Roleplay Logs!

Ruth

This isn't anything long or as fancy as the rituals with the new *Shallam gods, but I guess I just wished to share a snippet of what the Mhaldorian equivalent of our Order induction is, by the Divine itself that most people (even I, admittedly) have some level of expectations of.

Let me show you the part of the interaction I enjoyed the most, though mostly short.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

<Earlier log involved a short conversation, Sartan being intimidating, and first half of oath>
 
You say in Mhaldorian in a quiet, speculative voice, "I avow as my enemies the effeminate values of forgiveness, tolerance, and laxity of discipline."
 
You say in Mhaldorian in a quiet, speculative voice, "I shall strengthen my body through combat, my mind through the elimination of conscience, and my spirit through enduring hardships, both self- and externally-imposed."

Strangely exultant daemonic howls in the distance grow louder, reverberating dizzyingly throughout the immense grotto.
 
You say in Mhaldorian in a quiet, speculative voice, "I shall endeavour to spread the Seven Truths to all corners of the land, and further the glory of Evil. The Will of the Lord of Evil is as mine. I shall obey His commands at whatever cost, putting Evil before all. My life and my soul belongs to Him and through Him, I too grow stronger."

The air above becomes fractured by hot, crimson-coloured bolts of lightning, accompanied by whiplike cracks of thunder as the tension in the atmosphere builds.
 
You say in Mhaldorian in a quiet, speculative voice, "All this and more I swear, before the Councils of Hell, before the Legions of the Inferno, and above all before the Lord of Evil. His will be done."

As the last words of the Oath are spoken, all falls into dreadful silence in the cavern, darkness sweeping over you as the flames lower to a sullen glow.

Leaning forward from His throne, Sartan reaches out with His left hand, the fingers outstretched like talons.

You are frozen in place by an unseen power, unable to move nor cry out as His hand enters your chest, causing agonising pain to ripple through your body.

The Lord of Evil withdraws His hand from your chest, releasing you from your unseen prison.

He raises His hand, palm facing skywards. Within His mighty grasp lies the translucent, glowing substance of your soul.

His eyes blazing anew with hellish flames, Sartan blows upon the glowing substance. The substance becomes consumed by a terrible and mighty black wind that turns the fine, transluscent material as dark as coal. You feel an even greater agony at first, but it is soon gone, replaced by a cold clarity as weakness is driven from your soul.

The formerly shapeless substance of your soul shrinks into a black stone orb, held aloft in the Malevolent One's hand.
 
Sartan grants you entrance into the Divine Order of Sartan, the Malevolent. Congratulations!
 
You say in Mhaldorian in a quiet, speculative voice, "I shall not fail You, Master."

Sartan, the Malevolent says, "Welcome to the fold, Ruth."

Sartan, the Malevolent says, "Wear this, now and forever, as a remembrance of your oath to Me."
 
<Log snipped again for confidentiality this time>

Tvistor

Oh hey, he exists!

Talonia

The "Congratulations!" at the end is definitely out of sync with the theme of several of the more sinister/serious Order initiations I've seen.  Maybe we should scrap that from the default message.  

Goggo

Tvistor said:

Oh hey, he exists!

No timestamps, log is clearly fake

Iocun

Talonia said:

The "Congratulations!" at the end is definitely out of sync with the theme of several of the more sinister/serious Order initiations I've seen.  Maybe we should scrap that from the default message.  

Not even only for the "sinister/serious" ones. I can think of almost no situation where it would really fit. Being granted order membership isn't winning a contest.

Halios

Ruth posted that just to make me sad.

Tvistor

Lodi

My latest sermon.

Thanks to @Xer for logging it, and everyone else who attended.

-+-

(Mhaldor): Lodi says, "My sermon shall commence now."

Lodi turns his back on everyone, taking a deep grounding breath as he does so.

Valkyria takes a step towards the altar and bows her head in reverence.

Lodi whispers in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "We begin..."

Saibel arrives from the down.

Arms crossed over his chest, Lodi turns to face the assembled Mhaldorians with a cold, hard expression chiselled remorselessly across his age-wrinkled features. The slow, pulsating red glow that fills the misty room casts the Cardinal's visage into stark, blooded relief.

