Flashback Field of bones (Wrenlo Gravence)

[Anomaly]

13th of Spring, 518 AV

It was early in the morning when the skies seemed to break open over Sunberth, pouring over the city in dense sheets as the clouds above kept the world dark long after the sun should have been up. The river’s banks were already close to overflowing from the rains the night before so now they were practically bursting at the seams. Already it had claimed a few houses that had been built too close to the river, and looked like it was about to claim even more. As such most of the locals wisely avoided the river today, preferring to stay on their side of the city rather than risk being swept up in the brown river, a raging torrent that Sunberthian’s lovingly called the ‘Mudway’. Business ground to a halt before it even began with anyone who had a choice staying indoors if they could manage it. Most hoped it would be over soon, and eventually it was, shortly a bell or two after it all started. Then like flowers budding out to take advantage of a change in the weather, so too did the residents of Sunberth emerge out onto the muddy streets.

Shortly thereafter the streets themselves became a trap for the unwary, turning into a morass that was easy to get stuck in. Some made there way on the edges of the streets, but in the areas those were too narrow, or in places they just didn’t give a damn, they started stripping off the boards of houses to make little paths. Places like the Sunset Quarters saw more than its fair share of this as people mobbed out onto the streets. An as everyone knows, crowds in Sunberth were seldom a good thing. Individually the average Sunberther was no more violent than usual, but in a crowd things quickly got unruly as the mob seemingly developed a mind of its own. A very, dimwitted thing mobs are, prone to violent overreactions. One Sunset Quarter resident learned that first hand when he opened his door to harangue the people that were taking apart his house only to be quickly blugened to death and left out in the street stripped of everything that had identified him as a man. Or human for that matter.

Wisely, those who were not a part of the initial mass exodus of people out onto the streets stayed indoors until the crowds in the street thinned out. Then they started to pick up the pieces. Life went on, and a bit of extra violence in the morning was nothing unheard of. Such was Nate doing. Picking up the pieces of his home that had been scattered across the tiny street he lived on. Like most in the Sunset Quarter, his home was little more than a hole in the wall shack held together mostly because of the other shacks it leaned against. Someone had torn off part of his front door, and half of his wall in the tumult so he had to set about getting those fixed before he went on with his day. Fortunately he kept a supply of nails on hand, and a few extra wooden boards that he kept underneath his home in case of emergencies such as this. It didn’t look like he would need them today though because aside from being used as a gang plank by dozens of muddy boots, the wooden planks remained in okay condition.

After gathering them up, he made quick work of shoring up the outside of his home until it looked almost as good as it had been. There was a new gap in the doorframe but that couldn’t be helped till he found a bit of scrap wood tiny enough to fill it. Something for him to look for while he was out and about. Before he left though he made sure to give the contents of his home a once over, taking anything with him that couldn’t be well hidden under the boards of his tiny one room apartment. He had a deal with his neighbors about listening for trouble, but he didn’t trust them to hold to that if they found something valuable. Of course they snooped while he was away. Just like he snooped in their homes when they were out and about.

When he was sure he had taken anything worth stealing, or at least hidden it well enough away that they likely wouldn’t find it for bells, he got on with his day which didn’t take him very far. After all he was following up on a note had been left to him to pay a visit to a local man’s house and see if he still lived there. A man by the name of Wrenlo Graveance. Despite the ominous tone of that last name, Nate was feeling remarkably chipper. After all he was being payed a full gold miza to deliver this note and bring this man back to his employers which was an easy day’s work as far as Nate was concerned. It didn’t take him longer either to find the man’s door for it was just as had been described to him. Sometime during the night a red square had been drawn on the door, though it was little more than a faint mark now as the paint bleed into a small pool at the foot of the door from all of the rain. Knocking on the edge of the door to avoid the paint, Nate took a step back from it as he chanced a glance at himself. While not sharply dressed by any means, he was clean cut looking with short black hair, and hint of stubble on his cheeks that went no where near his chin. He wore his best today, a pair of thin brown trousers, a dark gray shirt, and a brown doublet he had lifted off a merchants cog two nights ago. He also had on a pair of thin brown shoes with a hole in the bottom that his big toe occasionally emerged out of when he was nervous. He wasn’t nervous now though, and was in fact wearing a pair of woolen gray socks to prevent such a calamity, a luxury by Sunberthian standards.

