(no subject)

[arachnophobe]

WHO: Alejandro Borges
WHAT: Alejandro is in the Undercroft making shit, you can come bother him.
WHEN: Catch-all for Bloomingtide
WHERE: Skyhold Undercroft
NOTES: Alejandro.

OPEN

It's been an eventful time in the Inquisition, and even though he's not been in any field missions -- nor does he really intend to be anytime soon -- there's enough that goes on in Skyhold for anyone to be preoccupied. Whether it's damned mage terrorists hanging around being smug dicks, or a random bizarre illness sweeping over the residents because of weird-as-fuck armor, nothing stays quiet for long.

One day, shit will stop being weird and he'll go back to Antiva or something.

That'll be the day.

But today, specifically, Alejandro is working away, focused on a crafting what seems to be a little soldier figurine of sorts. The figurine is clamped in his prosthetic arm while his real hand is working on the finer details.



ZEVRAN

A simple note had been left for his old friend.

Zev,

Your shit's finished. Come say hello and I'll show you the details.

- Alejandro

Which is true enough. After working on Zevran's request and several bumps in the road, he's developed some things he feels fairly proud of to share. That, and a little something for Zevran himself, if he wants it.

Comments

[gatheringstorm]

Well, Alejandro has Korrin's attention. She visits the Undercroft regularly, either for repairs or just to experiment or consult over possibilities. Plus, it's interesting to watch other people at work with their creations...such as now.

Abandoning the potions table for now, the Vashoth mage pauses by him and tilts her head. "I like the detail you've put into it so far. Just for fun, or is it a gift?"

[arachnophobe]

As far as he's concerned, Korrin's always going to be welcome in the Undercroft. Technically, everyone is, but she's never annoyed or aggravated him, so that's always a plus.

"What, this?" Alejandro glances over the figurine, then sighs and unclamps it from his prosthetic. "Old hobby, I guess. My cousin used to collect stuff like this back when we lived in Antiva."

He shrugs and puts it aside. "You got something y'need made, Korrin?"

[gatheringstorm]

"I used to collect them, too, had entire figurine armies destroyed by dragons or sieges or whatever. Fun times. Later ones I treated better, but I gave them away before joining up with my company." There's only so much she can take with her on the road, and unfortunately figurine collections aren't essential.

Thinking over the question, Korrin shrugs. "Nothing urgent, but I should get a new staff strap, as mine's wearing out. That and I know we're going west at some point, so I'll need lighter armor for when we hit the desert. I figured it couldn't hurt to mull over options while things are quiet."

[arachnophobe]

"Probably a smart idea. I was more cemented in Kirkwall, so he had time to start pickin' them up again. Well, until the big fuckin' bang. Didn't have a whole lot much after that."

Complaining about Anders is an old time habit, but Alejandro has begrudgingly accepted that there is nothing that he can do about it anytime soon. More importantly, they have to focus on some ancient magister that thinks he's a god or some shit, so there's that.

"Oh yeah? I could help you out with that. I'm not a fashion consultant or anything," he says dryly, remembering the ridiculous Orlesians that were compiled in the Undercroft for the soiree. "But I can set you up with some decent armor that won't get you overheated."

[aceso]

Christine rarely shows up at the Undercroft herself, though the healing and regeneration potions do need restocked from time to time. She isn't sure if that's needed today, but she does bring several potions in a satchel as she ventures down, just in case the people working there are busy. She's curious as to what else they make down there, and how much overlap there is with the armory. It's not likely she needs anything made, and if she did, she would probably go to Sam anyway. Yet it's still worth a look.

Heading down the stairs, she sees a man at work and so she moves over the the potions table, opening the cabinet doors below and setting the potions bottles on the shelf. Then she straightens and glances around, a little intrigued at all the fancy tools around. Her eyes fall on the man working, and she notices the prosthetic arm. A result of war, perhaps? As a healer, she's seen many injuries, but to survive losing an arm? He's very lucky.

Before she can be accused of staring, she shifts focus to the figurine and speaks. "For one of the refugee children perhaps?" she asks, her accent Orlesian.

[arachnophobe]

Grenades are something he's a little more familiar with, but refills for potions is easy enough when it's in stock. He isn't concerned that Christine is stopping by, and doesn't mind her presence much as he continues to work on his little project.

When she speaks up, he lifts his head, then Alejandro shrugs a shoulder. "Well, it wasn't in my mind immediately, but s'pose it could be," he responds, his voice having a faint hint of Antivan in it. "Not like I got room to keep these around, anyway.

"Anything I can do for you, ma'am?"

