Closed [The Broken Casket] The Achilles Heel (Ball)

[Baelin Holt]

50, Fall of 515 AV

It had been ages since Baelin had been in The Broken Casket. But it was past time he went out and he really couldn’t handle The Rearing Stallion. The press of people at the more local-friendly tavern had the tendency to leave Baelin even more stressed by the time he left than he had been prior.

The tavern had a manageable quantity of foreigners milling about. Oddly enough, Baelin felt more comfortable here than he did anywhere in Stormhold. The nearness of the docks offered a glimpse of freedom and Baelin did thrill at the feeling of being just the smallest bit removed from Stormhold.

The half-Dhani caught a whiff of spice off of the owner while he ordered a mug of kelp beer. The owner, a grizzled older man who seemed to hold the twinkle of a story in his eyes, snatched a worn mug and filled it in one well-practiced, fluid motion. It reminded the smith of how fluidly Ros and Fredrick were able to swing their hammers while smithing; Baelin couldn’t help the jealousy that crept up. You’ll get there, he reassured himself for the umpteenth time. The half-Dhani gave a tight nod in thanks as he fished out five copper mizas and passed them over.

Baelin took stock of the establishment and tried to decide where he could settle down with his mug without being too much of a nuisance. There was a spot on a bench close to the door that seemed like a good vantage point and easy exit should he need a speedy escape. Not that he was planning to cause any trouble...he just liked having an exit strategy.

The burly man settled on the bench, the poorly framed wood creaking slightly under his weight, and took a tentative sip of his beer. It was a good bit salty, but Baelin didn’t mind. Salt reminded him of home. His real home. Not this overcrowded monstrosity of a city.

He felt like he should be doing something. Working. Exercising. Anything productive. His anxiety only grew the longer he sat doing nothing more than drink. Baelin hissed through clenched teeth in mounting irritation and took a larger swig of his beer. He barely took note of the flavor in his growing disquiet.

Perhaps he should try to talk with someone. Be social. Reach out to others. Try to put some kinds of personal roots down here. It was something he had skated around doing for the last five years, but it was hard to ignore how much his loneliness was eating at him.

He should really try to talk to someone. Making a connection would be quite productive. Torturous perhaps. Surely awkward. But productive.

The half-Dhani searched the room for someone who looked like they were both alone and wished not to be. But when another patron did meet his scrutiny with something that looked like hope in their eyes, Baelin quickly and instinctively averted his gaze. And when he convinced himself to stop being a child and looked back, the man was already in conversation with the barkeep.

Baelin huffed in annoyance, primarily focused on himself, and leaned back against the wall. This was fine. He could drink by himself.

[Ball]

"My Speaking"

My Thoughts

Ball has spent a good portion of the morning trying to get around the city, he had decided it was time to stop just saying it was his duty to protect the city and actually do something about protecting the city. The pycon has been back in his home for nearly two years after being out in combat and yet… Yet he hadn't looked around the city and met the citizens outside of a few, today though Ball had decided to change that. It wasn't any different than learning a new skill or talking with the other squires, these were people he had sworn to protect, and damn the rest of the world and Rhysol if he wasn't going to do as he was sworn to do.

It just so happened that during Ball's trek through the city he found himself on the docks, Imass huffing in the exertion he had dealt with and Ball frowned at the idea. The poor dog need a drink and to rest from the constant moving he had to do and that was when Ball turned his attention to the Broken Casket, he was here once before… It was a vague memory of saving an idiot from getting himself beat down and take the man home. That was a while back and Ball let the memory slip away as fast as it appeared. Stepping into the tavern the pycon and dog had paused for several ticks until the dimness inside didn't leave him blinded from coming from outside.

