Quest [Regional Quest] Lost No Longer

[Gillar]

80th Day of Spring, in the year 513 AV It was morning in Sultros City as the bells rang throughout the great cavern. Nine times they sounded, their hollow tone ringing deep. In the Plaza of the Crimson Arm, the various shops, tents and booths that lined its perimeter opened for business. Although shopkeepers and venders began setting up a few bells earlier, the ringing of the nine bells signaled time for opening. With the opening of the shops came those looking to buy from them. Within a few moments, the Plaza came alive with people. Although not quite as packed as it was during the Trazen, the Plaza was still very busy. This particular morning brought a rather unique addition to the colorful collection of people who went about their usual business in the Plaza. An older man dressed in a pair of worn leather breeches and high black boots stood in front of a small cart packed with crates, rope, tools and all manner of odds and ends. In a rather animated fashion, the man began shouting loudly and waving his crimson arm seemingly hoping to gain the attention of any passerby who may walk within earshot. "That's right! Join up with me on an adventure of a life-time! Fame! Fortune! It can all be yours! Your name will go down in history alongside the heroes of old!" Every so often someone would approach the man and ask him what he was talking about. After a brief discussion, those who spoke with him would laugh and continue on their way. These encounters didn't seem to phase the man and he seamlessly continued his call out to people to come and hear him out.

[Smithis]

It was another one of his free days. As those weren't too keen to happen often, they were best used promptly. And he would do just that, he thought, as he strolled the plaza with others of his family. There were five of them altogether. His older brother, Valon, the self proclaimed ladies man was whispering something into the ear of what appeared to be a random girl. She wasn't laughing which wasn't good, but it was the typical reaction most people had to his brother. His idea of a flirt was narrating the well known and famous family history to strangers, but no matter how many times he spoke of the great Anodin and the family name origin people still knew what to call him. What to call his family in fact. They were born of the extinguished one and everyone was merely waiting for their arms to turn gray after a cutthroat act of some sort. Everyone knew how foul a Pitrius was after all.

His parents on the other hand remained proper at all times. There was no giggling, uncanny physical contact or anything beyond handholding really. They were silent too, probably both glad they could have a moment to themselves. If they were even saying something, Smithis knew better than to try and hear it. Were it his business they'd have called for his word by this point. No need to meddle, if they were content so was he.
Then there was the sister. An annoying thirty year old, and while everyone could remember just how awful they were in that period, it didn't make communicating with the girl easier. Not easier enough. Her name used to be Anvel, now it was adolescence. She would go too fast and then she'd slow down all of a sudden. While she didn't want to look like her family was the only reason she was there, she wasn't confident enough to move away much either. It would please father to have her close at hand too.

Then he'd hear the call. Whatever it was that needed enlisting, he'd be the first to seriously consider it. As soon as he heard that bit about heroes of old, he was hooked. There was enough stains on Stonesmirk already, someone needed to be remembered well. People were funny that way; you could do a hundred good deeds and still be considered only by the bad, onehundredfirst. It was high time for someone to commit a onehundredsecond something that would make the whole community proud – make his family's lives a little easier too. He could feel himself slowing down bit by bit. Being the observer, his mother quickly caught on and passed him a puzzled look. She didn't ask anything, no need to.
„I forgot to return the tongs to Devir“ he'd start pretty assured. His mother would be content with just this, he knew. There was no harm in a little white lie, it was his mother herself who told him this. She needed to feel involved in something that wouldn't cut her off like everyone else had. And he provided needed comfort, if only for a second. The overall disliking of Devir was enough for his mother to simply shrug and turn back to walking as soon as she said „Don't be too late.“

Enduring the awkwardly long moment like a champion, Smithis would start walking towards this strange Sultros with an even pace. His excitement hidden as well as such big things could be, he'd hope for a grand cause with an even grander name... or maybe it was only and overly glorified Zith purge...
Smithis was a patient man, but by Izurdin, was he eager to hear this man's fable.

