creating the clockpiece

[23:13] Within the confines of the Dragonforge would they return, a new task now held into a purpose.

Before the still dormant embers and the blessed magma pool would the footsteps of the encroaching Ebonblooded seek to once more bring the fabled workstation to life. Perhaps not in the same level as the initial usage of it, but enough to make something equally of worth.

Noel, taking the forefront, steps aside. A bag full of items laid before the presence of the magma. Close enough to feel its radiating heat, but not enough to ruin such a rare assortment of goods.

"Today... I've two things I wanna do, but we only really need to do one right now," she assured. "The last one... y'can just leave that to me, maybe I'll bug Kamille for it."

Out she plucks two items of an interesting renown. For one, the Clockwork Gear that had been gifted to her years prior. The other bore the humble presence of the reward of their first bounty, the Samurai Mythril.

"It's funny seein' these two together huh?" She muses. "Feels like it's been ages since we got 'em. Now they're bound for somethin' greater."

Sentimentalities aside, she glances back to the Herald, an appreciative nod passed over before gesturing to the forge. "I need help lightin' it up. It won't just bend to a Forgemaster's hand, it'll need one of blessed blood to burn to life too."

"Our goal?" She explains, the purpose of their momentary lapse from the tower is dictated. "I'm forgin' a clock. It'll go nicely on the final tome I'll be usin'. Hopefully that'll help me see far into the future and be a huge boon for all of us."
(Noel Serpente)
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[23:13] {Item} You drop Clockwork Gear.
[23:13] {Item} You drop Samurai Mythril.
[23:21] "Okay."

Lianne looks at the clockwork gear for a moment, staring for a time. It took a moment to recall where they'd attained that thing, a gift to Noel from when they'd ransacked one of the many abodes across Esshar.

An activity she'd long since lost interest in, but one Ysorra still seemed to enjoy.

"We acquired these when our biggest issue was the annoyance in the Coat. Now, it's everything outside that's become a headache." Either arm folds beneath her chest as she waits for an explanation.

"Interesting."

Lianne flaps her wings and begins to hover near the forge, musing over the endless capabilities that could come with foresight. "Though, I'm certain if you extend your sights too far, all you'll see is darkness."

A world beneath Naysien's wings.

"Regardless...ready?"
(Lianne Naysien)
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[23:30] "Perhaps it'll be darkness, or perhaps there'll be somethin' more to it than what one would expect." Long had the allure of a wound future assure her of her actions. To perceive beyond what was physical, to what was conceivable, to what might have been possible.

Who was she not to break these barriers?

And why would she?

Perhaps it was the simplest idea that... she just can.

Swiftly does her fingertips grasp onto the metal. Though the main body of the clock had been planned to be used with orichalcum, the imported mythril itself was more befitting of the hands of the timepiece.

For to cut beyond time and space, was that not a sharp enough requisite for something so dangerously whetted?

"Alright, let us begin the forge!" Immediately, she sets off to work. Unlike the majority of what she were used to, this time had not brought her to working on looming blades, idyllic staves, or towering hammers.

No, for now, her work lied on mechanical components. One she had studied far too frequently to assure some form of cohesion.

"We need not a strong flame for this. All that's required is a steady heat," she announced. "One which Naysien would have filtered for years upon years without a shift in temperature."

Would an item like this be hailed by the Ebon Goddess as ideal? A book capable of altering reality to snip against those that dare defy the march of time. To reverse undeath... seeking to end their sorry existence just from her whims.

Such a thought.

Immediately would the smelting of bronze, copper, and orichalcum begin. The heat radiating aimed to procure gears, springs, and latches to work into a smaller scale clock.

It was not the most conventional set of items, and yet the goals and ideals remained just as powerful: to appease the very dragon they serve, the daughter of Garljing, the Ebon Dragon.
(Noel Serpente)
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[23:41] Lianne descends next to the forge. Rather than cast forth potent and powerful spells, she hums and channels the essence within and around her. Standing next to the forge did little to change her outward demeanor.

