Closed [Kitrean Krafts] The Irony (Cyrene)

[Karin]

45th Winter 515 A.V., Kitrean Krafts, Alvadas

A day had passed since her argument with her step-father: she refused to give him the satisfaction of being called 'father'. His enforced rules and regulations, of where she could and couldn't go were weighing heavily on her mind. She knew the supposed reason, that 'Alvadas isn't safe any more, and it's for your Mother's health and your safety.' But it just didn't feel like any kind of good, or reasonable thing to do.

Today she'd woken up, facing the drab wall in the drab house, hearing the light snoring of her mother and the clatter of Jovern which had woken her up. The mundane-ness of the house was wearing her down, the thin porridge, the dull light, the daily, endless routine her parents had which never changed and was the reason she had always tried to escape from it.

This routine now was apparently changing. Jovern tried to talk to her as she ate her breakfast, but steadfastly she ignored him. In fact, it wasn't until, "Well, are you coming then?" that she realised he had told her something, and that he was on his way out of the house.

"What?" Despite it being a question, her voice didn't show it as such, but merely lay flat and limpid. Jovern frowned, the Isur father she never knew just how much she hated until recently. "Are you coming with me to the forge, or would you prefer to mope around at home again?"

~~~

She hadn't visited her step-father's workplace recently, and the only time she could remember was when she was younger, barely able to lift the hammer and always aching to go back outside to play properly. But now, apparently, it was 'take your step-daughter to work' day. She'd rather he left her at home, but he had been insistent, and the fresh air and change of scenery was welcome, even if the company wasn't.

The forge hadn't changed since she had last been there, at least, nothing noticeable. It was still the same, solid building it always was. It was relatively quiet this early in the morning, and Karin almost thought of escape, but with a word from Jovern to his fellow Isur, on the shop floor and in the forge, they all knew Karin wasn't to be let out of sight. Out of 'death glare' sight, as the Isur didn't particularly enjoy having a non-Isur getting in their way.

So, with a sigh, the girl sat on a chair in the shop, and looked around at the weapons on the racks, with listless eyes. It was going to be a long day.

[Cyrene Everwind]

Description "Cyrene" Thoughts Isur Tukant Others

8:08AM

Quinlain awoke in her bed at the inn. Stretching out her sore limbs she rolled her head around hearing the bones snap. Taking a long glance at the mark, the god of her original people had bestowed upon her. Her left hand caressing the pattern lightly, shortly after receiving the mark she’d had another tattoo emblazoned on the other unadorned shoulder partially to match the look. Mostly because she wanted to test out if when she shifted forms she would lose the tattoo. The answer was yes. However the mark of izurdin remained emblazoned like a badge of honour from her people’s benefactor. The stark blackness drank in the light as the glittering carmine of her red arm emblazoned itself to the world.

Right…Let’s get ready for work shall we. Groaning a little as she slipped her clothing on she marched out of the door, her glaive strapped to her back. In the recent weeks alvadas had become a less than friendly city. Which had always been the case since her arrival in the city as of five years past. The walk to work was surprisingly uneventful for a change. She stepped in and began to set up shop readying her station for a few chimes before any of the other staff arrived. Most new better than to touch her station as the last fool who did had found himself with a broken hand.

A small price to pay for messing with an Isur’s station. Even if she was only an Isur during the hours of daylight.

---

11:36AM

Kicking in the door on her arrival at work partially as she had picked up an order of steel ingots. The weight substantial even in her well looked after form.

“Well one of you blasted idiots help me!” She yelled out echoing in a harsh yet still feminine tone above the clamorous din of the hammers on anvils. Before long the novice smiths had begun to hurry over and haul five or seven ingots away at a time from the pile of around forty she carried.

“Petching morons.” She growled in isurian far enough away from the other isur in the building to not have to worry about repercussions. A heavy sigh escaped her as she headed to her particular work station. Dropping the ten ingots she had for her own work by the thick anvil. Pressing her red arm onto the cool smooth surface of the steel she cracked a small smile. Only after igniting her forge did she notice the girl seemingly lingering in the corner of the work place. Shaking her head and having not been informed about the situation. She decided to simply do what she would always did to people who looked completely out of place.