[Ly'an Godhammer]

80th of Spring 513AV It was odd for the hairless beauty to find herself in the marketplace, she had no reason to really be there... Food maybe, but that would be about it. Today though she had intended to look into the purchasing of one of those lovely portable forges she had been eying for the last decade or so. It was so hard to part with precious money in her current situation, but that didn't mean she couldn't look. After a few minutes of looking at a few of the options she had available the smith sighed and frowned, Maybe another day... Her fingers gently touched one of the forges before her, gracefully admiring the potential she could feel deep within it's inanimate cold form. Someday Father I shall bring my craft beyond your forge walls and grace the world with my skills and love of You. It was with a lingering urge to dump the hundreds of gold mizas onto the counter top and snatching up the forge that Ly'an turned away and started to walk away. Another day... Ly'an had to remind herself, a sigh passing her lips as she passed a small crowd of people giggling as if they were subsiding from outright laughing. The source of their humor was lost on Ly'an currently, most of her fellow kinsmen laughed at things there she found zero humor in, she just didn't see much in that light. When she finally seen the man standing there was a small cart filled with odds and ends of what appeared to be adventuring materials the young Isur tilted her head in confusion, people were laughing at a man that appeared to be either enduring a case of hard living, And that would be good for him. Or he was the root of laughter because what he offered was so outlandish that her kinsmen thought him crazy, And that would be bad for him. Moving close, she was able to make out what he spoke of over the din that has become the marketplace. Fame. Fortune. Adventure! This man speaks of leaving your city Father, of seeing the world and proving our soul before you. She moved closer, only stopping when she saw another man appeared to be moving closer to this strange man with the crimson arm. Father I acknowledge that You wish to send me beyond these walls. For You I shall travel the world. If only to further spread Your Word, Wisdom, and Love. Taking in a gulping breath of air the blue armed forger of metals came to rest before the man with the cart, “You speak of adventuring. Of fame. Of fortune. Of being remembered in the histories right up there with the legends of old.” Ly'an paused, “I shall go along with your adventure, if you tell me what you are seeking for. But I must be forthcoming with you, I go along in the name of Our Father.” Ly'an accepted her place beside this man's cart, awaiting for either more to join, or for the man to go on with his proposed adventure. Either way, Ly'an had already sealed her fate on this current situation. Father, I am yours eternally. Guide me righteously along the Your Will's path and I shall remain Yours eternally.

[Artifex]

The day had appeared to be just like all the others. Yet as he donned his attire, and made to leave his abode with Pietas by his side, he couldn't help but feel that something was different. It was as if something electric swam through the air. He had just finished his morning prayers to Izurdin, and thus finished by saying: and I, as always, shall forever be your faithful servant. May you guide my hand along your will, and thus guide me along the path I must forge within my life.

He turned to see Pietas sitting vigilantly beside him. Blind eyes stared aimlessly towards only Father knew what. The Drakori had taken to this habit almost immediately upon living with him, and he didn't mind it whatsoever. In fact he liked to think to himself that Pietas was actually praying to Father in his own way. Perhaps he was giving Pietas too much intelligence, but the Drakori had proven to be as smart as it was faithful.

He scratched under Pieta's chin, at the softer underbelly of the Drakori. Pietas loosed a pleased note, and with it he gathered the rest of his things. Opening the door he was greeted by the familiarity of sounds that made their way all the way from the hubbub of the market on days when it was busy. With Drakori in tow he walked to the market. His hammer and various tools clinked together, along with his axe. It had been something he had been carrying with him as of late, for reasons he wasn't sure.

Upon reaching the market he was greeted with the many movements of the many Isur that fluttered about. It was not as busy as some day, but it was bustling none the less. He had been debating whether or not to go and work on the armor set he had been postponing for some time during his walk to the market. He looked to Pietas, as if silently searching for the Drakori's opinion. The Drakori offered none, but looked up at him and sniffed.

While he was about to turn and go towards the temple, to at least pray if nothing else, he noticed a odd laughter lingering amongst some of his kin that passed him. He followed where the trail of laughter originated and noticed that it was coming from an odd individual with a red arm. He was standing before a cart of various odds and ends, spouting odd proclamations of what would await those who heeded his words and followed him on some adventure. It was most curious, and his curiosity was so peeked that he felt an urge to go over and converse with the man. His curiosity was emboldened when he noticed Ly'an by the man.

He arrived just in time to hear Ly'an proclaim that she would join in the name of Father, and his will. To which he placed a hand on Ly'an's shoulder, and said: "Aye, and i too would like to join if what you say awaits us, in Izurdin's name. But first i would hear what it is this adventure entails".

Pietas sniffed the man, and Artifex wondered what the creature thought of the man.