If the person inside didn’t immediately answer, Nate would reach across to knock again favoring the resident with a reedy smile when the door finally opened.

“Sorry to disturb you. I’ve got a job opportunity from the Knight’s Armory if you’re interested.” He said.

[Wrenlo Gravence]

The morning is busy with outside noises. Wrenlo concentrates on a peephole from the entryway of his home. Not that there is much to see from that small angle, the morning sunlight peers through every crack and gape in the walls as he sits crisscrossed on the ground listening attentively rather than taking the chance to open his door and look.

He has been up since before the sun rose, with a good habit to be the early bird at the market for first pickings. It was the goal anyways, Wrenlo didn’t think too much about the mudways rising up this morning and halting his plans. The rummaging and clashing of sunberthians outside his home gave him good reason to stay indoors until the scene was over. From the peephole he peers longingly from he could see two of his neighbors brawling it out over some looting, possibly a body or an unattended home. He can only really see their arms swinging and random objects being thrown. In that concentrated moment of oogling a large rock is thrown from one of the two, a bad misdirected throw that launches the rock at his apartment and broke another hole in the wall. It flies only a few inches past his head, hits the wobbly coffee table behind him and tumbles across the floor, stopping once it hits the next wall.

‘The petching puckered assholes..’ Wrenlo breathes out low and deep before stretching out from the crisscrossed position he was sitting in. He’s able to get two pops out of his back before pulling himself up from the stretch and off the ground. Pacing over to the pile of dirty clothing in the corner of the room from weekly wear, he pulls his stiff dirt stained pants on and buttoned them, then shook out the same simple black shirt with burn holes from his uncle’s forge. The shirt is only partly over his head and one arm as he multitasks fiddling a boot onto his foot. Distracted with dressing he never noticed outside had died out and gone quiet and there was a knocking on his door.

Wrenlo fiddles the other boot on fast and pulls his shirt down tight, it ripped some where an oversized burn hole was. A bit alarmed of having a guest this morning, he reaches for a broken piece of metal he kept around for last minute disturbances and pushes it into his back pocket. He previewed the man from the peephole as he was fixing himself from outside the door. He looks clean cut for the most part, Wrenlo could only tell from mid chest and down to his brown shoes.

The door opens with a slow creak and Wrenlo leans himself against the entry frame. His brow furrows in concern noticing to the faint red paint on his door and the rest that pooled to the ground before his milky blue eyes reaches the rather polite smile of the man before him. Wrenlo dropped his brow for a more humble expression as the man spoke about a job opportunity. The corners of his lips perched slightly, he was happy to hear the news. “Karos finally looked me over, eh?” Wrenlo is ecstatic to start working a realistic job, rather than stay the helping hand of his uncle. He is beyond miserable without money motivation and now is his chance. “Yes, I’m very interested.” His tone is low and distant but he means his words.

[Anomaly]

Nate’s expression twitched into another grin. “Great. Right this way.” He would say, gesturing for Wrenlo to follow him as he set off back down the street. Making sure to carefully keep to the edge of the narrow lane, there wasn’t much room for them to walk alongside one another so Nate would occasionally look over his shoulder as he made conversation.

“So who’s back did you have to scratch to get that crotchety bastard Karos to send you an offer?” Nate asked, scratching at his chin as he stepped lively down the street. Now that he had his man in tow, he was eager to get this business done with so he could go ahead with getting paid. That bit of violence in the morning was enough to work up a thirst in him, and with the bit he had left over, he might even be able to have fun in one of the lower end brothels. As he stepped across the muck, his shirt pulled up revealing a long dagger sticking out from his waistband that he had to reach back to adjust every so often adjust to sit more comfortably. He caught Wrenlo’s eye one of those times, and gave him a toothy smile that showed off his cracked yellow teeth.

“Fine bit of metal that. Karos gave it to me after I did him a favor. He had a competitor across the river you see and well.. Me and some boys put an end to that.” Nate cackled as he hopped across the lane to the other side, just barely avoiding a large mud puddle. He’d stop to see how Wrenlo fared, and if it looked like the man was about to slip in the muck, he’d grab his arm to keep him from falling on his ass. It wasn’t an act of kindness, just simple business as Nate would make it clear by resuming their route down the street as it twisted sharply to the right.

