A New Dawn (open)

[Kale Sordonis]

Timestamp: Spring 5th, of 512 A.V.


The sun was barely above the horizon when Kale began his work. As the morning light crept over the hills near Sunberth, a wood fire near the young man's tent was being built. The night had been fairly rough on him, but Kale had been through worse. Being just outside the city limits didn't give him much protection, although he believed being IN the city might be worse. As the flames licked the chunks of wood, a slight amount of heat made its way through the air to his battered hands. The warmth slithered into the skin on Kale's hands, and slowly crawled up his arms. Eyelids sagging, the blond-haired man wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep again. This wasn't a time of rest, however. He needed to work today, for it was on this day that he would make his first attempt at the newest project he had.

A long time ago he was given a drawing of a device used to keep track of time. The man who had given it to him had only seen it for a moment, but drew a sketch as best he could from memory. Years had passed, and every day Kale studied this drawing. He made rough designs of his own, trying to imagine how it would work. Then fortune would find its way to him. A traveling merchant happened to have one of these devices as he passed the small tent of Kale. Stopping the cart, the young man sent a barrage of questions at the merchant. What was it called, how was it made, what was its true function, etc. The man called it a clock, and offered to sell him one for 100gm. Without a second thought, the purchase was made, and the transaction finalized. From that moment on, Kale studied the clock, taking it apart and putting back together again, each time becoming more efficient.

Today was the day he would try to make his own.

Putting a iron bar in the pot, the young man set to work on building the mold for the first gear. He had plenty of sand at his disposal, and the four boards he used as the edges for the molds at the ready. Filling the wood frame with sand, Kale pushed his wax-gear into the box of sand. As he studied the mold, he smiled to himself. If he were triumphant today, it would be a new dawn in his abilities. Turning around the lanky man checked on the status of his iron. It had almost melted down. Soon he would be able to pour the molten iron into the mold and have his first gear. That is, if there were no interruptions.

Climbing back into the tent, he looked fondly at the clock sitting in the corner. He wished he could hang it up like it was supposed to be, but the tent simply wouldn't allow it. It was a work of beauty, crafted from simple iron, yet completing an elegant task. To keep time required precision. A steady hand. Not to mention a stroke of genius to develop such an object. The idea must have come prior to the Valterrian. No present man or woman could possibly conceive of this. Even if they could, Kale doubted that it were possible that they could craft such an item anyways. He wasn't even sure if he could do it. Although, having the object in front of him was a lot of help. Being able to stare at something day in and day out made it tremendously easier to attempt to recreate.

[Lessira]