Looking around the Pycon made no attempt to pick anyone out right away, instead the squire guided the dog to a table off to the side, the easier to not get squished by treading feet clad in boots or armour. There were knights patrolling the docks, Ball knew that. Yet there was something else that seemed… Off to the squire, a nagging recall of stories from around the Order in the last season or two – Truth be told Ball couldn't recall what season it was in-- Yet those odd sea-faring people were causing all sorts of problems and threatening to cause all sorts of problems. Ball climbed into the bench that he had decided to sit at, ignoring the man that sat there. The Pycon only registered him only briefly and looked back towards the door. “Something truly seems… Odd about the harbor. It is lacking something.” He spoke out loud. It was clear from his words that he was unable to put his little clay nubby fingers on what the problem was.

“I mean, there are knights. There is fish. There is merchants. Boats. Wind. Salt. Gods knows there is water. But what else am I not seeing that seems to need to exist? It's a wide expansive body of water…” The pycon frown and sat down on the bench turning his attention finally to the man beside him. From what the squired clay could tell in the gloom of the tavern Ball could see he was fairly muscular, clearly a man that did hard labor for a living. He must work the docks.

The man clearly looked as if he could work out there in the sun, salt and wind. Feeling at ease hauling the loads between ships and dock.

WC: 547

Credit :

Created goes to Raus for aiding in the photo manipulation, Myself for color and transparency manipulation as well as box code. Character is accredited below

[Baelin Holt]

The weathered door swung open and a ray of light illuminated dust swirling about the room. Baelin watched it drift lazily in the air and wondered at it. Here it was, always present in the room, suspended around all of them, pushed away when they moved, allowed to float undisturbed when they were gone, and no one ever bothered to pay attention to it. Even the way it moved was enchanting. Like little circles. Quick then slow then quick then slow. He saw straight lines and circles and even growing mushroom patterns and he thought he might have seen a spiral. But then the door shut once more and the dust was gone.

Not gone, he reminded himself.

He glanced at the newcomer, who seemed to be taking stock of the Casket, and an eyebrow lifted unconsciously.

It was one of the little clay men. Pycons.

The last time he talked to one was about a year ago. It...or maybe he or she…looked like someone sculpted a clay squirrel and then it came to life on them. With strange human expressions on the squirrel’s muzzle and everything. Baelin didn’t learn much from the encounter. Something about a Pycon god…Haramaman…Haramemus…Haramus or something like that.

That would be a much more useful tidbit of info if he had bothered to actually remember the name. What was he going to say to the clay man, Hi there, you worship that Haramini god or whatnot? Sounded like a great way to get off on the wrong foot.

But this one wasn’t a squirrel. It was a…thing… There was an eye. At least he thought it was an eye? And some kind of parody of clothes. It did have arms and legs, so at least that was still a thing.

The half-Dhani’s nostrils flared as the little clay man climbed from a panting dog and onto his bench. The absurdity of seeing an animated clay person riding on an overtired dog aside, Baelin now had a Pycon sharing his bench.

It should be easy now to start a conversation. He was literally right there.

Yet Baelin still couldn’t seem to get any words out. He stared angrily at his kelp beer and took a rather unnecessary long pull from it.

The half-Dhani nearly sputtered his drink when the Pycon started talking to him. He looked up from his beverage in surprise only to see the clay man staring at the door.

Not talking to him then, just talking aloud. Baelin wasn’t sure if he was upset or relieved. Likely both.

But Baelin couldn’t help but hear his words. To be fair, the Pycon was sitting on his bench. It was a bit difficult to not here. The harbor lacked something? What an odd train of thought he was having. Perhaps he was unconsciously picking up on the absence of sun-starved Sylirans lingering in every nook and cranny. Or perhaps it was the fresh, salt laden winds that cleared out the stale air, filled with the stink of too many bodies in too enclosed a space.

The half-Dhani jolted out of his cynical thoughts when the Pycon turned his eye towards him.

Should he say something? He should say something. Maybe the clay man was talking to him, not just aloud.

Baelin couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. It felt like his mind had suddenly gone much more blank leaving a spare picking of things to offer. What was the harbor missing? Room for anchoring? No, it had that. What other things…Knights? No, stop being stupid.

