pillar, creating the base

[06:34] A nod returned to his sister as he draws himself awake. He'd slept earlier for a period, enabling him the energy now.

"Where are we working on it?" such a large scale project had never been attempted by the younger Serpente.
(Mavrum Serpente)
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[06:41] Onwards did fate bring forth the nearing conclusion of their long-winded march to the Den-Mother's icy clamor. One that would soon provide Naysien's will in a powerful unveiling.

"Hmmm, well. Well... as early as possible really, y'know?" Her answer was swift, only a moment of hesitation as if to read the room was left behind. "We'll be needin' as many hands as we can get for this."

"Which, speakin' of..."

From her heel, the form of the Forgemaster swivels with a graceful poise as the back of the woman soon is replaced by her languid countenance. "We will be needin' a little bit of help on this. What say everyone who's available come. We will build upon the skeleton of our grandest project yet."

Her gaze falls upon the trio behind her, piqued to pull them into a moment of assistance. And, by her demeanor, it would seem as if no was not the answer.
(Noel Serpente)
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[06:50] No was in fact not the answer.

Drawing off his cloak, Mavrum starts to prepare himself for what was going to be an inevitably long day of construction and work. Of which the Ebonblooded spire complete.

Having now regained senses from the journey through space and time, he waits in silence for the beginning of the end.
(Mavrum Serpente)
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[06:53] There's little in the way of a response with thorough elaboration. Nary more than a stern and listless nod is therewith returned to the forgemaster once she does request his aid.

The steps left are scarce, and he makes no attempt to delay them further. Perhaps driven by sole piety, Ferris bestows some more proper recognition to Noel.

"I'm unsure of how I'll be of use to you." The molten patriarch returns, loosening his shoulders with a faint roll. "But I'll gladly put my hands to labor if I'm needed."
(Ferris Naysien)
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[07:04] "My dear Ferris," she hums, "To the eyes of Naysien, no dragon is of no use." Words ringing unbridled devotion; a purpose unwaivering, keeping onwards with its march.

Only then would the beckoning gestures of the chronomancer bring forth her collected helping-hands into the nearby outskirts of the looming and imposing silhouette of the black dragon's tower.

An open space, wide and muffled only by snow and rubble. A space she had long had cleared out, prepared for priming.

"Our goal today is simple," she announced, her tome slowly being unveiled—scanning through what was about to be done.

A finger extends from the ruffling of pages, poised to a specific part of the center of the clearing. "Today... we will be creatin' our obelisk's base," she announced.

The long awaited missive to create a monument of piety. "We will creating it out of dragon-made obsidian, a material dense and hardyenough to warrant as a powerful vessel for... what it will hold."

"Ferris, this is where your expertise on the flow of magma comes on. And to Mavrum, your expertise on water's flow. Two opposites to make somethin' entirely new..." Slowly, her hands wave, as if tracing the shape of the very slab they were to make. "A large plume of magma, only to be doused by water and winds to solidify it... that's the goal today."
(Noel Serpente)
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[07:24] There's little in their way up the mountain, other than the oft seen oppressive blizzards fanning sideways into sure deadly drops. It was not unusual to see men frozen solid along the trot up to the highlands, far less so during particularly dismal winters such as 1878's own.

In the clearing, just by the gravely walls to the path to Theria, they come to a halt. Wherein he heeds to Noel's instruction with a distinct lack of facial decoration, only to direct a pale glance to Mavrum just afterwards.

"Obsidian..." He echoes scarcely, eyes half lidded in his ponder. "Many of the Coat's most imposing weapons and crafts have been furbished from that mighty mineral.

Allium's spear for one." That onyx rod may be an easy tell to many of the dragons throughout the tundra. Ferris knows little of proper artificery, though his knowledge of history far makes up for it. A true studious of the texts and tenets, if there was one.

A thin smile forms. "It has nullifying qualities, doesn't it? An inherent ability to swat off magic, or pierce through it." The Neutralizer had its name for a reason. "I can see why you'd want to build the obelisk's skeleton with it."

Through a languid and confident stride, Ferris' wings of nigh metallic ebony unfold, the upraise of his nigh bestial dragonic qualities in full display.

"Mavrum." The dragonlord's baritone calls, whilst he nears the face of the stony wall and embeds a clawed hand into gravel through the thickness of it.

"A liter of molten rock is only about enough to make an ounce of mineral.

You'll have to keep up with the rate at which I jet it out of the mountain's core."

He clearly didn't plan to spend the whole evening there.
(Ferris Naysien)
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[07:33] Granted direction under the Forgemaster's direction, they come out to the snowy clearing. The cool winds of Mount Tarian filtering onto the area nicely.

The overbearing, imposing figure of Ferris Naysien is the natural leader in this endeavor, given his use of magics and their role within creating this obsidian-base. Lips eventually part after an architecture's survey is given to the area they were working with.. and locating the lake nearby, a source is given so the Serpente can keep up with the Naysien's overpowering magical essence.

