Oh, Lashan is still going to have a talk with Vena about this. Good intentions or not, having been in on a mind-searching session or not, the girl shouldn't be so cavalier about Lashan's work or about oaths! Vena is clearly aware of this and her panic seems to have faded, but when she pulls the fall sword out of the mattress and gives it to Guts her eyes are downcast and her lower lip is prominent.
"You're not, but you should see how it's done. Any fool can work a bellows, and if you can handle precision and consistency maybe you can do some hammering. If not, you can break up some of the salvage, you're strong enough. What me and mine have to do is make a rod of new material and weld it to your sword. Big as it is, it won't take a delicate touch."
Pain is such a subjective, nebulous thing that its ebbing and increasing can be attributed to all kinds of causes. This isn't big and obvious, especially without an actively bleeding, uncovered injury to notice. It could be placebo.
There's not much to notice about the sword that he hadn't seen before. It's elegant rather than ostentatious but still a decidedly fancier weapon than the ones Guts is familiar with. Curving blackened quillions clasp the blade and mark the transition from it to the hilt, with its gently flared weighted pommel and the blue river stone set into it. The stone is not a gem or even semiprecious, but it's polished and gleams dimly. That handle-sword join is completely sound and those crescent quillions are sturdy enough that they must have been made able to be able to serve as spikes. The maker's mark is four characters, not letters typically found in Midland, etched into the blade.
It must seem very light to him, but it's still the active weight of live steel and has good balance. Both edges are very sharp and the metal has a subtle, abstract rippling pattern, hard to discern clearly except in sunlight, lent by the many small individual chunks of steel that made up this blade.
no subject
"You're not, but you should see how it's done. Any fool can work a bellows, and if you can handle precision and consistency maybe you can do some hammering. If not, you can break up some of the salvage, you're strong enough. What me and mine have to do is make a rod of new material and weld it to your sword. Big as it is, it won't take a delicate touch."
Pain is such a subjective, nebulous thing that its ebbing and increasing can be attributed to all kinds of causes. This isn't big and obvious, especially without an actively bleeding, uncovered injury to notice. It could be placebo.
There's not much to notice about the sword that he hadn't seen before. It's elegant rather than ostentatious but still a decidedly fancier weapon than the ones Guts is familiar with. Curving blackened quillions clasp the blade and mark the transition from it to the hilt, with its gently flared weighted pommel and the blue river stone set into it. The stone is not a gem or even semiprecious, but it's polished and gleams dimly. That handle-sword join is completely sound and those crescent quillions are sturdy enough that they must have been made able to be able to serve as spikes. The maker's mark is four characters, not letters typically found in Midland, etched into the blade.
It must seem very light to him, but it's still the active weight of live steel and has good balance. Both edges are very sharp and the metal has a subtle, abstract rippling pattern, hard to discern clearly except in sunlight, lent by the many small individual chunks of steel that made up this blade.