Lodi says sternly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Times have changed."

Lodi tilts back his head slightly, gazing down his nose at all present with self-assured authority.

Lodi says sternly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Evil is, and here I purposefully use a vulgar Ashtanite catechism, no longer the only 'bad-boy on the block.'"

Lodi says firmly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Eris's rainbowed fluff has been skinned, cooked and eaten by the pestilent Nihilist insurgency."

Lodi says sarcastically in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Oblivions childish philosophical get-out-clause of 'The end is nigh, so what's the point, yeah?' has replaced Evil as the newest, shiniest Western ideology."

Lodi says disgustedly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Its spiritual emptiness and intellectual laziness disgusts me..."

With a soft rustling of robe-fabric, Lodi turns away from his listening congregation and begins to walk slowly over to the sacrificial altar.

Lodi says dismissively in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Nihilists speak like their dominance exists because of divine-right."

Lodi's movements are steady and purposeful, he is in no rush to get to his destination and continues to preach as he progresses.

Lodi says snidely in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "They preach as if they're power is some pre-ordained natural occurrence brought about by the - alleged - unavoidability of its intrinsic truth."

Lodi says laughingly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Ironic this, considering they are supposed to believe in Nothing."

Lodi snorts in utter contempt.

Lodi says nonchalantly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Fools."

At last Lodi finds himself stood before the sacrificial altar. He absent-mindedly trails his finger-tips across the demons carved there, delicately tracing out their leering expressions with a brooding
tenderness.

A small demon cackles hysterically and gleefully hops away to chase a rat.

Lodi snarls angrily in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "And then we come to those who fled our ranks for theirs..."

Lodi's hand stops its absent trailings and trembles momentarily with rage. The Cardinal clenches tightly shut its fingers as he forces his anger deep down inside, regaining his composure once again.

Lodi says quickly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "I have, as of late, been in discourse with two of the traitors."

Lodi says steadily in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "They're names shall remain secret as the situation is, unsurprisingly, delicately strenuous."

Lodi says quietly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "But the main excuse given by each is the same."

Lodi whispers quietly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "They stabbed us in the back because the Lords of Evil watched Sapience not..."

Lodi says angrily in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "...and the Mad God did!"

To once more face the gathered onlookers, Lodi spins around on the spot in a swirled arch of cloak and robe, passion's flames blazing rampantly from his eyes.

Lodi says disgustedly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "How pathetic is the justification given by these rancid 'thrill-seeking' vermin?"

Lodi says sternly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "And yet, there is a lesson in their heresy."

Lodi frowns and says in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "What they display is the deepest example of mollycoddled hubris."

Lodi says angrily in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Evil's Divine deemed fit to focus their efforts upon other parts of Creation. How dare mere mortals question Their decisions!"

Lodi says passionately in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "They worshipped their own egos to such great extent, saw the perverse satisfaction of 'self' to be so important, that they betrayed the very thing that raised them and made them strong."

Red glow pulsing over him with steady fluctuation, Lodi points an accusing finger in the crowd's general direction as he preaches.

Cahin arrives from the down.

Lodi says sternly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "I hear within our ranks fresh mumblings of disquiet at Lord Sartan's semi-absence."

Howling screams of torture and pain echo from the Spire of Horror.

Lodi says authoritatively in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "These hidden whispers must stop now, for they show a vile weakness of spirit!"

Lodi re-crosses his arms across his chest, rage melting like winter snows in spring.

Lodi lowers his gaze, turning his head slightly off to one side with deepest sadness. The thick red fogs that choke this room, swirl and eddy around his ancient and hunched form as he does so.

Lodi says quietly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "My soul aches no less than yours for Him."

Lodi says slowly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "And yet..."

Anger's halo re-blossoming around him, Lodi shoots his arms out sideways and arches them upwards. His hands are clawed. His face is snarled. His very being burns with wrathful indignation!

Lodi says passionately in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "If we are but sheep in constant need of Shepherding, then we are no Mhaldorians at all!"

Lodi says loudly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Mhaldor: Why do you fear to spit in Sapience's face without a Godly skirt to hide behind?"

