"Demon Oil" as it was called....
When the Wamuro Clan was alive, this was the name of a rare oil used on the family blade to keep it clean, and calm the demon within it. A mixture of fat extracts, plant matter, and the ground up bone of a dead Jashinist, creating this oil takes weeks of effort. This paired with the extremely hard to come by materials leads to this oil costing more than some people make in a year.
But, luckily, Amaya was more or less covered. Her entire family's estate was given to a skilled creator of the oil in exchange for it being made for her every month.
That's what she was here for, after all. She stands in front of the oil-maker with her arms crossed as he finishes bottling her needed substance. "Thank you." Amaya says plainly as she accepts the glass vial of crimson oil. "Not a problem, lass. Least I could do...the misses and the yungin' say hello." The oil maker says, giving a toothy grin. He was in his thirties, give or take, with a plain haircut and beard with sunkissed tan skin.
"Good to hear they're doing fine. Tell them I said hello as well, old man." Amaya says with a casual wave as she begins the long walk back to Suna....she had to apply this oil on her weapon at some point soon. The process was always a long one- having to run a whetstone along the blade once followed by rubbing the shaved edge with a cloth soaked in this special oil. A tradition kept in her late family since their dawn...and one that would last until either Amaya or the blade were no more.
[MFT: 287 wc]
When the Wamuro Clan was alive, this was the name of a rare oil used on the family blade to keep it clean, and calm the demon within it. A mixture of fat extracts, plant matter, and the ground up bone of a dead Jashinist, creating this oil takes weeks of effort. This paired with the extremely hard to come by materials leads to this oil costing more than some people make in a year.
But, luckily, Amaya was more or less covered. Her entire family's estate was given to a skilled creator of the oil in exchange for it being made for her every month.
That's what she was here for, after all. She stands in front of the oil-maker with her arms crossed as he finishes bottling her needed substance. "Thank you." Amaya says plainly as she accepts the glass vial of crimson oil. "Not a problem, lass. Least I could do...the misses and the yungin' say hello." The oil maker says, giving a toothy grin. He was in his thirties, give or take, with a plain haircut and beard with sunkissed tan skin.
"Good to hear they're doing fine. Tell them I said hello as well, old man." Amaya says with a casual wave as she begins the long walk back to Suna....she had to apply this oil on her weapon at some point soon. The process was always a long one- having to run a whetstone along the blade once followed by rubbing the shaved edge with a cloth soaked in this special oil. A tradition kept in her late family since their dawn...and one that would last until either Amaya or the blade were no more.
[MFT: 287 wc]