Closed [The Ironworks] With the Help of His God (Vaticus)

[Terag]

5th of Summer, 515AV – Just past noon The sun was just past its highest point in the sky, and The Ironworks was busier than usual. After the knights had said they planned on the construction, everyone was getting ready for the eventual flood of orders for tools or whatever else might be needed or asked for. Fortunately, Terag was no longer in that part of the business; at least he wasn’t for pay. As a weaponsmith his work was pretty steady, and unless there was a huge war about to start there was no usual rush on him to work faster than was comfortable. Amongst all the bustling sounds of The Ironworks, the clanging of metal and orders being yelled to be heard, was also the sound of an Isurian song. “… and we still stand tall and strong. The weight of the world comes down, and we still stand tall and strong. Nothing can stop us, nothing stops the Isur…”, Terag sang as he worked. It was the common occurrence over since last season in The Ironworks now to hear Isurian songs when Terag was working. Perhaps it was just the way his people sang, or maybe Terag had a knack for it himself, but the song seemed to almost go along with the workings of The Ironworks. Blacksmithing and metalworking was almost as much a part of him and his people as their arms. It wouldn’t carry that far as he worked, and it wasn’t the best singing around, but he enjoyed it and he hoped those who heard it did as well. The rhythm of the song seemed almost in time with the workings around him, almost. With the rhythm of the song he continued to grind down the edge of the dagger in his hands, his feet pedaling and keeping the stone turning and wet as it rotated through some water. Now and then he would pull the dagger from the stone and test the edge of the blade against his thumb on his right hand by seeing how it caught on his skin as he pulled his thumb perpendicular to the edge of the blade rather than along it and cutting himself. Unstatisfied every time he would go back to working the edge of the blade, he still needed practice getting this art just right after all, and work along the entire length of the weapon before trying again.

[Vaticus Cartier]

Vaticus stepped forth into the vicinity, and immediately he was overwhelmed by the scent of iron. The air carried with it the stench of steel, sweat and hard-work Vaticus approached with caution. He waited patiently before he spotted several more presences within his arms-reach. The day was rather busy, and the workers all seemed to be non-stop working round-the-clock.

Vaticus began to question why he even stepped in here again, but he didn’t too much care about the fact that other people resided here. He was far more concerned with himself then he was with any other person. Vaticus had no particular reason to care about anyone else. He was here for one reason and one reason only, to obtain a weapon. He’d always been interested in obtaining a “Hand-Axe”, and a finely crafted one. What better place to obtain it from here, after all this was the only location he knew of that could make a finely crafted weapon? He found the hard work and dedication poured into this place to be admirable.

A voice that was so stone cold that he might as well have been speaking with a frosted-tongue erupted from his esophagus.

“Hey, I’m looking to get a hand axe around here. I want a hand axe that is crafted with a good hand.”

He spoke in a very-well audible tone which might be heard by one of the workers. The male thought to himself for a moment as he simply stood awaiting a response. Vaticus suddenly lost all of his ability to be patient, and therefore he stood erect and lost himself within the depths of his mind. Vaticus wasn’t the type of person to be caught dead within a crowd.

Luckily upon this day he was very desperate for his creation to be brought to life. He spoke once again, and this time his voice grew more vile; as if each word carried with it more malice, and sinister intent.

A finger ran through the lengths of his hair, and he decided that impatience would get him nowhere. He continued to observe and listen to the odd conversation of a multitude of people within the small vicinity. Vaticus knew that being impatient would only make his blood boil. A sigh escaped his lips and he tapped his foot as he oh so patiently attempted to wait for someone to answer his call.

He wanted no less then the finest of weapons today. Hopefully he could meet one of these “Isurians” He’s heard about very often, and yet has never once managed to encounter. Talk of rumor typically annoyed him, and yet he couldn’t take his mind off the perpetual thought; the thought of meeting an Isur.

