Toefor's workshop

The workshop, the forge, the haven of the creating god, or that hole in the ground he dug out of a mountain to make shit in as Toefor once put it, was a duality in and of itself.  At first glance one sees only the cavern attached to the Vault of the Maker King whom the Faith Breaker and all the rest of the inhabitants of the island of Gendoshima have no knowledge of, saving at this point in time Toefor himself and his every helpful apprentice Akari Ragebender and two misfortunate souls accompanying her on a fetch quest for her master.  But that was just how the old dwarf prefered it, not because his apprentice was unskilled or incompotent, but because some things just demanded being done with his utmost skill and attention undivided undistracted by the eager fawning of the young apprentices appetite for learning and crafting,

His workshop appeared at first glance to be a cavern the walls of which were flowing with almost uncontained sheets of electrical energy blanketing the entirety of the cavern.  Beyond the electrical river flowing freely around the cavern there were spots where metal showed through, almost like support columns.  The cavern appeared to be nearly forty feet across, not too large by any standard and perhaps double in height.  In the center of the workshop stood a bench carved from stone a table really large enough to park a gyrocar and with a pool of free flowing magma located only an arms reach away.  Lightning arced across the walls and ceiling in erratic intervals lighting the room and giving off an other worldly vibe at the same time.  A Faraday Cage would be the best description of the lightnings effectiveness within the workshop guided harmlessly but always lethal to a foolish touch.

A second smaller table sat opposite the pool of magma and this is where Toefor stood as he worked mindlessly braiding the hairs which he had taken from Sumi the Lightning Imp, before the three were sent off with his almost pointless shopping list.  Well pointless to them for any reason other than Ryst learning to man up and see his own value and strengths.  But there were other things he would use the fruits of their hard work for eventually.  In the meantime he eyed the now glowing pool of liquid metal inside his maga furnace, that delightful pool of liquid magma he used for purifying metals and reforging lesser creations.  

Setting the hairs aside he reached in with both hands to scoop up the metal which had once been two seperate swords and brought the first hand full of liquid  metal mixture to his workbench.  Slowly it seemed that he worked the metal as it cooled with his bare hands kneading and pushing out all of the magical impurities that had been worked into the metals by himself and Akari his apprentice when the weapons had first been made.  Also working the heat out of the liquid at a pace far quicker than natural means could accomplish; for nature has its own variation of magic as well.  Small rods took shape with each new handful of liquid metal he scooped free of the magma furnace.  Dozens upon dozens of small mixed metal rods no bigger than a hand began to pile up on the workbench as he continued his project, a weapon, and arm, an improvement, a replacement, and all in all something fundamentally lacking from the lad, and not just Ryst wrist.

As the pile grew the table became covered in the small short thin rods, from end to end the lay in rows and columns as he finished his work with the rod rolling.  Again he turned his attention to the hairs of the Lightning Imp, continuing the work he started with the braiding, only to stop and dip them into a small clear container filled with what looked to be ordinary old muddy water.  Once, twice, three times he dipped the braided hair, before setting it laying them atop Ryst cigarette which he liberated for this task at the same time he pulled the hairs from Sumi’s head.  Back to the rods he went taking a handful he crossed the workshop to a stone anvil where he began laying them out neatly in rows of six, by columns of eight before going back to his workbench for a second set of rods which he laid out in like fashion but crosswise over the top of the first.  A third and fourth set he did the same with before returning to the Lightning Imps hair which he dipped for a second round of treatment in the muddy water.

Back to the workbench he lifted rods up and set them back into the magma a small number while he began unrolling the cigarette removing the remained of the tobacco from the casing in which he placed the muddy water coated braided hairs.  Then with speed and firm quick movements he began pulling rods from the magma braiding them together creating a larger and longer braided rods equally as thin and narrow as they had been before the braiding began.  After working through the remainder of the small rods he placed them into the magma than taking the first of these five foot rods over to the crisscrossed stack of rods upon his anvil he began to weave the long thin rod through the stacks with a grace and ease his small stubby fingers should not have been capable of, never once knocking a loose rod out of place.  One after another he wove the entire supply of long rods into the stacked rods until he held a four foot by four foot sheet of weaved metal rods.  Almost it held the appearance of a threaded blanket, though metal from metal rods.

