[Flashback] A Shared Passion (Solo)

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

30th Day of Autumn, 511 AV Tock was running low on money, and getting tired of the floating city's architecture. She had been here for about a month, unemployed and unsure what to do with herself. She didn't feel like she fit in here. She couldn't keep up with all the fancy religious talk about this Rhysol guy, and while she wasn't keen on getting involved in all the worship and mumbo jumbo, it seemed like almost everyone here was a fanatic about him. Any time she voiced a single doubt or anything they perceived as questioning Rhysol and this 'Voice' of theirs, she felt like she was about to get lynched. She had been looking into places to go next, and considering this Zeltiva University that Valerius Nitrozian had told her about. But she was feeling indecisive, and wasn't sure if she wanted to spend another full season or so traveling, after having just left Syliras a few weeks ago. Stuck in her indecision, she ended up not going anywhere just yet, which left her seriously in need of something to do. Something that didn't involve worshiping some evil betrayer God (not that she could say that out loud). Since she also needed to save up travel money for the potential trip she was considering, she decided to cure her boredom and the emptiness of her purse in one fell swoop. Thus, she found herself this day starting a new (though ultimately destined to be short-lived) apprenticeship at the Defiled Blade. She had been introduced to Gondanir, one of the junior smiths that worked for the brothers that owned the place. Unlike his employers, he was a full Isur, and thus a rarity among the mostly human population of Ravok. Tock would have been willing to bet that his employment here was the only thing that kept him out of slavery. "Have you smithed before?" Gondanir asked her in a cold, deep voice as he led her to one of the Blade's many forges. Being that it was her first day, Tock wasn't likely to be allowed anywhere near the good stuff. She scratched the back of her head and gave the big (huge, yet surpringly short for his girth) man a sheepish grin. "Well, I done smelted 'fore," she said. "Right 'ere, even," she pointed to the furnace she'd used a few weeks ago, when working on her project for Valerius. "Have you blacksmithed before?" the man asked her in an impatient tone. "I done 'ammerin' in Magecraftin' what's like blacksmithin'," she said with pride. She grinned, but the smile faded from her face when the man crossed his arms and stared her down. Giggling nervously she said, "Uhh, nah, not really mate. But I's a fast learner." He frowned (or was his face just built that way?) and handed her a shovel. "Learn to shovel coal," he told her. She held the shovel and just stared at him for a moment, considering smacking him over the head with it. She didn't much care for his tone. But she'd apprenticed enough various jobs in enough places to know that she had to start at the bottom. "Aye," she said, muttering a bit under her breath. "Yer the boss..." She begrudgingly started shoveling coal to fuel the fire, grunting with exertion. She was getting out of shape lately. Maybe a little hard work would do her some good.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Shoveling coal was boring, but hard work, and actually took more skill and knowledge than one would think. She started off only moving a light load at a time, until Gondanir scowled at her and said, "We haven't all day for you to waste. Put your back into it!" She frowned at him, and nodded, scooping up some bigger, heavier loads. Before long she was sweating, and paused to roll up her sleeves and tie the loose ends of her shirt in a knot above her navel. She noticed the Isur didn't seem to be sweating at all, and wondered if it was because of his race, or just because he was so used to the heat of the forge. "Oy, mate," she said, pausing, out of breath, and leaning on her shovel. "Ain'tcha none 'ot at all?" The Isur reached into the hot forge with his bare hand, and said, "Stop complaining and get back to work." Tock could only stare, wide-eyed, as he held a hot piece of metal in his hand and started hammering it (at least he was using a hammer, though Tock saw the different appearance between his two arms and took a wild guess that the other one wasn't as heat resistant as the stone and metal one, which looked like silver veined rock). "'Ow ya does 'at?" she asked him between pants as she continued shoveling. "Done gots a wizard fer ta magic yer arm up fer ya?" She'd never met an Isur before, and thus didn't understand how it all worked. She didn't have a clue that their whole race was built like that. "Izurdin sculpted our race," he replied gruffly. "You should speak of him with more respect." Tock frowned and said, "Uhh, aye, sure." She didn't know who 'Izurdin' was (never being one to pay much attention to religion) so she figured he was some wizard or something. But best not to bad mouth him; she was having enough trouble lately with people who didn't like the things she had to say.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

