[Ironworks] A Daily Interruption [Complete]

[Rhuryc]

40th Day of Summer, 510 AV

Clang. Clang. Clang. Breath. Clang. Clang. Clang.

Rhuryc hated sweat. He pulled his arm across his face, the raw condensation of his own body's water drenching his skin as he wiped what he could away from his eyes. His hair was matted and stuck to his cheeks in constant protest, yet there was little to say on the matter. The forge was in full bloom with the sun so high in the sky and the smiths were so busy that they had allowed even the apprentices to work on some of the lesser projects. Thus, Rhuryc was buried deep beneath a horde of raw iron and enough orders to drown a Knight. Horse shoes, nails, buckles, wagon fixings, every day items that were, by far, the most tedious and boring items in all of creation to author. Nevertheless the young apprentice was determined to finish his assignment. Perhaps one of these days they would actually let him make something worthwhile.

The crash of the hammer was always satisfying. Despite aching muscles and sore shoulders, Rhuryc found the rhythmic beating and shaping of metal to be a relaxing process. That was no less true on his day. One hit after another he watched as what was previously a bar was flattened, the yellow-orange glow of the material sparking with each solid hit sent in its direction. It took no more than a few minutes for him to finish the process before he started to separate the now-significantly flattened object in preparation for its final form. Horse shoes. Rhuryc could only just retain his raw excitement.

A grumble escaped his lips. With a clatter and a clang he tossed his hammer down and stared at the glowing metal, dissatisfied with his progress. At this rate he would be at the forge long into the night. He frowned and turned away from his temporary anvil and took a few, prompt steps away where he upended his tunic and tossed the article aside. Down now to no more than his beeches, boots, and belt, Rhuryc made a beeline for one of the several barrels of water and shoved his head into the top. For a few moments he rejoiced in the cool, wetness before he remembered the important of breathing and pulled himself free. Water streamed down his unclothed torso and he began to acclimate his vision to his surroundings once more. Much to his dismay, nothing had changed in the seconds he was submerged. Still the ironworks remained in full bloom, the forges roaring with life in a mass of smithies and workshops.

"I need a new job." He said, his head dropping in mocked dismay.

[Ora Sa'vina]

A small hand knocked on the large door before it. It was a pointless thing to do, the hammering Ora could hear through the door would have drowned out any chance of her knock being heard. Small violet eyes moved from the old door down to her other hand and rested on a sheathed dagger, though in her hands it looked almost like a short sword. Her mind raced with questions about it, questions she hoped could be answered by one of the people working on the other side of the door.

With both her hands she pushed the door open a crack and poked her head in, looking around. It looked busy and sounded busier. Her eyes searched the smithy for someone not occupied in front of orange glow. Her eyes halted on a topless, and wet, man, whose face shows a lie, but not an ill one, a joke. Ora could feel eye cheeks redden, the young Konti still hadn't adjusted to men, let along topless and wet men. Ora felt a lump grow in her throat, an odd feeling, she hadn't felt a lump in her throat before, on the other hand she hadn't seen a grown man topless and wet either.

Ora moved her head out of the small opening in the door and took a deep breath of the fresh air outside before entering the stiflingly hot forge. The door closed with a satisfying thud as the woman stepped inside. Her skin glimmered in a few places where the pattern Laviku had gifted her lie. "Ex-excuse me?" She asked, more likely than not too quite for anyone else to hear. Her eyes stayed on the man whose face had an amusing expression, at least to Ora.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc did not notice anyone enter the smithy. He was far too caught up in the wallowing of his own self-importance to notice the woman as she stalked across the entrance and, when she spoke, he was just able to grasp what sounded like a voice beneath the chorus of echoing clangs. Had he is own hammer than it might have ended in disregard for the wind. Yet, fortunate as fate would have it, Rhuryc instead deemed to look up, the result of which was a myriad of actions. First, he stared. That was to be expected. The common female in the forge was built like a horse or, more often than not, was a horse. So it was that a thin, soft beauty took Rhuryc by greater surprise than any armed opponent.