Setting that aside on the workbench he took up the hairs rolling the cigarette casing tightly around them he dipped it once into the muddy liquid.  Once again setting it down.  Deftly he took up the bottle of rosemary liquor the five year old malt and began swirling it in short rhythmic swirls three times counterclockwise, six times clockwise, one roll of a full rotation of the bottle on the workbench and then repeat.  Setting it down he left his workshop only long enough to return with another red tooth pick, the very same chain gunblade type and style he had melted down with his apprentices weapon to make the wonderfully weaved sheet of metal.  Tossing the second sword into the magma furnace he gently unstoppered the liquor to pour in a single drop of the muddy water.

Corking it back up he began an exact opposite pattern of the swirling he had been doing only a few moments before, beginning just as the swirling of the liquid slowed to aa near stop.  Setting the bottle down once again he pulled the gunblade from the magma furnace and began dismantling it rolling thin hollow tubes out of the metal, which he threaded into the metal sheet on his work bench in intricate patterns to vein the metal sheet with the thin hollow tubes.  In the middle of this he began lining the hollow tubes with long hair like paper fibers which seemed to have grown out of nowhere.  Every last hollow tube now was laced with the fine hair like paper fibers creating a spiraling spider webbing pattern throughout the remainder of the hollow tubes he weaved into the sheet of metal.   Looking at the sheet of metal it now appeared to look like a sheet of metal no longer woven, but solid with veins of different color metals giving it a strange water running downhill in a million paths pattern to it.  This he propped up against the workbench, setting the bottom edge into a groove on the floor which ran away from the workbench to a small hole in the floor.  At the edge of the bench where he braced it was a shallow depression large enough to fill with the contents of the clear container of muddy water which he did.  Placing the empty container in the hole in the floor he removed a hidden plug from the end of the bench allowing the water to run down the sheet of metal gathering back into its container after it rolled sideways and lengthwise down the metal covering every inch of the metal in a bizarre show of unnatural motion having run down and up the metal sheet to cover it completely back to front before gathering inside its jar once again.  

After replacing the clear jar on his smaller bench he took the sheet of shiny metal over to his anvil and began hammering away with precise reckless abandon.  Within no time at all or as many hours as it takes to forge a wonder he stepped back looking at the fruits of his labor.  Or rather the extremely femimine form of the metallic creation in front of him, was this what he had intended when he started who could say, but before his eyes stood the likeness of a woman, with three arms and a of all things a long stemmed pipe in her right hand.  He nodded to himself as he considered the issue a moment longer.  

No not quite done yet.

Once again he left the shop to return with yet a third chain gunblade in his hands, this one seemingly a little bit bigger than the previous two.  Setting it on his workbench he hefted the metal woman closer to his work bench before grabbing the rosemary liquor with a hint of that self same muddy water which bathed the metal sheet previously.  Without a moment's hesitation he poured the rosemary liquor into the statue’s mouth and seized the chain gunblade in one hand.  IN a clean fluid movement he set the empty bottle on his workbench and severed the third arm clean from the statue leaving not a single mark to tell it had ever had a third arm at all.  Setting the sword on his work bench he walked across the room to lean against the lightning wall which parted around him as all things magical tend to do, to admire his latest creations.  The statue blinked and closed its mouth breathing air for the first time curling its fingers tightly around the pipe in its hand.  With no sound save the intake of breath it looked about as its eyes rested where his had also come to a halt, the chain gunblade on his workbench had disappeared in its place was an arm not the one from the statue but something of a more masculine sort.  

When the blade had cut through the third arm removing it from the statue it had latched onto the weapon threading itself onto the blade slowly consuming, it merging into a single existence arm and chain gunblade all in one.  The end product of this transformation was a masculine arm on the table which seemed to fluctuate between weapon and arm at random times as if it lacked the ability to maintain its shape on its own; even becoming a combination of the weapon being held by the arm and hand from time to time.  His work for the moment was done, he had done what the materials had needed doing with them, and was about time to move onto the next project, while his apprentice and her fellow shoppers continued to gather the items he needed for other projects he had in mind.