[The Road] It Could Be Sweet. [Syllke]

[Vanos Strongarm]

40 Fall 511 There was nothing that Vanos liked more than getting busy with his hands and keeping his mind free from frivolous thoughts. The work on the road, now that Vanos was able to see it for once, was not as raw as he initially thought it would be. Vanos heard about the road, at least from his own side of the rubble, and noticed that there was far more work done by the Denvali than there were by the Isurians. Vanos never thought of the humans that were involved in making the road possible as inferior to his own people, but there was a certain amazement at the work he had witnessed so far by what human hands had accomplished. What sort of expertise would Vanos need to give the Denvali when they appeared to be well on their way with their own power and determination to connect back to the world? Vanos was uncertain how he should approach helping on the road so he did what came natural to him, he got right into the thick of it and started to help the other workers haul and move the rock as was needed of him. His strength served him well in that regard, as Vanos was able to easily move rock and rubble by himself, a job that would normally take at least two or three Denvali to accomplish the same feat. The Denvali were polite to Vanos and made encouraging remarks to him about his strength and determination and seeming endless energy, but Vanos was there to work and not make small talk. To the Denvali, Vanos appeared cold and indifferent to the troubles that they had. Vanos had no “girl on the side” that he could converse to the other men about during their meal break, nor did he know how to play card games that involved betting money and something to do with a “poke her face.” Vanos thought the game sounded quite crude for men to play and dismissed it as a silly Denvali game that, even if he did try his best to understand it, would fail to understand the slang that was used. Houses that were full? Something about flushing? Reds? Blacks? When Vanos translated them into Isurian in his mind, all he understood was “silly humans.” It was near the end of the first workweek that Vanos worked on the road; Jerzy wasn’t particularly pleased to have Vanos disappear to do work on the road, but it was understood from the first day that Vanos met Jerzy that his priority was the road before the forge. This wasn’t a permanent arrangement, however, as Vanos simply wanted to see what he could help with on the road before the weather turned too cold – even Isurians put on a coat when the rain turns to ice. It was a very different job than what Vanos did on the forge – it was far more laborious than the work at the forge. This job was also completely outside and it was nice to be able to smell fresh air and work under what warm rays of the sun remained this late in the year. The day was more or less done for Vanos at this point as he along with the few friends that he made on the construction crew were slowing down their work with the lack of sunlight to work under. The tools were stowed away for the evening and Vanos got a better look at the huge job ahead of them. A job that would take longer than a few months – something that could possibly take years upon years. Perhaps in Vanos’ last days when he would be old and grey he would see a road that ran from Denval to Sultros. Until there, there was plenty of work, sweat and rock to move before they could hope to even start to lay the road down. “Vhat is double you?” Vanos grunted out as one of the construction workers shook their head at the Isurian. “It’s a letter you can’t say, obviously. Must be a silly Isurian thing.” He corrected the Isurian and Vanos looked up to him with a raised brow. He said a few words in Isurian, Vanos throat growling out the words up to the worker that had called himself Chet. To Vanos, that word meant something along the lines of a little tool that the Isurians used to clean the dirt from under their finger nails. “The vords I said, impossible for Common mouths to speak. Vhile I cannot say one letter of your language, you cannot dream to understand how language operates in Sultros. One sentence in Isurian vould need far more sentences in Common to express just faint idea of Isurian sentence.” Vanos wished, at this point, that his writing in Common was far more skilful so he could prove to this Chet that not having that one sound in his vocabulary did not make Vanos inferior. “Perhaps I try and teach Isurian to you,” Vanos