Flashback [Closed] Faith and Fortune

[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

6th of Spring, 493 AV For the first time, Garron was in Sultros City, the capital of the Isur. Pretty much since birth he’d been lectured on the culture and history of his people, and especially how Sultros was the seat of power among their kind by virtue of the blood of Izurdin. Yet he’d never been to the capital itself, as his training schedule and the Strongarm dedication to attaining the maximum physical potential of their race meant that there was little time to spend sightseeing. Both Mendelir and Yviran were busy with their respective duties as well, which left little time for them to take their youngest to see the sights of Sultros. It was perfectly fine though, Garron was so wrapped up in his training that he barely had time to think about it, and when he did he was too polite and agreeable with his parents to insist on going. After all, he reasoned, if he’d lived this long without seeing it then he would be perfectly fine without ever seeing it. Visiting the city wouldn’t affect him all that much, right? All that changed when he actually went there. The absolutely enormous cavern, the large lake down below, the walkways and unsupported bridges, the parks far below, the palace, the lift, all of it was so incredible. Always appreciative of creative talent, it was hard for Garron to process that all this artistry could take place within a single city. His draw nearly dropped as he viewed the entirety of the city from a perch right above the cavern, the crossroads of two bridges that ran the length of the cavern yet had no supports between the ends. Such mathematics and architecture was beyond the young Isur’s imaginings, and far beyond anything he’d be able to achieve this lifetime. The solid foundations, the decorative reliefs and ornate carvings, the light in which it was all cast, it made the entire city seem perfect, as if pulled from some utopia. Comparing it to the very military and rigid Coglias City was like comparing an intricate vase to a straightforward box. Both were good at what they were meant for, but when it came to the visual there was no way they could compare. And Garron had thought that Coglias was beautiful. “Like it do you?” Mendelir asked jokingly, knowing the answer. Garron’s father had been granted leave for a day upon request to take his son to the capital; such was his good grace and reputation with his superiors that he was able to do so. His upperbody was clad in the family’s Isurian steel heavy armor, something he went nowhere without, but he was completely relaxed and enjoying himself. In the armor, he appeared both powerful and serene, something only the Isur could seem to pull off. “It’s amazing!” Garron exclaimed breathlessly, dashing from one side of the bridge to the other, looking down at the many buildings below. The people looked like moving dolls below in a magnificent miniature model that was the most impressive the young Strongarm had ever seen. Chuckling, Mendelir asked in response, “Aren’t you glad I brought you here?” Though he had little time to spend with his youngest son, he still loved him just as much as anyone else in their family, and sorely regretted not having more of his schedule open for spending time with him like this. It was even worse for his wife, but she was out there protecting the kingdom. She had a very important job, and couldn’t simply ask for a day off like he could. Being a guard of Clan Coglias was a bit redundant after all. “I am, thanks so much for this!” the bright-eyed youth said, turning to face his father and smiling one of his brightest, so wide it almost gleamed like a mirror. “This place is so incredible; I can’t believe it exists outside some kind of dream. Why is such careful planning and construction put in every city?” “Because we’re not all the same,” Mendelir answered his son wisely, walking up to join him looking over the railing. “Though we are all Isur, all children of Izurdin, we are all different. We are each our own selves, an individual, and we each have our own families and clans. No two families are alike, just like no two clans are alike. Do you remember what I told you about Clan Sultros?” Garron nodded his confirmation that he did. In fact, he had noticed the red arms almost as soon as they’d entered the city, but was too caught up in admiring the craftsmanship of the place to think about it much. “You said that they are the closest relatives of Izurdin, and their red arms symbolize that blood relationship. That is why they have the most influence compared to the other clans, because they have the most divine blood in them.” Nodding, Mendelir was quick to elaborate his point. “Very good. Now, since they are the closest in blood connection to Izurdin, don’t you think their city needs to reflect their closeness with Izurdin just as much as their arms? The grand structures here required both patience and strength, and each is a wonderful testament to Izurdin. They show how close to our god that the Sultros are.” Garron nodded his understanding, how it all made sense. “Then what about our city, dad?” he asked then. “Well, you know that we Coglias are very strong and proud warriors, willing to fight for Izurdinin and our people whatever battlefields we are needed in. Our tradition is that of solidity and strength, of physical prominence over style. Would you not agree that our city and buildings reflects those values?” Indeed, Garron was nodding again at the sense behind his father’s words. The angular and boxlike buildings of Coglias were indeed impressive feats of architecture, but at the same time they silently spoke of uniformity and solidity, of presence and power. It was simple yet profound, straightforward yet still amazing. Now that his father had pointed it out, the layout of both cities made so much sense, as did the design of the buildings within. It was great to finally understand the meaning of it all. While his gaze wandered around the cavern, Garron’s eyes fell on one particular structure that caught his eye above all the others. A domed roof held aloft by a circle of giant pillars, all sparkling clean and smoothly cut stone, intricately designed and almost glowing in the light of the cavern with its perfectly sanded surface. The luminescent appearance gave it an almost divine aura, a sense of importance and imperative that earned respect yet did not demand it. A subtle, almost quiet note of majesty with the relatively simple shape of the building itself, though adorned magnificently. It was on the higher level, the same level as the bridges, so it was easier to get to than anything down below. “Dad, let’s go there,” he said excitedly, pointing towards the domed structure. Following the pointed finger, Mendelir didn’t take even a tick to realize what his son was referring to. “That’s Izurdin’s Temple,” he said, “where many smiths work long and hard to create works worthy of our god. There’s also a place where one can submit their currently greatest work in the hopes of gaining Izurdin’s attention.” As soon as he’d finished, Garron was off, running towards the large domed building as if there were a pack of Zith at his heels, though he was smiling the whole way. Chuckling, Mendelir followed his son at a much more casual pace, wise enough not to bother keeping up with his energetic child, especially in his heavy armor. Garron was able to take care of himself, of that the father was sure, and he was obedient enough to listen to what was said to him by his superiors. As Garron raced away, Mandelir strolled more calmly along the bridge, taking in the sight a lot more leisurely. Feet pounding against the stone floor, Garron rushed in between people and around groups, careful to respect the personal space of those around him and going slow enough that he could react to what was happening and avoid collisions. His training had paid off, as he was able to leg it to the temple in a few chimes, pelting through the crowd. Outside the temple though, he hesitated going in on his own. It was an unfamiliar place and he knew little about it, if going in without the intention to create something was improper then he’d be committing a sacrilege. So there he stood, just to the side of the entrance a pace or two outside, waiting for someone to either welcome him or turn him away, give him guidance of some kind.

