Author's Note: I know this chapter is shorter than the others, but it had a good ending were it did. I took great delight in fleshing out Cutter's character, she made a very good subject for it. The next chapter will be longer, I assure you.
Chapter 20: Cutter of Madness
The Bosmer was remarkably helpful, ironically, giving her directions so precise he might as well be a tour guide. They were also so short it made her feel like an imbecile. Apparently, she wasn't far from her destination when her patience ran out.
So, feeling guilty for having assaulted the diminutive elf, Siena bought one of his sticks, handing over a piece of the gold she'd confiscated from the Grummites. The look of pure delight on the Bosmer's face looked out of place in Crucible, but cheered Siena nonetheless. That's one good thing in Crucible. If only one.
She was merely a jump down from the next ledge, first stair on the left, down the small colonnade, with the door on the left, away from her destination. She was careful to wait until she was out of the Woodelf's sight to discard the stick. She didn't want to sadden the one person in Crucible with a genuine, untainted smile. Her own small grin at this discovery collapsed when she realized the door was right next to the very street she had walked along, when she had been so enraptured by that hideous door. Typical.
'Cutter's Weapons' read the Hunger-held sign that ran parallel with a wall. Of course, it would have been far too sensible for it to have stuck out in the street like all the others. Breathing deeply and collecting herself, Siena finally entered the blacksmith shop.
There was a stone ledger table to her right, complete with a scroll box and quills, and bookcase behind it. To her left were two windows of clear cleaned glass holding something, with a table and chair between them. The forge, and its master, were on the other side of the room. All of it was lit with a ring of those snake-head torches from outside, only these burned with proper colored flames. Even though two arched windows were present on the wall to her right, their dingy yellowed glass kept the sunlight at bay and left only the flickering fires for lighting.
As Siena closed the door behind her and approached the steps leading to the forge landing, a sharp tang reached her nose, a scent she had not yet dealt with in Crucible. She looked down and grimaced. Pools of blood stained the cobblestone floor, some fresher –or larger- than others. More blood was on the wooden workbench next to one of the windows.
"I have the sharpest blades." A female voice whispered into Siena's left ear. It was soft, sensuous, drawing the syllables of each word out with a slow deliberateness that made her think of a torturer holding onto the wicked suspense as he prepares his equipment. It made a chill creep up her spine that momentarily froze her.
Siena felt a soft pressure along her lower back, ringing gently against the chainmail. She whirled, bringing one of the stone daggers up to hold against the attacker's throat.
But it wasn't to be, as the woman in question stepped back with a sinister grin, holding an iron dagger at Siena and her other arm bent before her as if to protect herself. She moved like her voice as they circled each other, stopping when the woman's feet were in the puddle of blood. She was clothed very plainly, in a ragged skirt and a patchwork leather shirt that covered up to her elbows, revealing many scars and fresh cuts on her pale forearms. She was a thin Bosmeri woman with jet black hair and angular face, with sunken cheeks. Her thin red lips and black eye shadow gave her visage a creepy, murderous look.
"What have you done with the blacksmith?" Siena demanded, keeping the dagger pointed at the elf.
"I am the blacksmith." The Bosmer replied softer than before, barely a whisper, still grinning. "I test them out on myself before I put them on sale." She explained with a hint of delight. Siena held her ground, not even balking. That did explain the scars, and the blood.
"They call me Cutter." Cutter emphasized her name, seeming to take great delight in it. "I can sharpen any blade you give me, until it can cut through flesh like warm, soft butter." An eerie glaze came over her eyes that sent another chill down Siena's spine. The smith recovered from her fighting stance, holding up her dagger like one might a finger when making a point.
"But for a truly inspired blade, I can forge Madness Ore!" Even as her voice rose the highest yet, it still sounded soft. She walked over to the ledger table, opening the scroll box to remove a parchment. "Here. Hold onto this parchment. It lists what I need."
This… could be useful. Siena thought as she cautiously took the parchment, looking it over while Cutter began to absently spin her dagger. "Ok… What is Madness Ore?"
"Spirits of ancient souls are trapped in the ore." Cutter stated with an almost lustful tone. "Find it in old ruins. Also, Grummites are especially attracted to it."
"Oh!" Recognition dawned on Siena, and she pulled the two conical, ebony spikes of mineral out of her belt pouch. "Is this it?"
"Yes," Cutter hissed the words with desire plain upon her face, taking the heavy ore from Siena and holding it like one would a child. There was a flash of hunger in her eyes. "It's a supple and flexible ore. Yet it holds a good edge. I can shape the sharpest of blades from it." She looked to Siena now with a less sinister, giddier smirk. But she still had the look of a viper to her. "I can also create magical items."
Magical items? That could be useful against Sheogorath. "How?" Siena asked curtly.
"Tradition dictates that before each master smith dies, she hides these magical molds in the world." Cutter told her, bringing the iron dagger to her left hand. She sliced deftly across her palm, leaving a thin line of crimson. "Like pouring salt into a wound." She purred. Siena failed to see the similarities, but watched with derision, transfixed on the blood dripping from the open palm.
"Over time they soak in magical energies from the world around them." Cutter looked at the Dunmer, a wicked smirk crossing her face once more, delighting in Siena's repulsion. "Like you suck blood from a cut." She put more emphasis than Siena thought necessary on 'suck', raising her palm to her face and giving it a slow, lecherous lick.
"Bring me a matrix and enough Ore, and I will forge you a new item and bleed-" Cutter closed her fist, letting the swelling blood drip onto the floor, "-the magic of the matrix into it." Cutter glanced at Siena, relishing in her reaction.
Siena watched the blood drip, her own blood red eyes catching the reflection in the firelight through her glasses. This woman suddenly reminded her of Relmyna, causing her to shudder. She shook the thought harshly from her mind. Cutter had one redeeming quality; she hadn't threatened Siena yet.
"What shall I forge for you?" Cutter asked, snapping Siena from her broodings. She looked quickly at the parchment, and noted with some satisfaction that bows could be made from Madness Ore as well, and with two pieces no less!
"I need a bow. And some decent arrows." Siena added, remembering the crap hanging off her back.
"I can make a bow from these two. But arrows would require a third. I do have some steel arrows available." Cutter answered. "They are very sharp."
"I bet they are… How long will it take to make the bow?" Siena changed the subject quickly. She had about enough masochistic talk for one day.
"Oh, only a half a day or so. I can get to work right now, and have it ready to string by nightfall." Cutter picked up the Madness Ore pieces again, staring at them lovingly. "I do delicate things with Madness Ore." She purred. "It tingles across the flesh when it cuts."
"Okay… Well then, I will be back to pick it up when you are finished." Siena began to step back slowly, eager to escape now that the business was complete.
"Do leave your quiver of arrows when you go. I will replace them with steel. In exchange for the chance to test their sharpness." Cutter remarked listlessly, sauntering over to the forge with the Madness Ore cradled in her arms. "I long to feel the bite of a Grummite edge." She cooed.
Siena was all too happy to oblige.