Girshu looked at the storefront, and felt the heat emanating from within. The place wasn't well-isolated, a hired house for a temporary set-up, most likely. But the air inside was hot despite that, searing even. But all blacksmiths were, and Girshu needed a weapon. As much as he might need clothing and food, right now he needed a human weapon as an alternative to his claws. Something that would leave less conspicuous corpses, if the need arose.

Reluctantly, Girshu slithered forward and opened the door. HIs skin screamed in protest as he felt the radiating heat inside, but he tried to quell his discomfort and pressed forward. He pulled his cloak closer around him and up'd his cryomancy to cool the air around him. Almost immediately, a shroud of shimmering mist formed around him as the humidity began to condensate. It was still much to warm for his liking, but he could manage for a few minutes. He had to.

Girshu slithered to the counter, looking around at the wares and for the blacksmith.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Three times his hammer rang, and three times did metal fold under his tongs, each stroke carefully placed with the eagle-sharp eye of a master, designed to draw out the already thin and delicate metal. Under his guidance the glowing white material twisted and flowed like water into the shape he desired, and in his mind it rang as a beautiful melody; the twisting of steel, the sound of his hammer, the faint hiss of cooling metal against the anvil. Together it wove in his thoughts a primal symphony, a form of alchemy as a raw, ugly chunk of material was spun into a thing of delicate beauty. One final stroke, and he set aside his hammer, lifting the ring with the tongs to watch it cool in the dim light, it's illustrious glow dimming from brilliant white to gold, to red, and finally to silver wrought fine yet stained with the char of excess material and soot. It would be easily fixed, but in his eyes he already saw the beauty beneath, the gems shining in their settings like stars, the ring gracing the hand of whoever bore it as if they were a king. Perhaps he would even keep this one for himself.

He was pulled from his reverie before he could make a decision by the faint jingling of the shop bell, and a flash of annoyance lanced through him. He was loathe to abandon a project so close to completion… but the emptiness of his purse after his purchase of the wretched Imp demanded more attention than his desire for continuity. So with a sigh he set down the ring upon his anvil, whipping out a cloth from his apron to wipe his hands of soot as he walked through the heavy curtain separating the forge and the shop, his eyes immediately alighting on-

well….

That was certainly a unique sight. Miruin only batted his eyes once in surprise before moving towards the makeshift counter, gesturing to the various stock weapons he had arranged upon the wall and counter. "Good morning, has anything caught your eye? Or are you here for custom work?" He asked briskly, smile-less eyes focused on the reptilian customer like a hawk, fierce and wholly unreadable.

Hm, there's a lot of different ways to make a pointy piece of metal meant to poke or bash people with. Girshu thought to himself while looking around at all the different swords and axes. They all looked rather similar aside from size and thickness, but each probably had a completely different name and fighting style. He could already tell that he wasn't going to use the bigger ones, all the people he saw with those two-handed swords and axes looked like brutes and bandits. No, Girshu wanted something a bit more subtle and elegant, something fit for a spellcaster like him to wield. Well, certainly he could ask the smith for advice in that regard. He just had to be careful not to be exploited to buy something for more than it was worth, unaccustomed as he still was to the humans' currency system. 

Girshu looked around the store while he slithered towards the counter, careful not too scratch the floor. Rather than slithering entirely like a snake centaur would, Girshu used his tail for support while his lowest pair of arms would claw forward like a crawling zombie. Something that, with his sharp talons, left some nasty scratches on wooden floors and stone tiles alike if he wasn't careful. Outside it mattered not, but Girshu learned real quick how much more people cared for their floors when he came inside. He had to move slowly to make sure his claws would find the seams in the wood where he could pull himself forward by putting pressure on the entire board instead of just crawling forward. As such, he was still only halfway the counter when the blacksmith came to greet him.

When Girshu laid eyes on the man however, he stopped moving and immediately felt like turning around to leave the shop. 

Urgh, a firehaired. Of course it had to be a firehaired. Girshu thought. He had tried to avoid those people, their hair reminded him of flames and his people always told stories of all redheaded humanoids being mad pyromancers, so he had given them a wide berth before. Compose yourself. Those are mere tales, unfounded rumours. The odds of this elf actually having anything to do with that loathed element of fire is minimal.

Despite this, Girshu cautiously stares down the elf as he slowly crawls further to the counter. The elf put him on edge, his piercing gaze looking at Girshu almost as if he was examining Girshu's body for it's uses. For a moment Girshu convinced himself that this was definately what the elf was up to, that he had walked into a death trap. But he reminded himself that there were no weapons in the store suggesting that this smith involved himself with the barbaric adventurer tradition of killing monsters and scavenging them for body parts. There were no scalemail outfits or bone weapons made out of what were once living beings like him, just lifeless metal and leather from human cattle. Despite that, the unreadable way that the elf stared him down with made Girshu very uncomfortable. A fire almost visibly raged in those orange-red eyes of the man, not softened at all by that weird human habit of showing the teeth in a non-hostile manner. Girshu didn't respond in kind, he already knew all too well what the local response was when he 'smiled' with his sharp teeth.