As far as Nate was concerned, Wrenlo was now in his charge from now until they reached the armory. He’d make sure the man made it there in one piece, and as clean as possible to avoid pissing off Karos. Their long winding route eventually to the river were they waited for a few chimes along the swollen river bank. To the left and right of them the muddy ground just seemed to suddenly end in a river, and across the way a partially submerged shack could be seen teetering into the river. A casinor farther along the river was loitering near the middle, and pulled up its anchor when it spotted them along the bank. A small vessel, it was crewed by five blond haired, blue eyed Svefra that called out to them as the sail was raised, the ship slowly lurching forward with as it caught a brace of wind.

“You’re lucky the wind favors you today otherwise we might have made you hike further down stream.” A man called from bow to a chorus of laughs on the Casinor as it pulled up alongside the bank directly adjacent to them. When they got close, two of the Svefra hopped down fearlessly into the water with ropes tied around their waists and swam onto the banks. Once there, they dug their heels into the muck and began to drag the ship closer to the edge of the bank while the Svefra aboard pulled up the sails. It took all over five chimes, and once it was over a plank was propped against the deck of the ship as both of them were guided on board by the Svefra.

Nate lead the way, and before long they were standing before a swarthy young svefra with a gilded smile of white teeth. Like most of his counterparts on this hot spring day he was stripped to the waist, wearing nothing but simple breeches that ended just below his knees. Across his chest was a living tattoo of ocean waves constantly rolling across one another as it moved across his skin on a whim of its own. Everyone on board was armed, and this man most of all with knives tucked into his boots, worn around his calves and a couple of long blades hanging from his hips. On his head sat a short black cap with a tilted brim, and decorated with pearls sewn in so it almost looked like the night sky if one squinted.

“Going across eh? What’d you boys have to offer me then? I believe I’m entitled to a little extra on account of the river acting up and all. I’m risking my ship here to get you to the other side after all.” The man said, his eyes alight with some inner amusement.

Nate coughed into his hand, patted his pockets and then shot the Svefra a chagrined look. “A’most forgot sir. Sorry sir. I’ve got your tribute right here” Nate said, producing a small package from his trouser pocket. It looked out of place in his dirty, callused hands because the outer material looked too fine for something a man like him should own. The package itself was a simple thing, made of a crushed black felt and wrapped up in a silver ribbon. Someone had put a cute little bow on the top.

The Svefra’s smile tilted a little bit as his amusement died in his eyes. All the same he took the package and without sparing it another glance tucked it into his waist band where it would remain.

“Alright, lets hop to it boys. Lets get these lads across quick. Go on now!” The man bellowed walking away from Nate and Wrenlo, leaving them briefly alone on the bow while the Svefra hastily went about preparing the ship for travel. Nate turned back around, and briefly exchanged a look as he puffed out his chest.

"I've made a name for myself around these parts" He bragged.

[Wrenlo Gravence]

Keeping pace with the quick-footed Nate took some longer strides out of Wrenlo, even the muck of walkway would set him off foot from time to time. “It’s been a few years of random gifting and constant bothering,” he reassured mid slip of the foot, pausing to catch his balance behind the man. Wrenlo never thought of Karos as the back scratching kinda guy, but it would have been nice to have an easier way in on the business. “I’ve given that guy just about every project piece I’ve worked my callused hands on. I know Karos isn’t much of a talker but I do aspire to work as hard as he does. I’m sure to give him a reminder every time he turns his back to me, the stubborn Isur.” His last remark was lighthearted even in truth. The man never gave him the time of day and Wrenlo has been so very determined to have this moment. It’s been a fine day to say the least. The opportunity has Wrenlo conveniently optimistic. So optimistic, he wasn’t badgering so much to himself if Nate could actually arm himself with that beautiful dagger he kept adjusting, let alone use it when it came down to business. But Nate was storytelling obtaining it like he is worthy, and that was good enough for the moment. Wrenlo was sadly unarmed with only a bit of scrap metal in pocket to survive with, so he will make do with the odds.


Their winding walk along the muddy pathways came to a halt along the riverbank where a Casinor caught sight of the two of them and came to dock. Following Nate onboard he observed the swanky captain and every knife that hung on him like sharp dagger teeth. Stepping onboard is starting to feel discomforting and Wrenlo kicked himself over and over internally for not grabbing a larger and more sturdy scrap of metal to lug around today. Corpse-loots have been more miserable than ever or he’d have prized himself a decent pocket knife already. ‘By gods, let me survive this day to be a better man’ he tousled his already unkept and sweaty locks with underlying nerves while flashing a glance to Nate when payment is brought up. Surely payment is on his end as part of this morning’s summonings?

