Post by Traveller on Feb 11, 2017 18:35:34 GMT -5
Clang-Clang-Clang!
Sparks flew as Amber continued to hammer the glowing piece of metal. Pausing for nary a second to observe her work before continuing her assault on the strip of metal. The sword was coming together nicely, and though not her specialty it would certainly be better than the sub-par crap that the other smiths were proclaiming "Works of art". Right, they were works of trash that would break in a week flat. The selection she was making, however, would be strong enough to stop the standard Marine-grade bullets.
Her hammering was almost enough to drown out the sounds of chaos in the distance. Mostly screams and gunfire, the distinct sound of fire, and the odd explosion. Which she didn't like, because they caused the ground to shake which could potentially ruin her next strike, and thus ruin the entire blade.
The blade had mostly cooled, and the shape of a saber was clear for all to see. Nodding to herself as she inspected the blade, she placed it in the large bowl of cool water, the liquid hissing and sputtering. Placing the incomplete blade on one of her worktables, she began comparing the pieces, making sure they would fit and connect properly. It all looked good, all that was needed was some refinement, cleaning and sharpening, an the final touches.
Stretching her arms above her head, her knuckles scraping on the ceiling, the young blacksmith sighed as her joints popped and her muscles were pulled pleasantly. Ugh, she needed a break. She's been working near non-stop for a week and a half, and as much as she loves her craft, she knows better than to push herself.
Going into the side room, which was the only other room and the bathroom, Amber bathed and changed quickly. Attaching her holsters for her guns, and grabbing her cannon and machine gun. She glanced at her missile launcher, wondering if she should bring it, but then shook her head. The residents of West Winchester knew better than to try and steal from her. Still, she tucked her launcher under a few floorboards just in case, and then headed out.
There was a space near the border between the East side and West side that no one visited, in the north of the island, that was perfect for training. Amber had set up from targets and light traps for whenever she needed some fresh air and to loosen up. Why would she ever bother working in such a place? Simple, the money was good and everyone knew better than to mess with someone over seven feet tall who carries enough fire-power to take down a Marine Battle Ship on her person.
Putting her cannon and machine gun, safely in their cases, down on the edge of her training ground, the young Mink-hybrid walked out into the clearing, pulled out her gun and fired at one of the trap-trigger targets. There was a telltale whirring sound, and all the targets began moving, pebbles were launched, and trip-wire would sometimes pop up from the ankle-length grass. The area was in constant motion, besides the hidden targets, and Amber grinned as she settled into her ready stance.
Then she moved. Dodging a volley of rocks, shooting a few out of the air, hitting the moving targets mid-jump, ducking away from some razor wire, and performing aerial maneuvers whilst shooting her targets and anything she couldn't immediately dodge. The grin never leaving her face. Oh, this was fun! Now all she needed was a decent fighting partner. But the only way that would happen is if some Marines came to West side and stumbled upon her, and stupidly decided to pick a fight.
Alas, she was rarely so lucky.
Sparks flew as Amber continued to hammer the glowing piece of metal. Pausing for nary a second to observe her work before continuing her assault on the strip of metal. The sword was coming together nicely, and though not her specialty it would certainly be better than the sub-par crap that the other smiths were proclaiming "Works of art". Right, they were works of trash that would break in a week flat. The selection she was making, however, would be strong enough to stop the standard Marine-grade bullets.
Her hammering was almost enough to drown out the sounds of chaos in the distance. Mostly screams and gunfire, the distinct sound of fire, and the odd explosion. Which she didn't like, because they caused the ground to shake which could potentially ruin her next strike, and thus ruin the entire blade.
The blade had mostly cooled, and the shape of a saber was clear for all to see. Nodding to herself as she inspected the blade, she placed it in the large bowl of cool water, the liquid hissing and sputtering. Placing the incomplete blade on one of her worktables, she began comparing the pieces, making sure they would fit and connect properly. It all looked good, all that was needed was some refinement, cleaning and sharpening, an the final touches.
Stretching her arms above her head, her knuckles scraping on the ceiling, the young blacksmith sighed as her joints popped and her muscles were pulled pleasantly. Ugh, she needed a break. She's been working near non-stop for a week and a half, and as much as she loves her craft, she knows better than to push herself.
Going into the side room, which was the only other room and the bathroom, Amber bathed and changed quickly. Attaching her holsters for her guns, and grabbing her cannon and machine gun. She glanced at her missile launcher, wondering if she should bring it, but then shook her head. The residents of West Winchester knew better than to try and steal from her. Still, she tucked her launcher under a few floorboards just in case, and then headed out.
There was a space near the border between the East side and West side that no one visited, in the north of the island, that was perfect for training. Amber had set up from targets and light traps for whenever she needed some fresh air and to loosen up. Why would she ever bother working in such a place? Simple, the money was good and everyone knew better than to mess with someone over seven feet tall who carries enough fire-power to take down a Marine Battle Ship on her person.
Putting her cannon and machine gun, safely in their cases, down on the edge of her training ground, the young Mink-hybrid walked out into the clearing, pulled out her gun and fired at one of the trap-trigger targets. There was a telltale whirring sound, and all the targets began moving, pebbles were launched, and trip-wire would sometimes pop up from the ankle-length grass. The area was in constant motion, besides the hidden targets, and Amber grinned as she settled into her ready stance.
Then she moved. Dodging a volley of rocks, shooting a few out of the air, hitting the moving targets mid-jump, ducking away from some razor wire, and performing aerial maneuvers whilst shooting her targets and anything she couldn't immediately dodge. The grin never leaving her face. Oh, this was fun! Now all she needed was a decent fighting partner. But the only way that would happen is if some Marines came to West side and stumbled upon her, and stupidly decided to pick a fight.
Alas, she was rarely so lucky.