Girshu licked his teeth, preparing to speak in common despite his mouth not at all fit for the language. "Good morning. I need ssomething to defend mysself with. Ssomething a bit more refined than mere clawss and lesss exhaussting than magickss. Sstock, probably, unlesss your normal waress wouldn't be up for the tassk."

"I need ssomething that can withsstand continuouss cold, for everything I carry with me is continuoussly ssub-zero. The metal and leather alike sshould be able to handle between 0 and -30 degreess celssius, with a ssudden temperature sshock to thirty-ssix degreess when it'ss plunged into a warm-blooded. Preferably with a handle that doessn't sscratch too eassily when handled by clawss. Do you have ssomething like that?" Girshu asked. "Mosst sswords break when ssuddenly tempered like that."

Girshu gestured at a scar on his arm. "When ssomeone gave me thiss one, my blood made hiss blade sshatter. I asssume the ssame would happen with any unfit blade I would wield. Sshattering bladess sseem like a wasste of time and a great danger to mysself jusst as much ass my enemiess. You know how to prevent ssomething like that?" 

If the first thing he noticed was his customer's rather… odd appearance, the second was undoubtedly the cold. It seeped into the room like a bitter wind, emanating from the creature, and Miruin was grateful that he had stopped halfway to the counter.

Cold. He loathed it. Fire raged in men's hearts, heated them from the inside, drove them to fight and love and yes ruin, but so vastly superior was that flame of emotion to the cold nothingness. Fire burned men, but it had been tamed long ago, bent to mortal usage; cold had not, it still remained an uncontrolled thing outside the hands of a select few. That lack of control, that and the simple fact he hated being cold, was what nearly made him curl his lip at the rush of frigid air that washed over him when the beast spoke. Fortunately, he kept a strict control over his face, and simply stared on in silent impassivity at the creature.

Such a weapon… at the needs of him, Miruin did indeed begin to frown, fingers tapping the wood of his counter in mild irritation. A cold-forged blade. Possible, of course, but it required him to work with coldfire and ice, and that… that grated him greatly. "No stock weapon by I or any smith can endure such a task and survive whole and sound. Naught but a custom blade will suit." He crossed his arms, eyes predatory, sharp. "It would cost you about three hundred silver at base value, a cheaper price than what you will find elsewhere." He said, tapping a finger on the counter. "Now depending on the weapon type you need that cost will rise. A battleaxe would be more than a broadsword, for example. You mentioned something refined, please, elaborate." 

Girshu finally reached the counter, staying roughly half a human step away from it and placing his upper arms behind his back similar to how he always kept his second pair. The posture always seemed to calm the warmth-cravers, probably because it obscured the claws but maybe also because of the almost regal pose it created. As much as they might fear his kind and general appearance, humans and by extend the other humanoids were always willingly vulnerable to authority and the more prestigious.

When he stopped crawling and came close enough to feel the elf's body heat however, Girshu's eyes narrowed and he almost brought his hands back forth to hurl a frost spell over the counter. Before he thought that the elf was warmer because of his previous vicinity to the forge and  the forge heat radiating behind him through the thick drapes, but that was not the case. It wasn't the case at all. Rather, this man seemed to flare up in heat when a shadow of disgust washed over his face. His eyes burned brighter and his lip shivered briefly as it happened. Girshu almost missed the latter, most people would've. But he was more than aware and accustomed to the animal's meaning for bearing one's teeth, not at all similar to humanoid laughter, and the shadow on the elf's lip creating some contrast helped too. This man hid it well enough, but he seemed to be just as fond of Girshu as Girshu was of him. And in the last few seconds, Girshu appreciation of the man had dropped even further.

His heat, his body temperature. It was more than what an elf should have. Girshu knew, he could feel it and almost see it. This man was some kind of pyromancer after all. Perhaps using his vile magicks for forging. Girshu shivered, immediately doubting to buy any weapon made by such heretic ways even if it were at a bargain price.

Fire was such a loathful element, such an unnecessary one. There was no fire where he came from, nor anything that burned.  In the polar cap of his people there was nothing like that, only ice and water. Only in the chaotic tundras beyond it, where frost goblins and human barbarians ran rampant, was there wood to burn and oil to set aflame. The flames within those emotional beings set them to savagery and ruination, rendering them incapable of building up anything greater than a generation's work. Fire was so much more problematic, a tool easily learned by flawed mortals but just as easily running amok. So much easier to burn the one wielding it, or setting their villages ablaze. Easily claimed to be tamed, until it wasn't. No, cold was clearly superior. Neither easy to obtain for those unworthy, nor running rampant when and where it shouldn't. The cold was lawful and cold was pure. Cold brought order and kept it indefinately. No decay nor destruction.