said as he looked up to the man with a crooked grin. “Human mind can handle more than one language, correct?” Of course Vanos knew the answer to the question, he just hoped that the simple minded man would pick up on the insult that he said. By the look of Chet’s face, he didn’t get the joke and Vanos frowned as he said it over again in his head, his lips muttering it to himself as he double checked that he pronounced the words properly and used the correct Common words, conjugating properly as well. What was there that the man missed? Vanos shook his head as he walked away from the man and took some of the heavy tools over his shoulder to return them to the tent that they would be stored in until the next work shift. Vanos managed to go through three of the shirts that were provided for him by the working crew. The shirts weren’t made cheaply nor with materials that would normally tear away like they were weak and made of tissue paper, but the way the Isurian was used to handling his body was different than that of the humans on the crew. Vanos had no problems getting his arms and chest dirty and placing himself in situations that were deemed dangerous for humans. To the Isurian, it was nothing; and he did his best to try and undersell his ability to withstand certain amounts of pain and danger. With the heavy tools back in the tent and Vanos’ hands, arms and shoulders covered in that machine grease, he stepped out of the tent to see someone that did not look as if they belonged near any heavy machinery or anywhere that someone could get seriously hurt – Syllke. The sight of the man made Vanos stop in place and he wished that he would be able to curl into a rock and be mistaken as such. Not that he was ashamed of talking to Syllke again, but preferences were made and the Isurian was not on that list. He would have to just ‘man up’ and deal with the fate that the gods had given Vanos on this plane of existence. The Vantha was like the form of beauty itself before his eyes; Syllke was perfectly clean, well dressed and appeared like something that Vanos had never seen before, despite having socialized to the Vantha on many occasions. The bright and colourful and clean clothes that the Vantha wore were in stark contrast to everyone around Vanos that wore darker clothes covered with dirt and grime from dealing with a more hands on job than the Vantha could ever conceive. Perhaps the Vantha all lived in a place that was prebuilt for them that never experienced any form of hardship and thus they were free to pursue such leisurely activities as writing, singing and storytelling. Before Vanos could try and casually find another set of machinery to put away for the evening, Syllke spotted him as the foreman pointed out his location. The Isurian gave Syllke a wave as the Vantha smiled and jogged over to him with something in his hand – was it a pot? It appeared to be broken as Syllke had one part in one hand and the main pot in the other. “Syllke, hello,” Vanos said with a smile as he looked up to the Vantha. He looked back down to his hands soon after, to the black and grimy dirt that clung to his large and thick fingers like glue. Vanos tried to rub them together to free them of the dirt but it just clumped the grime together and spread it around even more. “Dirty, from vork. Sorry. Must go back home, to clean, to get grime off. Grime makes mess in bathroom, do not vant to make Jerzy mad. Vanos clean himself, clean bathroom. Grime makes extra vork for everyone – stops Denvali from seeing Sultros, stops Vanos from going home and going to bed.” He glanced to the broken pot in Syllke’s hands and gave him a big grin. Of course the Vantha would have broken something and immediately thought of finding the Isurian to repair it. Vanos found it infinitely amusing that the Vantha never thought of waiting for the Isur to return back to the shop, or wait until the end of the day when the crew from the road made their way back to the city for a night at the Inn. “Did you break? Or was broken vhen you got home? Jerzy can mend these, too. Jerzy good blacksmith. No Isur, but he is the good.” Vanos, at the moment, realized that once more he was without a shirt on around the Vantha. That appeared to be the way that they were to always meet each other. Vanos let out a low grunt as he pulled out a rag that was once a shirt from his back pocket and tried in a poor attempt to wipe the grime from his finger tips. “Syllke bring vater, by chance? Clean vater?”

