Watching a master at work

"Say, have you ever even been here before?" Aethane turns to you as the world fades back into view. The room in front of you is dominated by a huge basin of silvery liquid. A cool mist pours off of the mirror-like surface and fills the room, leaving a slight sheen on your skin. Elaborate tools line the outsides of the room, while a single furnace challenges the blue with its angry red glow.

The priestess leads you to the bowl of liquid metal in the centre of the room while you take in your surroundings. "Can't say that I have, now that you mention it. Nor a few other of the tower rooms for that matter. The other day was the first time I headed to our new dungeon."

"Right," the priestess snorts and pokes your arm. "Wouldn't want to sully yourself with the labour of the peasantry."

"Hey, last time I checked you weren't exactly handing out tour tickets!" You wave your hand above the silvery mirror and shiver as the frigid air at its surface bites at your hand. "At least, if there was a gala, nobody remembered to tell me about it."

Aethane laughs. "Hey, girl's got to keep her guard up: who knows what kind of soul-stealing daemon might be out there." She walks over to a large, wooden table and picks up a huge iron ladle. "Well, you're here now. Want to see what I do? I think I might take a crack at that mace I talked about a minute ago."

"Can't say I have any other plans at the moment." You step back and gesture to the basin. "Need me to do anything?"

"Then I'm glad to be the least uninteresting item on your schedule." She gives a deep bow and walks over to the silvery basin. "Get that forge running, will you? Just blast it with your magic until it's nice and toasty."

The coals in the furnace roar as you bathe them in jet after jet of fire, and soon a merry blaze crackles before you. The baking heat provides a welcome bit of respite from the clammy chill of the room. You lean against the scalding stone and watch your champion dip her ladle into the icy bowl. She draws it out and metal oozes over the sides, barely flowing now that it's in contact with the warmer air.

"Manasilver is a bit... unusual," she tips the ladle and a glob of the metal slowly pours out. When it's drawn into a long, thin shape, she gives the ladle a dexterous spin, the metal now upside-down. It begins to slowly creep back down, the top thinning until it takes a more bell-like shape, then she spins it sideways. "With just the right amount of magic infused, it flows when cooled and hardens when warmed." Her other hand weaves around the lump of viscous liquid, snow and ice trailing behind it and crystallizing against the surface, allowing some of it to flow back to the tip.

"Does that mean you could melt your enemy's gear in the middle of battle?"

"Not if it's properly enchanted. Well, unless they just stood there for a long time, and the cold didn't kill them first." She tosses away the ladle, letting it clatter to the floor, and suspends the metal in the air with magic. It's now shaped into a long, thin handle with a roughly spherical blob at the far end, the beginnings of a crude mace now apparent. "If I just heated this up and left it on the table then yeah, you wouldn't want to hit someone with it on a cold winter's day. Unless, of course, you enjoy bending your weapon back into shape after every strike. Say, can you heat up your hands and hold the handle?"

You walk over to her and channel a slight flame in your hand, then grip the chunk that floats your way. "Hells!" The metal is the coldest thing you've ever touched and you instinctively let go. There's a hiss and a splash as it falls into the basin. A few flecks of liquid manasilver splash against your skin and hiss away, burning like drops of acid. "By the planes, that was cold."

"Real manly, dude. Well, we'll call that one a warm-up." Aethane gives a wry grin and picks up the ladle. There's a slight hiss as it sinks into the frigid liquid, then she pulls out another scoop of the unusual metal and begins to shape it. "Next time try holding on to it, unless you fancy doing this all day."

"Couldn't you just heat it up some other way?" You shake your hand, your skin still burning from the lingering cold. "I feel like there are easier ways of killing myself than freezing my hand off."

The wolf woman shrugs. "You seemed like you wanted to be involved. Guess I overestimated you. Sure, we can use the forge."

"Last I recall, 'freeze a limb off to prove how tough you are' isn't on my list of responsibilities as a boss." You rub your hands together, channelling a small fire between them, and the sensation finally fades away.

"Really not going to take the bait? Fine, you win." She smiles as she spins the metal with her magic, another crude mace slowly coalescing from the glob. "You really should suck it up, though. Manasilver isn't just any metal, and no doubt having a daemon like you warm the metal will change it somehow. It'd be a shame if we didn't give it a shot."

"What will it do, and is it worth me being one-handed?" You grimace at the recent memory and shake your hand instinctively.

"Maybe what you should be asking is 'what will it do, and is it worth us all having to listen to your whining for the rest of the week?'" She chuckles and floats it over to you. "I have no idea what it'll do: I haven't exactly had a bunch of daemon pals lining up to try. Come on, where's your sense of adventure?" She holds out the new lump of metal.