[Ly'an Godhammer]

Ly'an had just finished a morning worth of prayers and studies. It was a great way to start her day off, discussing Father and his many children, how they were made in his image, and so on and so forth. Today though, was different, she was actually going to the forge to see if she could work up the courage to smith something. It was with a pause at the steps did she spot a boy that appeared rather anxious. I feel the same way. She smiled and turned towards him, offering hand of reassurance, “You know. You can still go in if you aren't sure of crafting something for Father to see. He still blesses those that enter his Forge.” Without an answer from the boy though Ly'an grabbed his hand and pulled him into the forge's entrance and quickly into the main foyer. It was a room that Ly'an had seen many times in the last two decades, but never had she decided to come here on her own, until today. It was with a look of awe that she stood before the statues and monuments before her. Other Isurians rushed around her and the boy. Ly'an still hadn't removed her hand from his, in fact she seemed to have forgotten about her grasp on it entirely as she took a semi-circled turn away from the body to admire the works around her. “People say that the masters of our race had made some of these works when Father still walked the lands. Sadly though, no one can seem to lay claim to which ones those are.” She looked at the boy and then released his hand. “Sorry, I forgot about your hand, I am Ly'an.” She held out her primary arm as a symbol of friendship and kindness.

[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

While Garron was lingering outside the entrance, waiting for his father and someone he could follow, he saw a girl slightly younger then him suddenly approach him seemingly at random. She was a tad bit shorter, with the bright blue arm of clan Vizerian and two blue-dray eyes that peered at him with burning energy. For what reason she focused on him he could not say, but he watched her approach wordlessly, his face curious and neutral. Was she here to tell him to do something? He was loitering around a place that he wasn't sure would welcome him. Her assurance and offering of her hand came as a surprise to the Strongarm, but it did the trick and a smile broke onto the Coglias' face. Before he could reply though, she took his own hand and pulled him into the forge, the young boy blushing as he found himself blithely following the girl inside. His intense training left him little time to really socialize much, so his experience with women was less than would be considered normal, and in a situation like this he wasn't quite sure what to do. Not that he was thinking about it when he entered the temple. It was truly a masterpiece worthy of all Isurian standards and highest praises, something adequate to demonstrate Izurdin's glory. The high ceiling, the central boiling forge, the other Isur going about their tasks but not minding the observation of the two children as they looked around. Monuments and statues adorned the area, each in breathtaking detail and stunning realism. Oh if only Garron had a fraction of this skill and ability, he would have loved to be here with the rest, forging and crafting, proving himself to Izurdin. As it was, all he could do was just appreciate and protect these amazing works and their creators. The words of the girl beside him brought Garron's attention back to her, and in his glow of wonder he had forgotten about their linked hands. As she explained the legends behind the glorious works, he nodded in even greater amazement and looked open-mouthed around the great room one more time, just to be sure they were really there. Then she brought attention to their hands, and Garron immediately started blushing again. He still smiled when she introduced herself though, mimicking the gesture. "Garron Strongarm," he told her, "of the Coglias. So do you come here often Ly'an?" Though he was not experienced in social occasions, he knew how to be polite, and making conversation seemed to be a nice thing to do for now.

[Ly'an Godhammer]