[Syllke Skyglow]

Things hadn’t been going too well the past hour or so, from Syllke’s perspective. But seeing his Isurian friend was enough to bring a bright smile back to his face. He picked up his pace, despite the uncomfortable near pain running up and down his right shin and spilling onto the top of his foot. Perhaps he would seek out Veldrys after all – he had been debating this ever since the hot contents of his cook pot had cascaded down his lower leg. Luckily, he had been in the preparation stages of his dinner, and the stewed meat was not scalding hot. But it had been hot enough for him to leap back with a howl and a curse, having fully dropped the pot, further disseminating its contents all over his hearth, floor, and into the fire itself. Yanking his trouser leg up, he had removed the heat from his skin along his shin bone. His bare foot had not fared quite as well, though. More of the stewing juices had spilled there and now an ugly red patch covered the top few inches of his skin. Still, it hadn’t seemed so bad. The real dilemma was his dinner. He salvaged what he could of the meat – not being overly picky about eating it at some point once he had found an alternate way to cook it. Ruefully, he had picked up the hot pot with the same cloth that he had used to clutch the handle a few moments before. It wasn’t his own clumsiness that had caused the spill. The handle had given way where it turned to twist up and back on itself after threading through the hole in the very upper side of the pot. It was old and the material had failed. It needed a new handle. Instantly, his thoughts had leapt to Vanos. A man who could wield his own hand like a hammer and beat out swords from glowing hot metal with it must surely be able to mend a simple pot handle. If Syllke had had another kettle he would have waited. But this was his only, multipurpose vessel and his cooking efforts had been barely begun. Having changed his trousers, he cautiously pulled on his boots, forgoing the dried grass he typically used for insulation, and went first to Jerzy’s forge. It was anyone’s guess if the Isurian smith would be at the forge. So the fact that he wasn’t there wasn’t severely disappointing to the young artist. He knew where his friend would be. He set his steps towards the road construction site and felt only mild discomfort along his leg as he walked. The foot was more troublesome, but not to the point that he couldn’t walk. And, Denval was so small, it was a relatively short walk anyway. Still, he was quite glad to see Vanos – for a variety of reasons, and glad to see that he appeared to be done with work for the day. That the Isur was grimy didn’t bother Syllke a bit – he was far from a fastidious person himself. Though he might not sweat quite as much as the Isur, and his own employment at the Lyceum was sedate and clean in the extreme, Syllke was certainly not averse to getting quite dirty himself on his daily forays out and about the environs around town. Besides, somehow Vanos looked like a man that should be sporting the physical marks of his hard labor. The grime went well with the muscles. Vanos had thrown a hand up in greeting as Syllke made his way down the slight slope towards his friend. It was a good feeling to know that there were more than a few in Denval now that he could call his friends, and Vanos was maybe the closest of them, save one. The Isur’s smile and hello made Syllke grin broadly, his free hand going to slap the rock hard shoulder. “Hard working man you are, my friend.” He said teasing. “And, yes, I have more work for you.” He held out the pot, which he had been thoughtful enough to at least wipe clean, somewhat, though it still smelled of his would be dinner. Before he spoke again, his gaze focused on the Isur and his current state of filthiness. “I think it suits you.” He said somewhat cryptically. Syllke swiped a few fingers across Vanos’ upper arm and looked at them critically. “Not too awful – your bath can wait.” Showing the Isur the point where the handle had given way, he said, “I was right in the middle of fixing dinner when this broke. What a petching mess. Anyway, if I had something else to cook in, I wouldn’t be bothering you at this time of day, but . . . “ He smiled engagingly. “Do you think you can fix it? I’ll make you dinner if you do.” He didn’t feel the need to point out that dinner had been at least partially on the floor a short while before. “And sorry, no – I didn’t think to shove any water in my pocket before I came to find you. But I have lots back at the Lyceum – already warm! We can stop there first, if you really need to get clean.” He said, relenting a bit. “Though it seems a bit silly to me if you’re just to get dirty again fixing this.” Syllke patted the pot. “If you’re going to fix it, that is.” He tacked on, fully assuming that Vanos wouldn’t turn him down, but not wanting to seem too presumptuous.

[Vanos Strongarm]

