The Hammer of Izurdin Smithy[Open]

[Landeril Shieldus]

80th of Spring, 511 AV


The Smithy's brick building did not disguise what it was, as the smoke poured from a chimney over the patio that hosted the massive forge. As Denval's only forge and smithy, The Hammer of Izurdin was in popular demand, as many of the sailors of the City would come to get ship parts, and the fighters who guarded the ships would come for weapons and armor.

One could see various ores scattered about the shelves near the forge, as well as the tools of the trade. The Smiths Hammer and Anvil, a pair of tongs to pluck the metal from the forge, and a barrel of water to cool and harden the metals.

Set about the tables, around the outside of the forge, were various bits and pieces of forged items. Steel blades, and iron staves. Armor of all shapes and sizes, even various shields. Arrowheads glinted in the light, ready to be shipped off to a fletcher, to be made into arrows.

In the midst of this, Two Isurians worked. The First, was an older Isurian, with a pale green arm, same as his young apprentice. His hair was tied back, and he was shirtless as he pounded a blade into perfection, his hammer making a baritone song with each strike of the metal. His work was sought out, and well deserved the praise, as Lan's old master, Galea of The Coglias, was a master of his trade.

The second was young by Isurian standards, only eighty odd years behind him. His green arm gave away his identity as a Coglias, and his fierce, dark green eyes seemed to find anyone who came near him. He wore no shirt, only his dark trousers and his smiths boots, his hand moving the same as his teachers, hammering upon a dagger, fixing the edge to his satisfaction. Though a smith of many years, Landeril's work was still not the work of a master, and he still studied hard under his master when he was in Denval. It was here that most residents found him, working in the forge, day or night. Some citizens would say that the sound of Landeril's hammer soothed them, while others complained of the noise. The Isurian never took notice of either, only his work.

[Veldrys]

Veldrys let a finger run across the blade of his dagger, making a face and shaking his head as he did so. No, this wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. If he wanted to be able to do his work properly, he needed his tools to be in perfect condition. The blade of the small dagger he had brought with him from Kalinor was uneven and dull. He’d used it on something that had been a little too hard. He either had to get it repaired or buy a new, better dagger altogether. Fortunately there was a smithy in Denval. He had never been there so far, but he had heard that it was being managed by a pair of Isur. The Symenestra had never met one of their race. The people that came to the chapel to pray had gotten used to him to some extent and weren’t as worried about him raping and poisoning their daughters anymore, but he didn’t know how the Isur would receive him. There was only one way to find out. Whatever insults they’d throw his way, it would be worth it, he decided as he walked towards the brick building. He had heard that Isur were excellent smiths that often bore the mark of their god. „Good day, Master Isur“, the Symenestra greeted Landeril as he stood in the doorway. His voice was heavily accented, clearly betraying that he was not a native speaker of the Common tongue. If Landeril bothered to find out who had come to the smithy, he’d find himself facing a tall pale man that seemed to be just a somewhat unusual human at first. Upon closer inspection the Isur was likely to notice that Veldrys‘ arms were too long and ended in black nails and that he was much too slender for a human male. On top of that, he wore a robe that marked him as somebody that served Viratas, the god of blood. „I need a dagger. Do you have time to make one for me?“

[Landeril Shieldus]

The Isur looked up from the sword he was striking with his hammer, his left hand moving to toss it into a bucket of water as he spoke, "Depends? You got the coin to pay for my work Friend?" The Isurian asked, his dark green eyes locked on the servant of Viratas. On his neck stood out the Silver Star Mark that Cheva had given him on the day of his marriage, and on his left arm, the denser arm, stood the Gnosis Mark of Izurdin. "And what kinda metal you were looking for." The Isur finally finished, his voice accented with the Isurian tone, showing he did not often speak Common, preferring to speak his native language. He moved to check on his sword, before taking it to a nearby weapon rack and hanging it there, "The final blade done for that order of a hundred." The Isurian Smith complained with a grunt. Satisfied with his final inspection, Lan turned back to the Priest of Viratas, dusting his hands off on his black pants. "Now, lets see this order you have for me, Friend." He waves the man in, gesturing to a pair of chairs away from the forge, near to the light of the outside.

[Tabarnac]

Moderator's Note: Hello! Landeril, I realize you are new, but the creation of locations is a job for the Domain Storyteller. As I said in our previous discussions, I will create a smithy and your character can get a job there, but you are not allowed to create a business for yourself without moderator approval. Please continue to interact with the other players and I will do what I promised to do. Thanks, Tabarnac