Closed [Sultros Blades] An Eye For Steel (Zeein)

[Aoren]

91st Day of Summer, 513 AV

8th Bell

Aoren was, if nothing else, a peaceful man. He often opted to take the road of harmony in the face of conflict. He had learned long ago though that those who did not wield swords could still die upon them. Not all men and women of Mizahar were as forgiving as him. Not even the gods were always merciful and when they were angered their wrath was terrible. While Aoren would always pursue the path of peace it was time for him to take up a weapon that was more commonplace. He wasn't unskilled with the quarterstaff but he was hardly a master. It was also very difficult to find people to train with in regards to that highly uncommon weapon in a city where Knights brandished swords and mercenaries swung them right along side them.

These were the many thoughts that passed in and out of Aoren's consciousness as he tumbled out of bed. Throwing off his blanket he sighed pushing himself out of the comfort of the mattress touching his bare feet to the stone floor of his apartment. As he rose to his full height he heard the pop and crack of unused bones. The sensation of which made Aoren grimace. He would have to go for a run later to shake off the lethargic feeling that was settling in his muscles. Rolling his shoulders he went over to the water basin in the corner of his apartment and splashed the cool water onto his face. He shivered slightly but was most definitely awake after that. Grabbing a cloth nearby he washed his face. He made a mental note to visit the baths before the day was out or at least the next day. Quickly disrobing he grabbed some clean clothes dressing in a pair of fresh cotton pants, a clean linen shirt then sat down at his desk pulling on his boots. He tucked his pant legs into the worn leather before standing. Grabbing a a select number of coin from his chest he deposited it into his coin pouch then attached it to his belt.

Going to the door he took one look around the apartment before stepping out into the hustle and bustle of a Syliran morning. Aoren had lived in the city all of his life. He was familiar with almost every nook and cranny he had access to. Today he would be headed to Sultros Blades. The weaponsmith shop of Syliras. As he made his way through the throng of people within the city he was hit with the feeling that the day would be a very good one.

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10th Bell

Aoren walked out of the shop known as Sultros Blades with a satisfied smile. He would have his sword. Although he was far from experienced in the matter of blades he soon would be. He was certain that the weaponsmith in the shop was quite capable of forging for him a fine weapon. Aoren took a deep breath but was left with a dissatisfied lack of freshness. He needed to get out of the city. With a pang of regret he thought back on leaving his quarterstaff in his apartment. He would have to retrieve it. Turning on his heel he made to go back to his living quarters only to halt in his tracks as he nearly bumped into a man who was staring quite intently at the shop.

"Looks like all those encounters with people is paying off. I didn't bump into him." Aoren remembered ruefully the people he'd nearly barreled over in his time there in Syliras.

"Sorry, friend. I didn't see you there. Are you...uhh...lost?" He arched an eyebrow as he studied the man.

[Daveth]

Zeein turned around at the sound of a voice, he seemed too caught up in his staring at the blade works, he had one hand on his chin and the other arm folded across his chest, holding a water skin in his hand as he drummed his fingers against it. He raised an eyebrow at Aoren, letting his eyes drift over him. "Lost.." He said to bite his lip, thinking on the word to try and capture it's meaning. "No lost.. am sorry, will move if have to." He said making the hand gesture for walking. "Was watching work." He said pointing to the forges of Sultros Blades. "You come from shop, yes?" Zeein looked a bit tired, dark circles lined his eyes and he needed a shave. His usual well trimmed scruff was getting a bit out of control. He rolled his shoulders and extended his free hand to him. "Am new to city," He said tapping his foot on the ground. "You are.. Knight? You built like Knight, strong, large, yes?" He said with a chuckle, flexing his arms while he said 'strong' and 'large'. "Am Zeein." He said pointing to his chest. When Aoren went to take his hand, if he did so, he would probably be able to catch the faint smell of alcohol on him. His clothes were rather simple, a cheap cloth shirt with long sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows, and simple cotton pants and leather shoes. Zeein locked eyes with Aoren for a moment, they were the same striking blue color. Zeein's eyes showed more about him then his words could. They seemed hollow, empty. They lacked joy or true happiness, and though he tried to hide it with a joke or a smart remark there, most with a good ability to read people would be able to see straight through the mask he was trying to put up. "You work in.. market?" The way he asked the question seemed like he was asking two, if he had the correct word for the area with all the shopping, and if Aoren worked here. "Job.. trying.. to find job with metal. I good with hammer and steel.. bang bang, yes?" He said hitting an invisible anvil with an invisible hammer. "You know someone help me?"