[Terag]

At the sound of a voice Terag looked up from his work to see where it had come from, as it might be a customer. Even when busy, The Ironworks still had to make sure that all of its customers were tended to. The source of the voice was from a tanned man, who already seemed pretty impatient to start with. He was unfamiliar to the isurian, though with how little he had been in Syliras it wasn't a surprise. With the thought that someone else would talk to him, as there were quite a few closer to the man, Terag went back to work and finished the dagger shortly after. Again he heard the voice and he looked up again, the man had yet to be attended to it seemed. With a soft sigh to himself, Terag got up from the grinding wheel. He set the dagger he had been working on onto the table beside his tool rack before making his way over, finally letting his singing fade out and putting a smile onto his face. One must always be nice to customers after all. He wiped his hands off on the brown apron he usually wore while he worked and adjusted his sleeves again so they sat above his elbows. His left arm glinted in the light for a moment, his arm seeming to be made of metal except for the fact it moved with as much grace as any body part would. This was what people used to determine what he was proud to be: Isurian. His common still had a thick accent to it, making his words seem harsher than he intended. With that in mind he tried his best to take the emphasis off and make it a bit easier on the other's ear, "Ah yes, hello? I believe you said handaxe if I am not mistaken. We can sell you one for six gold Mizas if you would like? Or perhaps you are looking for something a bit special?" Terag kept his smile up, while it was still a bit strange not seeing his own people he was steadily getting more used to it. While he waited for the man to talk, Terag brought his right hand up to run his hand down his goatee from top to bottom as had been habit since he had grown it. Now closer to the man, Terag could get a much better look. He was tall, at least a foot taller than Terag as he had to look up at the man. His dark and short hair and lack of facial hair reminded him of home briefly, and the fact that the few parts of the man that were exposed showed he was trying to keep himself in good shape only furthered that feeling. The impatience was a bit strange though, as Isurians were taught from a young age the virtue of patience and how important it was to Izurdin.

[Vaticus Cartier]

Vaticus caught sight of the other males arm. The very moment that he stepped closer; despite being shorter in stature Vaticus hardly managed to look down. He suddenly realized that the man had a strangely colored arm. He had to be one of these "isur" that many of the towns-folk spoke of. How incredibly short the man was, and Vaticus thought to ask the smith his name. Although he figured that such a thing would be friendly; if he were looking to make friends then he would've asked. Yet, he didn't simply because of the fact that he'd been slightly intimidated by that arm of his. He listened to the man speak and when he spoke a heavy accent followed.


"Ah yes, hello? I believe you said handaxe if I am not mistaken. We can sell you one for six gold Mizas if you would like? Or perhaps you are looking for something a bit special?"

The Isurian spoke in a tone that was almost laughable to Vaticus. Vaticus made it his business to reply almost instantly. His facial expression changed immediately, and a smile crept its way across his lips. The man arrived impatient, and upon being greeted he took on a friendly demeanor. A sudden throbbing sensation overcame him, and he blatantly asked the question. He knew that often times he'd been incapable of controlling his level of curiosity.


"Special? That is quite a funny word, I had no idea that anything "Special" existed as far as the craftsmanship of weapons. Surely, give me the finest Hand-axe that you can fashion good sir. If you believe that you can do something special to the weapon then by all means, please do so."


His pupils dilated, and his mouth began to produce a slightly heavier amount of saliva. His voice began to deepen, and he spoke in a manner that he hadn't spoken in before. He hadn't been doing this consciously, and he thought he'd been speaking in the same way he normally would.

"What are you?! Why is your arm that color, Smith!?" He spoke in a very angry tone.

"Stop, please.. Stop this madness you wretched mind! Vaticus snapped out of it almost immediately, before he so much as managed to release the words in a sudden rude outburst. He hadn't yet asked the name of the smith, and he didn't intend to do so just yet. He'd rather see the mans craft before he spoke upon any further level.

My Speech | My Thoughts | Other's Speech

[Terag]

Terag scratched his goatee a bit before replying to the man's first response. "Yes, special. It is not that funny when you think of the options. We do not have to make your weapon out of iron or steel, there is also cold iron, cold steel, bronze, and more. Is there anything you have in mind specifically for your weapon, or did you just come in for something to practice with? We can make practice weapons as well." Terag calmly listed out the man's options to him. Everything seemed normal until Terag noticed a bit of a change come over the customer. At first he tried to pay it no mind, but couldn't when the man suddenly angrily asked what Terag what he was. That was more than a bit rude, but he would keep the smile on his face. Rude customers were common enough and he knew he had to just deal with them and let them be as they were. The question itself was also quite common as there weren't very many Isur in Syliras. "I am an Isurian, and I go by Terag. My arm is this color because it is my god's gift to my people." As he spoke about it, he raised his left sleeve a bit more to show the man his arm a bit better and letting it catch in the light again. Even though it was black, it shined - similar to onyx. He tried his best not to be rude back now as he tried to steer the conversation back to the work at hand. "Now with that, about your weapon. Would you like something else than iron or steel for it to be made out of? I can describe to you the different metals if you would like. We can also have it etched or have some other personal modification to the weapon if you'd like. However, we do not do magecrafting here. However, I can mark it with my Izentor if you would like. However, it does make the item cost quite a bit more."