Beneath the light of Syna, Lessira wore her mortal form, the form of a young Konti girl who appeared to be in her late teens. Long locks of white hair fell past her thin shoulders, and her slight stature of 5'7 only added to her delicate appearance. She was clothed in simple cotton fabric of a dark shade of purple that was a stark contrast to her pale skin and hair, and her light blue eyes looked upon the world with a strange wonder better befitting a child than a woman of her age. Lessira could not say what brought her out to these hills this morning, and she also did not care to ponder it for too long. Under the glow of the sun the girl felt less inclined to sitting and thinking, often feeling that action was the best course of action. This strange compulsion to move, to be active and to seek out ANYTHING that would shatter the monotony of her time in the light had thus see the girl to continue her training. Thus she ran, heart pumping and hair whipping behind her, ran from the city of tents and from those whom she had grown to know there as well. The feel of the wind biting her cheeks, the scorch of heat upon her back and the pounding of her own feet on the dirt... All of this drove what little bitterness was left within her mind to some far corner of her psyche, left to be pondered later. Her arms moved in a steady rhythm that matched with the beating of her feet. The monotony of it, the pattern and the simplicity that came with physical activity brought the girl to a place in her mind that she always felt was... so old. Absently, while she ran, the girl would move her arms in strange patterns, swift movements that were reminiscent of blocking motions of some martial arts form. Her breathing was deep and controlled, in through her nose and out through her mouth as she concentrated on keeping her motions fluid and her pace steady. Perhaps it would be strange looking of another were to see her as she was now, but luckily none were close enough to observe Lessira's oddities. Then, with a sudden intake and tensing of her muscles, Lessira rolled forward, using the momentum of her run to come instantly back to her feet and throw her self into a half spin. Using her arms to balance as she kicked out with one foot. Dipping her shoulder she rolled to the side, and threw out one hand to push herself into a half cartwheel before caming to her feet once more, her feet slightly apart and her hands held loosely at her sides. Lessira tried to steady her suddenly racing heart beat, to control those gasping breaths that made her chest burn. Closing her eyes the girl took 3 deep, slow breaths, raising her arms high over her head and slowly lowering them before her waist. Thus she remained for a full minute, simply breathing. Her mind she allowed to go blank, to be filled with the emptiness of a quiet consciousness, but of course she could not hold her composure for very long. When the effort of keeping all thoughts from her mind grew too great, Lessira breathed a long sigh and slid her left foot before her, creating an arch in the dirt. As she did she positioned her arms so that her left hand was held out before her eyes, palm facing forward and fingers slightly bent. Her right hand came to rest close to her waist, palm down with relaxed fingers as well. Breathing deep she opened her eyes and whipped out her right foot, kicking up dirt and rocks as landed a swift strike in the middle of an invisible attackers chest before her. Holding the pose for just a moment she breathed deeply once more, slowly lowering her foot back to its initial resting place. Two breaths followed, then a sudden strike with the palm of her left hand and a quick shuffle forward, followed by a half spin and leg sweep that carried the girl into another roll to the side. Hopping to her feet, Lessira struck out with her other hand, twisting so that her palm was facing upwards at the last second, a move that would act as a defection in actual combat. Thus she continued these actions, moving steady from one form to another as she struck out with arms and legs, falling into rolls and half cartwheels from time to time. To the girl all of these movements felt... stiff. As if her mind knew what it was she needed to do, and yet her body simply could not keep up with the demand. With a sigh of frustration the girl halted her movements mid strike, pulling back her energies and raising her hands high over head, feet together. Breathing in deeply the girl stretched as far up as she could, then with her exhale she brought her hands down to rest in front of her waist. She stood thus for several minutes after, simply breathing and trying to clear her mind to that state of nothingness that she knew she must obtained. It was, however, a goal that would not be obtained this day. Thus her meditations complete, Lessira turned to continue her run when she suddenly noticed where she had come. Just a short distance to her right there was a tent, such a strange thing to find in a place such as this. Absently she wondered why they had not joined the tent city just a short distance away, but with a shake of her head she banished these thoughts from her mind. The simplest way to learn an answer is simply to ask the question. Lessira thought to herself. And so, with long strides that spoke of eligance and grace, the girl stepped close to the tent, tilting her head to the side in an attempt to see inside, "Hello? Is someone in there?"

[Kale Sordonis]

Exiting his tent, Kale Sordonis stretched his hands outwards towards the sky. His 5’10” frame extended as far as it would go, pulling at the knots in his back and legs. Slowly, his hands came down, so too did his arms, and a long, drawn out sigh escaped his lips. Today was going to be a long day with pain like this. His entire body was sore and aching, mostly from sleeping on a very thin bedroll. The pain nagged at him each day, and he cursed himself for it. Were he not human, but some form of machination, he wouldn’t feel this pain. All the pain did was slow him down, cloud his mind. It made him use more time than necessary to complete his tasks, and use more resources to get working again.

Inefficiency.

That was the problem with all beings of flesh. They were constantly wasting resources, and performing tasks in the worst ways. His brother had told him stories of golems that could be created in less time than it took for a human to mature, with less money spent on resources than a child, and could be made to self-repair itself, allowing for a drastically extended lifespan. Why weren’t humans so efficient? That question plagued Kale day in and day out for years. He was constantly searching for a solution to the problem of making himself more efficient. No ground had been made in a long time. He cut his food rations down drastically, but that simply made him weaker, more susceptible to pain and injury. Waking up earlier and going to bed later could only do so much. The repercussions were a lack of daylight to perform his tasks, additional hunger, and extreme lack of energy. His body was simply too resource dependant. There was no other way around it.

Letting the anger towards his heritage and species leak out of his mind, Kale returned his attention to the smelting pot and mold. The smelting pot, having been on the fire for a bit, had heated up very rapidly, causing the iron inside to become very hot molten goo. Inserting the rods to carry the pot, Kale lifted the device, and carried it to the sand mold. Tipping the pot smoothly, the molten iron poured onto the wax. Almost instantaneously the mold had melted, draining away from the impression left in the sand. The cherry-red liquid filled the space left by the wax, settling into each prong of the gear. The mold sufficiently filled, Kale put the pot back off to the side, and began the wait. Once the gear cooled off enough, it could be removed and set with the other gears that had been made. Only one more piece was needed after this, and he could then begin his assembly.

