Blisdon opens the sturdy doors to the warriors hall and experimentally cranes his head around the doorframe, scanning the seemingly empty rows of training dummies inside. The stout shaman stroked his beard curiously and walked a few steps inside. Basking in the cool air of the rarely visited hall.
" Taklinn? Are ya in here or should I oughta crawl back into the mines again?" Boomed blisdon into the spacious building, before strolling up to an idle training dummy and patting its padded shoulder, Idly attempting appraising it's condition as he waits for any response.
Blisdon nodded in agreement "aye lets hope they do, Jastrey is always in need of honest dwarven workmanship. The things that happen to this town are just about as strange as the inhabitants here themselves." The dwarf let out an exasperated sigh and scratched at the top of his head
"What with seein' scorch and havin' him damn near about singe off my beard... I'm thinkin' It's about time I learn how to put my guard up like most dwarves are known to do. I would be a damn shame to our kind if I fell in battle to the puny goblin potsticker or a flea-ridden gnoll out in the woods."
Blisdon seemed shocked to find a tick in his hair as he scratched his head and sent it sailing out of a nearby window with a forceful flick of his finger "Ach...blasted parasite. Also, I noticed you've got a particular kinship with blades and steel that the fighters in this town happen to crowd around ya for. I'd be happy to lighten some of that burden from ya as well, I can repair the weaponry of others myself but only when I'm channeling the right spirits. It'd be an advantage for me to do so without havin' to take out the time of day to call them back down from their own business for such a trivial task."
"Aye tis true that we dwarves can take a good shot and shrug it off. It is more of a mind set lad, and it would have been taught to ye normally if ye were raised properly in yer clan. So many youngsters set out afore their clan properly teaches them the old ways. So lets get to work then, ye just stand there and take these shots an' keep gettin' up, eventually ye will learn to tighten yer muscles or to roll with the shot to lessen its effectiveness." Taklinn picks up a small wooden baton in hand, and looks to Blisdon with a grin, as if to ask "Are you sure you are ready?"
When no response is forthcoming, Taklinn shrugs his shoulders and says "very well, lets begin!" He begins going through a series of slaps and weak attack routines to bring up welts on his dwarven kin, relentlessly slapping away at him for quite some time. "Now ye just let those sink in a bit, an' I will show ye another technique ye were askin' fer help with, and I'll even wager that it will help ye to take a few extra hits while yer at it. Ye see lad, while I know that you and Keg are talkin' with spirits and followin the ways of the Shaman, every dwarf reaches the day that they learn to commune with metals in some small way. Ye just have to be able to hear the voices and heed their call. I learned the best way to be able to repair someone's sundered weapon was to talk with the injured weapon, much as ye did when ye followed the way of the disciple. Once ye figure that out, ye just picture the weapon whole again and repeat what comes into yer heart and mind, and the weapon will be repaired. It is a bit of our birthright, and many attributed the phenomenon to Espidrel's blessing upon our race, but as to why it continues workin' on past the Shatterin' I ain't figgered it out yet." He walks over to his anvil and says "Put yer ear to the anvil lad, and I will show ye what I mean." he says as he pulls an ancient smithy hammer from a box in the Forge.
The novice shaman was distractedly scratching his head again when the first blow comes as a sudden surprise, The dwarf was slow to react and took the slap across the face. The following fury of blows were a humiliating display in the Blisdon's slow reaction times, always taking the blows before his mind thought whether to put his guard up or not. However soon enough the blows lighten up and Blisdon takes a stand next to the seasoned warrior.
Blisdon listened closely as the Dwarf spoke of birthrights and long gone immortals quietly, careful to take in all of his teachings before speaking up himself. "Aye...Talkin' to the swords you say? "Said the Shaman, as he leaned down close to the anvil and inspected it's age. "I thought I was talkin to a sword once when I was in a trance....Turned out I just added ALL the wrong herbs to my pipe! Maybe this time I'll have some more luck." Joked Blisdon before finally kneeling down and setting an ear down on the flat surface of the blacksmithing tool.
"Yer needin to hear the metal sing to ye, so at first I will make the volume loud enough fer any to hear it; eventually ye will be able to hear it all by yerself, but now this is how I will teach ye. I'm fer knowin' that ye weren't a smith, so lets get started." With that he takes the ancient hammer in his hands and strikes it down onto the anvil, letting the ring and vibrations make their way into Blisdon's ear and mind. After several minutes of slamming the hammer into the anvil he motions for Blisdon to take his ear off of the anvil. "So now ye know what to listen fer, just train yer ears to hear it when nobody else can. Now its time fer ye to be able to see how to put things back together." He takes up a normal longsword and places it in across two benches, and takes his axe out and sunders it with a skilled blow (Ruin). "Now look at the weapon and see where it has come apart, then picture it whole. Listen to the metal talk to ye and then place it together...."
