It wasn't as if Theodora needed the money, hell, her retainer was enough to keep her comfortable, and since her parent's murder, she barely, if ever, came back to Kirkwall proper to set up a stall. But needs dictated that she get her name out there with some of her more, unique, skills. After all, what good was being a dwarf, and a mechanic, a dwarven mechanic, if she did use her skills to attempt to attract an apprentice, even if she was certain she was going to have a certain half-elf in her home once a day trying to learn the ins and outs, or, to make more money.
More money meant that she didn't have to go out as a mercenary any more. More money meant that she could be very comfortable staying home in her little cottage a little ways from the northern gate -- the one that opened towards Sundermount, there in the mountain's shadow she made mechanical birds that sang along with music boxes by keys turned, wearable time keepers, as long as one matched it to the noon-day sun properly, small chimes that could be triggered by a button somewhere else in a house, without a string, a massive contraption of spinning gears and parts that make most's head spin. But she also had more practical wares too -- repeating crossbows that didn't require being re-cranked between shots, and fine ceremonial blades that were engraved with delicate scroll and lace work. No jewelry maker she made things to delight, or to kill, there was nothing for personal adornment in her stall, there in Lowtown.
She didn't show any sign that she knew someone had come into the stall, as she hunched over a piece of work, a hand file gently taking bits of metal off what looked like a coin. Hammered flat earlier that morning, she had already etched where she would need to saw away to make the gear that was missing from the music box there on her makeshift work bench. Hair tied up behind her hair in a tight bun, her magnifying glasses slid down her nose, as she swiped the file along the edge two more times before lifting it to the light and checking.
@tansyuduri
More money meant that she didn't have to go out as a mercenary any more. More money meant that she could be very comfortable staying home in her little cottage a little ways from the northern gate -- the one that opened towards Sundermount, there in the mountain's shadow she made mechanical birds that sang along with music boxes by keys turned, wearable time keepers, as long as one matched it to the noon-day sun properly, small chimes that could be triggered by a button somewhere else in a house, without a string, a massive contraption of spinning gears and parts that make most's head spin. But she also had more practical wares too -- repeating crossbows that didn't require being re-cranked between shots, and fine ceremonial blades that were engraved with delicate scroll and lace work. No jewelry maker she made things to delight, or to kill, there was nothing for personal adornment in her stall, there in Lowtown.
She didn't show any sign that she knew someone had come into the stall, as she hunched over a piece of work, a hand file gently taking bits of metal off what looked like a coin. Hammered flat earlier that morning, she had already etched where she would need to saw away to make the gear that was missing from the music box there on her makeshift work bench. Hair tied up behind her hair in a tight bun, her magnifying glasses slid down her nose, as she swiped the file along the edge two more times before lifting it to the light and checking.
Be with ya in a moment.She moved the file two more times, picked the coin up off the bench, blew on it, and then admired it once, before putting it back down and slipping her magnifying glasses off, blinking at the return of her distance vision.
Alright then, how can I help ya?
@tansyuduri
07-21-2024, 07:15 PM