[Aoren]

Aoren blinked at the man as he got a whiff of the alcohol rolling off of him. It wasn't a strong scent but it was certainly heavy enough to let anyone know that this man was no stranger to the drink. Once he got over that though the first thing Aoren noticed about the man was his striking blue eyes. He had only seen eyes like it once and that was in the reflection of a mirror. There was something familiar about those eyes but it was lost on Aoren. Beyond that though he was certainly an observational enough person to notice the lackluster glaze about the irises. The bloodshot haze to the whites of this man's eyes and the overall downtrodden demeanor that pervaded him.

All of those things aside he had scarcely seen someone speak so animatedly. It took a moment to register when finally Aoren realized the man was accompanying his spoken word with the unspoken language of his people. It had been years since Aoren had used it but Pavi was something he was only barely able to speak and understand. That was when the man's broken common registered in Aoren's mind. He shook his head.

"No. I am no knight."

"One day maybe." Aoren had been thinking a great deal about the Knighthood lately but such thoughts were for another time and another place.

"I, uh, I like to stay fit. We live in a tough world." The Drykas accompanied the sentence with the rudimentary sign for difficult and land but it was clumsy and definitely unrefined. He pointed to Sultros Blades.

"That is the weaponsmith shop. That is where swords and other weapons are made here in the city." He cleared his throat wondering briefly if the man, Zeein he had said his name was, was understanding anything of what he was saying.

"If you need work I am sure the Master there will be happy for the help." Aoren couldn't put his finger on it but the man in front of him definitely had a story to tell. No man threw themselves into such a miserably rag-tag state without reason. He could see exhaustion in every breath. The way the man clung to his waterskin as if it were a net cast into troubled waters to save his life was rather obvious. It was only after a moment of quiet observation that Aoren realized he hadn't given his name.

"I am Aoren." He shook the extended hand though it was long overdue at that point. "And I work for the Apothecary. I am a..." He searched for the right word. A simple word to convey to a man who seemed a little out of his element. "I am a healer."

That was not all that Aoren was but such secrets were kept for a reason. They were seldom shared with idle strangers.

[Daveth]

Zeein noticed it too, the same color eyes as he had. He raised a brow, but the thought was cut short by Aoren's voice. "No knight? Am sorry. Seen Knight's.. built much like you. Mistake yes?" He said with a bow of his head. "Yes yes, tough world. Very mean, mean people.. mean animals, mean weather.." He said shaking his head, casting his gaze off to the side at the mention of mean weather. He closed his eyes and exhaled before putting on a smile and giving Aoren's hand a shake with both of his, after putting the waterskin on his belt of course! "Aoren.. good meet you, Aoren." He said patting his hands and then letting go of them. "Apo.. the.. cary.." He repeated, more to himself than anything. He looked confused, but when Aoren said he was a 'healer' Zeein seemed to understand. "Ah! Medi-seen, yes?" He said nodding and then acted like he was wrapping a wound. "Good job.. good cause." He said grinning wide before letting it fade. "Hmm.. well I ask more people if they help with job." He said before looking at Sultros Blades. "You shop for blade?" He said patting the scabbard on his hip, "I no need buy.. have own. Family hair-loom!" He said mispronouncing a word for the umpteenth time today. "What kind of blade you want? Big blade? Short blade? Middle blade?" He said making sizes with his hand with the appropriate words he used for sizes.

[Aoren]

Aoren managed a small smile as Zeein struggled with the unfamiliar words. They could at least understand one another. He shrugged his shoulders in mild agreement with the Drykas man. Aoren scratched his nose absentmindedly. He wasn't quite sure what direction this conversation was going to head now. He was about to bid his farewell when the man began inquiring about the type of blade Aoren had commissioned.

