damned_institute | Night 52: M81-M90 Hallway

[M85]

One ominous announcement from De Landel later, Guybrush was ready to bolt out the door, pausing only to take one more quick bite of his meal. He grabbed the doorknob dramatically, showing that door that he meant business. Elaine was out there somewhere, kidnapped and helpless and possibly being tortured in some horrible way...

All right, maybe not those last two. Even with the sole thought of rescuing his beloved Plunderbunny on the brain, Guybrush could admit that "helpless" was never an accurate way to describe Elaine. She always knew just what to do, and when to do it so it would be either the most beneficial or would move the plot along. Then again, she did have her occasional misstep, and in the rare occasion something was out of her control, it was always monumentally bad.

He couldn't wait any longer. He was not willing to lose her again.

He stepped out and slammed the door shut, only to open it a second later. "Sorrytocuttheconversationshortgottorescuemywifehavefunnotdying," he called to Scott before slamming the door a second time.

[To here.]

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"Yes, ma'am. That's me. I still have the drawing from before, but if you want to give me the new one I can compare them so we're certain you have everything you want." Leon pointed to the floor next to where his current supply of metal already sat, indicating that she should add it to the stash. With what he had now, he should be able to cover one or two people who weren't capable of bringing their own metal beforehand. It never hurt to be prepared.

The young mage tried to be polite to those he was working with, but that went doubly if the one he was working with was female. She seemed like a nice enough woman, though probably too old to consider him anything more than a child. He walked back over to where he had his symbols laid out. "As long as you're certain on the design, this shouldn't take long. The handle will be uncovered, so you might want to wrap it in something to lessen the impact. Unfortunately I can only transmute metal."

Morgan fished her sketch from dinner out of her pants pockets--it was identical to the last one, since both were diagrams of the sword that was practically as much a part of her as her limbs--and set the pillowcase by the rest of the metal. Even if she were the princessy type to worry about pillowcases, she didn't plan on needing to use one after tonight anyway.

She followed him to the back of the small room, noting as she did that there was obviously no forge in here. No way could he be hiding one in the closet. What was he planning on doing, tying it all together with a rope? Morgan was just about to get irritated again when Leon spoke. "Wait. Transmute?" she repeated with a sharply raised eyebrow. Was that some kind of voodoo power? She guessed that'd explain the weird symbols on the floor.

Well, if that was the case, she wasn't going to complain--that sounded like it had a better chance of working than this boy trying to forge a sword the traditional way in a prison bedroom. Content for the moment, Morgan folded her arms and stepped back to watch Leon work.

"Transmute, yes. What I do is a sort of alchemy." The boy smiled at her. "Don't worry, it will be perfectly harmless to you." He didn't say harmless period, of course, because that wouldn't be the truth. It did take quite a bit out of him. He just didn't want her worrying about it. People tended to think twice about asking him to create things this way when they knew he wasn't going to be in the best shape afterward.

He laid one of the diagrams out next to his other papers, studying it carefully while he laid the appropriate pieces of metal on top of them. Once again he was working with a simple sword, no highly detailed design and no multiple parts. That would make the process much easier and he was grateful for that.

"All right. One moment. You may want to look away." Even if it wouldn't be as bright with the lights already on. He held his hands over the metal as he had many times before, and the bright glow formed under his palms, encompassing every piece set before him. The process didn't take long, and when he was finished the sword was laid out in front of him, just like in her design. Breaths shaky, Leon slumped back against the side of the bed.

Good enough for her. Morgan kept watching with interest as Leon set things up, and she was glad to see that he paid close attention to her diagram. It was always good to work with a fellow professional, someone who was committed to doing their job well. Even if their job wasn't perforating pernicious pirates.

She lifted one thin arm over her eyes to shield them from the light, but when she squinted she could still make out the sight of the kid doing something to the metal with his hands, although he wasn't actually touching it. When the light faded, the only thing she needed to see was the sword sitting there in place of the metal--an exact copy of the Blade of Dragotta. Morgan rushed forward and picked it up.

"Oh my God, it's perfect," she breathed almost reverently. The weight and dimensions were just right; it felt natural in her hand, like an extension of her body, the way it should. Even just holding it sent a wash of relief through her. She tried a few experimental thrusts, punctuating them with "hah!"s as she demolished her imaginary opponent. The blade held up beautifully. She'd definitely want to do something about that handle, but that was a quick fix, something she could get to tonight or on her way out of here tomorrow night.

Once she'd established that, she turned back to Leon, who looked like he'd just fought off a whole crew of corsairs. "Thanks," she said sincerely. Then her natural suspicion crept back, and she asked, "You're sure there's nothing else you need as payment, right?" Not that it was generally good practice to change the terms of a contract when the other party was armed and you weren't, but she had a hard time believing that he was really willing to make a weapon like this just for the cost of metal. Especially given how exhausted he looked.

Well that wasn't a bad response. Though he appreciated it when others worried over him after he finished crafting, it wasn't really necessary and explaining as much could be tiresome. The young mage propped himself up straighter against the bedside, waiting for his brain to stop swimming around in his head so much.

"It's good enough that I can get people armed. The better armed everyone is the better off they'll do at night. I can't wield a sword myself, so this is my contribution." Maybe it was all futile, and Landel could render their weapons completely useless, but for now at least it was a means of improving morale. On top of that, it also helped keep people alive. This woman could be as much of a skeptic as she wanted, but that was really all the truth there was to it.

Night 52: M81-M90 Hallway

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