Post by Athena Fire-in-Snow on May 1, 2011 3:49:18 GMT -8
[OOC: so after re-reading the rules on silver, I realized that silver actually causes 1 aggravated wound per round of CONTACT -- it doesn't have to breach the skin, just simple contact is sufficient. Only in one's breed form is this not true...except for Metis, who suffer damage in all forms. Therefore, I have had to re-edit the story of the chiminage to take this into account. Also, for those who may be wondering, the level of contact-damage described IS NOT typical of any Garou; she is obviously more sensitive than usual to its presence. I appreciate the readers' patience with this revision!]
Echo's hands wore heavy leather gloves, and she used a long-handled ladle to heat up the small nugget of silver over the fire in the tower fireplace, the one set aside for rituals. Even with the protection, she felt a rash start on her hands; the itching was intense, but Echo forced it out of her mind. The tiny clay molds had been easy to make; the resulting product would not be a work of art, but it was intended for punishment, not vanity, so that seemed appropriate.
With care, Echo added a bit of flux to the silver, breaking the surface tension of the molten metal so that it would pour smoothly into the mold. She watched the flux melt and meld with the silver, her hands steady despite the increasing pain that crept in under the itching. Finally, she watched the liquid dome of silver flatten out; before the flux could burn off completely she poured the molten fluid into the molds -- one a tiny stud, as for a piercing, in the shape of a falcon in flight, and the other a matching falcon shaped to form a cap for the underside.
Once the molds were filled, Echo picked up a pair of long tongs and gently moved them into a large empty pan. With care, she poured cold water into the pan, allowing the chill water to leach heat from the mold and cool the metal. The water turned warm, then hot; Echo pulled out a small plug and drained the pan, then restored the plug and refilled the pan with cold water. She repeated the process several times, until the metal had cooled sufficiently to harden -- tiny as the studs were, it did not take long.
With a gentle strike from a small hammer, Echo cracked open the clay mold, releasing its grip on the little studs. With long tweezers she extracted the tiny falcons, setting them onto a mounting block. It took her a few minutes rooting around in shipping boxes, but she finally found the one with the electroplating equipment she had had Tristan order. Given the size and time constraints, Echo chose the brush attachment; a small block of rhodium left over from a previous project provided the plating material.
The plating, layered on by the steel brush, was thin, but Echo knew that it would be thick enough to endure the coming test and meet the terms of the punishment. The metal would be bound to her, held near enough to her flesh to cause her no end of pain...but just out of contact, preventing it from killing her in seconds. With slow, careful strokes of the brush, the quiet shine of the moon metal vanished under the brighter, harder white gleam of niobium. At last she deemed it sufficient to the cause -- not her best work, but the best she could do within the constraints of time and equipment.
With a long pair of tweezers, she carefully picked up the little falcons and dropped them into a white silk sack, pulling the drawstrings shut. The little studs clicked against a bone tube already in the pouch -- a tube that contained a long, sharp, silver needle. She then put the silk pouch into a slightly larger one made out of heavy leather lined with more silk, and closed that one with very long leather thongs. It was the best insulation against the radiation given off by the silver that she could manage on short notice.
Setting the leather bag in the middle of the floor, Echo invoked the Rite of Talisman Dedication with effortless grace, attuning the pouch and its contents to herself. Then she shifted to Lupus, gripped the leather thongs in her teeth, and set off at a run for the Caern, the leather sack dangling between her front legs.
Let those who would take note of how a Silver Fang performs her duties. A lesson forged in silver is a lesson branded in memory.
Echo's hands wore heavy leather gloves, and she used a long-handled ladle to heat up the small nugget of silver over the fire in the tower fireplace, the one set aside for rituals. Even with the protection, she felt a rash start on her hands; the itching was intense, but Echo forced it out of her mind. The tiny clay molds had been easy to make; the resulting product would not be a work of art, but it was intended for punishment, not vanity, so that seemed appropriate.
With care, Echo added a bit of flux to the silver, breaking the surface tension of the molten metal so that it would pour smoothly into the mold. She watched the flux melt and meld with the silver, her hands steady despite the increasing pain that crept in under the itching. Finally, she watched the liquid dome of silver flatten out; before the flux could burn off completely she poured the molten fluid into the molds -- one a tiny stud, as for a piercing, in the shape of a falcon in flight, and the other a matching falcon shaped to form a cap for the underside.
Once the molds were filled, Echo picked up a pair of long tongs and gently moved them into a large empty pan. With care, she poured cold water into the pan, allowing the chill water to leach heat from the mold and cool the metal. The water turned warm, then hot; Echo pulled out a small plug and drained the pan, then restored the plug and refilled the pan with cold water. She repeated the process several times, until the metal had cooled sufficiently to harden -- tiny as the studs were, it did not take long.
With a gentle strike from a small hammer, Echo cracked open the clay mold, releasing its grip on the little studs. With long tweezers she extracted the tiny falcons, setting them onto a mounting block. It took her a few minutes rooting around in shipping boxes, but she finally found the one with the electroplating equipment she had had Tristan order. Given the size and time constraints, Echo chose the brush attachment; a small block of rhodium left over from a previous project provided the plating material.
The plating, layered on by the steel brush, was thin, but Echo knew that it would be thick enough to endure the coming test and meet the terms of the punishment. The metal would be bound to her, held near enough to her flesh to cause her no end of pain...but just out of contact, preventing it from killing her in seconds. With slow, careful strokes of the brush, the quiet shine of the moon metal vanished under the brighter, harder white gleam of niobium. At last she deemed it sufficient to the cause -- not her best work, but the best she could do within the constraints of time and equipment.
With a long pair of tweezers, she carefully picked up the little falcons and dropped them into a white silk sack, pulling the drawstrings shut. The little studs clicked against a bone tube already in the pouch -- a tube that contained a long, sharp, silver needle. She then put the silk pouch into a slightly larger one made out of heavy leather lined with more silk, and closed that one with very long leather thongs. It was the best insulation against the radiation given off by the silver that she could manage on short notice.
Setting the leather bag in the middle of the floor, Echo invoked the Rite of Talisman Dedication with effortless grace, attuning the pouch and its contents to herself. Then she shifted to Lupus, gripped the leather thongs in her teeth, and set off at a run for the Caern, the leather sack dangling between her front legs.
Let those who would take note of how a Silver Fang performs her duties. A lesson forged in silver is a lesson branded in memory.