Closed A Waking and Remembering

[Crylon Stonecraft]

1 Fall 518 Crylon slowly stirred in his bed, not fully awake so early in the morning yet not truly sleeping either. As happened often enough he was confused at his surroundings before he fully awoke. Confused before memory returned and he recalled where he was and why. In a small room he was renting in Ravok, among humans and other non-Isur. There to make his family proud. There to learn and expand his knowledge and skills. There to some day return with understanding from places far from the Kingdom and proper Isurian citizens. As he became more fully awake, Crylon rolled over to stare at the ceiling above him, not likely visible to human eyes due to the darkness. He had ended up in a room without a window, something many would complain about but that did not bother Crylon. Sometimes he would wedge some material at the bottom of the door to block out light from the hall, and did not have any candles or lamps lit. Instead Crylon would luxuriate in the dark, for a moment pretending he was in Sultros or underground rather than the middle of a lake. Until he opened his eyes and brought in light, and saw the simple surroundings around him, and the ceiling above. Today a bit of light leaked in through the door frame, enough for him to see well enough by. For a moment he pondered why he was there, what he was doing lying on a bed in a foreign city. But then he quickly remembered why, and his mind for a moment would drift back to his past and his upbringing and his family. His family which had instilled in him from a young age the important things any proper Isur would know. He could not truly or completely blame the non-Isur for all they did, not knowing what he and such Isur knew, and yet even with this knowledge he sometimes saw the glimmer of hope. The hope of something more, something that might grow into greatness rather than the rampant mediocrity and lack of focus outside the Kingdom. Children especially, Crylon could see the potential in. Like a tiny spark in a forge, ready to catch flame if tended and fed correctly. Building into a good even hot flame to work metal in. Rather than a guttered out and cold forge. Rather than a forge whose fuel was burned through to quickly. Or one infested or not properly cared for which risked caving in or collapsing. “Izurdin... Give me the strength today to see your will. Help me see the path. Help me to hone myself and the world around me as the instrument of your will. A body in motion, ready to accept the flames of your forge and the direction of your force to be molded into a tool of your will.” Finishing his morning prayer in his proper tongue, Crylon translated his words into common, an exercise to help him learn the foreign tongue so common to the humans. “Izurdin... The strength I request this day to sight of your will. To sight of the path. Assist me to... Hone of my body and my world, as your tools we are. Tools prepared to take the heat of forge, to be hammered into your wills shape.” Speaking in common made Crylon recall back to when he had first learned the language, in bits and pieces on visits to the trading outposts around Sultros. Outposts where humans and non-Isur would visit, and occasionally he would get the chance to listen and speak. He still had not fully grasped the language as well as Isur, but had if nothing else progressed beyond the broken speech had begun with. Now it was more nuances he had left to learn, and translation into common or back to Isur was slowly becoming easier. His mind straying for a bit, the thought of the trading outpost made him think back to his great grandfather and the camping trip out into the wilds and the mountains he had taken Crylon on the summer before he had first gone to one of the outposts with his father. His great grandfather at the time had been around 180 years old, elderly even for an Isur, and had taken all of his family out one by one on similar trips around the same age. All had gone on the trip before any left the Kingdom, or traveled to its peripheries such as the trading outposts where one left the safety of the inner kingdom and proper Isurian citizens. Perhaps, thinking back Crylon considered, out of a desire to further embed and clarify Isurian virtues and values before risking it in the forge of the rest of the world. He had been a bit over seven years old at the time, quite young for an Isur. His great grandfather had been a great Isur, strong and honed of body and mind until the morning he did not wake and his body gave out. Years before Crylon had left on his trip to see the world, years before he had even become properly grown. WC: 860

[Crylon Stonecraft]