“Hard vorking,” Vanos repeated with a smirk as he looked up to the Vantha. That was one way to not just describe Vanos, but to describe every member of his race. They did not sit around idly and do nothing, Isur were always busy keeping their hands occupied and their bodies in motion. It was rare for an Isur to have a leisure day, and thus when Syllke had suggested on previous occasions that they take a lazy day off, Vanos looked at him, puzzled. Though Syllke had been persuasive in getting Vanos to at least take an afternoon off that Syllke filled with stories, singing, and trying to get the Isur to do some form of movement he called “dancing.” Vanos did not approve of this recreational activity. “Suit me? Dirt suit me?” Vanos was confused by the way that Syllke worded that “compliment.” Had he just said that it looked normal for Vanos to be dirty and covered in grime? What sort of compliment was that to another man? Vanos was aware that Isur valued each other’s workmanship and thus would be proud of their calloused hands and the wounds they sustained from working with metal and being at the forge, but this? Vanos shook his head with a grunt as he pocketed the cloth in his back pocket while looking to the fingers that swiped against the bulge of his upper arm. He watched curiously as Syllke looked to the grime that he took from his flesh on the tips of his fingers. Perhaps the Vantha was thinking of ways to paint with such an odd material; Vanos could attest to the fact that the grime was difficult to remove, much like paint. He looked carefully at the point that the pot broke away from the handle with a frown. It was a stress break from what Vanos could tell, the handle and the pot were not made properly or, oddly enough, was not made with being exposed to constant head in mind, despite it being a cooking pot. He reached out for the pot itself and examined it and ran his finger over where it broke away as he paused and sniffed at the liquid that was inside of the pot with a grin. With that faint smell of food in the pot, Vanos’ stomach started to rumble. “Vhat you making inside? Vas it heavy, maybe? Pot broke, not good pot. But I can fix this, yes. Jerzy should still have forge hot, vill be easy to fix. You vill just have to vait for me to fix it for you. You going to vatch or I bring back to your house? Dinner vould be great. Vorking out here more labour than vorking at shop. Stomach very hungry. All the time.” He grinned as he shook his head at the Vantha and let out a grunt as the two of them started on down the path back to the city. Vanos kept the pot in his big hand as the two of them walked back down the well trod road that the workers used every day. “Fix, of course. Least I can do for the vork you have done for me. I not vearing shirt you maded for me back here – vould vuin them.” He said with a nod; he treasured the shirts with great reverence. Vanos appreciated the time and effort that the Vantha put into making sure that Vanos had some clothes to wear, and not just common clothes made out of cheap materials either. Vanos would never be described as fashionable or a man that would appreciate those sort of frivolous details on clothing, but at least he would look better than simply wearing a burlap sack over his body with some work pants hugging his legs. “Been out of city for most of veek. Vhat you been doing in mean time? Has there been anything happening in Denval? After vorking out here, I do not vant to sit and listen to chat and to ale getting drink. I vant to eat, clean and sleep. Isur not lazy if Isur vork all day and sleep all night.” He said with a smirk as he looked up to Syllke with a rumbling chuckle.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke watched Vanos inspect the break, saying, “Not especially heavy. It was just a hunk of moose. I think you’re right. It’s just faulty craftsmanship. This obviously wasn’t made by an Isur.” He grinned teasingly. “I’ll come along with you – I don’t have anything else planned. Maybe I can help you?” The last was said brightly, almost as an afterthought. Syllke had no experience working with metal, but it seemed an intriguing foray – one that might yield yet another medium for his artwork. As for the Isur’s comments about the shirts Syllke had altered for him, the Vantha said with a nonchalant wave of his hand, “Eh, don’t worry about it. You don’t owe me anything. I like to do that kind of stuff – very domestic I am.” He laughed. “And I haven’t been up to much. Things have been very quiet at the Lyceum – keeping it clean takes up more of my time than registering new students, or keeping track of the current ones – there are so few.” And after recent events, Syllke wondered if there would be even fewer. “Though most evenings there is a lecture or two. Tonight is about Astrology.” He thought with a quite leaden feeling in his stomach about his ‘lesson’ with the Ethaefal, Nashira. “I’ll be taking a pass on that one.” He looked down at the short beefy man beside him. “So – I’m all yours! Just show me what I can do to help you out.”

[Vanos Strongarm]

Vanos let out a grunt at the thought of something an Isur making, such as this pot, and it breaking so easily. He shook his head as he looked up at Syllke with a bit of a glare, but nothing overly hostile as he kept pace with Syllke as they walked down the road. With the fall sun slowly starting to wane in the distance, the chill of autumn started to lick at Vanos' exposed skin. "Isurian vould make something so strong, you put moose whole in pot, it not break." He looked down to the pot and thought it reminded him of some human craftsman that had made it. It couldn't possibly have been Jerzy that made it, right? The blacksmith may have been limited by his humanity, but he was no dummy. "I could show you how I vork. Vould be hard, to get you to help, but I vill try to see vhat I can show you safely. I do not vant you to get hurt or burned, and that is easy to do it you do not know how to vork avound forge. But you know to always ask and I make or fix for you. Safer if Isurian hand is in fire, and Vantha hands sewing. Safer." The Isurian restrained from the groan that he felt tickle the back of his throat, as he just cleared his throat instead. He turned his gaze away and remained silent after Syllke had said that he was all Vanos'. Against the better judgment of his mind, Vanos was remembering what happened that one night when the gods appeared in Denval. Apart from that event, Vanos had witnessed other things that confirmed his place within Syllke's life; a reality he would just have to accept and quit bemoaning internally. "You know," Vanos said as he looked back up to Syllke with a smirk, "You have not come to see my forge and my vork ever before. Ve always meet vhen I am off, vhen you are at your place. Never at forge or shop. Hope you like the heat..."