"That's too much," Gondanir told her. "You're making the flames too hot... Tock scowled at him. "Well ya done didn't tells me 'ow 'of ta makes 'er!" she protested. It sure felt hot enough in here, and she would have gladly stopped shoveling awhile ago. She didn't know how much was needed though. There was more to this it seemed than just the physical labor. Gondanir grabbed her by the arm, with a shockingly gentle grip considering the structure of his hand, and steered her in front of the forge. "Look," he said, pointing into the flames. "Watch the color of the iron." She looked at the iron rod he had stuck inside, and saw it was white hot. "That is too hot." He pulled the rod out and set it aside, then replaced it with another. He made her watch until it began glowing a bright yellow. "That," he said, "is the proper temperature." She watched intently the whole time, eager to learn this. She was glad he was finally teaching her something. "Aye," she said with a nod, taking mental note of the coloration. "Got it, mate." He watched her intently for a moment. She frowned and wiped her face, asking, "Oy, what, I done gots somethin' on my face?" He continued studying her, the dour expression never leaving his face (she was seriously starting to think it was carved on or something). Finally, he said, "Most humans who come to work here complain about having to watch the iron glow, and won't pay attention the first time. After you griped about shoveling, I expected more complaints from you." "Oy, I's 'ere ta learn, mate," she told him. "Jus' cause I done don't like shovelin', ain't means I's ain't gonna pay attention. What ain't nothin' worth doin' what ain't worth doin' right, aye" Her Granddad had taught her that, and it was a lesson she'd always taken to heart. The Isur nodded, appraising her with his dour eyes. "A seemingly rare view among your kind," he said. Then he handed her the shovel again. Apparently it took more than earning a small glimmer of respect to get off shoveling duty...

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

She spent most of the rest of the afternoon shoveling coal, keeping an eye on the flames and watching the iron Gondanir placed inside so she could better understand when it was at the right temperature. Gondanir occasionally prompted her by saying, "More," or, "Less," but he didn't seem much inclined to more conversation than that. Hours passed, with Tock alternating between shoveling coal when it was needed, and resting while leaning against the shovel when it wasn't. Her limbs ached, and she drank gallons of water throughout the day, feeling like she was just sweating it all back out again. She watched Gondanir work the whole time, longing to get her hands on a hammer herself. She watched every strike he made against the metal, trying to grasp as much of the concept as she could through study, though she knew she'd need some hands-on practice to get it right. Finally, he waved her over and said, "Here. This will be hard for you to screw up. Come." She scowled at him for the implied insult, but stepped over and took the large, two-handed hammer he gave her. "What we got?" she asked him, looking at the length of glowing metal he pulled from the forge. "Strike where I strike," he told her, holding the metal against the anvil and tapping a spot with a smaller hammer. Tock heaved the heavy hammer and brought it down, a bit sloppy with her arc. She was used to smaller hammers. Out of breath already, she asked, "Whazzit gonna be?" Gondanir tapped the metal again and said, "I will guide the shape. You? Save your breath and swing." Tock grunted and swung again, striking roughly where he indicated. "More careful," he demanded. "Strike exactly here," he tapped again, and Tock swung, not sure how much more of this she could handle.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

"Harder!" Gondanir told her, adjusting the metal once more. Tock groaned and heaved the hammer again, swinging with as much strength as she could muster. The smith scowled at her and adjusted he metal for the next strike. "HARDER! Swing like you mean it!" Tock took a deep breath and swung, sparks flying from the metal as she struck it, then the hammer fell from her weak hands and she stumbled back. Gondanir scooped the hammer up and began wielding the heavy thing one handed to finish the job. "You must grow stronger," he told her. Tock sat down on the floor as far from the heat of the forge as she could be, heaving for breath. "Iz my first day, mate," she said. Her heart was in the work, but her body couldn't keep up. She didn't want to be sitting on the floor right now, but her muscles couldn't keep up with her desires. Gondanir finished the work himself, forging the iron into the shape of a simple ring. Tock had seen similar rings attached to posts in various locations along the canals, providing a place to tie a boat securely. The rings held up better than tying the boats to the wood itself, since the wood was rougher and could get splinters in the ropes. It wasn't much of anything fancy, about as simple of a creation as one could make, but the Isur looked upon it with pride. He held it up to show her and said, "Your sweat is in this. Take pride in that..." All she could do was weakly nod. She always took pride in her work, but right now, she didn't have the strength to appreciate it. She was too tired. She just hoped she could get used to this, so that her weakness didn't stop her from being able to enjoy the work. She loved building things, even something as simple as an iron ring. She just didn't love being so exhausted after...

[Persona]

Thread Award! Minerva Agatha Zipporah (Tock): Skills: Blacksmithing +2 Bodybuilding +2 Interrogation +1 Lores: Ravok: Rhysol Fanatics Mental Note: Don’t Badmouth Izurdin Blacksmithing: White Metal is Too Hot Notes: As someone who’s done my fair share of shovelling in hot climates, I sympathize with Tock’s frustration.