Open [Shadow] In the Fire's Flicker

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

Day 1 Winter 517

Isurian Bladeworks

With a satisfying *THWACK* the throwing dagger actually hit the soft wood target for the first time this day as Salara practiced her skills in a grotto of the Knirin Gardens. Unfortunately it hadn't landed anywhere near the painted ring or the bull’s-eye. A recent unpleasant encounter had made it clear that honing her weapon skills would be a good idea, especially living amongst mercenaries with volcanic natures and a culture of warriors. She should have been working on it all along instead of focusing so much on following Fallon’s lead in investigations that tended to get the Kelvic into as much physical danger as she could get into all on her own.

She practiced the quick half-turn, close proximity hold with the blade held in her fingers, the sharp edge away from her palm. That had been a hard lesson to learn back-in-the-day when she roamed the streets of Ravok. Her palm still carried a broad silvery scar where she’d filleted herself by not properly respecting the edge. Now, it seemed, she was getting more experience in pacing six feet to fetch her blade after each throw. Longer distance practicing would come once she purchased a few more daggers and could throw several in one round.

Completing the cycle of throw, fetch, and retrieve Salara toed the line again. Almost naturally her left foot shifted into a comfortable position behind and knees flexed. The blade raised into position directly in line with her eyes and the bull’s-eye. Trying to recreate the effort of her previous throw she calculated each move as her right hand cocked the blade up while her left continued to aim at the center mark. Stepping forward she released the blade but instead of repeating the hoped for resonance, the blade completed a full rotation past the target into the gravel with an unhealthy clatter. “Darn follow through. Think long, think wrong,” she muttered to herself with a heavy sigh, “should know better by now.”

Leather-clad boots crunched in the gravel as she retrieved the knife only to find the tip broken short. “Petchitall.” Her purse already jangled too lightly but it wouldn’t do to go around without a blade. Sheathing the damaged weapon into the top of her boot she remembered the blacksmith shop she’d seen across from the Inner Eye and Bastani Bakery on the other side of the Second Tier. Soon following the smells from the bakery she approached the blacksmith shop. She'd never seen a blacksmith business skirted by potted plants but the Kelvic had heard this one was run by a woman, which was all to the good for Salara who had grown weary of the seemingly endless offers and innuendoes from men. Business was never just business with them.

She pushed through the door beneath the swinging sign and stepped into a small waiting area where she saw the forge beyond two swinging doors. Heat radiated from it in waves while the warped air above it teased her vision through smoky darkness. Taking a seat she pulled her damaged knife free to wonder how much it would cost to have the point ground back or if it would be cheaper to buy another or how much for a set. Darkness moved past her lashes at the corner of an eye. She looked up expecting to see the blacksmith but again only found the red hues glimmering within the hot forge.

x

From Wymez <3

[Grim Ravenwood]

♰

"Kya!" Came a cry, followed by the rising of sand, and the whistling of air.

The beach was one of his favorite places to be. Just outside the Akalak city, it was mostly devoid of people. A sanctuary just in the open, it was a pace where one could come and train, walk, or just think. And lately, there was a lot to ponder. However, merely working the mind would do little to strengthen the body, or sharpen one's reflexes. Besides, the undead are rarely persuaded into killing themselves.

Grim left a bitter smile climb into the corner of his thin lips at the thought. Apart from the pair of linen pants that were rolled up to his knees, his body was left bare. The cold bit his skin, by during his training, he minded little. A cut mark on his right bicep, and three stab wounds from earth spears on both his shoulders and abdomen. That's why he had to get better.

And so, the scythe slashed forward, it's handle held loosely in the Eiyons hand. It met no resistance form the cold air ahead, hitting nothing. The imaginary enemy in front of Grim winced, stepping back before the curved steel could nib at his exposed neck. Even though nothing rested in front of him, blood rushed fast trough Grim's veins. With a deft grunt of effort, he let the weight of the blade carry him. The momentum of the scythe carrying onto the next attack.

The half-blood spun on his heel, conjuring a small sandstorm in his vicinity. The reaper's tool came around again, this time, the axeman that was his foe did not evade. The handle of his weapon went up to greet the attacker, yet, extending hishands further, the Eyion passed by his guard, his leather armor cut as the scythe's tip burrowed in his ribcage.

Stabbing the butt of his weapon in the sand, Grim wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. Dusk came from nearby, only to land at the now erect weapon. He twisted his neck, observing Grim inquiringly.

"Best thing about imaginary opponents..." The raven haired man sad, passing to catch his breath. "...is that they are always incredibly skilled. Yet always yield at the end, eh?"