There isn't much of a flame, so much as their is a blizzard. A torrential storm of ice and death claw-crafted by the Ebon dragon herself. A flurry wrapped nice and tight behind a blanket of zeal and zealotry, only rearing it's ugly head when forced to directly deal with the highest calibers of Heresy.

With a stone-cold expression she radiates the essence claimed from countless battles, feeding the forges basin with a steady stream of spiritual energy gifted by none other than their patron dragon.

The same energy used to hatch and give rise to Naysien's children.

Not another word is spoken as she keeps her eyes sealed, remaining in a trance-like state as she meditates.
(Lianne Naysien)
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[00:16] Immediately, the forge is lit—not like the flames that Ferris could conjure in a mere whim—but through unbridled hate and presence passed from Naysien herself through their Herald, and into the Dragonforge.

One-by-one, the pieces move from humble nodes of ore to components that would soon make up the entirety of a clock.

Clearly, Clotho Moira's creation of a tome had inspired the fledging chronomancer in its design. With its clear upturned yet working state, who was she to doubt the effectivity of such a tome?

Slowly, the pieces come out in shrill perfection. Only whence the time to work in the Samurai Mythril into the soon-to-be clock hands would Noel slow her actions.

A more methodical approach was taken. One that pushed for a more prepared aspect in its slow forging process. The importance was high, considering this were to be the main piece that allowed the flow of metaphysical mana to be output and to take in. The piece that would connect the outer clockface with the inner gear that was the Clockwork Gear.

Thusly so, the Forgemaster takes her time. Slow smacks and spaced out clangs signify the utmost care in her process. Soon, the clock hands would bear the intricacies of a gothic design. Their edges bore an edge as sharp as a blade, yet their size could only be as big as one's index finger.

"These... might be all the pieces I need," she mutters, taking a step back as the clock items are slowly drawn upon a clear table.

With a tome depicting the name confusing parts of a clock, all that remained was its assembly. She had been thankful in Lianne's aid in bringing forth the forge to bless the metals used in this project, and she had hoped that their Herald would want her accomplish the final pieces of this leg of the creation process.
(Noel Serpente)
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[00:23] The trance remains unbroken as Noel creates the pieces she requires. Even throughout the clanks and other various distracting noises, she continues to funnel essence into the basin with ease.

Naysien's gifted essence wasn't particularly easy to direct, mind you, but with the basins natural inclination to absorb mana and the like...

She doesn't have to direct it. All that's required is channeling, and simply drawing upon the gifted essence from past battles is nigh second hand.

Even if the channeling, and reasons behind the bestowing of essence, come from a place of ire.

As Noel speaks up, her eyes open, and she immediately ceases the flow of dragon-essence. "Wonderful.

Anything else?"
(Lianne Naysien)
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[00:51] "Hmmmmmm," she hums, the smallest pieces beginning to shift upon her fingertips as the smith had begun to assemble the pieces. "I believe this would be all for now..." she finishes, moving to glance about the tome spread out upon the table as Noel begins the assembly.

Clockmaking was both tedious and time consuming. With gears and springs to affix into a united contraption, by no means were it a simple job.

Top that with slow intrinsic pulsations of chronomancy casted by Noel herself to add an extra layer into its creation and you had yourself an incredibly potent metaphysical aspect.

If anything, the long time of drolling would have been a perfect time for the Herald to head off into her own business. Such tedious work left only to Noel to finish. But then again, she seemed much more patient with this than other things.

Perhaps it were a sign of the importance of this to her.

With the Samurai Mythril clock hands and the final uniting Clockwork Gear placed, the hours draw to a close. An ideal clock face the size of one's palm tick an eerie tock. The oddest sensation of simply glancing upon the piece had anyone who loomed over it feel a certain unease.

As if time were wasting away just by a glance of it.

And yet... the sign of a complete product had left Noel sighing a relief. Now all that remained... was one final part of the tome.
(Noel Serpente)