At a loss for ideas and his anxiety mounting by the tick, Baelin said the first thing he could think of that wasn’t completely off topic, “The Harbor wass the firsst thing I saw when I came here. Wass quite impresssive. Handless a good bit of traffic.”

[Ball]

“Yes it is impressive. Far too much water for my clay though.” Ball grimaced, his words almost holding a murky thoughtful tone to them. “Yes, that it does seem to have. Traffic, and a good amount indeed. Sometimes I wonder if the traffic is too much.” Ball frowned and nodded, he only briefly remembered hearing about the Summer problem with those boat people. That amount of traffic in the Harbor had to have been terrible. Shaking his head though the Pycon looked up at the tall man, his accent had yet to be noticed by the clay man. “Sorry, my name is Ball. I'm a squire in the order. On Patrol. Sorry I seemed to have interrupted your break or off time from the docks.” Ball nodded, his words making it clear that he thought the large muscular man worked the docks as a dock hand.

“I didn't mean to intrude though. I just noticed the bench when I came in and decided to give my mount a bit of a rest. I do hope you don't mind.” Ball looked down at his mount. A slight bit of pause on his face accompanied a frown. Why am I just sitting here talking to a man I don't even know? What about him makes me want to just… Pour out my thoughts? Must be the salt in the air. I rarely talk to people. Ball frowned at the thought. He couldn't place a clay finger on the reason, not that it mattered. It actually was feeling pretty good to just talk for once. “I mean the last time I have ever been on water was against a large creature Hai bent on eating several ships full of knights, squires, and ambassadors to the undead isle. That was truly Hai.” Ball shuddered. “I don't really recall the trip to Pretty Lady Isle though. But that weird Monk City… That trip made me sick and hate the sea. Petching Hai how I hate the rocking sea.” Ball grimaced and looked at the closed door as if it was a window to see the glittering sea on the other side of it. [/\b]“Far too much water for my liking.”[/b] He mumbled again.

It was truly odd how Ball spoke, others that noticed him from any other time in his life would know that this squire was not much for words and was much more inclined to fists. “It always makes me wonder how those people that live on boats can do it. I remember hearing about them causing some sort of problem last season. I don't recall what it was, but it was something… Just, I am not entirely sure what it was, I never came down to actually look.” Ball frowned and looked up the man, “Sorry. I never did catch your name.” Well if you just shut your lips for a few seconds and quit acting like Staring Pycon you might actually get his name.

WC: 493

[ooc=OOC, sorry… I totally rambled there. Not entirely sure why either… This post is entirely out of character for Ball LOL[/ooc]

[Baelin Holt]

Baelin could have kicked himself for such a stupid comment. How was the little clay man supposed to answer him? It was much too personal of a thing. If someone had said the same to him, the best they could expect was a tight smile and silence from him.

But luckily the Pycon was much more verbose than Baelin and prattled right on. So much so, in fact, that Baelin started to think that while it certainly was a kind of luck, it wasn’t of the good kind.

He talked about how there was too much water for his clay. Baelin logged that note away: he was indeed made out of clay. The Black Rock native didn’t have time to feel derisive at the Pycon’s apparent fear of water, however, as he launched straight into talking about traffic.

The man’s small mouth seemed to bend in a frown and he shook the top part of his body in a gesture that Baelin guessed approximated a head shake.

The half-Dhani was left guessing at why too much traffic was a bad thing. Traffic was commerce. Commerce was money. He knew a few people in Black Rock who might have literally killed to bring this much commerce through the isolated island.

“Sorry, my name is Ball. I’m a squire in the order. On patrol.”

Baelin was only just barely able to keep his face stoic. Instinctively he wanted to widen his eyes, take a jerk backwards from the clay man, and, frankly, bolt from the room. A squire on patrol! What if he said the wrong thing? Would the little clay man drag him to the Tank? Baelin rubbed his hands nervously on his legs.

