"Whoa, is that the cuirass?” Faenys asked, scaring the blacksmith a little.
Early noon of the next day, the Chosen of Phobus suddenly visited without a warning. The blacksmith had already started working on the pauldrons and was just working on adjusting them to the cuirass. For that, he had put all the finished pieces of the Sky Dragon Armor onto an armor stand to get a feel for the overall look.
“Did you already finish the shoulder armor?” she asked with sparkly eyes before he could even attempt to answer her first question. Seth left the armor alone for a mont and turned toward her.
“Yes, and yes. And they are called pauldrons. I finished forging them this morning, and I'm currently making sure they fit properly,” the blacksmith explained to her before turning back to fitting the shoulder pieces to the cuirass and helt.
Although he had been reminded of the power of his trait, he had no intention to change the course this late in the ga. They were on a schedule, and he had no ti to refresh his knowledge of dragons in Olympian mythology to co up with a way to tweak the pauldrons and gauntlets.
“So I missed the song again?” she asked, sounding disappointed.
“You are not supposed to hear it anyway. Demonic forging ballads are not for people to listen to,” the infernal scald reprimanded. Especially not the one he had used on the pauldrons. It was not a bad song...but the effects it had on others could beco quite severe.
Sivri had not taken well to the Crow Killer Ballad; Faenys, an actual being of flesh and blood, may have fared even worse. The blacksmith had also suffered to a certain extent, but as the artist, he was hit to a lesser degree. What was important was that he had succeeded.
Faenys fell silent as she patiently watched the blacksmith go about his work. Following the process, the next step was enchanting the pauldrons. As she watched, he brought the pauldrons to the etching table.
For the shoulders, Seth intended to double down on the demonic powers and etch flamboyant runes across. His swift hand wandered over the tal surface, the brush drenched in solution, leaving caustic runes in its wake.
The Chosen of Phobos felt a quiver in her heart as she witnessed a murky power settle within the runes that ate into the material. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the poem, as Seth called it, gave off a dreadful aura.
Soon, the left pauldron was done, now emanating a dark vapor. Her eyes were still glued to the piece of armor when she belatedly noticed that the blacksmith had already started working on the second. Although she couldn’t read what Seth was putting down, she could clearly see the difference.
Not just seeing it, but she could also feel it. The demonic bard was etching a completely different poem onto the right pauldron. It lacked the sinister aura of the left, giving an almost warm impression. Hopefully, the blacksmith would tell her what exactly he was writing on her shoulder.
By the ti he finished, the right pauldron gained an aura of warmth and force, not quite the opposite of the left, but clearly different. Wiping away his sweat, he put both pauldrons back on the armor stand to get an overall picture.
“Is it ti to try it on now?” she asked excitedly, instantly equipping her under-armor.
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“Well, I didn’t intend to, but you seem eager, so go ahead. Let’s see,” the blacksmith agreed after giving it a mont of thought.
Seth also finally got to see the effect of the Hide of the False God in action. When Faenys put on the armor, her whole skin didn’t turn blue like a Smurf as Seth expected, but gained a healthy, bronze hue, like a shiny tan.
“It feels a little weird, but not uncomfortable,” she ntioned, as they put on the pauldrons.
The mont they were equipped, he was proven right. The pauldron fit her and the rest of the armor perfectly, and there was no need for the blacksmith to rework anything. If he had not been confident, he would not have imdiately turned to enchanting the pieces.
“What did you enchant the shoulder with?” she asked, checking her range of movent. anwhile, the blacksmith had stepped back to the anvil, forging the soul, which was hard for her to even see. Not stopping his hamring, Seth took a mont to think of how to phrase it.
“ The left one carries the ballad of “The Beast Inside”.The effects tie in with the forging ballad and will strengthen your power to pursue victims- I an opponents,” the blacksmith gave a rough explanation. The full extent would only be set once the items were completely finished.
“Although it has a chance to cause a berserk state, I think that is plenty taken care of by the powers of the helt; however, to make sure, I added the “Eye of Marchosias” poem to the right shoulder. It should help with willpower, strength, and ntal resistance,” Seth revealed the rough effects of the “Blessing of Marchosias”, which was the na of the effect of the poem.
“I see.. cool,” Faenys pretended to understand whatever he just said.
She didn't know it, but she would need the little extra for her ntal health, as Seth didn't just double, but decided to triple down on the demonic powers for the pauldrons. Not only the forging ballad and enchantnts, but also the enchantnt for the soul armants were of demonic nature.
The soul forging didn't take long, as the structure of the pauldrons was nothing fancy or complicated. By the ti Faenys grew tired of playing around with the armor and placed it back on the stand, Seth brought the soul pauldrons to the etching table.
For the soul, he had used the second-to-last massive soul of the dragonnewt souls he had refined. The was the essence of the attack skills he had extracted from the many dragonnewt souls he had harvested when hunting Pithra.
For the enchantnt of the soul, he had chosen a poem called “Of Dogs, n, and Griffins”, dedicated to the demon Bune, a demonic dragon boasting incredible strength. As expected of a demonic dragon focused on strength, his taste was spartan, so the poem only had three lines, which roughly translated to :
“A dog's strength is to serve. A man's strength is to act. A griffin's strength is to lead. Power lies within every role.”
Seth wasn't very impressed by the lines, but he guessed the demon liked it because it attributed strength to each of its three heads, which were a dog-head, the head of a man, and the head of a griffin.
It just showed how important the taste of the patron when when it ca to a targeted piece of art, not so much its artistic relevancy. Which was good news for the blacksmith, if he ever intended to venture further into making original works. If it were just about pandering, he could do that.
On the other hand, it was not the most powerful kind of enchantnt, owing to Faenys' request to have only passive effects if possible. created the passive effect to slightly increase one's strength and physical attack when serving, commanding, or acting on your own.
It was another ballad that ca without a certain price. The demonic power seeping into the soul through the runes was the price for the performance of the work and etching. Since it didn't need Seth to negotiate soul paynts, and he wasn't distracted by , the etching was quickly done. It was just three lines, after all.
Taking the pauldrons from the stand, he infused the two-parted soul into each of them and placed them into the Waters of Styx to finish the second-to-last set of the Sky Dragon Armor.
x2
“That last notification sounded a little different...” he thought to himself and checked the pauldrons.
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