"Oh, I asked for a middle blade. " He used the other man's way of speaking so as not to arouse confusion. Aoren could only assume that by middle blade he meant something akin to a longsword. He was strong but he couldn't picture himself swinging a greatsword over his head like a raging berserker. Aoren pointed to the sword on Zeein's hip.

"Like yours." He stared at the sword for a moment. What was it like to possess a piece of your family's history? The way the man had boasted of the blade meant he was obviously proud of it. Aoren didn't know what that was like. Mustering up what little knowledge he had of Pavi, Aoren made the gesture for home accompanied with a questioning look.

"You are Drykas?" He spoke clearly, the question in his voice ringing clearly. There was hesitation there. Why? Aoren had never been hesitant about seeking knowledge concerning his heritage before. He didn't want to leave room for misinterpretation. The young man didn't often meet one of his own people. What reason did any of them have to come to Syliras? Nomads, they wandered the Sea of Grass and that was about all he knew of them. After a moment he sighed shaking his head.

"N-nevermind. It's not important. I want to learn to sword fight." He swung his arms as if wielding a blade. He gave the Drykas man a half-smile.

"Though, I've got a long ways to go." He chuckled. Aoren had a long ways to go about learning how to wield a sword, indeed. He knew nothing about sword fighting. Well...he did know that the pointy end was supposed to go into your enemy. There was the extent of his knowledge however.

[Daveth]

"Ah middle blade! Yes good balance, good reach.. best kind." He said with a wink and a grin as he kept a tight grip on the hilt of his sword as Aoren pointed to it. "Very good blade.. yes yes.. was fathers fathers blade." He said smiling softly, seeming to let his fingers trace the pommel with a sad smile. At the word 'Drykas' he seemed to pick up. "Ah! Yes yes! Am Drykas!" He said rolling up his sleeves to show of the Windmarks on his right bicep. It was a small, simple band with various points and edges to it. He showed it off proudly for a moment, but then dropped the cloth to cover it. "No important? No.. big important!" He said nodding, "Drykas what I am, where I from." He said pointing to his chest. "You not love where you from?" He said pointing to Aoren as he spoke, tilting his head to the side. "Ah! Warrior? I warrior too!" He said with a chuckle, "Well.. was warrior before." He said nodding, "Warrior for Die-mand clan." He said running his fingers through his hair, "I help you, yes? You help me find job? Talk for me to Blades Shop owner. Common.. not good." He said frowning. "Need friends, new in city."

[Aoren]

"You are lucky to have it then." He nodded to the heirloom. It was obviously highly important to the man. He could appreciate hanging on to something that signified ones heritage. Wistfully, Aoren wished for the same thing. Even one scrap of something to give him an inkling as to what his family, his people, the world he'd never know had been like. Maybe then he could be satisfied with his lot in life. Until that day he would just keep...grasping for something.

He chuckled lightly at the Drykas man's excitement over the mention of his homeland. What must it be like? He had heard a few stories of the Sea of Grass. The rolling fields of endless wild grass. So tall the stalks could swallow a man whole. He had also heard tales of the beasts that roamed the open plains. Bloodthirsty and vicious they could rip a man in half with a swipe of their claws. He couldn't recall what their name was but he knew enough about them to give them pause for thought.

"I..." He was about to say to Zeein that he had no idea what his homeland was like. At witnessing the man's proud display of his windmarks, the bravado with which he bragged about the Drykas people, Aoren couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt that on some deep level to admit that he was a Drykas himself but had no knowledge of their homeland would be offensive. He would keep his sorry excuse for a story to himself for the time being. The young man gave Zeein a smile perking up as the other man's enthusiasm was catching.