Turning his attention, the skullcrow corked it's head to the side, in the direction of the Azurite tower. Dusk always liked shiny things, he supposed. Just then he had noticed that the gem atop it had turned a deep blue. He was so engrossed in his training, one that had begun sometime after sunset a day ago, that he had failed to notice it. Today was the day he turned twenty two years.

He was mildly surprised of his own relative indifference. Just when did he stop caring? At the end, it was just another year he was closer to meeting his own death. Better make himself useful until then, he thought. Letting the pants he adorned slide down, the Eiyon sprinted in the direction of the sea, jumping to dive when he judged the water deep enough. The cold embrace that welcomed him was not unpleasant.

Still, in the past, he never let the day go completely unmarked. At the very least, he would grab a drink (or few) in the nearest tavern, though he felt no particular want for alcohol after what happened n the last celebration. Maybe buy himself an item? Something practical would suffice. From the short list of things that came to mind, the one Grim decided for, was a dagger. Scythes were seldom useful when a foe penetrates into your "personal space". Without a doubt, he would have perished was there not a kitchen knife near his hand once he clashed with the ghost.

He had passed many times by a forge while traveling to his workplace. Supposedly, it was run by a Isurian woman, or was it a man? Though information he had was scarce, the compliments regarding the work of the smith were not.

"Seems i will be paying them a visit today." The Eiyon muttered to himself, taking another dive.

A few hours later, having cleaned the salt from his skin in the Bluevin river, Grim stood in front of the forge where he planned on making his order. He thought a little about it's design on his way towards the forge, but at the end, settled just for something that will be able to cut. His scythe was left home, since his muscles still felt sore from his training, and he did not feel like lunging the thing on his shoulder.

As the door yielded behind his push, a soft chime of a bell announced his arrival. A wave of heat welcomed him, prompting the Eiyon to remove the hood of his robes, allowing it to hang behind his neck. There seemed to be a woman already there, blonde, easy on the eyes. At first, he though her the owner, yet she was evidently not an Isur. Likewise, a damaged dagger in her hand lead him to believe that she too came seeking services of the blacksmith.

In his clothing, he appeared a shade darker than the shadows that were pushed back by the forgefire. He remained silent, offering a polite nod of his head, and a light smile. It appears they would have to wait a bit. He did not mind, for his mother always told him that patience was a virtue. Though, something made him feel uneasy, though, he was not able to put a finger on what.

[Aliana Hilt Terras]

Aliana walked into her forge yawning while rubbing her eyes. She had not been sleeping well with Larissa having been sick the last several days. Yawning loudly, the girl bounced the child on her hip while walking down to the forge. The mother was in a rather irritable mood from the lack of sleep. A shadow darted past out of the corner of her eyes. Confused her head instantly snapped over to try and get a better look at what had just gone by. There was nothing in the area where the darkness had moved. Shaking her head, the girl walked in while popping her neck. Larissa giggled happily on her side about something.

“Let's get you settled in,” Aliana said gently and moved to the door behind the desk in the lobby.

She had given Holly and Rehim the day off as a thank you for all the hard work they had been doing lately. Lit the candle in her office, the girl did not like the idea of Larissa being that far away without a person close by, but Ink being at the door would do just fine. The male watcher had become very attached to the young child and would often be found inside the play area. Putting her down, the mother got her toys put down before commanding Ink to stay. The woman sat down behind her desk for a few chimes before the day got started fully, and lit the candle that was on her desk. Shifting the papers some, she looked over the ledger before making any notes. The Isur often left notes on the progress with larger orders and more complicated projects in case the customer came in the check.

“There we go. Ink stay with her and bark if you see anyone come in,” the mother said before rubbing the dog's head.

The girl had left her bag behind the desk where it would be out of sight and protected by the hound. Rubbing her lower back, the woman walked to the forge doors and opened them wide. She decided to leave them open more than usual in order to see a customer or hear Ink sound off. He often turned to watch the front door while her assistant was not up front. It did not take long for the girl to get the forge fired up and roaring. The light from the flames chased a large amount of the shadows away. The storage room and weapons room was still dark with their doors closed. Rolling her shoulders, she went to check the list of things that needed to be done. It seemed all that was left from the day before were some simple repairs.