[Gillar]

The older man, perhaps nearing 150 years of age, flashed a pleased smile as one by one, a small group of individuals gathered before him. The three of them now got a better look at the man and the cart next to him. The man was obviously of the Sultros Clan with his crimson red arm and short, strawberry blonde hair. The cart next to him was filled with a variety of gear similar to that carried by various trade caravans that routinely move through the Plaza on their way to and from Trading Posts and other clan cities. To those who gathered, he spoke clearly and directly, his voice deep and strong despite his advanced age, "That's right my friends, fame and fortune. My name is, Viametran Salavaj Sultros. I am what you could call an explorer and procurer of pre-Valterrian art, architecture and artifacts." Viametran paused for a moment as if to see if any of those gathered were still willing to hear him out or if they took him for a fool and decided to leave. To those who may remain, he continued. "See, the Forge and the Vizerians hold the majority of the physical remains of the Old Kingdom. While I take no issue with that, I think our people deserve more. Our history did not stop with the loss of the Old Kingdom. There is so much more that for whatever reason seems intentionally forgotten. It is our duty as isur and children of the Divine Father to remember how we got to where we are today." Viametran paused again and took a moment for his words to sink in. "One element of this forgotten history involves the Lost. We isur were once ten different clans. How many of you have ever wondered why we are now only five? What happened to the others?" Viametran glanced at the cart next to him. "I am preparing an expedition to the ruined citadel of the lost Jiathu Clan. Unfortunately, I am finding difficulty in finding the extra manpower to make this trip successful. That is where my offer comes into play. I can't do this alone and while I would hope your sense of racial pride would guide you, in exchange for your help, I can offer a percentage of whatever non-historical items we find and bring back to Sultros. I won't lie, it is not a journey without risk. We would have to travel above ground as the tunnels that once existed between Sultros and Jiathu have been abandoned for centuries with the main tunnel purposely collapsed. If you're still interested, I can attempt to answer any questions you may have."

[Sulphor Rath]