Second, he flailed. The realization that he was both shirtless and wet brought him to a most dishonorable train of thoughts that left him to scrounge wildly for the discarded tunic. A hop and a half-stumble later, the man was able to procure his shirt, that of which was hastily donned and half soaked by the remaining water that dotted his chest and back. It took a great deal to make Rhuryc feel like a fool, but without even trying this woman had already done a fine job of it. He considered just walking away and hiding inside one of tool closets. At least that way he would not have to explain himself.

"Can I, ah, help you?" He said, his heavy baritone cutting clear through the ruckus backdrop of the Ironworks.

[Ora Sa'vina]

The young Konti found herself turning a dark shade of pink as her hands flew up to cover her eyes as the shirtless man began to flail in embarrassment. Ora clenched her eyes shut, listening to the loud noises of the forge with the addition of a man awkwardly hurrying about.
"I am sorry!' She exclaimed, turned around quickly at this point, both her hands clutched the Lakan to her face.

Her cheeks burned like the forges surrounding her, her mind whirling with personal insults to herself. How could you be so rude! So inappropriate! What would mother say? There was a pause in thought. She would probably laugh, but the rest of the mothers! What has this place done to you?

As the topless, or not so topless, Ora wasn't aware, her hands were plastered to her own face. "I am sorry, I could come another time, I did not mean to disturb you." Her eyes remained shut as her hands moved forward, holding out the Lakan on the flat on her palms. Her voice was shaky as were her hands. "I was wondering about this. Is there anything you could tell me about it? I know it is a Akalak Lakan, but can to tell anything else of it?" Her voice was a little stronger this time, though her eyes remained shut and her face pointed to the ground.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc beamed with an amused grin. The young woman was just as distressed as he, albeit she remained in her state long after his own fluster had long since vanished. A gentle humor braced his countenance as he took a few wide steps forward and halted in front of Ora. He carefully took the Lakan from her hands and held it up in front of his eyes, the half-trained gaze of his training taking over as he inspected the metal. In truth, he had not graduated to the grade of a weapon smith, but he had seen several weapons like this around the city. The proud Akalak kept them close and, he imagined, no matter the state of the blade it could render a man dead within mere moments of contact.

"You can open your eyes now," He spoke as he shifted his gaze back to Ora, her eyes still closed and down cast. There was something endearing in that bashful behavior, something that Rhuryc found he might have liked. Once more he beat his own thoughts back into order. He could day dream later. "You came at a good time. I could fetch one of the master smiths for you, but we just deal with metal around here; I don't think they'd be able to tell you any more than this is a finely crafted weapon."

Rhuryc smiled and placed the dagger back into Ora's palm, light in his touch. The last thing he wanted to do was make this woman seem ill-at-ease. "Maybe you could talk to an Akalak about it. They'd probably know more than the smiths."

[Ora Sa'vina]

Ora's hands moved back to her face as the Lakan was taken by the stranger. Her knowledge of weaponry was very limited, all she knew of the blade was what had been told to her by her mother. Ora listened to him, slowly opening one eye and glancing up before opening the other, her hands dropped to her sides and her eyes watched his face as he looked over the blade.

"Would one of the master smiths be able to tell how old it is?" She asked "Anything that I could know about it would be greatly appreciated." She stated as the dagger was placed back into her hands. The suggestion to talk to an Akalak was simple enough and a good idea. "I have not found one I would be able to talk to. I am playing on traveling to Riverfall in the fall, I was hoping to know more about this blade's owner before I left." She bowed her head slightly to the man before her. "My name is Ora Sa'vina, thank you for your assistance, sir."

[Rhuryc]

"Age?" Rhuryc asked with a quirked brow. He bobbed his head as he took a few steps back to the anvil, his gaze ending on the form of the now-useless hunk of metal that sat atop the face. His head hung for a moment before he knocked the scrap aside with his hammer and began to rummage around for a new bar. So behind.