"It seems I will," hands claw, fingers splayed as cold air twists around his figure. The dragon blood that coursed his veins did not yet result in wings but it had given him a natural potency over Naysien's frost.

"I'm ready when you both are, Ferris, Noel," he replies, the river nearby begins to shake and ripple, the frozen layer over the top of the water cracking. The frigid waterunderneath that Mavrum manipulated ready to be used for their Obelisk.
(Mavrum Serpente)
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[07:48] Many akin to the craft of Theria seems to have been inherently drawn to the onyx material. Its hardy and sharp form paired with its inherent ability to consume magic as a means of nullification had been a potentially ideal vessel for what they were to achieve.

"It'll be of use to use as not only can we make it in abundance, but it'll be pretty useful down the line for the design this thing'll have." Already, the preplanned nature of what was to come is upheld to a notable degree.

"I'll be helping as I can," she assured, "I'll cool as much of the left overs around the form as I can; among other things. I'll try to shape the thing too so it'll be exactly how we need it to be."

She hums, "Or, at least it'll make chiseling it into shape easier, y'know?"

Winds pick up, coalescing upon her palms as a means of collection and preparation. Pair such with rifts as they are slowly conjured, the distant breeze of an Essharan coast signifying an alternate source of water if the need arises.

In moments, the brisk cold would find itself under a combatted presence. Their work finding purchase into existence. With her own guiding hand, she exposes aid to the best of her abilities.

"On Ferris' first move, we jump. Give us a count down when y'do."
(Noel Serpente)
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[08:07] After receiving confirmation, and without much fanfare, Ferris nods along once to the instructions the Forgemaster bestows upon them both. And after a single hollow intake of air, he immerses himself in an instant's worth of meditation.

With his claw still deeply embedded into the side of the mountain, the young dragonlord partakes in an instant's worth of reminiscence. The months he spent buried within the tunnel systems of the mountain, come the siege of undead upon the Coat and taking of Balmung, fighting off stray skeletons and underdwelling monsters to survive, ring throughout his psyche.

He saw them then, saw nearly all of them. The molten channels that sprung out like branches... from the core of the hallowed mountains' very heart and out to each of its extremities. He'd only need to tap into one of these strings, draw it out by himself.

Like a murmur, Ferris' tectonic sensibilities spread throughout the innermost layers of the mountainside, latching these vibrations around the nearest tendril of bubbling hot quartz and metal.

"Be ready." He bellows, whilst the mark of the avenger lights up in its trademark ocher. Following this, and with the strenuous flexing of his entire figure forward, these runic embeddings stretch forth - not throughout him or the pillar alone, but the very side of the mount itself... practically making out of the clearing's wall an embedded piece of glowing history.

Claws dig deep in tug, not simply pulling out gravel itself, but driving the currents of blazing rock out of the very core of the summit.

It practically cascades out, breaking the seal-like spread of his lightened and Naysien-touched scars. A scorching tide that melts snow aplenty, engulfing the dragonlord whole and creating a faux-eruption, it waterfalls out overbearingly.

From within the falling sea of active pumice, he cries out.

"JUMP!"
(Ferris Naysien)
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[08:17] Hearing out his sister's words, the drakanite finds the answer sufficient. Cold winds brought from both the nearby mountain peak and her own rifts gives the environment the perfect setting for their work.

Thus, it is only natural Mavrum seeks to do his best in his own part.

To Ensure Naysien's Will Enacted.

There's no count down like Noel requests, instead only the yell as the prideful dragon king draws out molten lava in great measurements. Overtaking the snow and submerging the area within this thick, bubbling liquid. That moves more like sludge due to the sheer density of such liquid fire.

A jump is made with no waste of haste. The cold water that Mavrum commands is flushed out. A pond not adequate to describe the water moved. More akin to some sort of flood. The instant liquid ice meets liquid fire, steam rises and hazy white streams rise.

There is little that Mavrum can make out as he comfortably sits within the air. The river pours in all that it can to meet the ever-cascading amount of magma Ferris draws from the mountain.

.. But what they were doing underneath the shroud of elements was making dragon-forged obsidian.. fit for the base of their ebonblooded spire.
(Mavrum Serpente)
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[08:28] Amidst the sudden deluge of action between the three of them, the pouncing onto the plume of molten magma was swift and calculated.

Through the gushing force of the Dragoon's sheer mastery over the magmatic flow of the earth does the first piece of the puzzle is set in place. The radiating heat melts snow and ice; the fizzling evaporation turning into misty steam, the telltale signs of immense heat.

Such would be followed through by her brother's own barrage of aquatic rejuvenation. The icy stream of cold clashes with the hot as blistering pops erodes and reacts exactly how two clashing temperatures would.

And in her own way, Noel ebbs and touches upon the task at hand.