If one would have thought it to be hard not to be bashful or even skittish as a young Pitrius seemingly wandering about in Sultros City, during these political volatile times, they hadn't met the obstinate Sulphor Rath Pitrius yet. Relieving everyone he encountered during his seemingly carefree stroll outside Pitrius territory, he wore a shirt that revealed both his arms completely, throwing it in everyone's face that he had the Pitrius lineage. While his father had tried to reason his son out of dressing like that, while doing his father's bidding and going on this little expedition for information, Sulphor had steadfastly shaken his head at every attempt and said to him: “ Father, you told me yourself how the Pitrius Clan is being distrusted, bordering being abhorred by the other Clans! If it really is as bad as you say it is, no doubt in my mind that every passage from and to Pitrius...Is being kept an eye on! Cloaking and gloving the sign that I am of Pitrius ancestry would merely assure I would be watched for the entire time I'm out in Sultros City! “ A small, arrogant smirk snuck up on his lips as his memories of helping his father out in this little scheme, were quite pleasant since he knew he had helped him more than he actually liked. Sulphor let out an attempted heldback, boyishly sniffling laugh as he still remembers the face of the clearly angered Hammer that swiftly strode up to the Pitrius child as soon as he was out of Pitrius' safezone, demanding to know why he had left Pitrius City and everything he could tell him about Pitrius' secrets and malevolent ambitions. ' Fool. ' Thought Sulphor as he continued his walk around the Plaza of the Crimson Arm, occasionally stopping to ask a passer-by for directions towards the shop he had told the Hammer he was going to. Another tongue-in-cheek grin appeared as he saw the Hammer's face redden before his mental eye. “ B-b-but sir, I-i-i don't know anything. I just came out to ask for help from M-m-miss Cylini of the pet shop. My 'Smirky' is sick...He hasn't eaten for days!!! He n-n-needs help, please mister. “ As soon as the, faintly fought back, waterworks started to flow...Profit! The Hammer had no idea what to do as he started to look around to see if there was anyone that could handle this situation of this poor child caught up in these scary political situation. Hastily the Hammer consoled Sulphor and allowed him access into Sulphor City, even accompanied him along to Sultros City's Plaza...Although Sulphor still wasn't entirely sure that was out of the kindness of his heart, regardless, he was sure he had gone back to his post by now. Accompanying him into Sultros City had also kept the Eyswar off his back. Or so Sulphor thought, either way he walked around carefree, like a child should, in 'search of Cylini'... The Hammer had been closer to the truth than he thought, this was a child caught up in political games, but hardly a harmless one. He had been sent out by his father to gather valuable information about Sultros and their non-Pitrius residents/visitors. His father had thought his son to be the safest bet to gather such information without skulking eyes following his every moment. He figured such information could prove to be beneficial when given to the right person in Pitrius, especially considering his son's ambitions to join the Sentinels. But then, Pitrius got side-tracked, by a loud and flamboyant Isur standing near an overly filled cart. With large, sweeping handgestures he preached his desire for strong, brave kinsmen to journey with him on a quest to establish their legacies in the Isur History. A mocking huff, unheard by anyone considering the bombasticly loud speech of the nearby man, came from Sulphor. Even so, he sat down against a wheel of the cart, with his back towards the man, out of his eyesight. Playing carelessly with his 'Smirky', who was busy running back and forth over his arms, shoulders and neck at a frantic pace. The loud voice of the man seemed to make Smirky nervous, not that Sulphor cared. The longer he stayed put, the longer he listened to the man, the more he lost himself in hopes and dreams of establishing a name for himself before he even joined the Sentinels. ' Damn it all, this is better than politicians and their hissy-fits! ' Sulphor whipped out a small notebook from underneath his satchel, and continued to stare into the distance. One ear on the man's voice, one eye on the treasures promised. Every now and then he scribbled down some notes, until the man had finally gathered a small group of Isur genuinely interested in the man's verbal antics. As the unknown Isur repeated, for the hundredth time, about his plans in mind to search for one of the Lost Clans Territory, Sulphor hastily scribbled down some more notes before groaning as he pushed himself off the ground, his leg had nearly fallen asleep and was tingling as he walked around the cart. His eyes quickly glanced over the grouped Isur audience but not more than an instant and once it became clear that he was here for a reason, Sulphor's eyes fixated on the epic taleweaving Isur's eyes as he spoke: “ A few questions come to mind... “ He stated seemingly carelessly, before continueing: How much time do we have before departure? What is there to expect in terms of danger? Anything we need to bring with us in addition to your own tools? How much is this percentage you speak of? Lastly, but definitely not least important... I'd like to know what you consider non-historical items...Considering we're going to the territory of a Lost Clan, assumed to be historical and deserted for I don't know how long...Isn't it quite easy to say everything we find there to be historical? .... Leaving all but you empty-handed, no? After his little list of quickly rambled off questions, he turned with a sweeping outstretched Pitrius arm, towards the group of Isur present. “I'm not trying to be rude, but these are questions better asked beforehand to minimize conflicts, am I right?” The Pitrius child was abrasive and unabashed, for better or worse.

[Smithis]

Smithis could feel his brow twisting at the very presence of a child in such a talk, let alone its adult-like approach. He did his arm honor though, and was as crass and unrestrained as most expected from a Pitrius. This was not a job interview, and even if it was it would be to hire a nanny to take care of this whelp. How in the world did he ever expect to join anything more than an apprenticeship at his age? Thoughts aside, while the child did have some good points most of their momentum was nullified by his negative presence... well that was true for Smithis anyway.

In any case, he wasn't going to let a mere child run the course of his decisions. And he'd soon find his time to verbally strike at the youth. With his treacherous silvery arm outstretched towards them, he reminded Smithis only of bad things. It was his mother who said most Pitrius weren't to be trusted. Why should it be any different for a random kid? When the youngling asked for support, Smithis simply replied to what he could still gather of the boy's random questioning. Hopefully he remembered all of the inquries involved.

„You confuse knowledge with reason, small one“ and that's just what he was in Smithis' eyes, small. The older Isur wanted this Pitrius to remember this well. „Most of your questions could be answered to by your own metnal faculties“ then he'd try and narrate the answers in order the needless questions were asked. „How much time we have before departing for this quest? That was a valid question, boy, and is something I too would like to hear“ skipping a few, he'd slide to the only other important one „And what other tools or weapons we may require – that too is a valid point. Everything else is needless.“ He'd gesture to the man he now knew as Viametran and toss in more of his thoughts „His proposition alone brought us most of what we needed to gather about the dangers of this quest. The Jiathu were plague bearers... or did you forget the stories they scared you to bed with? That was the reason for their lone tunnel's demolition after all. As if that wasn't bad enough, Viametran mentioned travelling on the surface. Zith are more ferocious as of late, more daring than ever. Hiding in the Sun's glow they'll strike at us, our inadept eyes blinded by light so foreign to us... Besides what makes you think he can tell us anything more than everyone already knows? If he had managed to go there and come back alive, he would've either be celebrated a great hero and explorer and the name of Salavaj would've been famous. Either that or the council would deny his return to the kingdom in fear of another plague...“ it was more than enough – plague, Zith, and nondescript horrors of the mountain Smithis knew it was best not to mention.