Nate pulled out what looked like an already pre-planned gift box for the young Svefra. Wrenlo squinted his eyes confusingly to the sight of it in the same fashion the man lost amusement and tucked it away before turning his back to set course across the brown river. It was mildly amusing and he gave a sly haggard grin while Nate boasted. “I can clearly see that,” Wrenlo joked, “I’d like to know how you’ve fared your way into the work of The Night’s Armory.” He turned to take in a better look at the waterlogged shack from the railing of the deck as the Casinor started sail across. Whoever’s miserable home that sits disturbed in it’s only treasured peace of space. Like most other parts of this city, it gave Wrenlo a deep ache in his chest. He was miserable here too. He gazed out longingly before turning to Nate once more. “I want to make a name for myself, too.”

[Anomaly]

For as much as Nate talked, he wasn’t a very good listener. He asked questions, but he had no intention of listening to Wrenlo’s answer to them. It was perhaps not a surprise coming from someone who held themselves in the way Nate did, blowing into their own smoke so much it was hard to tell how real the fire was underneath. That was the way it was with many a Sunberthian. Inflating their importance in hopes that they might gain any sort of edge, even if they didn’t need anything from the individual they were boasting to. An in a place like Sunberth, that worked until the illusion was shattered and the other shoe dropped. For Nate, that day had yet to come and as far as he was concerned he stood on top of the shite pile that was his small little hood in the Sunset Quarters. Wrenlo was a favor, a man he’d likely not run into ever again even though they lived a few chimes down the street from one another. That was just the way it was on their little corner of Mizahar. A city full of strangers who could only cooperate when it came to killing things.

With the business about there passage across the river settled, Nate was noticeably more relaxed although he did become a little animated when Wrenlo mentioned the armory. Pulling Wrenlo aside so they could talk in relative privacy while looking out upon the mudway, Nate cleared his throat before speaking.

“Blood and bones Wrenlo. Were you listening to what I said earlier about.. Well never mind. I do work for them on occasion that has worked out favorably for their interests. Karos actually owes me a few of them, so he throws me work from time to time. Simple jobs like this that pay handsomely.” He said, wrapping an arm around Wrenlo’s shoulders and pulling him in closer to where he would have no problem smelling the man’s breath that was ripe with the raw onion he had eaten for breakfast. “My advise, don’t ever look like you are checking where you shouldn’t but do it all the same. You never know what you might find that’ll come in handy later.” The man said before letting Wrenlo go and walking to lean against the railing of the casinor.

He had an amused look plastered all over his face now as he looked out on the water with his back to Wrenlo and the rest of the crew. On the other side a few people were gathering to help pull the Casinor in, possibly wanting their own ride across the river. One of the Svefra tossed a rope out to them that the group hastily pulled in, dragging the ship sidelong as they pulled up along the muddy bank. Nate walked to the other side of the Casnior to watch the proceedings with Wrenlo, laughing as the family struggled to bring the ship in far enough that a plank could be put down. Then just as it was dragging in the final few ticks, a boy that scarcely looked older than sixteen slipped down the bank as the boat came in. The scream was short as it was poignant, and suddenly Nate wasn’t laughing anymore. He had a hand covering his mouth as he looked over the edge expecting to see a garish spectacle. Instead there was just muddy, roiling water and a spot of red along the hull of the ship. Strangely none of the people that had been with the boy seemed to react, the just helped haul down the gang plank and boarded in short order. As Nate and Wrenlo left they could overhear the oldest man of the group bartering the loss as a means to lower the ferry price before that too was lost to the sounds of the narrow street they emerged out onto.

Unlike the narrow streets of the Sunset Quarters, the Castle Commons streets were wide enough for both of them to walk abreast even on the edge of the lane which they stuck to trying to avoid the mire that was the middle of the street. Here also the buildings were basically little more than stacked stone, patched together with mud and the occasional bit of wood. It was rare for a house to look structurally sound in this place unless one came across the odd establishment that dotted the region. One such of these places, and arguably the best built was the Knight’s Armory which had withstood even the Djed storm of 512AV six years back. That was rumored to be because on of its owners was an Isur and there was talk about them being good builders among other things. That was partially why he was tolerated for so long in the area and gradually even accepted as much as an outsider could be in the Berth. People still tried the shop from time to time, though thus far no one had lived to tell the tale of a successful theft.