The elf tapped the counter in what was probably some human custom that Girshu hadn't learned yet, and then gave his price. For a moment Girshu's cold flared up as he heard it, immediately assuming that the elf was trying to rip him off. Certainly a weapon folded more than once or twice to work out the weaknesses that caused the blade to break when they expanded and shrunk rapidly? Or perhaps some magical enchantments? Though perhaps not. Girshu pondered, trying to gage the elf's blank stare for deceit or greed. He couldn't read anything in them, at least in regards to what he wanted to know. He had to get a better reading, play the human game of barter.

'A cusstom blade, you ssay? Even asssuming I have the time to stay in Adeluna for you to finissh it, do you truly not have a blade of the required quality in your sstock that would do the trick? If you haven't crafted an item like that before, why could you now?" Gishu said, forcing the icy cold tone in his voice to warm up to merchant tones that soothed the humanoids. "Though I can apprecsiate the thought of a weapon made sspecsifically for me, sspecsifically to withstand my cold magic. Who knowss, perhapss my frosst magic will grow even greater and render my blade even colder? Having ssomething that can withsstand ssuch a learning curve would be quite beneficsial. And you would like to know what weapon sspecsifically would ssuit me?"

Girshu looked around at the variety of weapons again. By telling what was wrong with each weapon, the smith could no doubt deduce what would be optimal.
Girshu's finger hovers over the stiletto's and daggers. "Too sshort."
The swords. "Too thick and heavy."
The hand axes. "Barbaric. Exhaussting and leaving me wide open during an attack."
The spears. "No wood. It doessn't conduct my cold that well."
A round bronze shield. "I like the filigree, but thiss sseems too blunt and clumssy for a weapon."
The tridents. "My people usse thesse. Very capable weaponss, but very difficult to learn. And I haven't."
The sabers. "Closse. Nicse weight and balancse. Though even I know that putting a curve in a ssword iss just sstupid."

Girshu turns around to watch the other side of the store's wares.

At that wash of cold, that frigid air that made his breath curl from his nostrils like the wrath of a dragon, Miruin considered tossing the lizard out of his shop silver be damned. Yet he forced his temper down, and merely regarded the creature through burning, slitted eyes, all too aware waves of irritation were barely restrained beneath his lithe movements as he waved a hand. "If you've no intent to stay in Adeluna for a day, then I suggest you leave or find such time, as I tell you thrice no stock weapon shall endure the vigors you desire." Then his eyes grew sharp. "And naught once have I said I have never made a weapon of the ilk you want. It is possible, and I have crafted something similar before."

He was not at all affected by the warmer tones of the beast, though he kept his own tongue civil and between his teeth as the lizard went through different weapons, denying each and every one, until all that was left were the rapiers and estocs. "Those are good weapons for spellcasters, though with your no doubt strength if this is the weapon you wish I will make it both durable enough to withstand your full weight behind the thrust, and of proper length to your size." He walked around the counter, loathing the coldness that only grew as he neared the creature, but he said nothing as he movedpast and took down a long rapier, testing it's weight before handing it to him hilt-first. "See first if you like the flow of this weapon, before we see about any other. A rapier is by far the cheapest type I sell, save the spear." 

"You've made a weapon like the one I sseek before? How interessting, do tell me more." Girshu said, looking at the last weapon kind he hadn't examined yet and comparing it to the weapon that the elf handed him. He didn't really see much difference between estocs and rapiers, other than the handle. He held the weapon, moved his wrist to determine its weight and balance, and then tried out a thrust.

Pretending to be absorbed by trying the weapon Girshu waited for the elf to speak, hopefully elaborating on the kind of weapon that Girshu apparently needed. Girshu tried to figure out how one used the weapon, but his head wasn't entirely in it, for he instead pondered on what the elf was trying to sell him. Cold iron, perhaps? Unlikely, for it was said that the material burned the skin of fey kind upon touch. Girshu's people knew all too well how the ice elves hated the very sight of the metal. Then again, it was said that regular iron had a similar but much milder effect on them, and this smith clearly worked a lot with the material. It might be restricted to a select few races, or this man could be a halfblood.

"And what more, you ssay that you could make it in a day? That's quite fasst, I must say. I've heard that forging a sword ussually takes a month." Girshu said. "Your processs iss not ssped up ussing pyromancsy, iss it?"

Though perhaps this elf was driving up the price because he would have to work with a material that singed his skin to the touch. Or he just did it because he disliked Girshu. It didn't matter, Girshu just had to know what this man was trying to sell him exactly so he could ask for a second opinion. Next smith he'd visit would be a dwarf. Those people could be stubborn, but at least they liked their fires contained to their forges. He might get some sass for ordering a lithe weapon like this, but a dwarf would be more pleasurable to work with.

Girshu looked at the blade closely again, seeing the cold of his body slowly creep up further and further. He smiled, and with some cryomancy the process was accelerated. The entire rapier got a shade darker and condensation began to shimmer around it as if it were magical. Girshu tried a few more thrusts, sending small puffs of cold condens a feet further than the rapier reached.

"I like thiss weapon, it ssuits me. Though I cannot tell if my technique iss good. I've only sseen people carry them. Never have I sseen ssomeone usse it, no one experiencsed at leasst. How iss one ssuppossed to usse it properly?"