Garron Strongarm of Coglias. Well, he sure looks the type. She laughed, it was a miracle too, she didn't do that much and the last person she laughed around she hadn't seen in years. I wonder were Artifex has gone to anyway. “Oh, sorry, I'm from the Vizerian. I have came here several times as a young lass with my parents and once on my own.” She shrugged and looked at him, “Maybe though, maybe I will make something today.” The young Vizerian seemed unsure of herself, like she didn't feel worthy to be here. “Anyway, have you ever been here before? Crafted anything interesting and in approval of Father?” She mentioned the word 'Father' as if it was a holy term, not just a term of endearment towards the male figure that made up half of her DNA in her family tree. “I have yet to forge anything to give to Father to honor him. I do hope I work up the courage to do so soon though.” Soon though, and in awkward pretenses she pointed to the door that led into the forge proper, “Would you like to go see the forge and try your might against steel there Garron Strongarm?” It wasn't really a challenge, it was more of an inquiry. OOCEdited my post to be accurate with Ly'an's past

[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

Unaware of the reason behind Ly'an's laughter, Garron found himself blushing a bit more as he began to feel embarrassed. He had no idea why of course, he was completely clueless as to what was going on, though that was probably part of it. Regardless, her laugh was pleasant to listen to, and Garron found himself smiling despite the awkward color of his cheeks. There wasn't much time he had between training periods to talk to anyone or really socialize, so the only women he had talked to were his sister and mother. It had equipped him poorly to handle situations like this, so he had no idea what to do or say. Fortunately, Ly'an seemed to have an idea. The Strongarm listened to her mentioning of her trips to this place, nodding his head for no apparent reason. When she suggested she may make something, he smiled again. "I would very much like it if you would," he said in response. "It is quite a pleasure to watch someone work their craft, and I would be honored if you would let me observe you while you do." He himself was no great craftsman, which only added to his appreciation of the skill in others. Ly'an's sudden attention and curiosity made him blush yet again, a habit that was really beginning to embarrass him even further. Clearing his throat, Garron answered a bit unsteadily. "No, this is my first time in Sultros," he answered. Had his attention not been solely fixed on the girl before him, he might have remembered his father who had come with who was supposed to be on his way here. "This place is new to me, but it is certainly magnificent. I am not good enough at any craft to be able to create anything of worth to Izurdin though. All I can do is fight and train." When she mentioned that she still had to craft something for Izurdin's glory, he smiled reassuringly, wanting to encourage her to do so. "You are undoubtedly much better than me, so you have not to worry about what Izurdin thinks of what you offer. Just make sure that your heart and soul is put into its creation, and you will undoubtedly please him with your efforts. Besides, I'm sure you can craft wonderfully." The Coglias added that last comment with a smile, hoping to give her the strength she needed to try. His gaze followed her pointed finger to a door that he could not see beyond, but her language made it clear what was on the other side. Well, part of what was on the other side, not all. "For many years now I have tried my might against steel," he answered. "However, whereas your challenges have been in creation, mine have only been in destruction - or potential destruction. Intense training has left me little time to learn the arts of the forge, and nothing that I manage to offer will be of any value to Izurdin. So I will have to decline, Ly'an Godhammer, for if I were to try the result would be a horrendous insult to all Isur who came before me, and that is something I cannot allow." Garron's eyes turned back to her blue irises, looking in them and ignoring the tint in his cheeks. "I would very much like to see you try your hand however, lady Godhammer." The prefix lady wasn't thought out, but now that he had said it it sounded respectful and fitting. "While I am no good, I do very much enjoy watching others perform these acts of Izurdin."