Sitting at the end of the lane, it was almost an unremarkable squat stone building save for the plume of black smoke that seemed to be endlessly being expelled from its chimney. It smelled faintly of the slag heaps, though a little better if one asked anyone who lived on that side of town what they thought about it. Still the residents loved to complain, and Karos didn’t listen to the gripers anyways. The sight of the place put a little pep in Nate’s step as he hustled along, making sure Wrenlo was following closely behind. He didn’t bother knocking at the door, just pushed his way on in where he spotted Nathanial behind the counter.

“Good morning lad. I brought Wrenlo along just as asked.” Nate said as he walked up to the counter and leaned against it slightly. The young man gave them both a briefly confused look. “Well go on, grab your master Karos or even that simple one.. Lawrence right? Yeah that sounds familiar. Grab either of them. I don’t care so long as I get paid.” Nate said in a huff as he leaned over the desk, and Nathanial hurried off. Turning back to Wrenlo, he elbowed the man slightly. “Stole my name didn’t he. I aught to make him change it.” Nate joked as Nathanial came back with the burly Isur. While he was fairly short like the rest of his kind, no one could mistake this man as a push over as he looked like he could bend steel with just his teeth. He came around the corner with a sour expression, stopped and gave Wrenlo a brief look over before tossing a gold rimmed miza over to Nate.

“Go, before I burn that smile off your face. You. Wren. Follow me.” Karos barked before stepping back through the door he had just come through. Following, Wrenlo would be stuck with a wave of oppressing heat as he stepped into the workshop. Karos and Lawrence were both encased in sweat, the latter man busy beating a bent nail straight. Meanwhile the burly Isur walked Wrenlo back towards the forge where several implements were already laid out and a mold in place. Without saying a word, Karos manhandled an iron pot. One of his hands was covered with a thick leather glove while his other arm which looked the be made of an emerald green metal was uncovered. A few short steps and he poured the molten metal into the mold which appeared to have two huge ax blades joined in the center back to back. After he had gotten the pot back into the forge he turned back around to Wrenlo and gestured at the metal when it looked like the young man wasn’t going to get on with it.

“Well go ahead. Show me what you got, and don’t you dare waste my metal.” Karos growled.

[Wrenlo Gravence]

Blood and bones? Owing favors? The light was shining on Nate’s intentions now. At least it was in full view now rather than later. By all means Wrenlo was happy to make friends, even decent small talk with a possible coworker. Nate was not liable, much like the rest of Sunberthians, and it bothered Wrenlo that he let his guard down even just the slightest in conversation. His optimism of this trip fell short quite fast as he was counting every chime in his head to reach the Armory sooner. Nate also had some really rank breath and Wrenlo wanted nothing more than to claw away from the man. Nate let go of his shoulder to view from over the railing, amused in his own pride and Wrenlo walked the opposite of the Casinor’s railing.

They where docking the river’s edge now, and he distracted himself with the group below working on pulling the ship close. Nate was obnoxiously next to him again, laughing at the sight below. Wrenlo wanted to glare but he composed himself with the distraction. He barely had his eye on the young boy before he was swept under the ship in tow. His screams where cut abruptly and everyone within sight fell silent for a chime. Wrenlo hoped it was a quick death and the boy wasn’t suffering from below. The red blood pooling with the murky brown gave mesmerizing detail from where he was standing, admiring a chime longer before following Nate off the Casinor and up the path toward the Knight’s Armory.

The smell of the smoke from the chimney gave Wrenlo the scent of ambition as the two of them proceeded through the Armory’s door and into the front of shop. Nate, all the while still full of himself, was talking with another Nate; Nathaniel. To a point it is painstaking to listen, Wrenlo’s eyes helplessly rolled to the back of his head and palms pressed hard against the center of his forehead trying to relieve pressure from Nate’s irrational nonsense. He was able to show a confident nod to the man behind the counter before he teetered off to tell Karos of his presence. When Karos came through the back room door Wrenlo’s blue eyes beamed brightly. Either he was staring eye to eye with a forge god or his eyes where showing signs like a freshly cleaned window with a ‘SAVE ME’ note taped up in plain sight. Possibly both.