[aceso]

"Ah, not in particular, no," she admits, folding her hands in front of herself. "But I know little about what is done down here, and I thought I would have a look. You must have different duties than those in the armory, yes?" Otherwise, what was the point of this area?

[arachnophobe]

"Sure. Mostly work on smithing, but I compile grenades, traps -- the works." Alejandro snorts softly. "If you're looking for potions, I can work 'em all right but it's not really my specialty."

[ombranera]

There had been some running about to find the right materials and some fittings for the Kestrels- but the bulk of what Alejandro saw fit to make was something of a mystery to Zevran. A pleasant one, but a mystery none the less. The note has no true time to it- upon his triumphant return from Antiva? He heads straight for the Undercroft, humming under his breath.

"So what marvels have you made for us, Alejandro?"

[arachnophobe]

This is something he's been anxiously looking forward to. Leave it to Zevran to give him a special project to get his mind creative. Swords and shields and armor are all nothing new, but assassins need special fittings, especially when Zevran needs something unique.

And he's all too happy to provide.

"Hey, Zev!" Whatever it is that Alejandro was working on is immediately set aside and he's heading over to a trunk where he's placed much of the supplies. "C'mere. I think you're gonna like this.

"Armor wasn't hard. Something practical but got that dramatic flair you're looking for. It was the weapons that were a little more interesting to work with." He motions for the other Antivan to approach closer. "Hold out your wrist for me."

[ombranera]

"That was exactly what I was hoping for." Zevran crackles a low laugh, not quite skipping over but it definitely full of that eager energy. He is a man that loves a well made tool- and Alejandro? Makes excellent tools. Inventive ones. Creative ones.

Whatever he comes up with will be unlike anything he has seen before.

Without asking (which is as much a sign of trust as anything else-) He offers his wrist. "This should be good."

[dragoon_pride]

Heading into the undercroft, Kain is on his way to pick up some of his armor after repairs. When you're training to be a Reaver, you end up with a great deal of bumps and breaks and overall damage. So he's just picking up the pieces he'd needed to fix up, when he notices the other man working on the figurine.

Curious, he approaches. "That's fine craftsmanship."

[arachnophobe]

That makes him give a small, short laugh.

"I don't got a lot to be proud of, but yeah, I'd say I got some fine-ass craftsmanship skills," he says with a crooked grin. "Got something you need done?"

[dragoon_pride]

"I assume you do armor and weapons in addition to figurines? I may have to take you up on that offer in the future, if so..." Whether it's repairs to what he has or new pieces to wear when he needs to lay low and not be so... noticeable... that's something he can always use. At least it appears he could likely handle the more intricate details, the parts of armor which take the most careful construction.

[laurenande]

Galadriel enjoyed the Undercroft; whether she liked it because she was fond of the sounds of smithing or because of the view through the gaping hole in the floor, it was impossible to say, but she enjoyed it. Normally, she didn't actually work when she lingered in the Undercroft. It was not an environment suited to her tasks, nor one that was expressly comfortable for weaving or enchanting, but it was invaluable today.

The Undercroft was a location that her guard were not wont to search for her in and, given the nature of her current work, she was not eager to have watchful eyes on her as she progressed.

There was a weapons' rack, something that had been brought along to the fortress but had been damaged in the days before she arrived. It was a simple matter to convert it to a loom, and, tucked away as it was, it was rarely disturbed. She drew it out today and began work quickly, heedless of the smith working across the room from her. She would have only a day to weave a proper cloak, leaving it on the loom was not an option, so it was with deft fingers and absolute attention that she began carefully crafting it.

She was rarely flashy or overt in her arts, the dramatic flare that humans ascribed to "magic" was not her forte. Here, though, as her fingers drew carefully enchanted threads together and wove concealment into them, her skills were all too obvious. In the sunlight, the mounted fabric shifted--one moment it was clear, a vision of the skyline beyond it, then it was as if she wove the stones that made the floor or the craggy granite that formed the walls. If one looked from the right angle, it even looked like the water cascading down beyond the edge of the floor.

[arachnophobe]

If there's something that Alejandro can catch, it's definitely the hands of a skilled craftsmen; it doesn't matter if it's weaving, smithing, architecture, carpeting, or whatever-the-fuck, he can see how smoothly her hands are working. It's downright damned distracting. It's been a long time since he let himself feel it, but there's a wash of envy over Alejandro, and he wishes he had his other arm back.

The kind of things he could make if he had both arms -- fuck, it'd be incredible, but as it is, the best he can do is adjust his arm's ability to clamp down on the item he's focusing on before proceeding.

The figurine is settled aside and he's approaching her. For all that she is tall, beautiful, and incredibly elegant, he's more interested in what she's doing than her appearance.