„As for whatever valuables we might find and how we classify them... well you don't need to be an archeologist to know that gold is only gold. If the Jiathu were indeed wiped out by a plague, it would mean all of their valuables fell to the ground with them. It's impossible that everything there has historical significance. Besides I'd be just as fine with us not finding anything if it brought only good renown to my family's name.“ Forsaking further thoughts on this he'd round up to answering the only left of the boy's question before he asked one of his own. „Splitting is quite easy. Equal shares of what we can carry back combined go to each survivor. Anything less I wouldn't accept, and I have a feeling that our explorer here will grant us such right as people don't seem to be pushing each other away for a shot at this. If he really has legacy on his mind, some gold in our pockets shouldn't matter much to him.“ And then he'd gulp, one last question he had avoided for all his words. „Does the council know or approve of this mission?“ pending on the explorer's answer, everything could change for the young Sultros.

[Gillar]

Viametran watched as the assembled group grew and shrank until there were but a handful left. The fact that they stayed and had questions was more than he could have asked for. He didn't care much about age or clan since what he was planning transcended such superficial identifications. When the barrage of questions came, Viametran held up his hands and took a step back saying, "Ok, ok, good questions all. Give me a moment and I'll do what I can to answer. At least I will give whatever answers I have thus far." From his waist, in a small belt pouch, Viametran produced a book. From its soft, leather binding and clean looking pages, the book was of a newer make. As Viametran untied the string that held it close, those gathered could see an elaborate marking on the cover that was typical of a personal journal carried by many isur. As the questions were asked, Viametran scowled lightly at the Sultros man who spoke up with answers of his own. The scowl was one of mild annoyance but Viametran quickly brushed it off. He glanced at his journal from time to time as he answered each question in kind. From the looks of things, he hadn't been asked much about his proposition before else he would likely have had his answers memorized. When Smithis would interject his own interpretations, Viametran eventually raised his hand as if to call for silence but didn't push the matter. "Alright then, I don't plan on setting out for a few more days, maybe three or four tops. I understand that anyone who may wish to come with me will need some time to prepare. It's not a journey to be taken lightly." Viametran's face took on a decidedly more serious visage as he considered the question of danger. He lowered his book for a moment before continuing to answer, "I won't lie to you. This journey is not without risk. The journey to the ruined citadel will take us above ground and below as the main tunnel to the mountain peak housing the citadel was purposely collapsed. It is true that the Jiathu are thought to have fallen victim to some sort of plague. Because of that, nearly all tunnels leading there were destroyed. Some remain and I have been able to map out a few of them to help reduce travel time above ground." Viametran rubbed the back of his neck with a crimson hand before addressing specifics about danger. "Of course we will be traveling across the Unforgiving. For any of you who haven't traveled much above ground, it will be cold and very wet. I don't have much in the way of climbing gear so we'll have to take a longer path down through the mountains to the valley that lies just before the citadel's peak. There are wild animals, mainly wolves and bears that may offer danger. Yes, there is the possibility of encountering Zith. There's been a sharp increase in their numbers since the great storm. If we're lucky, the only real danger from them will be in the valley. Once we get to the ruins though, I can't tell what threats await. I don't know if there really was a plague and if there was, I don't know if it still exists. I don't know what may have taken up residence in the ruins either. I've scouted as far as the valley where I was able to find a few signs of isur presence long ago." Viametran turned to the small cart and the assembled gear. From a small chest which he unlocked and opened, he produced a small fragment of stone with etchings on its surface. Journal in one hand, stone fragment in the other, he explained, "This is a piece of a Settlement Marker. When Sultros Citadel was established, the other surviving clans branched out to establish their own Citadels. Each one carried with them a stone tablet, a Settlement Marker, that would mark the establishment of the initial clan settlement from which work would begin on the new Citadel. The Shield housed in the pass leading here to Sultros was one of those settlements. I didn't have the resources to spend the time needed to further explore the Jiathu settlement but did recover this piece of the Marker. At least I know for certain that I found the right mountain peak." Viametran held the marker out so that those gathered could look at it before putting it back in the chest. "Since returning from my initial scouting expedition, I have been able to gather what I think will be enough supplies for a more extended trip. I have climbing gear, rations enough for twenty or so days for at least half a dozen individuals, shelters, a selection of mining gear if necessary and plenty of crates, casks, chests, bags and pouches." He gestured to the cart and the pile of gear strapped to it. At mention of percentage, Viametran chuckled and said, "The percentage depends on how many we have participating in the expedition. If there are five of us, then it all gets split five ways. If there are more, the percentage is split by more, less by less. When I speak of historical items, I am speaking of any surviving written material, items of religious or cultural significance and material that is obviously worth more on display for all isur, regardless of clan, to enjoy and learn from. I will keep said items as part of my share while anything else can be divided up assuming we come out of the whole thing in one piece. You see, it is my only wish that we can restore at least the memory of our lost brethren to the rest of our people. If this expedition can do that, I will have achieved what I set out to do." Finally, the older isur considered the question regarding the Council's position on the expedition. To Smithis he directed his answer, "Allow me to answer your question with another question. I have spent days trying to get people to listen to my proposition. Out of a few hundred who have passed by and ignored me or heard a little and left laughing, only you few remained to hear the rest of my story. So, do you think that the five most powerful, influential isur in the Kingdom would listen any better?" Viametran chuckled dryly. "No, my boy, the closest I got to the Council was a third level assistant who told me that the Council did not have time for such foolishness. Their is the potential of a civil war on the horizon, exponential increase in Zith attacks and the new found interest in the human nomadic tribes to keep the Council busy. Even the marker was not enough to get their attention. We need much more. We need artifacts that could only come from the Jiathu Citadel itself. With such things, we could open the Council's eyes and remind them of the Lost. Perhaps the stories of the past can influence the present and even save our future...Hey, an old man can wish can't he?" Viametran closed his journal and put it back in its place at his waist. "So if your all still interested, I will be here three days from this exact moment. Do what you need to prepare and show up ready for a journey that could take twenty days or more. I have the essentials already. Bring whatever personal gear you wish. I would suggest if you know how to use a weapon, bring it with you." Viametran waited a few moments longer to address any last minute questions or make some clarification before taking position in front of the cart and moving it closer to a nearby tavern for a drink and bit of rest. ------------->oocDue to my lovely work schedule, I will be posting to this thread 2-3 times a week and more on weekends if possible. If it seems slow going, please hang in there for the rewards will be well worth it I assure you.<-------------