[Ly'an Godhammer]

Ly'an frowned and then nodded, “That means nothing my friend. Today I will accept your declination of my challenge to you. But I shall hold you to uphold it in the future, even if I have to train you myself! May Father accept that as a feat of goodwill. I will teach a man of strength and honor to forge.” She ended her words a smile before pointing towards the forge light, “Well, how about I show you the basics and then I shall show you my trade another day? I have a friend that you should meet. He is another Vizerian, but a kind clansmen and fellow. I am sure between the two of us we can teach you something of the sorts.” Ly'an paused in thought and then looked at him. “At the very least, you'll be able to repair weapon and armor you may use.” She shrugged and with a smirk grabbed a hold of his arm and hauled him through the doorway into the forge room. It was a huge room, blessed with a large anvil in the middle of the room. Dropping her voice to a revering whisper Ly'an once more spoke, “That is Father's anvil. It is said to have been placed there by Izurdin himself before he ascended during the Valterrain. I pray to Him every time I am here. He hears my thoughts, my problems, and my wishes. He guides me to their resolutions and therefore the actions of his will.” Ly'an paused and stared at Garron. “You must promise me on Father's Anvil that you will learn to forge something. Or at least learn a crafting trade to better round yourself out. All your fighting will be to the death of you and thus no good for Him.” It was with a stony stare that Ly'an fell silent, her eyes staring into Garron's. Father, guide him to you.

[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

As Ly'an spoke, Garron found himself smiling warmly. The tint in his cheeks remained from earlier, kept there by calling him a man of strength and honor. Praise that he received was usually to do with his accomplishment in training, she was the first to speak well of who he actually was. "I would very much like it if you would be the one to train me," Garron replied without thinking too much about the way he'd worded it. "Although I guarantee it is a lost cause, even for someone as convicted as yourself." He nodded at Ly'an's suggestion, remembering the light from beyond the door that he'd seen. "That sounds nice," he answered, looking forward to spending time with this kind girl. She'd treated him well and encouraged him despite his shortcomings, which he was grateful for. That kind of positive feeling was something he was growing fond of. "I'm sure you and your friend will be able to accomplish much together, but please don't be disappointed if I do not soak it up as well as I should." For a moment Garron's mind began to fluster again as she took his arm, but in the end he simply resigned himself to a smile and let himself be dragged without resistance. As they entered the massive chamber, he gaped as he took in the size of it - not to mention the huge anvil in the center, its proud majesty on display for everyone to see. With great reverence, he listened to Ly'an's story, enraptured by the magnificent prominence of the anvil that dominated the room. So, this was Izurdin's shrine. It was befitting of the great god, and now Garron knew where to go if he wished to offer himself up to the great lord in a more personal and important way than merely speaking to him from his home. However, when his companion spoke of the promise Garron's eyes fell back onto hers. She could not possibly know him, know about his lack of capability and his insulting skill. Her intentions were heartfelt and noble, but it was not to be. Still, for her sake he almost considered it. Keeping Ly'an's stare, he bowed his head apologetically. "Ly'an, I can't do that," he said, genuinely sorrowful about his denial of her proposed promise. "Anything I try to create will never be of the level of yours or anyone else's. Failure and indecency are all that I have been met with for my efforts in any sort of craft. I am incapable, I am not fit to work a forge. Whatever I try to offer will only insult Izurdin with its mediocrity, and I would not make anyone suffer through that." He breathed deeply, closing his eyes and breaking contact with Ly'an for a moment, then looking up at the anvil. "I can, however, protect it," Garron continued. "My fighting will keep safe those who can please Izurdin. I can and will protect this glorious Kingdom with all my strength, so that those who are capable can continue to earn favor from our god. If I die, then it will be for the safekeeping of this people that I have endeavored to defend, and will ultimately be for the greater good. I am sorry." He looked to Ly'an with those last words, hoping for approval from the girl who thought so highly of him. Then he smiled, trying to ease the mood. Without a word he extended his hand, motioning with his head to the exit. "Shall we meet your friend?" he asked amiably.