"How the fuck are you doing that?" he asks, genuinely fascinated. "I've watched Tranquils enchant shit, but I've never seen anything like that."

[laurenande]

Galadriel, distracted as she was, answered his question in Sindarin. The quick burst of lilting language fell between them as she drew the thread between and through, as she pulled it into careful place. After a moment, when he did not respond, she hazarded a glance back and, at once, remembered herself.

She let out a small sound of surprise, little more than an 'ai' and drew her hands from the fabric on the loom.

"Ah, my apologies, I forgot where I was," Galadriel said and, for just a moment, she seemed undecided on whether she should continue working or rise to greet him. She glanced out, measured how far the sun had shifted, and decided the former would be best.

"It is the culmination of all its pieces," Galadriel explained as she began again. "My fëa rests in every stage of its creation. I wound the wool to yarn, worsted the yarn to thread, and now weave it into a whole. It is greater than its parts, when all has been combined. When I finish, it will carry both power and will of its own."

She worked quickly but, if the bag at her side was any indication, this was going to be a substantial garment.

"How do your Tranquils enchant, if not in this manner?"

[dragondowner]

Okay, so the crack of dawn was, admittedly, a sort of questionable time to go wandering around in a dark room full of large, heavy, and occasionally sharp things. Unfortunately for Hiccup, he had to get in here before the Inquisition Blacksmiths got up because those guys--those guys--he shook his head and jumped up to drape his whole weight against the top handle of the bellows.

"No children allowed," Hiccup mocked in a snide, nasally voice that, in all fairness, was a reasonable approximation of the most vocally anti-Hiccup smith. Beneath his whole weight the large bellows sank and there was a deep, rumbling sort of exhale as air was piped up through the cooled ash and coke.

"Too dangerous! Too much fire! Too many tools!" Hiccup continued to complain (quietly) as he released the bellows and then repeated the motion. By the third compression, the pilot flame he'd set finally caught the rest of the fuel. On the fourth compression, a low, orange fire glimmered in the pre-dawn darkness of the Undercroft.

"Lowlanders," Hiccup muttered as he moved around to stir the fuel and shovel coals onto the edge of the fire. Soon enough the fire was live and golden and the bricks in the center of the firepit were rapidly regaining their glow. The air was warming up (thank Korth) and, after a considerable amount of effort and a few close calls regarding his feet, Hiccup managed to get a large crucible over the hearth coals.

If there was one thing he was used to, it was how long forges took to warm up in the highlands. It would be about two hours before the coke was hot enough to temper steel and, in the meanwhile, he could melt, form, and fashion the base pieces he would need.

There were some scrap weapons, pieces of junk that had been slated for either last minute, desperate welding (or more likely being recycled into ingots) just sitting against the walls. He snatched up a few of them and, with his trusty Avvar hammer, managed to heat and shatter them into pieces that he could reform. All in all, that part took a bit longer than Hiccup estimated. It took Hiccup somewhere on the order of four hours to break apart all the scrap he needed and, by the time he had finished loading it into the crucible and heating up an appropriate mold, the sun was already well into the sky.

[arachnophobe]

When Alejandro finally got around to waking up and getting to work, he knew the familiar smell of the fire going, metal being worked, and the heat coiling away from it all. To him, he'd immediately assumed that it was Harritt working, and said nothing as he proceeded to go to pick up where he last left off on one of the armor pieces he'd been commissioned for.

But out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how considerable not Harritt the person was who was working. Too short and wiry, that's for damned sure.

"Hey, whoa whoa whoa!" Alejandro sets down the breastplate and marches over to address all of this. "What in the fuck are you doing messing around here?"

Then he stops, and Alejandro gives a considerable look at both the kid and whatever he's up to. If he looks suspicious, well, that's because he is a little bit.

But mostly, he's thoughtful, frowning as he peers down at the boy.

[dragondowner]

Hiccup didn't exactly freeze when someone else entered the forge--breaking apart battle axes wasn't really quiet business, unless you're operating on a sliding scale of quietness relative to forge work--but he did freeze, tongs in hand, as he caught sight of him out of the corner of his eye. Then, in a rush of motion, there was shouting, and lowlanders charging toward him, and Hiccup was caught, and he hadn't even managed to fill the mold yet.

Hiccup looked back at the guy, paused, and then cast an almost pained look at the crucible he had his tongs around.

"Oh, come on," Hiccup half-complained, half-pleaded as he glanced at the white hot liquid metal. "I just wanted to make one decent war hammer--they keep giving me swords.

"Of course I can't use a sword, of course they won't let me join the soldiers, I mean, does this look like a sword arm to you?" Hiccup asked, immediately distracted, and released the heavy steel tongs to lift his markedly noodle-like limb up for inspection. The tongs hissed against the coals but were otherwise unharmed, the heavy crucible remained cheerfully in place.