[Ly'an Godhammer]

Ly'an nearly reached across the small gap between herself and the pompous man-child that spoke of 'hording' that her own clan and the Forge have done, yet her restraint had kept her in check.. Father, give me the strength to ignore this man's foolish words. She listened to the older male talk of the route being closed, that is something that Ly'an knew was true enough. The man listened with a collective calm before the small crowd, something Ly'an was able to admire, fidgeting with the hilt of her hammer. “I understand that the journey will be taking us above ground and then back below, and the dangers that are involved in such a journey. Even if I have yet to taken such a journey myself yet. But what is an adventure without dangers involved? There is only one thing I ask of you Viametren...” She ran a hand over her bald crown, “With Father's Will and your consent, I would like the religious texts that we find within the ruins. They are Father's Words, and I have sworn myself to protect such objects of Faith.” Even if I am not a priestess of His. The lady blacksmith bowed her head and looked at the ground, mindful of the Drakori that joined her with a fellow kinsmen, “Hello Artifex.” Petching Lizard.

[Smithis]

Smithis was pleased somewhat. Feelings were uneven though. He'd need to discuss the whole thing with someone else. His family and Devir were out of the question of course... since they wanted to keep him in Sultros, but perhaps someone as blunt as Kaili could tell him what's what and just how insane he was? She was good with those things, logical and all. Yes, he'd try that.

„I'll be here!“ he'd say firmly even if his feelings weren't yet such. Someone needed to do good for the family. Anvel was too young, and Valon was too much... Valon to do anything. His parents had carried their own burdens long enough for him to know it was his turn. All he needed to hear now were all the bad sides of going away. If he could endure all that and still wish to depart, then the quest will have become proper in his eyes. With all this stirring in his mind, he'd head for Kaili's forge. If Izurdin had a sense of humor, he'd find her there before getting a chance to rearrange his thoughts.