The Pycon, Ball, continued right along. He was worried Baelin would mind his presence. Apologizing for disturbing his time off…from the docks? Well, Baelin could see where he was coming from. Most people who frequent the Casket were either foreigners or worked at the docks in some fashion. It was a fair assumption.

A brief pause followed where the Pycon looked like he might have been frowning again. Baelin was really having a hard time reading the Pycon’s body language. The way his clay moved was a bit too foreign to the way flesh moved for Baelin. It was a bit like trying to read the Dhani who sometimes left their nest in Black Rock.

Ball began talking again. And Baelin completely lost him. Something about a creature and ships full of knights to the undead isle…Baelin assumed that meant the Nuit’s island. A cursed place. If Baelin knew how he’d destroy the whole thing. Whip the land map off the face of Mizahar.

Pretty Lady isle…Monk city…were these places or names of ships or just figments of the Pycon’s imagination?

This one was truly made for land. No love for the sea. It was a pity. The sea was truly a thing of beauty. She could be both vicious and unforgiving while, at the same time, flaunt immense beauty. And while the Pycon may not appreciate the roll of her waves, Baelin found them soothing and rhythmic.

Baelin studied Ball as he continued on and wondered how “those people that live on boats” could live their lifestyle. He assumed he meant the Svefra. And the “problem” was likely the Nal’lyeo. The native of Black Rock couldn’t find it in him to be upset at the Svefra and the Nal’lyeo had been refreshing for him. Mala is Svefra. And Baelin did truly miss her. He sometimes toyed with the “what if” of him being born Svefra. He’d have a pod and a place in life. He could stay with Mala. Sail with her. She’d have many blue-eyed children, some his and many of them from others. She’ll have many blue-eyed children anyways. She was Mala. Svefra. But Baelin liked to think that if he too was Svefra, he may not be so hesitant to pass his blood on to another.

It was a fantasy. He was a half-Dhani with a dead mother and an uncle who subbed in as his father. Who was also now dead. But at least Dira had faith in him. The Eiyon unconsciously flexed his hand, scythe twisting on his palm.

“Baelin,” he answered when a question finally came, “And it wass a Nal’lyeo. The Ssvefra were angry. In Ssspring.”

[Ball]

Ball looked at the man, the words he spoke came out odd but they were understandable to say the least. “Spring… Summer… The seasons all blend into one another after some time.” Ball nodded, “What it was… It was a threat to the security of our city. Your home currently I would say. Your place of employment. Something that should be remedied at the best of our ability, without laying ruin to our trade or businesses. Fishermen need to still fish, our merchants still need to come and go.” There was no lying though there, Ball had no care for the enormous amount of traffic that left the city utterly defenseless right before them.

“I understand we have the knights that walk the docks. And able bodied men and women that can defend their ships and cargo. But out there, on open water… They have nothing. At least, nothing I have seen. If this… This Svefra as you call it…” Ball paused and looked at the man, “You remind me of a squire I met last year I think it was… Cold Pycon. Yeah… Anyway… This… thing they performed. It wasn't good for us. Not as a city. Scared the people. It can't happen again.”

Ball looked at the man. Studying him as he spoke. Nervous rubbing of hands. Uncomfortable around me perhaps. Can't blame him though, most people seem fearful of the Order. Never understood why, we are here for them after all. I may have pegged him wrong though as a dock laborer. He did say earlier that he saw the harbor when he first came here. Not a foreigner though I feel. Something about the way he stayed when I actually introduced myself.

“Tell me… Mister Cold Pycon. What do you do for a living? I peg you as a deckhand, but something tells me I may have you wrong.

OOCSorry so late! >.< Gah, life has been hectic And this is short. =(

[Baelin Holt]

The Pycon moved the top part of his body in what Baelin was fairly sure was a nod. The half-Dhani shifted uncomfortable as he went on and discussed the security of his “home” and how that security must be fixed while not harming trade.