“Oi girl! You’ve got two options, get your arse in gear and help out the smiths, or get the petch out of the forge.” She lowered her gaze a little the luminous glare of her eyes now placed on the girl sat in the corner as Quinlain lifted a billet of steel from the pile and lid it into the now roaring hot forge next to her. The blade sweltering already. She broke into an immediate sweat. Used to the heat she didn’t even realise as she sighed and reached into the fire with her right hand. Gripping the still red hot metal and holding it in place as she drove continual strikes into it with her hammer. Not even registering if the girl had gotten of her backside or had continued to sit there. She had work to do and she was not going to be distracted by someone who didn’t belong there.

[Karin]

The day had been slow so far. Vacielli Haolven, the shop-owner was a friendly enough person, for an Isur that is. He had offered to let Karin assist him in the shop, but she had declined more surly than she'd meant to.

No, she didn't want to help out. So she'd spent the rest of the time alternatively sitting on a chair and wandering around the forge, trying not to attract attention.

So it surprised and annoyed her when an Isur woman, hard-spoken and barely understandable, yelled something about helping her, or getting out. Obviously her father..- her step-father hadn't managed to tell everybody why she was supposed to stay.

With a half-hearted leap she almost decided to take the woman up on her offer, and leave. But the repercussions didn't bear to be thought about. Her step-father hadn't ever beaten her, but she wouldn't put it past him.

Instead, she stood up and approached the woman, scowling and looking as worse as she possibly could. Ordinarily she would be pretty wary of talking to a stranger simply out of the blue like this, but she was in an environment she'd been accustomed to since her childhood, 'helping' her step-father as he worked.

She shouted, not from anger but simply to press her own voice against the clamorous one of the forge. "Look, lady. I can't and won't work, and I can't leave because Jovern, who is my step-father and who works here, told me I have to stay. I don't want to get in your way, so just leave me be, okay?" The heat and noise of the forge flushed her pale cheeks, but she simply stood there, half a distance away from the woman and folded her arms across her chest defensively.

Usually the girl was polite. And considering this woman was an Isur, she thought she was being relatively polite, considering the circumstances. "Oh, and trust me, I would get out of your petching way if I could." She shrugged bitterly, and turned to walk away again, to sit down on the same measly chair she'd been sitting at since what seemed like for ever.

[Cyrene Everwind]

Description "Cyrene" Thoughts Isur Tukant Others

The small girl nursing the stool looked like nothing much and that she was simply there out of being told too rather than actually wanting too. Though the small woman at least from a physique point not mentioning height. Seemed to grow some spine as Cyrene shouted at her. Returning the raised voce to be heard over the forge work. She couldn’t leave because she was being forced to stay? And she wouldn’t because she couldn’t. Cyrene smirked a little though her follow up simply bit deeper. She would get out of the way if she could. Her emphasis on calling her a “lady” and swearing was something that brought a small glimmer of shine to Cyrene’s face.

“Aye lass. Well ya’ve got two choices. Either move out of the way of the oil tank or risk getting perpetually burned.” She smirked a little as she lifted the white hot blade slightly. “If ya’ve gotta outta the way. Then I’d suggest sitting over here by my station. All the other petchers in this place know not to invade my work space.” Stepping past Karin Cyrene lifted the blade into the oil tank. A small wait for the white hot steel to drop down to a lower temperature and case harden into a more grind able state.

Standing just about as tall as Karin was whilst she sat Cyrene smirked and looked over her shoulder. “Well missy, ya got a little spirit in ya. Mind if I ask ya name?” Cy stepped back over to her workspace and pulled another lump of steel from the fire the Steel glowing white hot as she began to forge the blade out into a longer than usual billet before cutting and folding it. She wanted a several layered blade for extra strength. If she was going to make this thing she’d damned well do it right. Or else she’d besmirch both the Isur’s name and Izurdins own. Cy glanced over her shoulder briefly to check and see if the “spirited” girl had decided to take up her offer. “Name’s Quinlain by the way. Not the best smith in the world but getting there.” She smirked a little more slamming the hammer hard into the steel. Noticing the glow dull she slipped it straight into the fire. The sweltering heat something she was used too but even so she was sweating like an Avanthalan in Ahnatep.

