Dietfried's Sallet Helm

[17:35] Katrin returns, back to her empty shop, sighing as shrugs off her cloak and her bow. In lieu of it she picks up all her tools and starts up the forge.

How long had it been since he'd come through? Any soul that hadn't simply wanted something made?

More importantly, did it matter?

If they were coming through for something other than a request for her talents, then it meant there was a chance they'd be coming through for something far less kind.

She takes her chances in solitude.

A sallet helm. That's what had been requested. The artificer sketches out a rough design on some coal dusted parchment. A domed top, metal draping down. Two simple eyes slits.

Then, that was the kicker, metal protrusions on the helmets interior to warp and distort sound. It wasn't the work of any master illusionist, but it would do in a pinch.
(Katrin Weiss)
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[17:40] The interior, clearly, would be the most tricky part. Even that that was not so awful.

But, first things first, she takes all the blue mercury and a few hunks of steel at her disposal. All into the crucible, that great pot, and melts them down.

She turns around back to her work table to finish finalizing her designs- charting out angles for the dome, drawing out rough sketches for the shape of the inner pieces meant for voice distortion.
(Katrin Weiss)
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[17:46] Once melted, the slurry of alloy is poured into molds, forming smaller ingots of bluesteel for her to work with. They cool, but only just so much as they might keep their shape.

The artificer lifts up the first small ingot, before it even has a chance to lose its orange tint, and begins to shape it.

She uses her notes, her drawings, as a guide, making one of the pieces to enhance voice distortion. Several more follow in the initial bar's journey until she has a pile of oddly shaped scrap. Or at least what appears as scrap.

That's what she's all about though, isn't it? Deceptive appearances.
(Katrin Weiss)
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[17:48] Once she has the scrap bits made, she starts work on the helmet proper, compressing several still-hot ingots into a larger one to give her more material to work with.

As with all her creations it's beaten, hammered flat, into something much more workable. To give the top of the helmet its dome she rounds it off carefully around the horn of her anvil.

She whistles an old Therian tune as she works. It brings her some small measure of peace and familiarity in her labor. Reminds her of her cold, distant home. The place she'd left behind some time ago.

The basic shape of the helmet is formed, save for the open back.
(Katrin Weiss)
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[17:52] Once more she turns, away from the anvil, and towards the large worktable that dominates the center of her shop space. She puts away most of her tools; her own two hands will do well enough for this, as she picks up the first of the scrap pieces.

Again, she looks to her sketches, her designs, and uses them as reference. Katrin drags her finger along the edge of one of the pieces, heating it up to a glowing, semi-molten temperature, then presses it into place in the helms interior.

It takes time to set them all into place according to her schematic, like fitting each piece into some abstract, metallic jigsaw.

Once it fits her satisfaction, or nearly enough, she closes the back of the helm in much the same way. Her fingers, channeling magmatic magic, seal together the seams and brush it flush with the rest of the metal.
(Katrin Weiss)