Against your better judgment, you grip the new mace's shaft. A thousand icy needles seem to stab into your skin, then a sharp burning spreads across your palm and fingers. Steam rises from your fist as you clench it shut to avoid dropping the frigid metal. You grunt and wreathe your hand in fire, and after a few more hellish moments the sensation mercifully starts to retreat. It feels like several more minutes pass before the discomfort finally fades in its entirety, and when the pain is gone you realize you've squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your teeth. When you open them you see the priestess watching you with crossed arms, and when she sees you meet her gaze she reaches out her hand to take the unfinished mace.

"We might just make an assistant out of you yet!" She forms an icy dagger in one hand and starts to carve away bits of metal, flicking the semi-solid flakes back into the basin. "If only you were that obedient the rest of the time."

"Don't get your hopes up," you wince and rub your hands together once again. "I think I just burned away any feeling in my hand." You walk behind her and grope her right breast. She pauses her sculpting to moan as you give it a few kneads.

"What's the verdict?" She chuckles. "Do we need to amputate?"

"I don't know. We might need another minute or two to find out," You let go and start working your hand into the intricate folds of her robe, but then she bats your hand away.

"Very funny, now shoo! Keep that up and I'm going to drop this, and then I'll have to start all over again."

"Oh come on," you stroke her neck, "would that be so bad? It isn't like we have anything else to do."

"I don't know, you're the one who was just whining about how much it hurt, but if you're offering then go for it." She bursts out laughing as you immediately retract your hand as if burned. "Yeah, hotshot, that's what I thought. Save it for later."

"And they call me the daemon! You're evil, you know that?"

"Sounds like I landed in the right dungeon then." She carves off another few chunks of metal. The head is still rough, but the crude flanges of a mace are now visible at its head. "Care to take a seat?" She motions to an armchair in the corner with her knife, then shaves off another chunk.

You walk over and sit down, and she bends over to grab a bucket before following you. Aethane puts down the bucket at your feet then hops in after you, letting out a satisfied "mmm" as she sinks into your lap. Once she's settled she resumes her carving, expertly directing each bit of manasilver to the bucket.

"What happened to 'save it for later?'"

"Hey, even I get chilly sometimes," she snuggles in a bit more and you wrap your hands around her stomach. "Ooh, that's better. Don't get too creative right there and this could be a real nice way to sculpt."

You allow one of your hands to make its way up to her hair, and play with some of the long, silver strands. The wolf woman turns her head so that your hand rests between her ears, and then lets out a happy rumble as you start to scratch around them and atop her head. "What, no more 'hands off the goods?'"

"Just when I thought we might be having a moment..." She taps you with the knife, the icy blade burning for just a moment before she pulls it away. "Can you just spare the lip for a moment? Mmm." She snuggles deeper into your lap as you scratch her ears again. Her carving slows and slows until she simply releases the mace, the half-finished metal smoking angrily where it touches the cool fabric.

"Eeek!" Aethane jumps up a few minutes later, sending the mace flying across the room. There's a clatter as it bounces off the far wall and then rolls along the floor. An oval on the front of her robe has frozen solid, ice crystals creeping away from where the frigid metal sat. You run your hand along the patch, and the ice melts away at the blaze in your palm. Aethane raises her hand and the mace starts floating back towards her, and when it enters her reach she starts to sculpt it once again. "Okay, it's a shame but I think I actually need to focus to get this thing finished."

"Anything else you'd like me to add?" You watch her work from your seat, wincing as a small fleck of metal misses the bucket and sizzles against your leg.

"No, this should be fine. I might borrow those new succubi of yours when they're done sampling the locals; maybe they can help me enchant this thing. Shit!" A large hunk flies off the mace, leaving a somewhat lopsided end to one of the flanges. Aethane walks over to the pool of manasilver and draws up a bit with her ice knife. There's a thick flash of mist and when it clears you see her just finish painting it onto the missing section. "Sorry, I need to focus. If you want to do the honours, drop by in an hour or so and you can torch this thing to harden it."

"Will do. Don't have too much fun without me!" You move to clap her on the back but stop yourself at the last moment. The wolf woman gives you a slight smile and you turn towards the portal, the occasional clangs of liquid metal against the bucket following you until the room fades from view. When you step back into your throne room there's no one to be seen, and you yawn and look up the stairs to see it's already late in the evening. You walk to the bath and slide into the warm water, half-asleep, as you wait for Aethane to finish her work. It'll be nice to relax in your lair for a change. It feels like it's been constant outings since the wyrm first summoned you to the summit of Imporne.