Everything seemed to move quickly when the short burly Isur was in the room. Just a snap of a finger and a toss of a miza ran Nate out of the building, more likely to the closest brothel. Wrenlo’s judgement was usually a close truth. As fast as he left, Wrenlo was following Karos through the back door to the forge like a large stick dragged by a boulder. The heat held inside the back room was something you could sincerely smother yourself to death in and he felt completely comfortable to the shift of it. It was commonplace, like a second home. The sweat immediately flowed from the top of his head and down his face as though he had been working for five bells. Directing to the table, Karos already had tools set in place and Wrenlo was in awe gazing at the double-head axe mold. He watched the Isur effortlessly pour the molten metal from a heavy iron pot into the axe mold with one hand. He hasn’t seen another Isur besides Karos but he surely admired his strengths beyond his size. Caught in the middle of his gawking, the Isur pressed hard glares while growling at him to get to work. It was an easy shot to take a few steps over where Lawrence was working and snatch the extra pair of gloves from his work station. Lawrence didn’t seem to keen, eyeballing him for a moment before returning gaze to his bent nail, but they where the only other pair hanging around that would fit his hands.

Wrenlo was nervous. Not from being put to work on the spot, but from the idea of Karos casting the mold. His uncle was much to poor to have specific molds of items and Wrenlo made all of his work by drawing or upsetting the metal. He had to be quick while the alloy was almost hardened. Within the mold there was a space between the head of the axe that saved gap for later production of the handle. He tested if the casted mold had cooled by using the tongs from the table and gripped from the portioned space in the center. It pulled up clean and not limp. He immediately set down the tongs and started pulling the mold away from the head with a gloved hand, the clay like sand of the mold felt very similar to wet sand used to make sandcastles on the beach shore. It cleaned off of the formed metal nicely and it was satisfying to his nervous, slightly trembling hands.

He moved the headpiece to the grinding station that was just a pivot to his right. Above, Karos had what used to be organized hangers in place but for Wrenlo it was a heaping mess of unorganized sizes of files and every other space had a random hammer of size and shape. He was searching so hard for the right size to fit his palm as well as the edge of the axe blade without bringing too far back on the blade. He reached high for the six and a half length, using two fingers to push it up from the bottom where it would slide off from the hanger and fall back into his palm and partial of the wrist. It snagged onto the glove nicely where it wouldn’t drop out of his hand as he brought it down. But the file was too worn down to use alone. “Where do you keep your dogfish skins?” The words came out before his eyes locked onto the compartment shelf below the table where, again, laid unorganized skins in just about every size. He was digging fast for a fresh skin, something with a low grit level that would make efficient use with large abrasions. The newer skins would be kept at the very bottom of the shelf, of course. It was a quick wrap of the skin around the file and he was already leaning into the station, dragging the edge of the axe head slightly off the edge of the table. Majority of his right arm was on top of the piece, pushing as much pressure he could to keep it in place. His left hand was his dominant and he was making good pace grinding the edge down with longer strides of his arm and wrist.

Every so often he’d use a peripheral view to see where Karos was standing around him, surely he was watching his every move. Sweat was pouring profusely from every cranny at this point, more from the heat of the room than nerves. About a half of a bell is what it took to sharpen one facing side of the edging of the blade. Setting down the wrapped file he adjusted the head, spinning it to the opposite axe blade of the same facing side and proceeds to file against that edge in the same manner.

[Anomaly]

Karos grunted, hands on his hips as he eyed Wrenlo’s technique like a hawk. He gave no inkling about if he felt one way or the other which was always hard to tell with the ever grumpy Isur. Lawrence looked up from his work from time to time, but he kept mostly to himself, choosing to not disturb Karos’ hiring process. This shop was depended on to produce quality steel for the Suns and so they needed people they could depend on to do the work. It was not only quality that concerned them, but the speed with which Wrenlo could do it. However this was a fairly unusual order as they typically didn’t make weapons like this one for the Suns, and certainly not from scratch. It was far cheaper, not to mention quicker to reheat a piece of old steel than to pour a new one, though they still did that from time to time when they had a good run on metal. This was a test through and through, and not one that Wrenlo was necessarily meant to pass.