[Karin]

The seemingly constant smirking of the smith was almost more than she could bear, and with ever so slightly gritted teeth the girl answered. "Karin."

But despite herself, she sat nearby. Maybe it was the chair, promising boredom. Perhaps it was the potential to annoy her newfound acquaintance. But whatever the reason, the girl sat.

For a while, she watched the smith in work. The entire place a constant reminder of her father, and the never ending quest of his to encourage her to take up the family trade. She would never work at the forge again, not if she could help it.

Quinlain seemed to be rather determined though. It was hard to tell her age, as Isur lived longer than most, but it seemed to her that she would be a better daughter to Jovern than she was. Karin sighed, not audible over the general background noise, but certainly visible with the rise and fall of her shoulders.

With a sudden burst, she yelled out, "What is it with you people and forges?" Any Isur she had ever met were all entirely obsessed with working metal. She didn't understand it, despite the half remembered lectures she'd once had from Jovern. Something to do with a god...

[Cyrene Everwind]

Description "Cyrene" Thoughts Isur Tukant Others

A growled answer was still an answer. Karin. Strange she’d expected a more vibrant and varied name but whatever was, was. Cyrene picked up the blade form the fires, and folded the steel several more times. Each impact was something that let her know the white hot steel was beginning to from a stronger more solid billet. As Cyrene’s attention was focused on the steel the girl Karin had moved to sit nearby. The single rings of her hammer against the steel drawing a small edge of a tune to her lips. Her eyes almost closing like she knew what to do subconsciously.

“A voice cuts through the steel, Rings through all that’s hollow. All the harsh words feel, and they begin to cut and swallow. All she has to loose is all she never had.” Words sung softly and lightly. A missed note here or there but still easily melodious. And quiet enough within the din for only those within a couple feet of her to hear. Picking up the billet from the fires once again the white hot steel began to be tapered to a point. A sharpened edge not straight. But curved. A much wider blade than most would be used too. She was infact crafting the blade of a falchion. A thick bladed and reverse tapered sword. A broader head that got thinner towards the handle. But still had a point to it with a heavily defined cutting edge.

“Her blood begins to run cold, always breaking what she borrows. Her favours bought and sold, she lives ever for tomorrow. Just another wish that never was.” On her face she wore a melancholic look as she stared into the flames. The remaining steel a small side project for her to work on. She began to hammer it into a open circle, a thin strip hammered around the horn of the anvil into a loop. Placed into the flames with her hand as with the tongs she pulled the other from the fires. Drawing out the tang a voice cut through her mind. What was it with her and forges? Oh her people? Cyrene stopped a moment placing the blade back into the fires to reheat.

“Depends really. Most isur do it to honour Izurdin. The father of the Isur. I do it because it’s the only way I can find peace.” Cyrene had a look of almost hurt too her as she spoke. Still covered by a hard exterior, like a shell. She pulled the loop of steel from the fires and hammered that flat allowing the blade to reach full temp, before taking them both to the oil bath to quench and temper. A lump of brass in her hands as she stepped back to the anvil. “Sometimes it’s not about the forge, it’s about finding a happy medium and outlet for us.” She wanted to say more. But a life of living where opening up to people only to watch them fade like fleeting lights in the sky was something that held her back. “If you want to know what I mean perhaps you should give it a try.”

Cyrene pulled the lump of brass from the fires and made a small head motion to Karin to pick up the hammer, Cyrene herself used another hammer she had on hand to begin a simple swing. And show her what she could do. Making something beautiful from something base, was oft times its own reward. But to Cyrene, it was the knowledge that what she made if maintained well, would ast as long as she would.

[Karin]

Karin couldn't help herself- she snorted at the notion of doing some blacksmithing herself. She wasn't here to do that, she wouldn't do that again, not if she could help it. The woman didn't seem too bad though, and despite her not agreeing with most of what she said, she nodded, frown still stuck to her brow.

"Izurdin, huh. Well, no offense, but I'm not interested in all that anymore. I've had enough of that in my life." She slumped back into her chair, and watched the woman work.

