Closed [The Ironworks] An Isur's Trade

[Ellenwyn]

Summer of 516 AV, 11th Day
The Ironworks
12th Bell

Though the uncharacteristic heat that accompanied the arrival summer had finally gave way to cooler weather blowing in from the Suvan, Winthrop Alley still boiled. The furnaces of the Ironworks vomited flames and hot air so strong that Ellen was sweating before she even reached the massive doors. They were thrown open to promote circulation but it did little for the stink of burning coals and melting metal. The smell was easy enough to ignore, but the heat and noise were another matter. Steam hissed around her while hammers pounded weapons and armor in a deafening symphony.

Most of the smiths she saw were men but a few women worked at their own forges, and the majority of all were stout Isur with their colorful arms that shone like gemstones. She waved at one - trying to grab his attention - and he looked up from the iron he was folding, a scowl on his face.

"I need a new shoe!" she shouted over the din but he pointed at his ear and shook his head. Ellen shuffled a little closer and shouted again. "My mare's shoe!" The redhead held up the piece in question. A groom had brought it to her this morning at the stable; Lady succeeded in pulling it off in the pasture during a disagreement with another in her herd. Luckily she hadn't gone lame in the process, but it would either need to be refit or a new one forged.

"No time, lass! Have an order to fill!" He waved her away with a colorful hand before continuing with his work. Ellen's face wrinkled with annoyance but she didn't move. The Isur ignored her for a chime as he expertly beat and folded the iron a few more times, thinning and elongating its shape. When he glanced up and saw her still standing there though, he sighed and put down his tools. Motioning her to follow, he wove through the apparent chaos that she assumed had some kind of system until they stopped before another Isur.

He appeared young and although he was her height, was built like a ox with one arm black as coal. Ellen admired him openly; she preferred taller men but he was still handsome, even with the distinct ridge of his brow and silver network of veins lacing his dusky blue skin. She was never one to turn her nose up at non-humans though either.

"Terag here can help you," the other Isur said with obvious impatience. They grimaced at each other for a short moment before he left. When he was gone she turned blue eyes back to the dark-armed smith and held out her bent horseshoe, offering it over with a tentative smile.

"My mare threw this this morning," the redhead explained over the ringing of metal. "Can you fix it?"

[Terag]

Terag's day had been rather slow at The Ironworks. Most of his day had been polishing the metal weapons he had recently made. For now it was just a simple long sword, a general piece made to be sold to someone just starting out. As he polished the metal he sung softly to himself in Isurian, though it wasn't a song he had learned growing up. He was singing in rhythm to the beating of weapons around him, or at least that was his attempt. It was just off the tempo, and most of the words he sang were jibberish. He was simply stringing together sentences as they came to mind, trying to keep up with the beat of his music. When he noticed one of the other Isur wander over with a young woman, Terag set his work down on the small table he kept near his forge. His singing turned to gentle humming as the man stated that Terag could help her, though he wondered what with. She didn't seem to be holding a weapon, or if it was it was one he didn't recognize - which most would be hard pressed to find. Anywhere else the woman's features would have stood out much more than they did in The Ironworks. But the constant colors of glowing metal made her hair stand out just a tad less, but not enough that Terag didn't note it. It was a nice color after all, although her eyes seemed to contrast. Her height seemed a bit smaller than other humans, as she must be around his own height though she had much less mass than him, and he swore he could probably lift her with just one arm. The rest of her reminded him much of what most humans looked like to him, although her freckles and her skin seemed to say she might be from somewhere else than Syliras. Though from where. After she asked her request her understood why the other smith had brought her here, since he had received training in general blacksmithing at home in Sultros. Well weaponsmith or not, he was sure he could at least put the horseshoe back to its rightful shape. Terag nodded before reaching forward with his left hand, its onyx skin glinting softly in the light from his forge. "I should be able to, yes. Anything strange about it I should know?" He looked the horseshoe over once, before placing it gently in the forge with his bare hand. His blessed arm made it so he didn't need tongs to place or pull items from the flame after all. "Do not worry about the other smith by the way, the scowl is almost bred into our people." He chuckled a bit, trying to remind himself to seem light-hearted. After all, a light-hearted Isur could sometimes pass as a less-than-dour human. Sometimes. "As you heard, my name is Terag Magehand. Call me either of the two, I do not mind which. But what is your name, miss?"