Of course Karos wasn’t going to say anything about that. He wanted to see what the young man would do, and if he was worth keeping around his shop. He stayed silent when Wrenlo asked about the dogfish skin, letting him find it on his own. He’d have to do so eventually anyways if he was going to work in this shop. A thought did occur to him however as stepped up beside Wrenlo and groused:

“Don’t forget to put everything back where you found it. Exactly where you found it.” Then he shared a little smirk with Lawrence as he watched Wrenlo scrabble to prepare the ax head. Karos pretended to hear something cocking his head and holding a hand up to his ear. “That damn boy can’t do nothi-” The Isur’s voice became slowly more muffled the further away he got from Wrenlo until it disappeared entirely when he exited the room. After a couple of chimes of Karos being gone, Lawrence walked over with an easy smile admiring Wrenlo’s handiwork. “Do you need any help. Now’s the time to ask if you do.” Lawrence asked calmly in an almost quiet voice as he looked up from what Wren was working on towards the door that lead outside of the shop. “Karos might smith most of the blades around here, but I’ve been known to fashion a blade or two in my time.” If Wrenlo asked, and told him what he thought the next step would be, Lawrence would help, giving him advice on how best to accomplish it. If it seemed like Wrenlo was struggling to find what to do next, he would offer his thoughts on the subject, going so far as to guide his hands if he needed to.

Karos wouldn't be back for another fifteen chimes so whatever Wrenlo wanted to learn, he had better ask quickly while he still had the opportunity.

[Wrenlo Gravence]

Wrenlo was finishing up the last edge now. His pace working a bit faster in routine of it. Both blades weren’t necessarily sharp but he had made it so the final sharpening and polish would be the last relief when he came to it. Things seemed to work out better with some prep time. And that was the process he was doing his best to fly through; preparing the masterpiece for its final vision. The whole top of the head still had a lot of sanding needed, and there was maybe one or two bubbled portions at the center base of the head where the handle needed placement. It was a casualty he didn’t notice while the alloy was cooling or else he could have flattened it during the process. Instead of sticking to his idea of sanding the whole thing down he paused to think it through. At that moment Karos made a remark about him putting everything back where they belonged and Wrenlo wondered if the Isur actually knew where his tools belonged, staring idly at the empty hanger of the third row on the wall. Or was it the fourth row? It was intimidating being watched over so closely, but when Wrenlo turned to nod at his overseer that he understood Karos was already at the other end of the room walking out the door, faint grumbling turning null. Was this a sign of blind trust? Or was he being tested? By gods he was shocked.

He wasted no time, hustling back to the main table carrying the heavy double-axe head in tow of both hands. From there we went to find a hot pot that will hold the small bit of hot coals he needed to heat treat the bubbled mass of the base. There was one lingering close to the forge, so he used a cast iron shovel to bring out a few embers from inside the glowing forge into the pot and brought the pot back to the table. Lawrence was at his station now checking on his work and giving him the small window of time away from Karos for some help. Wrenlo was in no way prepared for his bit of kindness compared to the latter of the silent grumpy Isur. Wrenlo’s words came out in the flow of a babbling brook. “I’m concerned about creating the handle, really,” he mused as he worked, lifting the head flat faced with both hands and hovered the base over the hot pot to treat the mispositioned metal there. The heat from the pot was burning the tops of his fingers through his gloves and he had to constantly adjust his hands and the axe head while it softened the base, slowly turning amber. “I’ve never worked such a large piece. There’s no tang to attach scales to, only a gap to wedge a handle. Wedging isn’t my issue, but I’ve never shaped a large piece of wood for something like this. I actually haven’t done much woodworking to be fair. I don’t even see a stock of wood anywhere in this room,” Wrenlo was thinking ahead, speaking between pivots. He stopped to lay the head flat facing with the amber face up. The bubbling there was minor and it took maybe six beatings of the hammer to flatten them out nicely. “I can carve with good detail but I don’t think it will help me in this position.” He pressed, concerned eyes looking at Lawrence after the last beat of his hammer.

[Anomaly]

Lawrence smiled. He took a look over at his side of the workshop, then looked back at Wrenlo, studying him for a moment before speaking.

“We make a lot of spears here, arrows and bows too. I’ll show you where we keep the wood after this but for now I guess I’ll help you save a bit of time. Karos asked me to work a handle for him last night. A thick hunk of wood so there can be no doubt he intended it to be used in this project. I’ve also went ahead and bound the handle with leather for a grip. All you need to do is shape up the top so it fits.” Lawrence said. As he talked, he walked over and retrieved a thick wooden handle that Karos had stashed in between two tall shelves. He blew a bit of grit off, then walking back he handed it over to Wrenlo when he was ready.

