Svagema~Entaris

Svagema spins around at an incredible speed. It gives him momentum, and the scythe shears off the top of the mans head. Not very cleanly. One of the temples is hit, and blood sprays everywhere. The man falls to the ground, bleeding from every feature on his head. He lies there twitching for a moment, then becomes still.

Svagema stood for a moment looking down at the attacker's corpse, not unlike the cows he slaughtered for meat, then knelt and searched the man's body, removing his armor, mask and weaponry, setting them to one side as he looked for any identifying marks.

The man carries only a small pill, which smells of almonds.

Svagema pockets the pill, not entirely sure what it is, and proceeds to don his former assailant's leather garb. He ties the mask to his belt and secures one shortsword to the small of his back horizontally, the other resting diagonally on his back with the hilt pointing above the shoulder. He drags the body to the grinder his family used for making sausages and proceeded to feed the man's limbs into it one at a time after having searched them each again thouroughly upon removal from the body.

The leather armor does not fit well, and the mask was torn asunder by the scythe. The short sword the man had drawn was it the scythe's path during the spin, and was broken. The other short sword and the long sword are still usable.

Svagema removes the armor once he get to the porch and fetches a pair of scissors and the needle and leather thread his family used for patching work boots and proceeded to tailor the armor to fit him perfectly, knowing his own measurements by heart. He then trimmed and hemmed the mask wih normal thread so it covered from his nose down under his chin snugly and fit his face perfectly, without need for more than a knot in the ends at the back of the head to hold it in place. He then takes the swords to the forge out by the shed, normlly used for horseshoes, and fixes the broken shortsword, straightening it and making both shortswords into oversized stiletoes, the perfect stabbing weapon to compliment his new Agility, the blade tapering from hit to tip, but thicker so as to avoid breaking off. He then put on his newly fitted armor, tied his new unsharpened weapons to his belt and shouldered the longsword, then locked up the house and trekked down the road to the blacksmith to have him check his work and sharpen his blades.

Svagema arrives at the smithy in the dead of night. It is silent, save for the sound of the crickets. The lights in the forge are lit however.

Svagema walks over to the forge and looks about, "Hello?" He says, loudly enough to be heard nearby but not loudly enough to accidently wake someone.

Svagema finds a man sleeping on the ground, spread eagle. He appears to have passed out.

Svagema chuckled slightly and shook his head as he knelt next to the man and gently slapped his face, "Ey....Hey...This isn't the place to be sleeping. That's why we have beds, y'know..." He chuckled again as he kept up his attempts to wake him.

The man moans.
" guh.. 'oo ayoo?" he mumbles, still half asleep.

Svagema chuckles and smiles ,offering his arm to help the groggy man up. "Svagema, Sleepy Sir...you are?"

The man yawns.
"The 'ells so funny, you bastard?!" he yells, and then mutters "Can't get a damn wink of sleep."
The man scowls at Svagema.
"Well, what did you wake me for? It had better be important."

Svagema continues to chuckle and smile at the man. As he was passed out on the ground, he was sure the man wasn't taking a nap, but he let it go. "It is, I'd like you to veiw these weapons I just acquired. The short swords I have modified, and they still need to be sharpened, but the longsword is still the way I found it. I really have no use for a straightblade like this and I was wondering if you had anything of a more...agile fighting persuasion..."

The man blinks at Svagema.
"You... You woke me for THAT!? What the hell is wrong with you!? Piss of before I call the guard!"
All of the man's shouting has woken a dog somewhere nearby. It's excited barking fills the air, and a creaking noise comes from the floor above.

Svagema blinked slowly back at the man. "So you, Mr Blacksmith, are telling me, Svagema Estaruven, that you would rather sleep than make money? Well, now I see how my family has out done every ranching establishment in the better part of Major Empire..." He said, then shook his head and smiled again. "Would you be more willing to do business if we went inside and waited for you to be properly awake?"

The man glares at Svagema.
"I'm not a blacksmith, I'm an intern! I wouldn't get paid either way! And my name is Barry for gods' sakes."

Svagema laughed outright. "Well then, Mr Barry the Blacksmith's Apprentice, I guess I'll just have to do the Smith a favor and watch you 'til he gets up, lest he find you asleep on the foundry floor again and have to find himself a more competent worker..." He remarked slyly, then added, "But I really ought to do the honest thing and rouse him now so he more quickly understands your sleep issue..." He cocked an eyebrow at the boy threateningly. "What do ya think?"

Barry stares, mouth agape.
"You bastard! Fine, let me see it."
He holds out his hand expectantly.

Svagema smiled warmly, as though the man had complied of his own will. He handed him the shortsword-turned-stilleto. "Think you could sharpen this to as deadly an edge as possible, mate?"

"Sure I could... for 120 gold. You got the money?"

Svagema's smile crumbled into a deep frown, "I would if I were having the sword reforged, but I'm only getting it sharpened, so I'll pay 12, since sharpening is about one tenth of the forging process. How does taht sound?"

"Well then, perhaps you should just find your own grindstone and do it yourself. But I'll tell you what; you give me that long sword you got and I'll sharpen both your short swords in exchange."

Svagema thought for a moment, then nodded and handed over his weapons. "Be careful with the other one, though, I'm not entirely sure if it is proper forged, since I fixed it myself...that was one of the things I was to ask the Smith about..."

"Ok, I will have them ready in a couple of hours... I think."
He looks at the poorly repaired sword.
"This looks fine to me. Well, I'll get right to work."
Barry sits down at the grind stone and starts it spinning. He presses the blade to it, and it flies out of his hand. Sighing, he picks it up and sets about to trying it again. There is a horrible noise, but he seems to have a grip on it now.