"I grew up here in Syliras. It is a good, safe place to call home. The Knights are very honorable." There was something contagious about the Drykas man's good nature that Aoren couldn't resist. A familiarity he couldn't place. He inwardly shrugged it off as the usual sixth sense he got about people. The mark upon his right hand sometimes had that affect on Aoren. He could merely stare at a person and suddenly a glimpse of their past experiences would flash before his eyes. To the casual observer he would have zoned out for a moment but he usually just shook it off. There were times when it couldn't be helped.

"A friend? Hmmm..." He ran a hand through his short hair rubbing his scalp for a brief moment. "We could all use friends, Zee." He had stumbled over the man's name but after a moment Aoren smirked.

"Zee. I like that. Can I call you that?" Gesturing to the shop he nodded toward it.

"Master Eanos, the owner of the shop, is just inside. He's an Isur, one of the Mountain Men but he's very even tempered. If you have a letter, a note from the Employment Office I'm certain he will at least consider giving you a job." Aoren came to stand at Zeein's side. He pat the newcomer on the shoulder.

"Welcome to Syliras, Zee. I help you and you can teach me how to swing a sword properly. Deal?" He offered Zeein his hand again that the two of them could shake on the matter.

[Daveth]

"Yes, lucky... very lucky." Zeein nodded his head and then patted the sword scabbard once more before returning his hands to fold across his chest. Zeein's own thoughts drifted back to the Sea of Grass. He had a different perspective of it than most outsiders, it was dangerous but it was also his home. He remembered the quiet nights around a fire, eating, laughing singing. The long days hunting and gathering, and the still but busy mornings when everyone was preparing for their day. He let out an internal sigh and kept a good face for the man in front of him. "You are home then!" He said with a nod, "Cherish home. Not.. take.. for gran-teed." He said with a soft, sad smile as he scratched his chin, looking around at the market place once more. He blinked and jumped a bit at the hand on his shoulders, nodding. "Zee? Have been called before, by family and friends. So yes, can call me." He said grinning as he looked to the shop. "Mountain men? Oh.. OH!" He said nodding, seeming to pick up what Aoren was saying. He then made a hand motion, dropping a flat palm, facing downwards at his side and lowering it to the height of the Isur. "Short and quiet ones.. mucsles.. and well cold." He said with a shrug. "I hope get along.. or could be bad." He said biting his lower lip. He then grinned back once more, "Deal." He said with a nod, "Taught many.. can teach one more. Hard work, not easy." He shot his hand forward and gave Aoren a hard grip, maybe a bit.. well too hard.

[Aoren]

By the look in Zeein's face Aoren could tell that the idea of home meant a great deal to the Drykas man. That brought many questions to mind but it would have been impolite for Aoren to ask them out loud. He kept them to himself. There would be a time when he could ask the other man things about the Sea of Grass. How could he not ask those questions? Aoren was very curious about his heritage. He knew practically nothing about the Drykas except for what was explained to him by a passing traveler nearly a year ago. What information he had managed to get from that man had been very uplifting.

"Home." He nodded with a note of finality in his voice. There was agreement in his tone but also a hint of sadness. It was but an echo compared to that of Zeeins but it was there nonetheless. Aoren did smile at the man's description of the Isur. He noted and understood the gesture he made to symbolize them in the strange but meaningful language of his homeland. Pavi, a language where the body was just as important as the word itself.

"Yes. Those mountain men." He nodded to Zeein accepting the handshake wincing slightly at the forceful way the man gripped his hand. The strength was surprising but he was glad for it. At least Aoren knew he would have a challenge on his hands once they did get to the lessons.

"Excellent! Now, I just need to get myself a sword to practice with!" He chuckled shaking his head. "In the meantime let me show you around the city? You are new. It would be bad manners for me not to show you how to get around. Syliras is very different from the Sea of Grass."Aoren dropped his hand from Zeein's shoulder and jerked his head slightly as means for the man to follow him.

"Have you been to the Rearing Stallion? It's not the nicest place in the city but it has very good ale." For some inexplicable reason Aoren was now playing host. That was something he typically avoided but he was resigned to the fact that he had played to role of a hermit long enough. A new season was upon him and with it would come the dawn of a new life. As he turned to guide Zeein into the weaponsmith's shop he was certain of it.