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke smiled easily, putting his hand casually on Vanos’ shoulder. “Don’t worry. I know fire is hot. I’ll watch myself.” The Isur might look upon his slight frame and think him a weakling and one who never got dirty or took risks, but that was far from the truth. Syllke was built like a Vantha, and underneath his clothes, his body was lean, muscular and hard – a runner’s body and not a fighter’s. His people, however, were very tough breed – having to survive in the most extreme environment in Mizahar. On land and on water, they took on huge fierce animals with simple weapons and ingenuity and grit. Syllke’s own preference for art and storytelling only fueled his adventurous spirit and his constant ramblings kept him fit – as well as frequently putting him at peril for life and limb. But on the outside, yes, he was a bit too pretty for his own good and it wasn’t surprising that people often thought him soft. He never took offense at this, though, and rarely bothered to try to correct their perceptions. If it ever became an issue, they would find out for themselves that he was made of sterner stuff than they perhaps thought. “I don’t know why I haven’t been around before this. I guess I didn’t want to bother you. Having a helper that is no help at all is time consuming.” He laughed. “But I’ll try to stay out of your way. I’m hoping maybe I can learn something that would let me use metal in my artwork.” To the Vantha, the chill of fall felt like a breath of fresh air, so he added, “And you are right – Vantha don’t exactly like the heat – but I think I can handle it. We’ll see, won’t we?” In no time, they had entered the town and made their way to Jerzy’s shop and forge. Syllke looked about expectantly. “Well, where do we start,” he asked, turning his grin on Vanos.

[Vanos Strongarm]

"Metalvorking, you have no showed me this vork before. Have you?" Vanos said as they entered the shop together. He would be interested to see the ways that the Vantha could manipulate the metal himself, by toying with it in his own intricate ways with his precise fingers. Perhaps there was a way for Vanos to help him with that, to provide him with materials and perhaps craft him something that would aid him in his work with art. Vanos wasn't able to make paper, parchment or any sort of drawing tools that Syllke could use; this might be one of the ways that he could pay the Vantha back for all the help that he has given Vanos. "Metalvorking different than this, I think. I reshape metal and give it life from dull things. I combine and I craft it with help of forge and help of Izurdin. Must be strong, smart and fast to do it vight." He said with a nod of his head as he closed the door after Syllke entered the shop. Jerzy had left, it appeared, as Vanos made his way to the back of the shop where the forge was still warm. He smiled as he looked over his shoulder to the Vantha that seemed quite enamoured with the blacksmithing tools and scrap pieces of metal that were around in the back of the shop. "I can start," Vanos corrected Syllke as he started to reheat the forge and make the fire growl once more. He lifted the cover to let the exhaust smoke go free from the room as he looked over to the pot handle with a frown while he looked back over to the sad little pot with the handle. "Vish I knew how to craft pot, completely. Could help you more than fixing this one, but I vill fix this for you first and learn how to create pot later." Vanos smirked and wondered just what sort of gift he could impart on a pot that would be blessed by Izurdin. Perhaps the contents of the pot would never burn? "Just fix pot, yes? Do not do anything else?"

[Syllke Skyglow]

