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[Kry]

Spring 5th

Alvadas, City of illusions, Abode of Ionu, and Home. Living in Alvadas is for some a series of confusing twists turns and not always pleasant surprises, this is true for it's inhabitants just as much as it is it's visitors. Kry liked the city for the most part, it kept her entertained with it's constant changes and tricks. That said Kry's parents disapproved of almost all forms of tomfoolery and the antics of the city were always under scrutiny. Meaning for Kry, that she was to stay inside and practice her craft and have very little to do with the city. So Kry spent many a day in Kitrean crafts toiling in the forge room with the Isur creating wears to sell to the public.

That said, children are willful, and this was no exception for the quiet Kry. Listening to the other isur talk about the Spring conditions this year had perked Kry's interest, apparently everything in the city had become like glass? Anywhere else that simply was impossible, but in Alvadas, anything was possible. So Kry hatched a plan. She was going to see this city of glass, but she would have to find a way to get out of Kitrean crafts first, and to do that she would have to get past Vacielli, the head smith and the man who watched the fron of the shop, constantly prowling the front of the place, over organising or chatting with customers. So it wasn't like the man spent every moment watching the door, but it never hurt to have some insurance. Kry's presence in the shop wasn't a rarity in itself, after all, she did live in the shop, but Kry was generally expected in the back working or in the living quarters section of the building.

Taking her time, Kry walked among the various weapon displays in the shop looking for one that was precarious enough to knock over and not have too many questions get asked about it later. Looking around Kry's eyes finally spotted a prime target, an armor clad mannequin holding a battle ax. The mannequin was easily top heavy, and with a good nudge, should fall with nice crash. The question was, what to do after knocking the mannequin over? Considering its placement, if Kry was fast she could make it to the door right as the thing was hitting the floor. If Kry ducked, and pulled the cloak up, even if they saw her leave, the might just mistake her for a local troublemaker, maybe...

The final part of the plan was execution. Waiting For the Smith to become semi distracted with a customer who was curios about the stores many daggers, Kry gave the statue a quick shove... Only to watch the statue wobble and stand. Kry hadn't considered the weight of a full size mannequin wearing armor, it was going to take more than a shove it would seem.Looking around again to see if she had attracted any attention, and after confirming that she had not Kry fixed the statue with an irritated glare. PLanting her feet Kry Hit the statue with her dominant hand giving it a more solid push, in fact a push so solid that instead of wobbling it began to immediately tilt and fall. Realizing that staring at the armor as it fell was likely not in her best interest Kry turned and bolted for the door. After three steps Kry heard a crash behind her followed by an angry exclamation, though by the time that the shopkeeper was looking for the cause of the incident Kry was already out of the Smithy.

[Vard Briar]

Spring 5th 515 AV

It was a balmy spring morning when Vard came upon Kitrean Crafts in the south of Alvadas. he'd left Starlight to graze and thankfully, she'd pulled through the Winter. Now there was plenty of grass to graze from and water flowing to drink. Vard himself had with him his linen sack of water gems from a few days past. He'd not seen the old man, but wished to find him to give him a proper thanks. He had left his ocarina at the tent, because he meant to take a break from busking. Which had brought him here, to Kitrean Crafts. It had been an Isur who had sold him the blade. At the time he hadn't known it, but the Isur was working from Kitrean Crafts. This he had learned, when a passerby commented on his excellent choice. Vard had been confused until the man elaborated that the finest weapons were found at Kitrean Crafts. Vard had thanked the enthusiast for the compliment and tucked away that information to use later, and here he was. He adjusted his rapier on his belt. The gentleman was just going to say thank you for the blade, nothing more, nothing less. Despite the comforting weight of his coin purse in his breeches pocket, Vard steeled himself and stepped up to the door with no thought of buying anything.