Lodi says loudly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Mhaldor: Why are we in need of this Divine safety-net that lesser mortals cling to?"

Lodi says loudly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Mhaldor: Why can you not stand alone against this world of fools? For then and only then shall you become the blazing avatars of Evil that His Word demands!"

Lodi says ragingly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Lord Sartan has returned within Creation, yes, but to assume that we automatically deserve His attention is horrifyingly arrogant!"

Lodi says earnestly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "We are being tested. Can you not see this simple fact?"

Lodi reaches forwards pleadingly as he utters these last words, before banging his fist against his chest with bitter frustration.

Lodi stars out through Mhaldor's red fog at all gathered, his jaw clenched tightly shut by a veritable quagmire of conflicting emotions.

Lodi says angrily in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "To surmise that we are worthy of His favour, simply because we live in one of His Holy Cities, is utterly ridiculous."

Lodi says authoritatively in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "We must prove our worth. We must prove our value. We must prove our greatness!"

Lodi says loudly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Then and only then shall He fully return to us."

A sudden silence descends as Lodi pauses abruptly.

Lodi

Lodi whispers quietly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "But fear not."

Lodi says calmly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "For already are we passing His test with blood's bright colours..."

The angry disappointment infusing Lodi's every bone and muscle evaporates mirthfully, as a single contented smile creeps across his red-lit face.

Lodi says proudly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Today I looked upon our Great Work and was filled with deepest pride."

Lodi smiles and says energisingly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Of all Sapience's City States, we are the only one currently standing naked and alone without direct Divine assistance."

Lodi says forcefully in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Embrace this hardship! Refuse not this opportunity! See it for the glory that it is and revel in its mastery!"

Lodi says earnestly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "My friends and comrades, look at what we have already achieved. For it should stir nothing less than rapture in your hearts!"

Lodi says rapturously in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Are we not, despite the Lord's semi-absence, one of the top civilisations on Sapience?"

Lodi says proudly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Regardless of our small numbers, do we not pack a punch that proportionately dwarfs all others?"

Lodi says passionately in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Is it not true that, once again, the crimson mists are rising up with blade and quill to strangle Sapience's whimsical whore-lords in their dung built donkey sheds?"

Lodi says eagerly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "I can feel that times are changing, I can feel it in my bones."

Lodi says transcendently in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "From the ashes of our past, we are ascending like a majestic phoenix with Truth smouldering brightly on its tongue!"

Lodi says firmly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "The test He set has been taken up with gritty Mhaldorian zeal, let it's fulfilment not slip idly from our hands through negative resentment against His absence!"

Lodi says passionately in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "We are not special unless we make ourselves special!"

Lodi says loudly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "We are not worthy unless we prove ourselves worthy!"

Lodi says boomingly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "He will return fully as our Master, but only when we have made ourselves Master!"

Xer nods his head in approval.

Lodi pounds the air with a raised fist as he preaches, spittle flying from his lips through the room's heavy red light like tiny sparks of hell fire.

Lodi says zealously in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Imagine it my fellows, that glorious day when He once more openly and often walks our streets."

Lodi slowly closes his eyes, his lips hanging open with reverent awe.

Lodi says dreamily in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Picture us all knelt before Him at Stygian, red fogs curling around His majestic visage, as He directly gives us the order to smash, smash, SMASH Sapience into a million broken dreams!"

Lodi says reverently in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "In honour unto His Word, the Cathedral's bells will echo jubilantly off the mountain's side, calling each and all to pray with loyal supplication unto Evil's seven bladed star of Truth!"

Lodi says jubilantly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "In fan-fair to His Name, trumpets shall sing forth from Balegrim's walls, as thousands of prisoners are put to the sword in a bloody orgy of grotesque sacrifice! Blessed be! Blessed be!"

Lodi says mesmerizingly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "In praise for His Law, countless banners will fly from our battlements in Mhaldor's crimson winds, as the ferment is turned black by loyal daemonic aberrations proselytising gloriously of His hate and power!"

Lodi flicks open his eyes once more and collapses to his knees, raising his arms up to the heavens in reverent praise!