With his ears so close to the forge he could hear the blows in a way that his ears had never picked up on before. The loud ringing making an almost musical tone as the vibrations made their way into the core of his being. "Ah....I see...I see! So this is the secret us dwarves have kept so close to our chests for these ages. It all makes sense now..." Called out the shaman with excitement as he stood from the anvil as instructed. "I can't believe I'd have been so deaf as to have not heard it speakin' before now." He finished, his voice trailing off back to silence as he watched Taklin set up a sword and put the blade to ruin before his very eyes.
Blisdon pauses for a moment as he picks up what remains of the blade, studying the fractures where the blade finally gave way as he reflected on what he was taught. "Plants wither, Animals die, and even Storms pass, but stone? The earth that sleeps beneath our feet? It goes nowhere. It was there in the beginning and it shall remain until the end. " Blisdon was silent for a moment, running a finger lightly across the still sharpened edge of the longsword "This sword remembers it, when it was still sleeping in the rock. I am sure of it...But just as it was smelted and bound together, I believe I can bind it together again."
The shaman spoke unconfidently as he ran his hand across the length of the broken sword, the ruined pieces places as closely as their puzzle-like shape would allow. Taking special care to bring his hand back and fourth firmly but with a natural glide, as if he were trying to make the sword shine like a piece of priceless armor to seemingly no effect.
He grumbles to himself as he glares at the sword in his hands "Now you better snap together right this instant or I swear to the immortals....I'll be reforging you into a speculum instead!" Growled the dwarf as he rubbed furiously and in vain at the ruined blade.
Taklinn watches as Blisdon starts to work the blade and smiles inwardly. The banging on the anvil was really no more than a cruel jest at his friend, but it served to make Blisdon believe in his ability to fix the blade in the end. "That's the way lad, listen to the ringin' in yer ears and follow the directions in yer gut. Let yer hands see the imperfections of the broken blade and will the power within ye to mould the metal with yer hands. When the power gets strong enough in yer belly, incant the words on yer heart and it will transfer the power to yer hands, and ye will heal the metal's wounds." he says quietly to his friend as he continues to try to mend the weapon.
The sound of the dwarfs teeth grinding against eachother made a sound like rocks scraping together as veins popped from his forehead in frustration. The furious shaman knew exactly what in his heart to tell the ruined sword before him.
"You better snap-the-fuck-back together right this instant or I swear to the spirits I'll forge you into the most beautiful tiara for the first goblin princess I see! (repair)" snarled Blisdon, And sure enough the fury and anger that bubbled and boiled in his belly like catastrophic indegestion was enough to finally resonate with the blade and slowly it's cracks began to reconnect as it came back together into a single, reliable piece of weaponry.
"Ah...I think that about does it, Few things are more powerful than a pissed off dwarf. How's it look Taklinn?" Blisdon grinned triumphantly and held the blade up for the veterans closer inspection.
"Well done lad, and ye should continue with the beatings to toughen ye up. Eventually ye can take larger and larger punches with training. As fer mendin' the steel, ye had that in ye the whole time, ye just had to believe it. Now that ye know what the feelin in yer gut is when ye do it, ye will be able to do mend weapons more'n more. Good luck to ye lad, but all ye need now is practice. If'n ye think ye need to get slapped around more, just come on back and ask brother." Taklinn finishes by pulling out his flask and handing it over to Blisdon, offering him a well deserved drink.
Blisdon takes a brief nip from the flask and nods towards taklinn appreciatively "Aye, I'm much obliged that you had the time to teach me, I think I may require a little more in the arts of takin' a stiff punch but being able to mend unusable weaponry will most definitely have a noticable impact on the towns ability to fight and defend themselves, just watch over the coming weeks. I'll do us dwarves proud."
"Aye I have no doubt as to whether or not ye will do us proud. It is rare that I've seen a dwarf so at home with the surface dwellers, but these are strange times. If ye condition yer body enough, the bigger hits will glance off of ye more an' more. If ye will excuse me the sound of pickaxe on stone is ringin' in me head and heart, and I have been too long away from mining. If ye have any other need of me, all ye need is to seek me out and I will be there." Taklinn says at length. "Don't be forgettin' that if ye sleep with dogs, ye got no reason to be complainin' about havin' fleas in yer beard lad; watch yerself when dealin' with those dusklings in town, fer they are a different lot than most. I just get concerned that ye will get wrapped up in their intrigue so deep that ye can't get unwound." With that he begins gathering up his mining tools before heading for the door to head out of town.
Taklinn walks out of the forge with a large piece of paper that appears to be a map, but to anyone other than him, it cannot be discerned as to where it is a map too. "Aye brother, I be here lookin' at some charts I have made and am lookin' ta go back out and see if these veins will produce better ore. But enough o' that, what can I do fer ye lad?"