Any and all restraint from buying things fell away when Vard stepped through the doors. He gaped openly as the walls shimmered with metal glistening on every surface. Gliding from table to table he admired swords, shields, daggers and dirks. The Symenestra had never placed much stock in weaponry as he'd never had a need for it but after having appreciated his rapier, he found himself lusting after these delicate blades. A particularly wicked looking knife caught his eye and he went to pick it up. "Sir, I must ask that you not touch anything you aren't buying!" Vard jumped slightly, backing into a hard shape behind him. "I'm terribly sorry," he exclaimed, looking square into the face of a blue-tinted Isur with a surly look about him. "Not a problem, now are you here to buy or sell?" The Isur examined the rapier on Vard's hip with a critical eye and seemed to approve. Vard looked back at the daggers, and then he wrung his hands together. "I was wondering if you knew who made my rapier, and perhaps I could take a look at the daggers as well..." The Isur's face lit up and he beckoned for Vard to hand him the sword with his massive arm. It gleamed prettily in the light and Vard's eyes ran up and down it while gingerly surrendering his rapier. He suddenly felt very fragile in this man's presence.

The Isur craftsman looked over the sword with a critical eye and nodded to himself. "The maker of this blade no longer works here. He apprenticed under me but then he left Alvadas last season in search of greener or at least, less glassy pastures. I can't recall his name at the moment, but he would always have a wolf motif on the finer weapons he made. You're lucky to have this, it will serve you well." Vard took the blade back and nodded with a hint of disappointment. "Thank you, and please thank him if you get the chance. It's a fine blade indeed." The Isur nodded and then swept his hand across the air above the daggers and motioned, "You wanted to see about some of these blades?" Vard gave a distracted nod, out of the corner of his eye he saw something shift by a wall. But by then the Isur was showing him an ornate baselard with a golden finish. It was a beautiful weapon to be sure, but Vard pointed to another that interested him more and the craftsman complied.

Vard was intent on the wicked kukri brought before him when he jumped a foot in the air. A mighty crash rang through the shop and the Isur cried out in anger and surprise. "Get back here you fiend!" Vard was quick enough to spot the fallen mannequin, unfortunately unadorned with expensive armour, and the flapping tail of a robe exiting the shop. It took less than a second for Vard to leap to the door, calling back "I'll get them!" The Symenestra supposed that if luck was on his side, he might be able to apprehend the troublemaker and earn the Isur's gratitude, if not a favour. A hand twitched to his rapier's hilt but he balled it into a fist and began to pump his arms as he raced out into the street. Not unless I absolutely have to.

Class is being a good samaritan, right?

Class is remaining true to yourself

No matter the cost

[Kry]

Running from the door Kry took off hoping she wouldn't here the sounds of pursuit, and to her credit, Kry ran an entire block before taking a moment to look at her surroundings. The rumors were indeed true, Kry's eyes widened in awe when she saw the city completely gilded in glass like some fairy tale place. Eyes wide Kry looked about, everything from the streets to the trees was made of glass, looking down Kry saw that even where there should be water that glass beads about the size of marbles had also shared in the transformation. walking Kry passed people who didn't seem bothered or amazed at all by the transformation, though that didn't stop Kry from feeling awed.

Walking aimlessly Kry tried to drink in the environment around her. Glass of all sorts was around in all it's shades, red, blue, yellow, black, even mirrored glass could be found. As Kry walked Kry tried to gain her bearings in the large city, Kry was well aware that the city rearranged itself as was it's whim so just figuring out where in the city she was would be a good start. That said the city was a veritable kaleidoscope unto itself making gaining one's bearing in the city even harder than was the usual.

Looking Around Kry came to an intersection of streets. Looking back and forth Kry took a right walking toward what might be the cities center. As she walked Kry pulled her hood back allowing her hair that hung all the way to the back of her knees to sway in the slight breeze. Letting out a long muted yawn Kry rubbed her eyes, She hadn't been sleeping well as she had been rather excited planning her escape from the shop. The streets made of glass where quite interesting a trait discovered by Kry as she walked, the sounds of her feet tapping against the glass street her footfalls making tiny clacking noises on the smooth surface. Varrying her small pace Kry would hop from spot to spot then skip, and Click her heel against the Surface to get different sounds at different intervals, It wasn't musical, well not in any way that mattered but Kry found herself smiling at the sounds she was making, her mild if not evident elation brought forth by the momentary feeling of freedom that she had momentarily acquired.