Lodi says passionately in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Glory be unto that day of days! For then shall Mhaldor fully rear up like serpent-wronged and strike down Her enemies with genocidal gusto!"

Lodi says zealously in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Look to that sacred moment, for truly is it nigh!"

Lodi says loudly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Soon shall His harvest be scythed in with brutal and extreme prejudice!"

Lodi says manically in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "But think not that realisation of this vision will be bestowed upon the weak, or the lame, or the whimpering fool cast lost within a world of endless danger!"

Lodi says boomingly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Nay! For verily shall it not! And who are YOU to think otherwise?"

Lodi says hysterically in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Do the Seven Truths mean nothing any more!"

Howling screams of torture and pain echo from the Spire of Horror.

Lodi lowers his arms slowly back down by his side, shoulders slumped, as he relaxes into a more subdued mental state.

Lodi says calmly in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Only we can make this future a reality."

Lodi says emotionally in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "We must prove ourselves worthy of Him."

Lodi whispers passionately in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Could the solution really be any simpler?"

Lodi rises to his feet and bows low, indicating that his sermon is at an end.

You bow respectfully to Lodi.

You clap your hands together merrily.

Xer turns his head slightly to the side as he coughs softly.

You say to Lodi in a monotone voice, "Thank you for your sermon, Cardinal."

Tael gives a single curt nod.

Aleiron nods his head emphatically.

Saibel curtseys respectfully before Lodi.

Malefic Valkyria, Catechumen of the Yoke says to Lodi in Mhaldorian, "Thank you, Cardinal."

Lodi says in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "As ever, it has been an honour to speak before you this day. I pray my words have brought at least a little inspiration into your hearts and souls."

Cahin's blackened hand leaves a faint trail of ash as he performs a formal salute.

Valkyria bows respectfully to Lodi.

Droch Panpardus, Seminarian of Bloodletting says to Lodi in Mhaldorian, "Thank you for the perspective."

With a flourish of his arm, Panpardus bows deeply.

Tokugawa claps his hands together and lowers himself in a respectful bow.

Lodi smiles softly.

Tael says to Lodi in Mhaldorian in an odd, uneven voice, "A question, Cardinal."

You say to Lodi in a monotone voice, "I believe it truly address some concerns that many are struggling with internally. May we all learn from what has been said today."

Lodi smiles and says to you in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Indeed."

Lodi says to Tael in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Yes?"

Tael inclines his head politely at Lodi.

Lodi tilts his head and listens intently to Tael.

Tael says in Mhaldorian in an odd, uneven voice, "Cardinal, is it not therefore also hubris to presume that our actions, strive as we may, will result in His return? To assume that our mortal success demands His attention seems logically no different from assuming our lesser successes do likewise."

Cahin leaves to the down.

Lodi says in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Very true. But I never said our actions will demand his attention. Think of it this way. We are building Him a temple. If what we build is shoddy and badly crafted, then how likely is it that he will take up residence in it? But, if what we build is mighty, strong and a true compliment to his immortal majesty, then the chances of Him entering into our Temple is increased greatly."

With a hefty grunt, a small armadillo waddles in a small circle, before snuffling at the ground once more.

Tael gives a single curt nod.

Lodi says to Tael in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Does that answer you question?"

Tael says in Mhaldorian in an odd, uneven voice, "I see. Phrasing it as a probability I think makes it clearer, yes."

Lodi smiles softly at Tael.

Lodi ponders the situation.

Lodi says in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "I must depart. Are there any more questions before I do so?"

Panpardus leaves to the down.
Exploding into flames, the Baalzadeen disappears from view.

Lodi looks around the room, and then softly smiles at the silence.

Aleiron gives Lodi a respectful salute.

Lodi says in Mhaldorian in a dry, age-creaked voice, "Farewell then. Strength guide ye."

Lodi leaves to the down.

Tanaar

They're/their errors and other little grammar quirks make me sad. Otherwise, that was inspired.

Lodi

Yeah, sorry about those. I'm dyslexic and hate having to pester people all the time to go over my work. Always feels like I'm being a burden. Glad you still liked it though. Thanks for the compliment

Daslin

@Lodi, don't worry about being dyslexic. Not a burden, most of us will willingly help if needed. Was super enjoyable. i liked it. 