As Vanos made his rather pointed comment about whose job this was going to be, Syllke laughed. “OK, I’ll be good. Just tell me when I can help with something. You know me – I’m far too curious to just sit and snooze while you work.” He wandered about a bit as Vanos spoke, looking at the tools and supplies of his friend’s trade. Finally he came to stand beside the Isur, as Vanos examined the pot once more. “Well . . . yeah. I just need it fixed, for now. But another one would be helpful. Maybe I could try to make one myself.” That suggestion got a look from the Isur that was pretty clear in terms of what he thought about Syllke’s potential smithing ability. Syllke shrugged and smiled. “OK, well, maybe sometime in the future. Maybe you can give me lessons.” The forge was beginning to heat up once more under Vanos’ skilled care, and Syllke undid the top few buttons of his shirt. “Then again, maybe Vantha weren’t meant to be blacksmiths.” He grinned as he sat down on an upturned bucket, plucking at his shirt front so that the material billowed and fell, acting like a small fan of sorts. “But metal smithing might be fun – more delicate, less heat. I’ve never done it before myself, but I suppose we could learn.” His head tilted a bit as he watched Vanos move about the forge. “Though your fingers might be a bit thick for it. I don’t know . . . “ His eyes roved about the shop once more. “And I don’t have any idea what type of metal can be used. I guess that would depend on what we’re trying to make.” He thought for a moment. “I’ve seen copper wire used before – but I don’t see any of that around here. And of course, there’s silver and gold – but we’d never be able to afford that.” His colorful gaze returned to the smith. “Is everything you make functional? Do you never make something just to be decorative? Do the Isur not have an appreciation for beauty, just in its own rights?”

[Vanos Strongarm]

Vanos had never taken an apprentice before, and thus wasn't sure how he could get Syllke to give him a hand. If he had taken an apprentice back in Sultros, Vanos would have had someone that was more comfortable and fluent with the ways of a forge and not a ... Vantha. He didn't have a problem with Syllke, but he wasn't exactly sure how he could help out given that he has never been near a forge before in his past. "Perhaps you can help by entertaining. Stories? No," Vanos said with a shake of his head. "Cannot focus on story listening vhen busy on forge. Company, though, appreciated." Vanos said with a nod of his head. After that quick exchange of looks when Syllke thought he could make something on the forge just by having Vanos close by, the Isur let out a low chuckle as he prepared to fix that one part of the pot so that it would function once more. He grabbed some strong metal tubing, thin enough to accomplish the wield and began to prepare wielding the two parts back together once more. "Lessons, they can be given. Tools here for non-Isur hands to vork in heat vithout getting hurt." Vanos said with a nod of his head while he applied heat to the metal, to get it more pliable as he pressed it against the broken joint. The strength from his one hand alone was more than enough to work the heated metal into the joint and make the pot whole once more. "Metalsmithing.." Vanos said curiously and slowly as he glanced over to Syllke. "Ve make things that are pretty, too, but not something I am good at. I make things with purpose, vith use. Not things for decoration." Vanos was thankful for, at that moment, the heat from the and light from the forge was more than enough to cover the darkening of his cheeks. We, we, we - the Vantha was tying Vanos into this idea of creating tiny little works with metal. Vanos saw certain artists create very elaborate things with tiny pieces of metal, but it was something that he never quite enjoyed. As Syllke had pointed out, his hands weren't made for such delicate creations. They were made to make buildings, weapons and armour. "Beauty, yes, see it everyvhere," Vanos nodded as he focused his attention back on the pot. The joint was healing and soon the pot would be whole once more under the careful hands of the blacksmith. "Sultros is beautiful place. Constructed to be strong, but also very ... good look. Maybe ve go to Sultros some day, you see vhat I mean. Sultros is beauty in own vay."

[Syllke Skyglow]

Vanos did not seem too enthusiastic about Syllke’s idea, but another’s lukewarm reception of what he found inspirational never discouraged him. He thought he could bring the Isur around in time. The suggestion about visiting Sultros, though, really sparked his imagination. “That would be fantastic!” he exclaimed excitedly. “I would love to visit your city. It sounds amazing – and I want to see as much of Mizahar as I can before I get old and die.” He had practically jumped up, as if they might set out that very night. Coming to stand beside Vanos, he leaned over, avidly watching those large, unbelievably deft fingers working the metal to fix his kettle. He was really too close, and was probably getting in the way. But he was a bit oblivious to that due to his focus on the idea of a trip. “Tell me about your city, Vanos. Did you have your own smithy there? How many Isur live there? Are there other races? Do you really live in caves underground? You should come with me when I got to visit Kalinor. It’s underground. Maybe they are similar.” If Vanos had already mentioned that the Isur were not dwarves who lived underground and mined, Syllke had totally lost sight of that in his enthusiastic embrace of the Isur’s idea.