The only thing that she could agree with was finding peace, she knew that feeling, wanting to escape, perhaps. That was what the ocean was to her. Maybe everyone had that kind of thing in their life, the only thing which could calm them.

She comfortably folded one leg over her knee, resting her elbows to lean forward and look into the flames as the woman hammered. Cyrene, her name is Cyrene.

"What are you making?" Her natural curiosity nudged itself forwards, and she kicked herself internally. She had no wish to get interested in anything today. This was a punishment, and she was petched if she would bow to her step-father.

Shaking her head and muttering, the girl said, "Never mind, it doesn't matter." But if the woman did answer, the girl would listen, despite herself. If it was out of boredom, or out of actual interest, it didn't matter.

[Cyrene Everwind]

Description "Cyrene" Thoughts Isur Tukant Others

Cyrene simply shrugged when she didn’t move. Her choice sometimes just hitting things with a hammer made everything feel better. At least that’s what she told herself when the ring of steel echoed out over the anvil and the space between them. The brass yielding to the weight of the hammers head and flattening out. To her side the picked up a punch and knocked it through the centre of the brass plate forming the space for the tang to slip through.

Still though there was more to do form this falchion. In the distance the oil had nearly finished its tempering process. Whilst it was still working Cyrene lifted a small roundel of wood long enough to hold in two hands comfortably. She didn’t do anything to the simple piece of thick doweling instead choosing to just take up a chisel and carvers knife and hollow out a slot for the tang to slide through. Once she got the steel back she’d begin work on threading a pommel and the end of the tang. “To be honest lass. It’s up to you what you do I’m not one to choose what people do, nor choose to follow.” Cyrene gave a light chuckle and slipped the now rounded guard into the oil along with the two steel blades.

Another lump of brass in her hands which as she spoke to Karin she began to shape with the hammer and then her right hand into a round form. “What’ I’m making Karin, is called a falchion. It’s a large two handed blade. Single edged and curved to weigh more at the head than the base meaning it requires less strength from the wielder to strike at targets, and do its work.” As much as Karin was impassive to what Cyrene was doing she could still tell that the girl was curious enough to ask so maybe what she hated was not the forging but something based around it.

[Karin]

It seemed the Isur was making a blade, something which shouldn't and didn't come as a surprise, considering where they were. The only thing she had ever done at the forge in years previously was to hammer at some very simplistic blades, so the mention of a falchion didn't disturb her, despite having no idea what one looked like.

It would be interesting to see how it developed, despite her apparent lack of interest in the subject manner. Alvadas' dangers that seemed to be growing ever more present hadn't stopped her from escaping out into the 'wilds' of the streets- hence why she was here. But maybe it would be useful to know how to use a weapon.

She mused to herself, but looked over at Cyrene again. "Do you fight with that weapon then? Or is it a... are you making it for someone else?", she said, having forgotten temporarily the word for 'commission'.

The girl felt restless. She stood up, twitching and shuffling her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father working at the forge, and she turned her back on him, facing Cyrene in full.

She felt like a rat trapped in a cage, a boiling hot cage full of cats that wanted to eat her, or looked down on her like something worthless. She wasn't, though. She knew that. Just... being locked inside and kept where she didn't want to be really grated her.

She had to do something, anything to keep her mind off it. Maybe she would take up the offer and do some blacksmithing, no matter how loathsome and boring she found it.

"Okay, Cyrene... What can I do to help you out here?" She was curt, and tense, but offered a tight smile to show she meant it. This Isur didn't seem as bad as the others, at least she could talk to her without being seen as in the way.

[Chameleon]

Your Grades Are Here...

 

Karin Ironyach

Skills...

• Diplomacy: 1XP
• Socialisation: 3XP
• Observation: 2XP
• Intimidation: 1XP

Lores...

• Diplomacy: Making One's Feelings Clearly Known
• Socialisation: Keeping the Voice Flat
• Intimidation: Scowling to Look Worse
• Izurdin: Father of the Isur

Comments...
Shame this never got finished - would have been nice for Karin to finally do some blacksmithing. Anyway, I couldn't find very many skills, but if you do find something you think I missed, I'm more than happy to edit for you!

Enjoy Your Grade!...