Through rifts would further water spew out. An increased flow that rotates amidst the eruption sends forth seawater. "This... keep the shape goin'."

Furthermore, a finger motions upon her practiced contortions as the graceful motions of the dragon dancer remains poised. Much like her movements, the winds dance with her, rising and falling with a purposed vibrato as they curve and push upon the gushing and hardening lava; positioning it into an ideal pose for chiseling later down the line.

It was in this triumphant trio's combined efforts that the first mark of the obsidian obelisk be made. A towering monolith that practically reaches out for the stars, yet remains embedded deeply into the earth as the piece begins to take shape.

She steps back, marveling at the rough yet befitting base for the obelisk. "Such a perfect place to begin. I can already feel her presence bleeding stronger and stronger into this world." Her hand rises to gesture upon the tower, motioned at it as if to offer praise that their work.
(Noel Serpente)
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[08:46] Hardened scales create a misty aspect of oil between the magmatic waves and Ferris' truer skin, an upper hide of mana that refuses to give into the burns.

He knew this heat too well by now, and though it may sting or pain him, it too inspired a surplus of passion driven power to overtake him in the operation.

Though they create a mostly equal dance of streams, Ferris takes the opportunity to disturb their polarly opposite ratios and pushes just a bit more of magma out, threatening the balance of the operation some in an attempt to test Mavrum through it.

"Don't let up." He continues, hoping he'd step up to his standards some.

In the swapping currents, obsidian forms in bizarrely uneven shapes, likely to be harnessed by a proper forgemaster. An uncontrolled environment, as if forces of nature themselves were creating the prized ore, and these magi were no more than guiding actors.
(Ferris Naysien)
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[08:54] The younger of the two Serpente's can't control his magic as gracefully as his older sibling. The rush of freezing aqua is erratic, almost like ice.

By now Mavrum lands off to the side, continuing to channel what he can. The seawater gushes in, Noel's aid is not only appreciated but needed as Ferris controls the entire well of magma beneath the mountain.

A smirk twists lips and mars his countenance as Ferris applies more. No doubt it'd lead to a slightly more uneven shape but to have perfection in measurements was not ideal. This would be a crude, ugly thing but powerful all the same like dragons.

"Hn.. there," calling upon the last reservoirs of his mana, he matches Ferris' flow for a little while. The frigid H20 meets balsaltic.

And breathing hard, eventually the younger draconian male would succumb to exhaustion first but not without doing his part in trying to make both his sister and the older dragon patriarch satisfied and perhaps proud of the monolith they create.
(Mavrum Serpente)
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[09:03] It was here. The shape that would one day take up the role of their grandest monument to Naysien.

"This... this'll do for a beginnin'." She announced, her appraisal already beginning to run through the overarching presence of the obelisk.

A hand almost reaches out, inclined to grace her fingertips upon the monolith's shape, only to retract as the first graze would befall its form. "It's a lil rough around the edges, but hey, we'll workshop that at a later time, yeah?"

She will have to grasp it at a later time, yet for now, they are spent. Exposing this much elemental magic into one action surely was no point of ease.

"I'll have the other smiths around the tower help with the chiselin'. But, for now..." She offers an appreciative nod to the duo by her side. Surely, without them, this was an impossible task. "...you two have my thanks. Naysien will remember our actions today—forever."
(Noel Serpente)
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[09:09] With a firm twist of his wrist, the stony wall of the mountainside seals itself shut, every rock and piece of cobble in the vicinity spiraling in order to seal a strand of molten substance's sloping.

The stream diminishes progressively, until it's no more than a string's width, and instead leaves a brimstone covered dragoon to sluggishly huff out in the aftermath. Though he's fairly well cooked on the outside, it's hardly anything that a nice shedding of skin can't deal with. Non-lasting.

The atmosphere's temperature however has risen to that of a scorching summer. The dense moisture of steam bearing some asphyxiating quality to it.

Turning on his heel, he guns straight for Mavrum and picks him up from his collar, as if it were a scruff. "Ah - well, he endured." Otherwise, the whole operation may have been compromised. Rather effortlessly, he readies to carry his succumbed junior down the side of the mountain.

"Mm. I've little doubt in my mind that she'd do anything but." Quick scrutiny of the rough obsidian is made by the champion. A fascinating sight, though his admiration is fleeting.

"Let's head back down. He likely is in need of cooler air."
(Ferris Naysien)
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[09:15] A little rough around the edges. Naysien no doubt satisfied or at the least, sated with the work. Picked up by his collar, the youngest of the trio is out.

Eyes lid, skin not as durable as the patriarch. Unable to endure the riffraff fumes of colliding polar opposite elements.

The river aside was largely drained, and the snow covering this open area was largely barren.. for now.

Once they reached the lower chambers and closer to the Ebonblooded home, he'd no doubt wake.
(Mavrum Serpente)
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