Baelin nearly snorted. He certainly wasn’t one who could talk about it. Maybe a knight had the ability to make a difference, but Baelin certainly had no means of enacting a change like that.

He wasn’t in the habit of dwelling on things he couldn’t change. And, frankly, it drove him mad when others liked to talk about things beyond their influence. As if talking about the state of Syliran trade made them smarter or more cultured.

The Eiyon shifted his weight and reminded himself that this wasn’t another armorer, it was a knight. Or squire, he mentally corrected. He didn’t pretend to know how these things were decided. Perhaps the conversation wasn’t as useless when in the hands of a squire.

“But out there, on open water… They have nothing.”

Baelin turned sharply to meet the Pycon’s eye. He certainly didn’t agree with that. In fact, he was hard pressed to think of a Svefra ship without at least a harpoon on it. Svefra, and he imagined merchants as well, were far from defenseless. And Dira help anyone who boarded a Svefra ship uninvited. If Mala was a reliable source then even if you did manage to parry their many cutlasses, you still had to deal with the creative use of any and every item on the ship.

But Ball continued before Baelin could put his thoughts into words, comparing Baelin to another squire. Baelin fidgeted uncomfortably, not sure how to respond to that. He certainly didn’t know any “Cold Pycon” squire. It was hard to tell if it was an insult or compliment.

“It wasn’t good for us. Not as a city. Scared the people. It can’t happen again.”

This time Baelin did snort aloud and shook his head in disbelief. The only way to prevent a Nal’lyeo was to treat Svefra as family. But most tended to be very possessive of their “things.” And that sort of possessiveness almost invariably creates a rift between Svefra and non-Svefra. It’s hard to treat people you see as thieves fairly. And it’s hard to not take insult when others treat you like a criminal when you’re doing something you see no fault with.

As far as Baelin was concerned, Nal’lyeos would continue to happen for as long as Svefra still sailed.

With a start, Baelin realized that the Pycon had not continued talking and was instead studying him. He inhaled deeply and licked his lips nervously, uncertain of what he should say or do.

Luckily Ball spoke again. And this time with a direct and easily answered question.

“Armoring,” Baelin said carefully, proud of his profession but hesitant to show the stranger that pride. “I apprentice under Fredrick McGowan. At the Ironworkss.”

Baelin ground his teeth, tempted to tell the Pycon just what he thought about the Svefra. It bothered him to hear the good natured people lumped in some general category of “enemy.” They were different, sure. But they weren’t the enemy.

However…he supposed he could grudgingly admit to the trouble Svefra in a city can cause. Even when Mala had visited him, he had been sure to watch her carefully lest she try to nab any of the Ironworks’ wares. The large mass of Svefra had left the city on its toes for longer than he was sure the Sylirans had liked.

Baelin shook his head, deciding to keep his thoughts to himself. There was no sense in getting into an argument he wasn’t prepared to fight.

[Ball]

Ball glanced up at the man when he snorted, something about the way the large man did that seemed he knew something intimate about the sea-faring folks. Something I will have to set aside for another time. Ball listened and watched as the man seemed hesitant in responding about his profession, the squire couldn’t tell if he was proud or scared to relay what he did for an occupation. The results though was an amazing answer and Ball grinned, “That is a noble job. We need more faithful armourers in the city. I am sure he is grateful to have you there under him.”

“You seem a bit off about my speaking of the seafaring folk in this fashion. Speak your mind citizen. I am not going to shackle you or anything. I don’t have that kind of power, nor would I do so if given it. Your thoughts are important to me as a future Knight and a Squire. I am known as a brute apparently amongst my peers, but truthful I care for the people and the city’s safety. If I am perceiving the seafaring people ill I want to be made aware of that. The situation they caused previously was enough to put people in a fright. Merchants, Knights, citizens. Barkeeps enjoyed the flow of Mizas I am sure, but their regulars I heard were not too fond of the intrusions.” Ball nodded, trying to recall the details better

“Armourer though huh? Hmm in the future I may have some work for you. How are you with chain links?” Ball asked with curiosity. It was seen in Ball’s looks, as much as he was expressionless though, that he meant all that he said – About the safety of the people and city of Syliras as well as the quizzical end of words.