Before his eyes, the iron was cooling and hardening. Already imperfections were becoming apparent. The imperfections wouldn’t affect the final product, at least on this piece. The final piece needed to be of a sufficient weight, otherwise it would not flow correctly, and the clock would be off. A clock that couldn’t properly keep time was pointless. Checking the iron even further, it became obvious that the heat at which the liquid metal had been introduced to the mold was too high, which caused the discoloration and odd markings on the gear. Kale recorded this on a piece of paper he had handy. Good to know. Day by day his knowledge grew, and his became more proficient at his metalcraft. Behind him, scuffling in the sandy soil snapped his attention back to reality and away from his crafting.

Kale couldn’t place the sound directly, but to him it sounded almost like a fight. He almost didn’t want to look around the side of his tent to see what was going on. Fighting wasn’t a strong point for him. All of his mentality went into crafting and creating. There was simply no room for battle strategy in his brain. All the combat tricks and maneuvers could be thought of as a machination of sorts, but he simply refused to make the transition. That all being said, he had seen some fights in his day that were so graceful, so fluid, that they seemed almost flawless.

Almost…efficient.

Then, as if acknowledging his lack of will to look, a voice rang out in the still morning air. “Hello? Is someone in there?" The person might be a looter looking for an easy target. That was usually the case in this area. People looking for money or food. Kale had neither, and was not willing to share what little he had with this person. Turning to face the sound of the voice, the young man put his hands around his mouth and called out, “I’ve nothing you want to steal, so kindly pillage elsewhere.” Not that the statement would stop anyone wanting to pillage, but at least it was a try. As long as they didn’t want his smelting pot, clock, or gears he had already crafted, he was fine. His clockwork was all that kept him going these days. That and his desire to one day create a machination that could replace various bits of himself to make his body more efficient. Wouldn’t that be amazing?

[Lessira]

Lessira blinked, a bit confused as to what the man meant. Was Lessira expected to pillage? Was stealing something that happened often to him? The girl wondered these things, absently pulling on a strand of white hair as she was taken away by her musings. However, eventually these thoughts lead to girl to still further questions, and of course none of these would be answered simply by standing about. So, moving a bit to the side so as to gain a better view, the Konti poked her head inside of the tent, looking about at the wondrous things inside. For the briefest of moment's her eyes wandered over the clock, a strange feeling of intrigue filling her soul, but then another sound caught her attention on just the other side of the tent, the sound of metal scraping metal and the movements from the voice's master. Ducking outside once more the girl turned to the other side, and there she was greeted by the visage of a man, a man with short cut blond hair and an odd patchwork sitting upon his shoulders. Lessira's eyes took a moment to scan the boy up and down, to take in his odd clothing and untidy hair. The girl had never seen such a figure before, and in fact she had very little experience with men to begin with. Thus she found herself comparing this man's self to the one whom she held dear, and in a matter of seconds the Konti had found that Mok was still her favorite by far. Her eyes, then were drawn to his clothing, and it was with a bit of interest that she realized that strange garb was, in fact, stitched from a variety of patterns and colors. This strangeness of outerwear was, however, just the very tip of the iceberg of the girl's curiosity of the boy, for before him she saw the smelting pot and its bubbling mixture. A strange smell wafted from it, and the heat of the fire beneath it almost seemed to call Lessira forward, as if it wished for her to explore this new and wondrous mystery. All of this and more the girl took in, absorbed it and recognized most of it as something she had not experienced, but then this was not a strange occurrence. It was, however, a different kind of experience than any she had ever had before. Now Lessira had stumbled upon something without the aid of another, without the guiding hand of Mok or any of his companions, and Lessira was determined to make good of herself for it. Thus she placed a smile upon her lips, and when she spoke the sun reflected off of her saphire eyes, "I promise you that I mean you no harm. I have no need to..." the girl's nose wrinkled as she tried to pronounce the strange word, "pillage your things." The girl's eyes wandered over the smelting pot once more, and her mind traced absently backwards, envisioning the clock hidden within the tent, "What is it you are doing out here all by yourself?" OOCI do not think it was ever specified where the smelting pot was, so I just placed on the other side of the tent opposite of where Lessira was training. Most likely his view would have been blocked from seeing her poke her head inside the tent for half a second, but if you want to confront her for that I am ok with it as well