[Vaticus Cartier]

Vaticus almost immediately in response apologized for his rudeness with a simple remark; “I’m very sorry about my outburst. They simply have a habit of coming out at times. Anyhow as for the weapon I’ll attempt to keep things as simplistic as possible. Regular ole’ steel will do for me, brother. “

He concluded his speech and delivered a nod. A smile crept its way across his face due to the fact that he no longer had to feel guilty about the way that he spoke a mere moment ago. Vaticus wished that he could afford anything further then steel, yet he knew that at the moment he wouldn’t have the funds.

If the cost of the weapon will be heavily modified then he most certainly wouldn’t bother to ask for another material.

After all he only intended to use the axe for simplistic purposes for now. Perhaps he could use it in the process of training. On the contrary he thought about the fact that a simple tool is not what makes a man strong. He would require a weapon in order to defend himself when the time came, and preparations were always to be made regardless of the situation. He would pay for the weapon in some sort of fashion if he could figure out how to do such a thing. Hopefully the isurian would accept the apologetic statement. Vaticus stepped forth a bit more due to a bit of pain caused by standing for such a long period of time.

He did however attempt to keep the conversation going by asking for a bit more information regarding the purchase.

"Tell me, Smith how much more will I have to pay you for the weapon if you do this radical addition? Despite the fact that I have absolutely no clue what you can do that is so spectacular it will multiply the price. Mind explaining to me exactly what you can do? I don’t mean to be a pest to you but I would like you to further elaborate on what this is."

[Terag]

“How much more? Well if the axe is only six then…” Terag was silent for a short moment while he tried to do the math in his head. “Then after I mark it then it’ll be sixty. It is a very tiring process, and you won’t be able to pick up the weapon tomorrow either. You will have to wait till the day after. Very taxing process you see.” Terag shrugged and thought for a moment before going to describe exactly what the marking would do. “Once I mark it you may not notice too much different about it at first, not unless you are a fancy magic user and can see more than what normal people can. As far as normal people care, it is stronger and more durable. It will almost never break nor dull, despite any amount of use. Perhaps in extreme cases it could but if you take at least decent care of it you will never have to worry. It is, for all intents and purposes, stronger and better than others of the same type.” He frowned a bit, it was a rather lackluster answer but that was really all the mark did. Without talking it up, it was more or less never going to dull or break except under the worst of conditions, and even then maybe not.

[Vaticus Cartier]

Vaticus nodded as a means to show he’d listened to the smith. Almost immediately he reached down and pulled out a small sack of 60 gold mizas. If what the smith said was true then he’d most certainly have no issue with the price. Whilst he observed the man he looked very sincere, and Vaticus trusted him. He dropped the sack of mizas atop the counter and took his leave the very moment the smith concluded his speech. He had no knowledge of trade, but he’d just now learned how to properly conduct a business transaction. Despite the fact that he knew he’d just been incredibly rude. Beads of sweat formed across the surface of his forehead.

“Petch, the temperature is mighty high in this place.”

He spoke under his breath before he replied to the smith.

“Thank you, my good man I did mean to ask you; since you are making my weapon. What is your name? I just thought it’d only be polite of me to ask your name before I left. Not only due to the fact that you’re creating my weapon, but you are surprisingly level headed about my rudeness.” Spoke Vaticus

He attempted to maintain eye contact with the smith. Vaticus attempted to use this as a show of respect. He knew that body language was one incredibly important key factor in conversation. Vaticus learned new concepts on a daily basis. If the process of making this weapon special was taxing on the body then he had no trouble waiting a day. Patience after all was yet another virtue for Vaticus to learn. Especially if he intended to control his anger, and learn to be more level-headed in situations.

[Terag]

Terag smiled some as he took the coins, setting the sack in a pocket in his apron. Terag took no notice of the heat as he hadn’t done so in over thirty years now. Terag’s eyebrow raised a bit when the man spoke again as usually after the payment the customer left until the weapon was ready to pick up. He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as the man asked him his name, and did his best to maintain eye contact as well and remove the coldness from his stare that the Isurians were so well known for. “My name? My name is Terag. Terag Magehand. Pay it not mind for the rudeness, I have dealt with worse. Where I am from sometimes you get a client who thinks he can pay for a weapon by beating you down with his fists – it usually goes poorly for them. What is your name? If I may ask?” Terag smiled some, awaiting the other’s response.