[Ellenwyn]

He had a surprisingly pleasant voice for someone of his brawn. Smooth and clear; very unlike the gruff growling of the other Isur. She hadn't heard his singing over the ring of metal and hammers, but his humming had tickled her fancy. In the glow cast by his forge she noticed a blue tint to his hair, but it was so subtle that she wasn't sure whether it was actually black or the former. When he reached for the shoe her fingers relinquished it, slowly and clearly distracted as she openly examined his large black arm. It moved like any other arm she'd ever seen, but it shined like a polished stone in the firelight.

"No, nothing out of the ordinary. They think she just overstepped and pull--oh my Gods!" Her sudden shock came as Terag put the shoe in the flames with his bare hand. Ellenwyn had never seen an Isur at work after all, and the powers of their their unique arms were a mystery to her. She'd always assumed it was a simple racial trait, like the red hair of an Inartan or the gills and scales of a Konti. Embarrassed by the outburst her cheeks flushed, but it was hard to notice under their current lighting.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude," she stammered, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with the attention. She hadn't introduced herself either. A great first impression. Ogling at him like some oddity, without any obvious manners. "My name is Ellenwyn--just Ellenwyn, but you can call me Ellen." The redhead was clearly flustered now. She twisted and wrung her hands - a nervous habit - and tried to disengage foot from mouth.

"I'm sorry," Ellen said again, sounding a little out of breath. "I just wasn't expecting you to put your arm in the fire. I didn't know you could do that. Is it just the one arm, or both?" It was going to be hard to assuage her curiosity now that the questions had begun. She couldn't help herself, really. It was frightening and amazing, which were both qualities that she uncontrollably drawn to.

[Terag]

Her gaze on him felt no different than the others at this point. Many that were not Isur often stared, though Terag didn't particular mind it. It felt good to know that people were so curious about his race, after all as far as he was concerned they were the best of the best. Their arms though, above all, attracted the most attention as always. And Terag's was no an exception, as the woman apparently made no attempt to make her staring hidden. However, he couldn't help but chuckle a bit when the woman freaked out when he put his arm into the flames. It was definitely a trick that he would not tire of with the other races. He smiled a little apologetically and waved his hand at her to show that there was no harm done at her exclamation. "There is no reason to apologize, all is fine. That is about the usual reaction that I get when people see me place items into the forge, well for that and for the staring at my arm, no?" He winked playfully and chuckled a bit more before he continued. "Well then, no family name then? Ellen it is then, a bit easier to say for me anyways." He smiled a bit more as he watched her squirm a bit while she was flustered, it was amusing to say the least. At least she wasn't too bad on the eyes either, and her hair was actually almost pleasing since it reminded him of the forge. Perhaps the women of the other races did have a few things going for them. "As for your questions, it is just the one arm," for emphasis Terag lifted his left arm, moving it closer for her to see. His skin continued to glint in the light of the forge, the silver of his veins standing out against the black skin even more so than the rest of his body. Although the markings of his gnosis would be hard to see, if she really looked she would notice his gnosis on his shoulder. While he awaited further questions Terag took a quick look into the forge to check on the horseshoe. It was just barely beginning to change color now, not too much longer and he would be able to pull it out and work it back to its usual shape.

[Ellenwyn]

Ellen relaxed with obvious relief when Terag assuaged her worries. He took it all very well and seemed the patient sort. She was glad she hadn't made him uncomfortable or insulted him with her rude curiosity.

"I can imagine you receive a lot of attention when you show off that trick," the redhead agreed, smiling now. It was a toothy expression and made her freckled nose crinkle. It was clear by the creases it created on her face that she would have laugh lines early in life. When the Isur brandished his arm for her to get a closer look, her blue eyes swelled with a delighted curiosity. "No family name," the redhead lied easily as she examined it. The Kenashern had been giving a false identity for so many years that it was second nature. An effortless and offhanded fib.

