Might and Magic: Ars Magus [Invite]

The soundscape of the forge filled the cavern. The sound of the hammer striking the red-hot metal at regular intervals was intertwined with the bellows from deep within the forge, the earthy, cavernous sound ricocheting against the walls, all the way to the exit. As the magma flowed perpendicular to the forge, bubbles in the thick molten rocks would sometimes pop, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

Tambo was working, ever so diligently, on the commissions he had. Whether they were armor, furniture, or weapons, the Namekian poured his very being into the art pieces he crafted, bringing his very own essence into each unique item.

Chirping from the red Dragon, Sihai had alerted the Namekian of a presence. Visitors were few in this place, the inhospitable aspect of the forge often causing troubles to his brothers and sisters. Its location, deep into Mazoku territory, was already a dissuasive factor, to begin with, but the heat and the darkness of the cavern also made others feel uneasy. The voice manifested itself, being that of Cello, the young Mazoku Namekian causing quite the scene back in the Elder’s village, a while back. He spoke of a weapon, as well as a ritual, the latter causing the Dragonsmith to wonder what kind of ritual it might be.

“Boy”, he said, his low voice echoing in the chamber. “Come forth, tell me more about this weapon.”

He left his work hanging for a while. As the metal started hardening, the gray Namekian paid it no mind as he could reheat it just as easily and resume his work. He grabbed a cloth and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“I do not mean to pry on what isn’t my business but let me warn you beforehand. My work is done as an offering to the great Porunga. The sweat that comes with it, the strain on my body, this is all to honor him. I know not what kind of rituals you seek to do using a manifestation of my faith, but should it go against it, I will not do it.”

He took some time to walk around, before adding.

“As you know, I welcome any and all in this place and will craft for them with the same care and attention. My craft is my pride. But above all that is my faith in the great Dragon. So, tell me of your intentions, young Cello. This is my only condition.”

A condition that was the same for all, no matter their allegiances. He had refused to craft for Mazoku as well as warrior and Dragon clansmen before. He would do it again without hesitation, should their request go against his principles.

Tambo closed his eyes, registering every information that was given to him. His knowledge of the Mazoku and their rituals was sparse to say the least, their propensity to keep their ways secret only serving to fuel the lack of understanding among other clans. Which was why Tambo was momentarily gauging the young Mazoku in front of him, deciphering his intentions. He spoke of the rituals, of how only he would be at potential risk. It was the first time he was approached with such a request. Never before had he heard of such a thing, to begin with.

What was he to think about such a thing? Well, he remained unsure until Cello went to give his perspective about the Mazoku and their relation to Porunga. Whereas the Dragon clan would worship the entity itself and draw power from it, the Mazoku sought the wisdom dwelling in its shadow, the face that was hidden to him and the others. This surge of knowledge drew his attention entirely, having this first glimpse into the mind of the Forsaken clan. From his own ignorance, he felt the anger but quickly shut it down. If they too protected Namek, why did they were at war with the warrior and dragon clan? Why couldn’t they unite under the same banner, as Namekians? He paused for a moment, then he finally reopened his eyes.

“I do not doubt your words. As such, I will oblige your request. While I will not ask for payment I will, however, have two requests of my own. One of which I ask of everyone, the other is a personal one. My first request is that you do not use the weapons I will craft to harm a brother. Acting in self-defense, however, is permitted. My second request is that you teach me about the Mazoku and your spirituality.”

They were not requirements or absolutes, but failing the first one of his requests, at the very least, would be a huge disappointment to him. The words he spoke about unifying the Mazoku into a single entity…was it real talk? Perhaps if he did it, perhaps if his intentions were as good as he made them out to be, for the sake of Namek, maybe it was an avenue worth pursuing.

“The picture you have in mind, manifest it. It will serve to give me an idea of what I must forge. We can start from there. I’ll have you know as well that my magic, my essence as well as Porunga’s will be part of the weapon if I craft it. How that will interact with your own magic, I have no idea. It will be a catalyst for your ritual, that I know.”

His recent thinking had gave him an insight on what to do to attempt resolution of the situation on Namek. In order for everyone to sit at the same table, those of the Dragon and Warrior clans would need to know about the knowledge of the Mazoku clan. How they would react to such a thing, however, was still left in the air…and the blacksmith had a hunch the reception would be less than positive. Still, this was a necessary first step. The moment he took to forge the young Mazoku his weapon in exchange of his wisdom was the perfect opportunity, one that would benefit them both in the moment and, perhaps, everyone in the long run.

Of course, making that request also came with the possibility that Cello might refuse, and to his surprise, seeing him accept in such good faith was made the old Namekian smile. However, this was no time for celebration as he had work to get to. Per his request, Cello manifested an image of the weapons he dreamt of. Quite the unusual request, since most Namekians often opted for the more traditional weapons; swords, spears, sometimes axes, and rarely hammers. These blunt fist weapons were a first for Tambo. The heavy gauntlets had to be made so most of the weight would be towards the butt and to counteract their sheer weight, spiked shoulder straps would help take some weight from the forearms and spread it to the entire arms. He figured the basis should be made with heavy metal, while the outside piece should be lightweight yet sturdy, probably from the same alloy that constituted most of the ceremonial armors, mimicking the chitinous appearance of bio-armor.