“You know, Karos isn’t that bad. So long as you keep your head down and work hard you’ll stay on his good side. Just don’t hand him off an inferior product or he’s liable to stick you on clerking duty until you can’t stand it anymore.” Lawrence said, and then started to walking back over to his station just as Karos was walking back in. As the Isur drew closer Wrenlo would notice he was now wearing a leather belt with assorted tool strapped to it. Karos’ was currently pawing the head of a large hammer slotted through his belt with his equally massive right hand. He looked about to use it too, though whether on the ax Wrenlo was currently working on or Wrenlo himself was anyone’s guess. There was also a faint aroma of beer on his breath, and a couple flecks of foam in his wiry black beard for the observant.

“You haven’t wasted good metal now have ya boy?” Karos groused, leaning over Wrenlo to inspect his work. Then he reached out with that emerald green arm of his and pinched one of the blades between his fingers. He tisked quietly to himself before taking a step back and then turned to walk over to Lawrence with whom he chatted with quietly for a few chimes, occasionally looking over his shoulder at Wrenlo as they spoke.

When he came back over, he clapped Wrenlo on the shoulder and took a long look at that handle he was fitting into the axehead. “Say, where do you get off using my blind daughter’s walking stick?” Karos asked, eyes narrowing. Behind him, and over his shoulder Lawrence smirked to himself as he hammered out a few nails.

[Wrenlo Gravence]

Lawrence was kind as he advised, and Wrenlo gave a returning smile when he handed over the leather wrapped handle. “Thank you, this really helps.” With the handle already made for attachment his work would go by smoothly with no time wasted, the axe would be finished today no doubts. His worries erased and he started shaping down the nubbed end of the handle. He started with a knife and skinned off two or three portions of the tip then tested to see how close to the size of the insert he was at. Comfortable with the size he took a different skin from the compartment they where stored, something with a finer grit, and started sanded down the tip of the handle. It shaped up quick and he was ready to wedge.

He had to sit for this one, bracing the long handle between his legs while lining the axe head to the tip of the handle with one hand. Wrenlo used a flat malet in the other and hammered the top of the metal head, each strike wedged the wood deeper into it’s socket until it reached into the core of the head and it wouldn’t budge anymore. He listened as Lawrence talked about Karos and Wrenlo gave a lighthearted grin, glancing up while he worked. “What I like most about Karos is that I can keep my head down and work to myself, for the most part,” meaning there was only conversation when Wrenlo needed teaching and guidance. “It’s nice to have no distractions, I’m capable of doing a lot without bother.”

Just as Lawrence paced back to his station Karos came back into the room, Wrenlo thought he might be a little more chipper than first starting his day here. The axehead was now fully mounted and it only needed the last bit of sanding and sharpening. He brought himself back to the work table, grinding away the rough portions around the top of the head. Karos came into view inspecting his process. “Almost there, just needs a little more sharpening,” the words came out quick when the Isur’s large fingers pinched at the blade almost as though it would bend in his grip. Karos tisked under his breathe but it made Wrenlo nervous, so he quickly went to sharpening. Filing in long sharp swings with the file wrapped in skin. He was close to his make or break moment with his hire and he wanted to make the best impression. There was no messing around when it came to Wrenlo’s concentration on this, until Karos asked him what he was up to with his blind daughter’s walking stick. Caught off guard he fumbled the wrapped file, it tinked loudly onto the floor midst the small bit of silence after the question and Wrenlo scrambled to pick it up then looked at Karos with a wide grin and smiling eyes before rushing back to filing the sharp edges of the blade.

One bell passed as he measured in the final details of the battleaxe. Both edges where sharp as could be, using on edge against the hairs on his forearm. It trimmed them clean cut without any pressure at all. Wrenlo didn’t have much concern about the finished piece but there was still the process of testing the blade. Wielding the axe over his shoulder he walked up to Karos who had been lingering in Lawrence’s work area and held out the axe to his boss. “Would you like to do the honors? I’d love to watch you test it out.” He beamed, quite excited to see what Karos would cut up with the axe he was capable of making. He started picking up the used skins and put them back in their place, but the file lingered in his hand as he stared at the wall of hangers trying for remember which one he had grabbed it from.