"And since lowlanders don't use war hammers, for some Korth forsaken reason, I've got to make one, but Gods no, can't let the smith near the smithy, what if he burns himself? There are scary, scary tools in there."

Hiccup's case regarding his own competency would have been better made if he hadn't decided to flap his gloved hands in indignation, there, but such was...Hiccup.

This might be my favorite Varric tag yet.

[hugeinorlais]

"Okay, pal--I need help," Varric said, his face as grim and serious as it ever had been. He'd stared down Carta members with that face, stared down Meredith, stared down Cassandra (for a few minutes), and now it was turned on Alejandro. It was Varric's serious face, his 'how much is this going to cost me' face, and he had the coin to back it up.

"I need some smith work for Bianca here; designed her a new sight and I don't have the time to put it together. Not as nice as she deserves, at any rate," Varric explained like a man negotiating a contract. He didn't even look down as he spread open the blueprints for the metal tube and lenses. He was exceptionally proud of the repeating metal bands with the sight markers (if his copious notes were any indication). They would need to be hammered into the body of the crossbow--something Varric was more than a little uneasy about, hence his serious face.

"It's going to take me all day to blow and grind the glass for this and Harritt...eeeeh I trust him with my hide, but not Bianca. You, however, can do small."

He motioned to the toy figure that Alejandro had been working on when he had boldly interrupted him. From the looks of it, the guy had been decorating the figure's face. It had a tiny metal mustache. That was the sort of skill Varric needed. He was usually more polite about this sort of business (meaning any sort of business), but he found that dropping a bag of coin on the table when he opened negotiations was usually more than enough to excuse the lack of small talk.

Hopefully it would be this time.

"You up for helping me and Bianca beat Buttercup and Nightingale in an archery contest, or do I find someone else?"

[arachnophobe]

Many a person has come to ask him for advice, to plan ahead on armor and weapons. With some, it was as easy as anything to design and determine what suited the person best. With Zevran, he was allowed some creativity and knew exactly what would suit the assassin's needs. This? This is completely different.

This is Varric, arriving with Bianca, with the opportunity to really, truly handle her. Crossbows anywhere else? Clunky as hell; you'd be lucky if they shot true, and reloading is more of a pain than just having a normal bow and arrow. The moment he laid eyes on Bianca from a distance, he knew she was special.

Alejandro clears his throat, and readies to negotiate. He's done it a hundred times, and this won't be any different, despite his excitement.

"You want this done and you want it done right? I'm your man," he promises. "She's gonna need an eye for detail, and hell knows I've got it."

The coin is nice. The real core to wanting to do this job is Bianca.

"You ready to fuckin' win that archery contest?"

[unbrokenoath]

I'm sorry did you say focusing because wow it would sure be inconvenient if someone (Kaisa) threw the door to the undercroft open and started yelling like a banshee.

Anyway, that's exactly what just happened.

"HAAAARRIIIIII--you're not Harritt." Kaisa informs Alejandro primly as she swaggers on in, crossing her arms and giving him a look that says that she is personally holding him responsible for not being the blacksmith she'd wanted. "You're that one punk." Which narrows it down a lot, because the Inquisition isn't full to bursting with punk asses or anything.

[arachnophobe]

When the door is thrown open with a big loud-mouthed Warden shouting for Harritt, Alejandro grits his teeth and nearly fucks up while working on his tiny soldier man figurine.

Fuckin' rude.

A brow is raised at her and he unclasps the figure from his prosthetic fingers. Punk. He hasn't been called that in ages.

"And you're that fuckin' loud Warden," he says without any irony at all because it's not as if he himself is particularly quiet. "Harritt's out, obviously. If you want somethin', you can ask or wait until he comes grumblin' back. Which probably won't be for awhile."

[unbrokenoath]

"I am the fucking loud Warden!" Kaisa replies cheerily, grinning as broadly as if Alejandro had just rained down compliments upon her person. "The loud ass punk and the fucking loud Warden. It sounds like some kind of opera. Where we duel to the death, or something."

Unphased by his ever so subtle attempts to boot her out of the Undercroft, she strolls on in like she personally owns the place and has provided Alejandro his space out of the goodness of her heart. "I wanted to ask him about some armor he was fixing up for me. Warden armor. It can only be Harritt, because our armor is filled with Wardeny secrets," She lies, plopping down on a bench.

"If I told you the Wardeny secrets of my Wardeny armor, I'd have to kill you, and everyone would be all up in a tizzy again, and we might get moved even further away from Skyhold and quite frankly, the walking is a pain in the ass already."