OOCSorry I been so busy RL with a new job and such. Finally getting things settled around, eventually I will get in the flow of things again.

[Baelin Holt]

The clay man’s mouth seemed to stretch into a large grin. Baelin couldn’t tell what kind of sentiment was behind the grin, but it was definitely a grin. “That is a noble job. We need more faithful armorers in the city. I am sure he is grateful to have you there under him.”

Baelin couldn’t help but give a careful smile in return. He wasn’t sure he’d go so far as to call his profession noble. It was really just a lot of hammering when it came down to it. But he was proud of what he did. And he was glad that the products he worked on could help protect people. Just working with metal, however, shouldn’t qualify him to be considered as honorable.

Regardless, the Pycon continued to talk. And Baelin couldn’t help but catch his breath and grit his teeth. He should have been more careful. He didn’t need a squire thinking that he’s so fond of the race that threatened the city’s peace.

But Ball pressed on, apparently trying to ease Baelin’s nerves. “Speak your mind citizen. I am not going to shackle you or anything.”

The half-Dhani grimaced. Perhaps the Pycon thought he wouldn’t, but minds can be changed.

“I don’t have that kind of power.” But Baelin was sure he knew people that did.

“Your thoughts are important to me.” Baelin strongly doubted that.

“I am known as a brute apparently amongst my peers,” the half-Dhani logged that little tidbit of info away for future examination, “but truthful I care for the people and the city’s safety. If I am perceiving the seafaring people ill I want to be made aware of that.”

That did give Baelin pause. The Black Rock native licked his lips in thought, wondering just how to word his thoughts, when Ball continued on. He discussed the fear that merchants, knights, and citizens all felt, as well as the disturbance the Nal’lyeo caused bars.

Baelin gave Ball a considering look when the Pycon mentioned future work. “How are you with chain links?”

Chain-links were, in fact, one of Baelin’s favorite things to work on. It was mind-numbing, predictable, comfortingly tedious, and a mistake in one link could just be tossed aside without destroying the whole piece. Chain-links were great.

“I am experienced with chain-link,” Baelin finally answered, “What sssize linkss are you thinking of?” The armorer studied the Pycon and tried to imagine what kind of chainmail shirt he could make for the small man. The size links he was used to making might be a touch too unwieldly on his small frame.

He would need to work more slowly and carefully than he normally did with chainmail. But the more Baelin thought of trying to make chains small enough to protect a Pycon while still offering relatively unencumbered motion, the more excited Baelin became. He did enjoy a good challenge at work. Would armor even be feasible on a Pycon? Baelin was entirely unfamiliar with Pycon armoring. And he was thrilled at the prospect of learning about it.

But Baelin’s thoughts drifted back to Mala and the bad rep her race had evidently earned with the small man. It was…unfortunate.

The half-Dhani chewed on his lips a moment longer before adding quietly, “The Ssevfra aren’t a bad people. They just have their own sset of ruless they follow.” There. He spoke his mind, and it was general and non-argumentative enough that he couldn’t imagine the squire picking a fight with him over it.

OOCNo problem, I hope everything’s working out well.

[Samuel Longwell]

Grading Complete Please edit your grade request thread so that it's obvious that it's been graded. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions/problems with your grade. Name: Baelin XP Award: Observation 4 Socialisation 3 Planning 1 Lore: Location: The Broken Casket Ball: Pycon Squire Pycons: Made of clay Svefra: Not the enemy Is Pycon armour feasible? Name: Ball XP Award: Animal Husbandry 1 Observation 2 Socialisation 3 Planning 1 Rhetoric 1 Lore: Location: The Broken Casket What is missing from the docks? Baelin: Armourer Notes: A shame this didn't get finished, it started well. I hope you enjoy your grades.