This close, she could see the darker design of what looked like a tattoo on his bicep; just barely visible on the black arm. Ellen had no clue as to the deeper divine meaning it held. It just made her wonder how someone could tattoo such a surface. Another mystery of the craftsman race. She also wasn't quite sure if the silver spiderweb of lines on his skin were in fact for blood.

"Are these your veins?"

Tentatively, if not a little daring, she touched the knuckles of his outstretched hand. It was presumptuous of her, but like a curious child that wanted to handle everything that she shouldn't on the shelves of an extremely expensive store, she couldn't quite help herself. The contact was just for a brief moment before she remembered herself.

"Sorry," she apologized quickly, pulling away. An anxious bubble of laughter escaped her and she tucked a long lock of hair behind one ear. Another nervous habit. His skin - if it really could be called that - was still warm from the lick of flames and hard to the touch, like stone. Despite her embarrassment Ellen had to chew on her lip to hide a smile. "Do you feel anything?" She didn't mean him as a whole. She assumed he could feel, and that was obvious, but the arm was another thing entirely. He had just stuck it in the forge after all like it was warm bathwater. "I know I just keep drowning you in question, I'm sorry." Drowning him in questions and apologizing every few breaths it seemed.

[Terag]

He smiled a bit, "Well, it is very entertaining to see people react at the very least." Her smile was interesting, more teeth than usual. He did not have too much experience with those who smiled much, as the Isur did not seem to do it a whole lot. However, the expression seemed to fit her face well, like a shirt someone wore so many times until it felt like it fit perfectly. Not having a family name was strange, incredibly so to Terag at least. Everyone had a place and a name, to not have one just felt wrong. He pushed aside this feeling for the time being and allowed the woman to just examine his arm at her leisure. He stayed silent until the woman reached out to touch the back of his hand. He felt his heart skip for a moment, though he did his best to keep his face passive and only raise an eyebrow as she backed off again. He still wasn't the most comfortable around women yet, though her nervous giggled made him realize he wasn't the only one feeling a bit uncomfortable for the time. It made him feel just a little better. He shrugged when she apologized for the multitude of questions, "There is no reason to be sorry, curiosity is good sometimes. I do not mind answering them, it is always nice to talk about one's people." He thought for a moment before he continued again. "Let us see, in order. Yes, the silver all over my body are my veins. Pretty, no? I have always liked the way silver looks, perhaps it is because of these veins of mine. Also, yes. I can feel, it is still my arm. No?" Terag ran his black hand over the anvil in front of him, cleaning off the top of it in one swoop. He could definitely feel the warm metal under his finger tips. "Just does not hurt when I put this hand into the fire." Speaking of which he looked into the furnace once more, and could see that the horseshoe had finally warmed up enough. He plunged his onyx hand into the furnace and retrieved the bent metal and brought it to his anvil. With a practiced motion he drew his hammer from his side and began to work on the shoe, slowly turning the bend back to normal around the horn of his anvil. "Feel free to keep asking whatever you would like while I work, I do not mind sharing words while I hammer away." He looked up at Ellenwyn and smiled a bit, a more true smile this time. He always felt better when he was able to work or do something with his hands, and even now he could already feel what was left of the uncomfortable feelings from earlier ease away. It probably also helped that she was a bit farther away as he worked, though he couldn't stop her if she tried to move closer.

[Ellenwyn]

The redhead relaxed again. It seemed she was in a constant state of flip-flop. Ellen imagined she'd say or do something else soon to make her want to crawl in a hole. She wasn't normally like this and was mentally kicking herself as a result. She was just glad that the Isur was taking her interrogation so well - in fact, was openly encouraging it. Clearly he was a very patient man, but one likely had to be to shape such an unyielding thing like metal for a living. Another racial trait perhaps, but when the previous Isur came to mind, she decided probably not.

