@ageofkarme location: karme's workshop notes: post grandma's convo, pre-him officially moving out
From one end of the workshop to the other, this witch's forge was littered with piles of half-worked thoughts and gadgets buried so deep they might never see the light of day. Most of it just looked like junk, garbage that Polaris gingerly cleared with the toe of his boot to keep himself from tripping. As far as hordes went it left a good deal to be desired; it was deceptive at first as a mountain of gleaning metals but the tarnish at the edges and the oil smears upon closer inspection spoke volumes of the apprentice's mental state.
The request was a bit delayed, booked well over a year ago, but the snobbish woman had paid a handsome fee to have a statue of an Apprentice of Vulcan constructed. While the sculptor had been finishing a piece of the One God in Maferath, he'd returned recently to begin work on the commissions on Lysaran soil.
A pre-visit was a requirement to assess his subjects before he began: the right material needed to be chosen and that was best accomplished upon close inspection. Polaris already had a strong read on the witch's... personality, given the state of this place, but nevertheless, he needed more information.
There was some clamor and a bit of ruckus, and when Polaris turned toward the source he saw the subject in question. "Karme-" it was the closest he came in greeting humans these days, superiority coming off him in waves. "Your cousin has commissioned a sculpture of you... Your-" he assumed that Karme was aware, "attire is nonstandard."