enter I take a brief pause to look around the workshop.
I'm relieved. It is well equipped, to be honest, quite richly equipped. My armor will be in good hands, for a human. But right now, I cannot hope to find a garou smith, he won't help me, sadly. I put down the armor near the bigger hammer.

I don't mind the quick farewells. We'll check back in a week and after saying our farewells we go out to the night. I look up to check the presence of the holy moon-goddess, Luna. Maybe she'll gift me with her rage tonight too.*

/Ger/ - I think our ladies in the court along with Ernst will handle their task at hand well without us. So, maybe we can try to catch up with the other party.
_________________
"Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust.
From ashes you've come
And to ash you'll return!
AMEN!"
(Angel Dust Andersen)

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*The old man begins to move over, sleeping gown and all, barely even remembering to close the door of the house. His large, wrinkled, work-hardened palm leans back to beckon Albrecht and his servant towards the side-building once they "giddied up". It takes a while for Albrecht to realize how little the mortal cares for it being an actual winter night, no matter how comparatively early and moderate in temperature.*

-/Lat/ This way! This way! Right in here!

*There's a simple, wooden "lock" on his workshop, which he pushes aside and opens the two-winged door, sizable enough for a large horse to comfortably move in and out.
Well, it's too late now.
Inside, he finds the perfect spot in the middle to hang his oil lamp from, illuminating the interior in a dim light that more than serves its purpose for a creature of the night.
Like most smithies, it sports everything in one place for convenience and efficiency. There's a large forge in the middle with huge bellows and with dozens of iron spikes on it that still produces its peculiar scent after a day's use. It should definitely be able to invoke a very high temperature, given the best matierials and techniques used.
Then, on the workshop's sides are the various desks, tables, benches that house the tools of the trade from the tiniest poker to the largest hammer and the most elaborate hook. He has not one, but four anvils of roughly similar size, one of them being obviously larger than the others. He instructs Albrecht and Tristan to pack the armour down - or what's left of it - near it.
After a few minutes of bragging and idle chatter, he politely shooes them out and tells them to check back in a week. With this, he says his farewells and retreats into his home, perhaps the cold finally taking its toll on him too.*

-/Ger/ Well, sire, what now?

*Ponders Tristan while remounting. The night is still fresh. The perks of wintertime.*
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[RedDrake]

*I simply nod giving a honest answer.*

/Lat/ - The biggest I've ever seen.

*Now it is up to this smith to repair it. Money? Oh, at least that is not a problem.*

/Lat/ - Money is not a concern. Feel free to use anything that'll help reforging it. Quality over quantity.

*I shake my head after reassuring the smith.*

/Lat/ - But of course. It is my gear, the armor of my family.

*I'll carry it to the workshop. This way I'll check how well-equipped is his workshop. So I'm going after the smith, carrying the armor in my hands. Yes, I'm strong but I do not need any unnatural strength to carry my own armor. *
_________________
"Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust.
From ashes you've come
And to ash you'll return!
AMEN!"
(Angel Dust Andersen)

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*The "old" man ponders for a while before nodding thoughtfully after each answer. He, of course, is not satisfied by the last one, but he finally decides against pressing the secret any further.*

-/Lat/ Deus, the first thing I tell to my apprentices: don't drop anything into the bloody forge! Must have been one hell of a giant forge, huh?

*He snorts, still eyeing the horrible damage.*

-/Lat/ Very well, I'm going to do my utter best, but it won't be cheap. Anything else to add?

*He pauses.*

-/Lat/ And I'm definitely going to need help carrying all this over to the workshop!
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[RedDrake]

/Lat/ - Not quite. It is in the north, at the east end of the Grand Principality of Kiev.

*It is not well-known place, but they do masterful work, mostly for garou and kinfolk. I try to answer but he is quick to ask yet another question.
I wait a little if he has a third question too, but he doesn't have. Now I'll answer.*

/Lat/ - As soon as possible, but quality before speed.

*That is an important factor.*

/Lat/ - Extreme heat and fire burst. Your assumption with the molten lava was nearly correct.
_________________
"Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust.
From ashes you've come
And to ash you'll return!
AMEN!"
(Angel Dust Andersen)

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*The old man listens with interest, appreciating the armour meanwhile, even though it's quite ruined. His eyebrow runs up over and over again at the mention of certain words, prompting him to think hard before speaking.*

-/Lat/ "Steel", you say... that peculiar alloy from the Mahomedan East. Are these "Uralian mountains" near Damascus, by chance?

*He runs his fingers through the chest piece with newfound interest, knocking on the material gently.*

-/Lat/ Iron... charcoal... and silver. I'm going to need to study this properly, good lord, if what you say is true, then this armour is quite the experiment. How urgently do you need it repaired?

*Before Albrecht could even get a chance to answer, the old man quickly adds.*

-/Lat/ Oh, and I really need to know what exactly melted these pieces!

*Tristan gulps. Once. He couldn't help it.*
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[RedDrake]

*There is no excuse: my armor is in ruins. Never ever had it been so damaged. It is a shame.*

/Ger/ - Yes it is a unique set and truly a masterwork.

*I nod.*

/Ger/ - I'm no smith, but primarily it was forged from the finest iron mined from the Uralian mountains, which was transformed into the silvery-steel serving its basis. I don't know the right ingredients but maybe you're familiar with their work.

*If only there would be a way to restore it magically.*

/Ger/ - It is a bit older than you'd except.
_________________
"Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust.
From ashes you've come
And to ash you'll return!
AMEN!"
(Angel Dust Andersen)

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*He walks out now completely, inspecting the heavily bent chest piece, the useless, half-melted glove platings, the charred bracers and the blackened faulds.
He scratches his head.
With his stick.*

-/Lat/ I can see that... it could have been quite the masterwork. Richly-decorated too. Hmm. I wonder how he did that one...

*He ponders for a while, occasionally touching the material as if to gain additional information from it.*

-/Lat/ This will be quite a challenge, but most of it can be restored, pretending this fine metal lets itself be re-worked under sufficient heat. May I ask how old it is? And what sort of an alloy was used when making it? It seems to be a singular set of its own, is that right?
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