Aim for the Sky

[Rorugir]

Timestamp: 65th Winter 511 A.V. OoCHopefully the date works for you. Cherry red sparks flew over raw metal that groaned under a firm pressure. The song of the hammer rang smoothly and repeatedly across the forge, each harsh clang contorting the steel beneath it further and further. A whoosh of tempered steel being plunged into an eagerly awaiting fire preceded further ringing, and further whooshes. Sweat hung heavy on the brow of the man that wielding the hammer, yet a fierce resolve spouted only contempt for the exhaustion that lay thick on his arms. An arm blessed by Izurdin's godly grace interchanged between hammer and finger readily, each being used to yield the metal beneath blackened skin. At length a hand came up to remove the beads of sweat from his forehead, a sign that the isur was at long last done. As a finishing touch he used a wire brush to clean the toothed metal bar, and then set it down to the side to cool. Rorugir blinked several times to get the glare of the flames he had been staring into out of his eyes as he dimmed the forge's fires. "Aska, I'm done." he called out to his master. She was seated at the table up front, white quill dancing in her purple hand. The taint of earth and work hung heavy around her, a sign of the isurian nature she shared with her apprentice. "I noticed," she replied, "Is the rake good to go?" "It will be, as soon as I attach it to the wooden handle." Aska's nod of approval was grudging, another trait they seemed to share. "Good. See to that, and then see if anyone needs help in the show room." "Of course." Half a bell later, Rorugir had exited the Touch of Fire's back room and came out into the much cleaner entry room. A roving glance kept track of the people examining the wares on offer, of which there was only few; Syna was retreating across the sky, and soon night would bring madness to Lhavit once again. Almost time to lock up. In time the door opened, however, and Rorugir found himself looking towards it with a faintly surprised expression. Compounded by that was that the glint of skyglass made identifying the newcomer hopeless, at least until his eyes adjusted. "Welcome," he nonetheless greeted. "This is the Touch of Fire, the premier blacksmith shop of Lhavit. Is there anything you need assistance with?"

[Lu Gavima]

It was another cool day in Lhavit, the mild temperatures a testament to the skyglass that embraced the city. Patrols were the flavor of the day. As an Acolyte, he was not left to guard an area alone, but to travel a sort of relay from peak to peak, insuring that the actual Shinya guard posted and patrolling did not need anything. Usually he was waved off after a bit of conversation, as most Shinya were stalwart in their duties when assigned them.

After leaving his most current assignment, he found himself near the Touch of Fire. It had been some time since the Job Faire and he had assumed that his not hearing again from Madame Terras meant that his request was denied. However, assumptions were usually an exercise in self defeat, so the young Acolyte decided to investigate and hear the word No for himself.

Entering the shop, his eyes fell on a number of masterfully crafted weapons. His discipline kept his hands folded behind him, though his young eyes danced from gleaming blade to hook to hammer. He could hear the hissing of fire and water beyond the walls of the showroom, the heat wafting into the room. Soon, it was quiet and a man entered, his oversized gray arm identifying him as Isur, like Madame Terras. Perhaps it was her son? Quite a coincidence if not.

When he was greeted, he could see a squint in the man's eyes as if he could not make out Lu's face, so the young man stepped forward, dressed in his usual Acolyte attire. He bowed to the assistant, saying "Yes, I am Acolyte Gavima of the Shinya. I spoke with Madame Terras sometime ago about some meteoric plates, but have not had an opportunity to follow up. Today, I do have the time. Would you be able to assit me?"

[Rorugir]

The man drew out of Syna's spotlight, darkened interior helping define the robes of the guardian monks. Rorugir inclined his head out of respect. "Greetings, Acolyte. I am Rorugir Steelrune, an apprentice under Madame Terras." The words the bald man uttered were appraised by carefully drawn eyes, though a finger tapped on a errant sidetable in something like surprise every once and again. "Meteoric?" the geomancer asked, his secondhand Common mangled by the foreign word. "We do not usually make materiel out of such a substance. You say you spoke with Madame Terras beforehand...did she agree to do such a thing? I imagine such a material would be quite a price." The stubby fingers tapped once, twice. "Nevertheless, I will inquire with her," Rorugir continued. "Please wait here." A clipped stride hastened by intrigue brought Rorugir back to the forge. Dark eyes settled lightly on a woman seated in the very same position as before. "There is Shinya here, looking for you. Acolyte Gavima. He said he talked to you about some meteoric plates...?" Momentary surprise followed by recognition floated over Aska's face in quick succession. "Oh, the man at the job faire." she muttered. "Of - of course. Is he in the show room?" Rorugir raised a brow. "Yes, he is." His arms crossed across one another, curiosity clear around his figure. The dying fires painted his eyes with a fire of his own, baptised in zeal and wishful thinking. His attention had been caught like a fish on a line, stolen by a man in an orange robe. With hope spurring his tongue, he asked, "Want me to lead you to him?" "Indeed I do." A moment later, two isur had filled the alleys between the tools on display, one's right arm painted amethyst, the other's left arm obsidian. Promising in their solemnity, the purple arm was extended in greeting, while the other remained loosely caught at its side. "Greetings, Acolyte Gavima. Are you here for the plates of attractive metal?" she said brusquely. "I do have the necessary ore for the job, but as I said earlier the price is steep. What would you give me in return?" By her side, black irises watched patiently for Lu's response.

[Lu Gavima]

Lu smiled and waited patiently as the Isur spoke as if meteoric ore was so rare. He had an incredulous look on his face. Lu found this slightly amusing, but his business was with the smith's superior, after all. His silence and nodding dictated the man's exit from the room, no doubt to retrieve Madame Terras. Lu looked at his massive arm in wonder, imagining if his astral version would be equally large. When they returned, he would try to notice the auras of their arms and guess at it. It really wasn't the kind of conversation that Autava were interested in.

As sure as he had believed, the master smith returned along with her apprentice. He bowed to her as was customary and then listened to her query. No doubt she was well accustomed to haggling. Lu's price was not so steep, but he did have to polish it with a little tact. He could imagine Vormav blundering through such discourse and it gave him pleasure. Stepping in closer, Lu softened his face and smiled. "Well, Madame Terras, I will admit that as an Acolyte, I have no kina to barter with. I have my time and my arts to offer, I suppose. I did want to make one point, however. It is known that all fallen star material is what is used by the Seiza to craft skyglass. May I ask how you procure this ore without the knowledge of Zintila's priests? Is it by chance? Could it be flawed ore which is not suitable for the holy task? Or even that the Seiza are unaware of its existence?"