12 Summer 466 Crylon woke with a start as light began to wash over him. “Its alright Crylon, just the sun rising. Calm little one, calm.” Looking up at the Isur standing over him, the sunlight washing over his body making his single black arm seem to almost glow... Crylon sat up with a grin and looked on with awe. His great grandfather was the eldest of his family. A builder. A designer. A crafter. A smith. A master. Others said he was old, but Crylon had never seen him change at all. He was always the same when he saw him. Slim, his body tight and muscled, nails and hair well groomed. In the morning sun his muscles stood out on his arms like snakes, his bare chest full and firm if a bit smaller than some of the other grown Isur of the family. Almost as if he had shrunken in on himself to conserve his body, leaving only muscle and bone and skin behind. But still just as strong, a true tool of Izurdin forged by a long life. “I calm paw paw, I calm. No scared.” Rising from his bedroll, Crylon tried for a moment to stand in the sun as his great grandfather, but with his small size and without the fully formed arm of a Pitrius Isur it just was not the same. A grin still on his face at the wonder of it all, of their adventure, Crylon turned to the elder Isur. “We walk today paw paw? I pack?” Crylon and his elder had spent two days of trekking from where they had begun, two days getting away from civilized lands and out into the wilds of the mountains and into unending stone. Or at least what seemed a land of undending stone to Crylon. Shaking his head, he turned to Crylon. “No, we are far enough now. Today, we talk. That is why we came out here, to talk. Come, sit Crylon. Be still and calm and listen little one.” Nodding Crylon found a flat spot close to where his elder stood and spread out his bedroll, then plopped down to listen. “Now, likely all of this will be things you have heard before. But as you are to go out to the outpost with your father next spring, I want to make sure it is all understood. Do you know why? No? Because there you will not be among the depth of the Kingdom. There you will meet non-Isur, and I do not want to let that influence your thoughts. At your core you are a true Isur, and I do not want to allow outside influences to change that. If metal is formed well, it does not matter what environment it is set in, it will stand strong and be the same metal. But if not prepared for its environment it will not. Corrosion. Corruption. Perversion. Do not let this happen to you little one. Stay true as an Isur, and you can go anywhere without worry.” Taking on a more serious demeanor the elder Isur looked down into the eyes of the child, making sure he was listening and focused. That had been something Crylon of all the children to be taken on such trips did not have. He had always been a good listener. Silent and watching until understanding took hold. “Crylon Stonecraft Pitrius. This is your name. Your full name. Your Isur name. Use it when you wish to show respect to another true Isur. Not to outsiders. Then only use your first name Crylon, or perhaps Crylon Stonecraft. They will not understand anyways, so no need to go into clan ties.” A grin on his face Crylon stood and nodded. “My name Crylon Stonecraft Pitrius, elder paw paw.” With a small smile his elder nodded, coming down to the childs level and sitting on the open bedroll. “We are of the family Stonecraft. Known for our working of stone, we were named as such. We are builders, designers, of the Pitrius. Not the only ones, not the biggest, not the most important, but still we are Isur and do our best always. As you will little one. Always do your best, always work hard, and you will never be ashamed of your work or what you have made. Family first. Family, then clan.” WC: 728

[Crylon Stonecraft]

Staring down at the small Isur, the elder reached out his right hand to feel the muscle of his left arm. Still young it had not taken on the full color and appearance it one day would have, unlike his own. “Remember this little one. For Family, Clan, the Kingdom and Izurdin. First think of your family, Stonecraft, they come first. Then your clan, Pitrius. Act with honor and constancy, and you will live up to your name. Then come the Kingdom of the Isur as a whole, which includes all the clans, and Izurdin the Divine Father of all the Isur. Work for the glory and good of the Kingdom, and in every thing you craft, hammer, build, or make, show your worship to Izurdin.” Pausing for a moment to let his words sink in, the elder Isur continued to gaze down at the child. Crylon in turned sat and listened in rapture, as if each word were water and he a man in the desert dying of thirst. He was young but he understood well enough what was said, and would remember it in the days to come when he left the safety and order of the deeper Kingdom for its peripheries. “The Five great remaining clans of the Isur. The Sultros are red, for the blood of Izurdin they carry so strongly. The Vizerian are blue, akin to our flesh and that of all Isur, and are focused on worship of Izurdin. The Coglias are green, they are focused on fighting and protecting the Kingdom and its people. The Terras are purple, with a focus on smithing and led by women. And us, the Pitrius are black. Small, but known for our control of magic. Not all, but many. The protectors of The Silver Tower. Advisers. Scholars. The black of night, of a dark tunnel, and the unknown waiting to be filled with knowledge. ” “But these are just generalizations. We are known for our building, but of the clans as a whole the Sultros are known for this. Just because your clan, or even family, are best known for something does not mean you can only do that. An Isur can put their mind to excelling at anything, regardless of clan or family. If you want to be the greatest glass maker in the Kingdom, to bring glory to your family and Izurdin through such making, then do so. It does not matter what, only the action and intent. Remember this little one. ” “After all of this come the other Isur, those not of the Kingdom, not true proper Isur like you and me. Then the rest of the beings living across Mizahar, the humans and Akalak and those who cover the lands and seas and mountains and forests. Not lesser outright, but not as focused as Isur, not perhaps as civilized as the Kingdom and its citizens. But Family first, then Clan, Kingdom and Izurdin, and then and only then others. Build your own roof over your head little one, before worrying of others, lest the next rain come and everything get wet. Do understand little one?” A great smile on his face still, having kept in silent rapture while his elder spoke, Crylon simply nodded and uttered the few words of reply as he tried to commit to memory the words he had heard and to ingrain them in his being as his elder had told him to. “Yes Paw Paw. I unstand... I do.” WC: 582