<div class="floatright"><div align="center">(http://puu.sh/dqujE.jpg)<br/><em>Magnus Verrier (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=219616.msg10802075#msg10802075)</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong>Race:</strong> Human   <strong>Class:</strong> Swashbuckler<br/><strong>HP</strong>: 16/16  <strong>AC:</strong> 19 <strong>Initiative:</strong> +4<br/><strong>Charmed Life:</strong> 3/3 <strong>Panache:</strong> 4/4<br/><strong>Perception</strong>: +4 <strong>Sense Motive</strong>: +4 <strong> Saves</strong>: +2/+7/+0 <br/><strong>Effects:</strong>  None</div><hr/></div><br/>The hiss of red-hot steel meeting cold water resounded in the stall, accompanied by the constant sound of metal clanging against metal.<br/><br/>"Good," a deep voice commented, slightly hoarse from the dry air in the forge. "Now that it's quenched, carefully pull it out, then get right to tempering. This needs to be done quickly."<br/><br/>The man who had spoken was Magnus Verrier. A tall individual, with a wiry build that made him look more an athlete than the skilled smith he was. He brushed through his hair briefly and sighed. His expression was fluctuating, or rather slipping: growing boredom and the desire to pay attention to what the apprentice in front of him was doing were warring for a place on his face. The former was rapidly winning.<br/><br/>It was only natural. His heart was that of a craftsman: instructing apprentices on how to speedily build swords to meet the minimum requirements a wielder might have for their weapon was against his nature. It was an artless endeavour that dulled his spirit and that meant he had less time to dedicate to improving his own work. It did, however, provide the gold he direly needed to feed his remaining family - his siblings and widowed mother.<br/><br/>He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned forward to watch the youth put the sword-shaped metal into the second forge. It was a smaller one burning at lower temperatures, specifically used for tempering -- some smiths considered that a luxury, but to build a large quantity of weapons in little time one couldn't afford to constantly lower and raise the temperature.<br/><br/>The boy was doing well at this point, but he had already ruined a number of attempts, so Magnus intended to supervise him closely -- but just as he was about to speak up again, he heard someone call his name.<br/><br/>A moment later, he had thrown his coat back on and fastening the cape he usually liked to wear with it onto its buttons, hastily stepping towards the office of one Larsen. He doubted that whatever concern he was called in for related to some proper smithwork, but perhaps it would alleviate his frustration.<br/><br/>----<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Knowledge Roll</div><div class="spoiler_body">At 2015-01-07 00:59:15, Magnus (uid: 38603) rolls: 1d20a6 Result: 20 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=70050)</div></div><br/>----<br/><br/>Magnus stepped through the door, breath slightly fastened for having rushed over. He gave an obligatory knock onto the doorframe as a mark of respect, then stepped in to join the others. Their presence evoked a curious frown, uncertain what sort of business might call for so many of them -- and, looking across the faces assembled, it was plain to see that they were surely the most eccentric individuals working with Larsen. The sword smith himself being no exception.<br/><br/>Some of them he knew better than others and he gave a quick nod to Flynn, briefly scratched the back of his head as he indicated a bow towards Kasmira - to his credit he didn't blush easily, though he usually looked a bit flustered in her presence - then gave the others a brief smile before he focused on the man who had spoken as he stumbled in and hastily voiced: "My apologies. I came as soon as I could."<br/>