(Also, so you know, think about being numeralexic... not sure if that's a legit word... and referring to everything by number... EVERYTHING IS 1112632 which I read as 125213WTFAMIDOING6515)  :P

Eld

@Daslin Dyscalculia, maybe?

Daslin

@Eld is that what it is? I can't remember. Numbers get twisted, mixed up, and turn around on me.

Silas

Yeah, I have a mild form of dyscalculia. It's mostly annoying for phone numbers, and used to be an absolute bitch when I worked retail and had to key in credit card numbers and stuff.

Katzchen

I would like to comment more on this topic, but it feels wrong to be doing it in the roleplay logs. I'd actually like to see a thread in the membrane on diagnosis/issues that can hinder you in achaea and/or that achaea has helped you learn to deal with/improve.

Nizaris

@Lodi: Let me know if I can ever be of assistance with proofreading. I know it's good to have a couple. Also, try and give me as much warning as possible, as I tend to be pretty busy, but I'd love to help where I can.

Halos

That was brilliant.

Nellaundra

@Lodi I know that I'm not Mhaldorian, but I'd be happy to help you out if you'd like me to.

Tvistor

Lodi's a beast.

Anatral

@Lodi me too, I'm jealous of Mhaldor for getting your sermons, so I'd love to get sneak previews at least!

Kaevan

And now we have a short glimpse into the slightly more light-hearted side of Mhaldor, courtesy of whomever was animating our denizens and giving us a chance to roleplay something besides 'AAAARRRGGGHHHH! FOR LORD SARTAN! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE (otherwise known as the idol at 'Pestilent Way')'.  Your attention is always appreciated, especially in Mhaldor (inb4 @Kinilan says 'Lolnogods'). 

Also, for the sake of getting their attention: @Ruth and @Jurixe, look over here.

Finely crafted link of Evil: http://pastebin.com/ZyFQsKGZ

Tvistor

Kaevan said:

 roleplay something besides 'AAAARRRGGGHHHH! FOR LORD SARTAN! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE'

This sounds dangerously close to treason.

Ruth

Oh god. I lol'd at the milk part and the fortune cookie.

Verily

Kaevan said:

1. Archbishop Nizaris Xanatov, of the Black Cathedral asks in Mhaldorian in a pained voice, "Under
2. which arm did you carry the third?"
3.  
4. Norbert, a scabby peasant says, "Oh you can't trick me mister Nizaris. I only got two arms."

Burst out laughing at that line. A great interaction!

Vyln

I enjoyed myself today. For those intrigued in all the Cyrenian concerts and Scarlattan festivals are, I hope my recital is enough to give you a glimpse into what it's like, and why I enjoy the Ty Beirdd so much:

http://pastebin.com/K41trNwX

Tvistor

Your signature is disgustingly adorable.

Chord

So, as everyone who reads rants knows, I'm having Blade issues. As such, I decided to try to enlist a little help.


Shrine of the Creator.
Standing atop a raised marble dais an imposing cast-iron forge dominates, fire and heat radiating from this massive shrine to the Smith. A runic totem is planted solidly in the ground.
You see exits leading west and down.


You say, "Dear Father, please hear this far-from-humble plea."

You say, "I've been gathering materials for Murad, in the hopes that I could forge a proper blade to wield. All the blades have been lackluster and ill-fitting of a Knight of Good."

You say, "Please, bless me to help create a proper blade, one which I can use to carve my name into the pages of history as I reforge the city of Good with my allies."

You empty out a flagon filled with walnut ale on top of a shrine of Phaestus, covering it in ale.
As you pour the ale onto the shrine you feel the ambient temperature increase.

You empty out a flagon with the brewer's private ale on top of a shrine of Phaestus, covering it in ale.

You say, "Please accept this offering for my request. Thank you, m'Lord."

You lower your head respectfully before a shrine of Phaestus.

*snip running to Murad*

Murad nods as he accepts the metal.
Murad says, "Looks like I have everything I need."
Murad tells you, "You may COMMISSION SWORD when ready."