[Ly'an Godhammer]

She scowled at Garron when he spoke of her training him as a failure to both her and Father. “You can not even think of failing Father or myself. I look at your attempts, good or otherwise, as worthy for Father's acceptance. You will be just learning, I am sure he'll overlook your imperfections. I know I will. Everyone does poorly their first time around.” Ly'an gave a nod at that and chuckled. “Trust me, no one can forge properly the first time... It takes practice and dedication. Something some of us excel at. Others excel at it in different ways.” She shrugged, “Protect and serve sounds like you need some practice and dedication to do as well... You might make a smithy after all.” She chuckled and looked around the room, “Well, maybe not today we won't make you into a smithy, maybe some other day. Even if you can't forge properly to create something new. I think we can at least give you enough experience to repair something you own, you know?” Ly'an shook her head, “Let's not think about that right now. Yes, let's go see my friend. I think you two will be good for each other.” She chuckled and smiled. Or it will be the beginning of good times.

[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

Garron smiled at her attempts a reassurance. He was grateful for her kind words, but she didn't know. No one except his father did. No matter how hard he tried, he simply could not out his soul into the work, and the result was always disastrous. Even if Ly'an were to try to focus only on his effort, the product of that effort would undoubtedly reflect on it despite how much work he put in. Imperfections on a grand scale cannot be overlooked by even the most willing ignorance. Despite this, Garron did not want to trouble Ly'an further, so he said nothing in response. Just his smile, a sad knowing smile. "Protect and serve is something I know well though," Garron remarked. "Protect and serve is something I was raised into; it is my lifestyle and the reason for which I train so rigorously. Smithing however..." the Coglias wrung his hands helplessly. "It is a glorious art foreign to my mind. Whenever I have tried in the past, it has never taken. Being an Isur helps, but even so my creations will never even hope to rival those of the rest of our kin." Finally, they found something they agreed on. Nodding enthusiastically, Garron's smile was wide enough to break the walls of the temple they stood in. "Repairing simple things for rudimentary combat will be useful, and since the structure is already there I cannot petch up its creation. The family suit of armor could use some repairs, and though I would be honored if you were the one to perform them it is a family thing that has been kept in our traditions since a Terras first married into the Strongarms centuries ago. It would not be the same if someone not of the Strongarms fixed it." Still smiling, Garron nodded as he followed Ly'an towards the exit, turning back to regard the giant anvil before he left. Izurdin, he prayed, his thoughts directed to the mark of his god, though I cannot create in your glory, I can fight to protect it. Please accept what I can offer as a sign of my true loyalty to you, and in absence of my skill in your primary domain. Please, understand. With that, he turned back and left with Ly'an, back into the main area and eventually Sultros. OOCYou left him hanging. How cold.

[Whimsy]

Garron

Experience	Lore
+2 Observation	Sultros City: The Capital City of the Isur
+2 Architecture	Clan Sultros: Closest in Blood to Izurdin
+1 Philosophy	The City to Reflect The Values
+1 Investigation	Izurdin's Temple
	An Inability to Craft, but an Awe of Those Who Can
	Izurdin's Anvil
	Self-Doubt and Self-Deprecation
	Ly'an: Forging for Izurdin

Ly'an

Experience	Lore
+3 Philosophy	Izurdin's Temple
+2 Socialisation	The Works of Izurdin's Temple
+1 Observation	Artifex: A Friend of the Past
	Challenging Garron to Craft
	Praying to Izurdin for Garron
	Izurdin's Anvil
	Garron: Willing to Protect and Serve

Comments
A lovely, thought-filled meeting between two future friends, hopefully. Perhaps one day Garron will craft something, and Ly'an will be there to celebrate with him! Garron, I gave you Architecture for observing the differences between Sultros and Coglias. I'm sorry I couldn't give the pair of you more skills. PM me if you have any questions or concerns.

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