"An alchemist can better determine that. Telling how old metal is can be tricky - unless you have some kind of system for marking, it's not something a blacksmith would be able to do." Perhaps one of the elder smiths would lie about it, but no matter his station Rhuryc knew that what she asked was nigh impossible for someone of a mundane caliber to achieve. "But like I said, the Akalak might know better," A shrug accompanied his words as he grabbed his new-found wrought iron with a pair of long tongs and stuck it right into the nearby forge. For a moment he considered letting go, just to watch the metal melt into the hearth. No doubt his master would have his head.

"If you want," He started again after the woman had thanked him, "You could stick around here. The Ak come in here all the time for weapon maintenance and I speak their language well enough to not look like an idiot." With that last bit he tilted his head back and over a shoulder, grinning in Ora's direction as he neglected the heating iron. "Rhuryc, by the way. Nice to meet you, Ora."

[Ora Sa'vina]

Ora frowned at the blacksmith slightly. "I am sorry for such silly questions, I should have known better." Her eyes moved down to the blade in her hands, her fingers feeling the handles shape slowly, almost sadly. "Thank you for your time," She said with a smile towards him as his stuck a piece of metal into the orange glow. Ora began to turn towards the door when her spoke again.

The small Konti smiled brightly at the invitation to stay and wait. "I would love to." She looked around for an area where she would be out of the way. "It is a pleasure, Rhuryc. Where would I be best out of the way?" She asked, standing to the side of the door. "I would not want to make your work any harder than it already is."

[Rhuryc]

As the metal began to heat, Rhuryc grabbed what appeared to be a thin, metallic wire and with some strange, tenacious habit, prodded the iron as it heated. Either he was engaged in some peculiar blacksmithing ritual or the man was a child at heart, whichever it was the event was at least entertaining to watch. On occasion he would stick the prod in and remove it, stare at the edge, then proceed to frown and wait longer.

"Anywhere is fine. Just don't stand next to the forge. Or the anvil. Or the tongs. Or that smoldering heap there." He motioned with his head to where he had tossed the failed project from before. "Really, unless you can make iron harder to work, I can't imagine you making swinging a hammer any more difficult."

When he seemed otherwise satisfied with the state of his wire Rhuryc removed the tongs from the fire. The now yellow-orange bar was placed atop the face of the nearby anvil and the young man grabbed his previously discarded hammer. Armed now in the true fashion of the smith, he began to beat the hell out of the bar in a slow, rhythmic fashion. In an effort to not bore his work-time companion Rhuryc shot the occasional glance at Ora and spoke in between strikes.

"So!" Clang. "You don't-" Clang. "Look like!" "Clang. "A local." Clang. Clang. "Where'are you from?" Clang. "If you don''t," For a change of pace, Rhuryc bothered to stop and breath. "Mind me asking."

[Ora Sa'vina]

Ora watched the wire as he prodded and poked the heating iron. For all Ora knew that could have been the most important part of this process. While she had done some work on her Isle in the glass shop she was entirely oblivious to smithing, though she did find it fascinating and almost magical.

A small nod came from the girl as she glanced around at the various points to avoid and ended up settling next to an open barrel of water, her fingers happily grazing the surface, causing ripples to lap against the sides. "Even if I could, I do not believe I would want to." She laughed slightly with an underlying awkward tone to it. "Perhaps for fear that you might lose your shirt again." She smiled, jokingly at him.

Ora's eyes watched intently as he hammered at the orange glowing brick. Above it was a shimmer, like on a hot day. Ora felt like she had lost herself in the sight while her fingers continued to play with the water. While it was loud she felt oddly relaxed in the hot room, perhaps it was just the contact with water.

Ora seemed to snap out of her hypnotized state to look at Rhuryc's face while he spoke and worked. "You are very observant, are you not?" She smiled and nodded. "Yes, I am not from here, the accent and appearance tend to give that away." Her eyes moved to watch her fingers play. "I am from the White Isle, where most Konti live. Have you ever seen it? It's to the East of here."