You request a specially forged blade from Murad. The blacksmith nods, assessing your height and weight, gauging your body mass and centre of balance, and taking some measurements. Jotting down a few notes, the blacksmith assembles his tools in preparation for forging.

Placing a lump of bronze and a crystal of cinnabar into the forge alongside a length of steel, Murad pumps the bellows to increase the temperature of the roiling furnace.

Murad draws the heated materials from the forge, folding the metals together upon an anvil with heavy strikes of his hammer.

Sweat flies from Murad's brow as he repeats the folding process, turning and shaping the blade with the skill of an expert craftsman.

Murad dissolves the handful of ashes in a vat of icy water. A hiss of steam rises into the air as he plunges the hot steel into the vat. When it cools, he draws the blade from the water and carefully dries the steel with a cloth.

Selecting a few materials from his workbench, Murad finishes the handle of the sword and affixes it with a pommel to balance the weapon. With expert precision, he grinds the blade of the sword against a wheel to impart a razor-sharp edge.

Murad polishes the steel with a fine cloth, inspecting the blade for any imperfections. Finding none, he turns and reverently presents the sword to you with both hands.
Murad exclaims, "I give you Flawless Angel!"

Trey

Chord said:

So, as everyone who reads rants knows, I'm having Blade issues. As such, I decided to try to enlist a little help.


Shrine of the Creator.
Standing atop a raised marble dais an imposing cast-iron forge dominates, fire and heat radiating from this massive shrine to the Smith. A runic totem is planted solidly in the ground.
You see exits leading west and down.


You say, "Dear Father, please hear this far-from-humble plea."

You say, "I've been gathering materials for Murad, in the hopes that I could forge a proper blade to wield. All the blades have been lackluster and ill-fitting of a Knight of Good."

You say, "Please, bless me to help create a proper blade, one which I can use to carve my name into the pages of history as I reforge the city of Good with my allies."

You empty out a flagon filled with walnut ale on top of a shrine of Phaestus, covering it in ale.
As you pour the ale onto the shrine you feel the ambient temperature increase.

You empty out a flagon with the brewer's private ale on top of a shrine of Phaestus, covering it in ale.

You say, "Please accept this offering for my request. Thank you, m'Lord."

You lower your head respectfully before a shrine of Phaestus.

*snip running to Murad*

Murad nods as he accepts the metal.
Murad says, "Looks like I have everything I need."
Murad tells you, "You may COMMISSION SWORD when ready."

You request a specially forged blade from Murad. The blacksmith nods, assessing your height and weight, gauging your body mass and centre of balance, and taking some measurements. Jotting down a few notes, the blacksmith assembles his tools in preparation for forging.

Placing a lump of bronze and a crystal of cinnabar into the forge alongside a length of steel, Murad pumps the bellows to increase the temperature of the roiling furnace.

Murad draws the heated materials from the forge, folding the metals together upon an anvil with heavy strikes of his hammer.

Sweat flies from Murad's brow as he repeats the folding process, turning and shaping the blade with the skill of an expert craftsman.

Murad dissolves the handful of ashes in a vat of icy water. A hiss of steam rises into the air as he plunges the hot steel into the vat. When it cools, he draws the blade from the water and carefully dries the steel with a cloth.

Selecting a few materials from his workbench, Murad finishes the handle of the sword and affixes it with a pommel to balance the weapon. With expert precision, he grinds the blade of the sword against a wheel to impart a razor-sharp edge.

Murad polishes the steel with a fine cloth, inspecting the blade for any imperfections. Finding none, he turns and reverently presents the sword to you with both hands.
Murad exclaims, "I give you Flawless Angel!"

@Chord - Where's the bloody description?

Chord

Forged from a crimson-tinged alloy of the finest steel and bronze, this blade exhibits a sharp curve along its length, accentuated by a channeled groove carved into the metal. The short tang is encased by a grip of emerald sharkskin in an intricate braided pattern. Rounding off the grip is a pyramidal pommel fashioned from moonstone, affording perfect balance to this masterfully crafted weapon.


Couldn't. Be. Happier. Now I have to go to Mexico, so I can't bathe it in blood... I mean learn to use it... Yet.