[center][img]https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/vsbattles/images/b/b6/Artorias_Render.png[/img]
[b][color=376877]Wordage:[/color][/b] [i]879 words (+2 points)[/i]
[b][color=376877]Experience:[/color][/b] [i]6/10 EXP[/i]
[b][color=376877]Location:[/color][/b] [i]Habbo Hotel ➡ Terminal Cafe[/i]
[sup][b][u][color=376877]Interaction[/color][/u][/b][/sup]
[sup]Rubick's [@Scarifar], Bowser & Co's [@DracoLunaris], Nadia's [@Lugubrious], Ichiban's [@TruthHurts22], Therion and Primrose's [@Yankee][/sup][/center]

Though the cobbled avenues and canal-ridden byways of this city were alien to Artorias, the familiar racket eventually coaxed him to a somber section of the Home of Tears' western district: Grave Boulevard. It couldn't be said that the undead 'lived' here, but zombies, skeletons, and ghosts did seem common here; if you lacked a pulse and weren't out haunting the Milk Bar -strategically placed between Grave Boulevard and the Cat Towers-  or the Terminal cafe, this was the place to be.

When Artorias found the source of the clamor it seemed less like a run-of-the-mill smithy and more like a crumbling mausoleum, to put it charitably. There, the skeletal blacksmith [url=http://i0.wp.com/v1cdn.destructoid.com/BlacksmithVamos-noscale.jpg?resize=640%2C360&ssl=1]Vamos[/url] toiled away, his ancient-looking forge alight with the eerie glow of an unnatural green flame. Vamos barely looked up when Artorias approached. Knights were a common sight around smiths, and he hardly needed to petition them for their patronage, even if he was the chatty type. Instead he kept banging away, shaping the serrated swordblade of a flamberge into shape before dousing the metal in oil.

Beforehand as he stalked the sound of metal against metal through the narrow walkways leading to the mausoleum, Artorias  held his sword tight like the knight were about to go into combat. So accustomed now to finding enemies at every corner did the lack of hostility caused him a certain amount of unease. Until he set foot within the darkened barrow of the smithy did the Knight Artorias loosen a grip upon his greatsword, resting by it's flat on his shoulder.

Artorias was visibly exhausted, his armor ragged and as he spoke up to the skeletal smith he sounded as though he hadn't used his voice in some time "[color=376877]Thou seemst quite adept with the hammer...What is thy name?[/color]" the knight said after the stranger dipped the blade he was working on in the trough by his side.

Without looking up from his work, the blacksmith replied. "Vamos." He then moved away from the anvil with the steaming blade to lay it to rest on a workbench, then took a prepared wooden handle and a chisel in his bony fingers to chip out a hollow into it for the insertion of the blade's tang.

Most blacksmiths were alike in the way that they were seldom spoken when they were working in the forge, thus the towering knight took no slight at the curtness of Vamos' demeanor he simply nodded before speaking again "[color=376877]Artorias.[/color]" the knight said in simple greeting with a slight inclination of his back in what could be considered a bow "[color=376877]My blade is dull, and dirty with the blood of vermin. My eyes aren't as keen as they once were, what dost thou makest of the state of my weapon?[/color]" the knight presented his mighty blade to the skeletal blacksmith to look upon.

To the weapon's credit, Vamos allowed his eye sockets to linger on it longer than he would have for most weapons. "It'll kill well enough," he remarked simply. The more Artorias heard his voice, the stranger it sounded, with a bizarre, almost crushed reverberation to it. "Can't infuse it. But I can repair it if you need, or refine it if you've got the titanite," he added, his lack of concern for the blade's artistry increasingly apparent.

"[color=376877]If I had a shard to spare blacksmith,[/color]" the knight said shaking his head "[color=376877]Dost thou knowest where one might find some?[/color]" Artorias rested his weapon once more upon his shoulders.

"I can sell shards for 200 hundred apiece," Vamos mentioned. "Other than that? A cave somewhere, I imagine."

"[color=376877]And what for the repair of such a blade?[/color]" Artorias asked, maybe if he had the souls to spare he could pay the blacksmith to repair his weapon.

Almost begrudgingly, Vamos took another look at the greatsword to ascertain its exact durability. After so much action without proper service, it had seen better days. "Three fifty," he declared after a moment.

The knight stood for a brief moment in silence, his breathing the only sound that escaped from beneath his hood until he grunted "[color=376877]I shalt be back when I hath the funds to profer to thee.[/color]" Artorias turned to leave, armor clattering as he went about exiting Vamos' smithy "[color=376877]Farewell for now, blacksmith.[/color]" he bid the undead fellow goodbye, not expecting much more than a grunt in return as he left. And stepped back into the streets where water fell from up above.

Alone, or rather the only one with a faint pulse within the narrow pathway of the Grave Boulevard; Artorias' boots carried him westward through the streets of the city, wondering where he was going and even if it mattered. Had the Magus told these Seekers of him? He hadn't even told him where he would be going after leaving him in the hotel lobby. Though he ended up winding his way towards what looked like a lively place though the individuals there mostly seemed anything but alive, where he found a familiar face.

"[color=376877]Hmph,[/color]" he said as he approached Rubick and the strangers he accompanied ignoring a server who attempted to bar him though as the knight met the undead gaze they shrunk back "[color=376877]Greetings to you Magus...And present company.[/color]" the knight though his tone was not unpleasant he sounded a bit aggressive around so many people, the knight wasn't used to crowded places.