"Very beautiful," she agreed, eyes lingering again on the silver webs along his skin. He such a unique looking man. Ellen loved the unusual, and though to another Isur he was completely normal, to her he was rather extraordinary. She leaned in a little as his hand darted back into the flames and brandished the glowing horseshoe. Her delight was suddenly cut short as the forge coughed a great cloud of heat in response to the smith's stirring. The hot air on her face and sight of glowing metal brought a very unpleasant memory from the depths of repression and she unconsciously clutched her right hand, rubbing it as though it was sore.

The old brand wasn't likely visible to Terag in this lighting after years of growing and healing, but Ellen could feel the uneven flesh of the F burned into the top of her hand as a child as if it were fresh. For a moment her eyes glazed over and she was over a decade away. It was his voice and ring of the hammer that snapped her back to the present. There was a smile on his face that she couldn't help but return with her own; it was such a genuine expression, and made his dourly handsome features much less stern.

"Don't mind if I do," she gested, bubbly once more. "You must be a glutton for punishment." Ellen glanced around her as she teased him. Spotting what she was seeking, the redhead fetched a nearby stool and stuck it nearby his workspace with a wooden clunk. She stepped up on a rung and perched on the seat, looking deviously curious with her elbows on her knees and chin in her hands. It seemed to be made for someone of an Isur's stature because it fit her perfectly.

Watching Terag mold and bend the horseshoe back into shape was a genuine pleasure. He made it seem so effortless, and she'd be lying if she claimed not to enjoy seeing his muscular arms move with the force of his hammering. He seemed to really relax while he worked. His features were a mixture of concentration and pleasure. Ellen smiled openly at him, unembarrassed by her own staring since he seemed to take it so well. After a moment of silence she finally spoke again.

"Do you all take apprentices here?" It was a sudden question, and didn't really fit in with where their conversation had been going previously, but watching him now was an inspiring thing. She'd always been a very independent person and enjoyed self-sufficiency. Learning a thing or two about shaping metal could give her an advantage in the future. "I'd like to learn how to do this myself. Taking care of my mare's feet, that is. I think it would serve me well, and this kind of work is obviously below your pay grade." She felt the need to explain, but didn't want to bury him in details. They were technically strangers after all.

[Terag]

With a few more hammer blows, while Ellenwyn made her compliment about his veins, Terag finished doing the major adjustments to the shoe and used his left hand to set the metal back into the furance. There was a little more fine-tuning that it needed but he was sure it would only take a few taps and then he could dunk it into the water. The compliment felt nice at least, and as long as she continued not touching him he would be fine with his nerves. Of course, he was still going to put up a front about it if she reached out again. "Glutton for punishment? That means one who likes or takes a lot of punishment, yes? I cannot say I am a fan, but my thick skin makes it a bit easier to manage." He chuckled a bit at his own comment. He had just caught the woman clutching at her hand out of the corner of his eye, though he kept silent about it. Perhaps it was the heat in here, the temperature and the movement of heat bothered Terag little at this point in his life. It was nice when she smiled again, she looked pretty. For a human woman that is. It was now finally that Terag leaned against the table once more and looked at the woman directly again, keeping his warmed hand down at his side as he put his right hand into one of the pockets of his apron. At least she seemed to enjoy the stool. "Apprentices? Yes. The Ironworks is very large, and with the recent expansion I am sure there is more than a few smiths eager to have someone to teach and fill the space." Terag thought for a moment. "Also, teaching is not below my pay grade? It is part of the job, the need to shape one's mind and skills is just as important as shaping metal or one's body. Either way, if you want to work here you are taught for free I believe, but if you want to just learn the craft..." Terag went silent again as he thought about it for a few long moments. Teaching someone with just the desire to learn for personal use was not a usual request after all. "Well it depends on how badly you want to learn. I do not mind teach and talking about basics to anyone who is interested, and if you want to stick around I can even show you a thing or two. If you want to go past the basics however, well I would need to talk to the master of The Ironworks about how he feels on it. He is a friendly man though, I am sure something could be arranged at that point."