Putting the list down, the girl walked over to the dagger left out on the table and looked it over. Rehim seemed to have already finished the forging, but had not sharpened the edge yet. Rolling her eyes some, the girl put it down and went to get some metal scraps from the store room. She had been asked about making some nails and possible hinges. Seeing as how the design was fairly simple for both, the girl had agreed. She needed to use the scraps from other projects for something any how. The darkness shifted in the corner of her right eye causing the girl to jump and look around. The Isur did not hear Ink growling or barking. Shaking her head, she assumed it was her imagination. Walking to the forge with her scraps the girl put them into a pot and placed it in the fire. She wanted them to all heat up equally. Two chinking sounds caused her to stop before beginning to sharpen the dagger in her hand. It was only shortly, the girl heard the familiar sound of Ink growling at whoever at entered. Putting the weapon down, she walked to the door of the forge area.

“Ink, sit,” Aliana said first addressing her dog before looking at the pair before her, “welcome to my shop. My name is Aliana Hilt, I own this establishment. May I help you both?”

She looked at the two closely while moving over to where the office was. Ink snarled and sat right in the doorway watching the male more closely than the woman. It was as if the dog could sense she was not a threat. Aliana looked at the two without blinking, starting with the male first she sized up her “clients”. The male that stood before her was around average height for a non-Akalak; he wore dark clothes that had a hood to cover his head from bad weather. Cutting her eyes some, the girl spotted a female who had a lithe yet muscular form. She seemed to be nervous and unsure of herself.

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

Something wasn’t right here. As she waited her eyes continued to be pulled toward perceived motion like the dart of a rodent seen from the corner of an eye. A pool of shadow slipping from shadow to disappear and appear around corners. At one point Salara hoped it might be a loose eyelash teasing her vision with the occasional blink, so would run fingertips across an eyelid to dislodge the offending hair; but the shadow continued to flit about just when she thought she’d be done with it. Jumpy, she startled at the chiming announcement of another customer. A lanky dark young man with striking eyes entered to reveal damp hair when his hood was pushed back. Almost it seemed he was akin to the shadows but she recognized a sense of relief for his presence. The Kelvic drew a breath to say hello to his silent acknowledgment, but instead exhaled it in a huff as a dog came from the forge room with a less than welcoming growl. “Dog.” Her voice rumbled grumpily under her breath, and apparently a worthless one at that with the shadow motions skittering about. Wouldn’t a helpful dog give alarm of whatever was going on here? It was something to note as her mind began to kick into investigation mode. ‘Ink’ apparently wasn't aware of the unnatural motion of the shadows and didn’t feel the same instinctual warning she was receiving. Salara’s glare at the dog moved to the forge doorway as the blacksmith arrived to offer them her services. Aliana Hilt cut a muscularly impressive figure. Isur, by the stain upon her chiseled arm. Her short dark hair pulled back from a pretty face. The Kelvic stood to greet the blacksmith with a smile that quickly failed to be pulled up from a frown. “Hello. I’m Salara. I’ve nicked my blade.” She holds the broken tipped dagger up for inspection. “I've come hoping you could put a new edge upon my dagger.” Glancing between the dark man and the blacksmith she wondered if she should mention her concern but decided to watch and see what they might notice. It would be difficult to explain if they, like the dog, also had no awareness.

[Grim Ravenwood]

♰

Grim stood silent as the blonde woman proceeded forward. In Sunberth, order was a term by most unknown. Still, his ability to adapt to new surroundings came most useful in situations where he was to display civility. Thusly, he waited for some time before proceeding to place an order himself. Wasn't so difficult, he supposed.

The woman, one he came to know as Salara, had came to get her dagger fixed, its tip to be specific. Might she be a warrior? Quite possibly so. Something in the way she moved would make him think that she was Kelvic, even though it were just a few steps towards the counter. Kelvics were treated in the Akalak city just above animals. Then again, so where most of the non-blue skinned population. Save for the Nakivak.

"Many greetings." The Eiyon hailed in Isurian, approaching the counter. "I am called Grim."

An Isurian blacksmith, how typical. Even so, she was without a doubt reliable. Her arm was, as is that of all Isur, marked by Izurdin. For an evanescent moment, he felt a pang of jealously. He was a half-blood, true. Still, he would feel odd attacks of melancholy from time to time, due to the bond that he severed. Still, Grim regretted nothing, for his choices were his own, and he would stay behind them no matter the consequences.

"I would like a dagger, fashioned out of cold steel if you please." The raven haired man said as he raised his right arm, exposing a scythe marking on the skin of his palm, the mark of Dira. "With an insignia like this on the front bolster."

Just then, his slaten eyes caught a movement in the forge's shadows. That was quite odd. Either there was another animal within its stone walls, or something else. He sensed no spirits in the area, no death. Well, none that was quite recent at least. No, he was certain that was no animal. And if it was not dead either... The thought upset him a bit, causing a slight frown to appear on his face. Grim pondered the thought for another moment, before speaking up.

"By the way, are we going to still pretend like we are alone?"

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