Who: Marek and Felixa What: sword making! Well, post-sword making. When: Tuesday night. Where: the forge Marek uses, somewhere. Warnings: sharp pointy things? Status: Incomplete
Working with metal was hardly Marek's specialty, so he wasn't particularly surprised when their first attempt didn't go well at all. It was laughable, really (and he did laugh, quite a bit), but at least it told them both what they were doing wrong, and in the end they were successful. Marek had gotten fairly good with making knives, and working poison into the blade itself rather than it having to be dipped into liquid, but swords were entirely different. More metal to balance, more of a hilt, more strength in the metal than was required in a knife, especially a knife that was mainly intended to inject poison into the bloodstream.
With the advice of one of the other workers that was around that evening, they had forged quite a passable sword. Passable to Marek's eyes, anyway, although Felixa was the fencing expert. It had finally cooled enough, thanks to magic, to be touched, and he lifted it by the blade, offering her the hilt, grinning. "Well? Is it up to your standards, m'lady?"