“That his quite the ambitious project you have there, young one. Very well, but I shall need a bit more time than I had anticipated. This is a first for me. I’ll need some proper molds, too…Hmm, let me see there.”

He walked towards the back of the forge where several metal ingots stood. After considering them for a moment, he ended up picking out some ingots, putting them in the smelter.

“This will take a moment. I shall do it in two parts. First, I’ll make the inner layer that will make up most of the weight as well as the handle. Once that’s done, we will build the outside layer around the first one and work it into the shape you’d like.”

Using his magical materialization technique, he created a one-use mold that would make the inner layer. Watching the hollowed-out cube in front of him, he nodded accordingly.

“Good, this should fit the size of the image you’ve given me. We only have to wait until the metal has molten.”

Tambo watched as the ingots heated, their dark gray turning red then progressing towards a bright orange, then yellow. As the ingots turned white from the heat, they slowly lost their form, turning liquid as the heat did its work. Meanwhile, Cello complimented the forgemaster for his knack at creating objects. What did the young Namekian expect, exactly? Wasn’t it that he had asked of him in the first place? Why act surprised, then. Be it through hitting steel or with magic, the end result was the same, albeit without the same involvement…and not the same potential, either.

“You speak as if you were the only want with a grasp of magic, young one. I have been granted the gift of creation by my father, the previous Dragonsmith. Whether it is the material world or life itself, I possess the ability to bring it forth. A result of my dedication to my craft, as well as my faith.”

Of course, the older man believed this power was granted to him by Porunga himself for his years of unfaltering dedication. He pointed to the red dragon sleeping in a corner of the cave.

“This little one was merely soil at first. The soil of Namek, part of its flesh. I brought forth the very life essence dwelling within it, giving it conscience and purpose. Thus this little one was born. As you have asked me, do I believe some Namekians can appear seemingly from nothing? Of course, I do, but I certainly do not believe it to be a coincidence.”

As Cello spoke about the tradition of the Mazoku, he listened in silence, working to the creation of the gauntlets. He would grunt in the agreement or to make it clear that he was listening, but he dedicated himself to the crafting of the gauntlets. He started by lifting the crucible in which the metal had molten, the handles capable of searing the flesh of any who was not accustomed to such intense heat. Pouring the liquid metal into the mold he would have to wait some more time until they were ready to be worked. He focused his attention on Cello again, mentioning the choice of residence, away from the mainland.

“You ask meaningless questions, Cello. Have you ever considered there might be no such thing as mainland? I was born here, raised here, and lived here throughout my entire existence. What you call mainland is simply Namek. The Northern Scar is also Namek. Each part has its purpose, its riches, and is an indissociable part of a much bigger whole. Those who forget this and who are willingly segregating a part of it as undesirable are blinding themselves.”

Once the first part of the gauntlets would be made, he’d break the mold off, reveal the inner layer, still in a rough shape. Bringing it to his anvil, he’d place it appropriately, holding it in place via the many contraptions at his disposal. Bringing out his hammer, he’d began flattening it into a smooth, uniform layer, repeating the process for both parts of it. As he struck the metal, his hammer began glowing with its signature golden color, leaving sparks of energy every time the hammer made contact with the metal.

For several hours more, he’d do the same, with the outer layer. This time, however, there would be no mold as he forged every piece with the utmost care and dedication. Each intricate detail in the design was meant to follow as closely as possible the design presented to him by Cello. A true craftsman at work, forgetting about the man in his presence.

The air was heavy with magic and heat, but later in the day, Tambo presented Cello with a single gauntlet.

“Tell me, what do you think of it.”

Tambo looked at Cello with a glint in his eyes, following on his comment about generating life from seemingly nothing.

“Well then, what if I told you Namek herself was a living being, would you find it as strange? These caverns open up to the surface where she breathes…”

Tambo moved towards his furnace, plunging his hand in the scalding magma below. When he removed his hand, he felt the sizzle on his skin, yet the damage seemed minimal as if touching water that was slightly too hot on the skin.

“Her blood courses through her veins as well. And we use it, to create, to warm ourselves.”

Thick blobs of molten rocks felt to the ground at his feet, where they solidified after mere seconds. Shaking his hand, he removed the remainder of the liquid.

“Life is all around us. Sometimes appearing as nothing, sometimes unseen to the eye…It’s really as simple as that. To create is to bring forth that life energy and manifest it, shape it.”

Such had been the training he went through for most of his life. Learning his craft meant becoming one with the world around him, feel it, and understand it. It was by no means as easy as he made it out to be, but there was a life lesson to be earned from this. To be grateful for what we have, even if we cannot see it, even if we cannot realize it.

As Cello made his thoughts clear about the definition of the mainland, Tambo grunted. Many have used the term to undermine the northern part of the planet and its denizens. “Hmm. I see, yes. As for what I choose to live here, well there is no particular reason other than it is how it is. This place offers me the most of what I need.”

Tambo felt a surge of pride as the gauntlet he presented the young warrior seemed to be to his taste. He had given a lot of sweat and magic to create the piece and was satisfied to see it was to his taste. When he mentioned a second gauntlet, however, Tambo shook his head.

“No, I believe this is all you need. Wear it and see for yourself.”

The magic he poured into the item during the crafting also transformed this weapon in an unpredictable way. The magic merging with the steel granted magical properties to the item. Though he could only sense it, as if through some sort of intuition, Tambo knew this magical weapon had obtained the property of multiplication.