[Vard Briar]

Spring 5th 515 AV

Vard shot through the street, racing after the troublemaker. Judging from the short stature, Vard assumed that this individual must be young.
Young, or the largest Pycon to ever walk Mizahar. But the Symenestra had his money on the former. His physique was average, but he kept up a good clip until about three quarters of a block from Kitrean Crafts. He noted her pace beginning to slow, and adjusted. A beat passed before he stopped fully. Vard noted a rough, brick (now-glass) building standing beside him. Perhaps it's time I examine this situation from a different perspective... Kicking off his sandals, Vard undid the ties and scutinized them monetarily. Deciding that the hunt was not for the clean, he put the ties in his mouth and clenched down. It didn't smell...much.

Vard put his feet on the wall and dropped his centre of gravity back, feeling his feet grip the brick. "OW!" Rubbing his head and pushing himself from the street with both arms, Vard began to walk while clenching his stomach. "It's been a while." He mused through clenched teeth. Still, the defiance of gravity was one of the many benefits his kind enjoyed. Plus, Vard was not going to crawl up the building. That was entirely to slow and eerie for his taste. It reminded him of... He shook his head and walked faster up the wall, wondering if anybody in Alvadas would find this strange.

Once Vard reached the roof, he spit out the sandals and spit a bit more to rid his mouth of the taste of leather. Slipping on his footwear, the Symenestra leaned out over the street to spot the troublemaker bobbing happily along. Ever careful, Vard crept along behind her until they came to an intersection. Hopping from roof to roof, Vard felt his heart leap into his throat when the troublemaker took a right. While the gaps in the buildings had been no more than two or three feet wide, with Alvadas providing narrow alleyways. This now, could prove a challenge. From where Vard stood, the building across the street was dozens of feet away. Fortunately, this particular pair of buildings moved as a single unit, or so Vard surmised. This deduction came from the fact that a pair of clotheslines stretched over the street. Currently ungarnished, the taut cords of rope looked like rough hempen twine. The pulley system was made of sturdy iron and while Vard wasn't the most experienced of clothes-hangers, he figured it could hold him. While the small mischief maker passed underneath, Vard hastily and warily appraised the rope.

Lacking for time, Vard trusted his fate to Ionu and... A terrifying creak split his ears, and the rope bent worryingly low. It held! Now though, came the task of crossing. Grabbing hold of the top line while keeping a hand on the bottom line, Vard took a slow breath. As he exhaled, Vard pulled the bottom line toward him and felt the top rope yank him forward. He inhaled once more, and repeated the process. Slowly but steadily, Vard made it out to the halfway point in the clothesline. He did not fail to notice the rope droop lower and lower as he moved forward. Pausing to take a few breaths and relax his arms, Vard gazed down. Mistake! While the rope had drooped, he was still fifteen feet above the street. The glass street. He tried not to think about his legs snapping if he fell. Of course, just as he went to continue forward the rope snapped.

Vard twisted angrily in the air and time slowed down. He grabbed desperately for the rope and he locked his fist around it. Blood seeped from Vard's palm as his nails dug into his hand. The rope twanged dangerously. "Figures I end this life falling from the same place undergarments are hung." He cursed in Symenos and closed his eyes. The rope held. Opening one eye, Vard stared hard at his fist and the rope it gripped. A quick analysis of his situation made it obvious that he was not going to make it to the roof across. Plus, Vard's arms were leaden, having held him for close to ten minutes. If he could minimize the distance he fell...

Vard noted the slack of rope that had fallen when the rope snapped. The only thing that kept him from falling was holding it taut. The one end of rope was knotted in his fist, and the other had fell to a handful of feet beneath Vard's feet. Gingerly, Vard loosened his grip on the slack side of rope and felt it slide through his fingers. His altitude dipped gently, but soon enough he'd quite literally reached the end of his rope. He held both ends in each hand and had only dropped maybe three or four feet. Below was eleven feet of thin air and the hard cold ground. Frantically, Vard gazed around for something, anything that could save him. He remembered vague, generalized advice he'd received from his father, about landing without breaking bones. Advice like dispersion of weight, gauging distances... Suddenly all the breath flew out of him, he was falling. Just below him, he saw the pale haired, short person who'd run from Kitrean Crafts.

Vard kicked his legs out at an angle and splayed his arms out. When he hit the ground his back rolled in a desperate bid to disperse the energy. His shellplate clanged, and Vard's head thumped against the ground. Blackness encroached on his vision.

Class can rise, and it can fall. Hard.

Class is remaining true to yourself

No matter the cost