Of Iron and Light

[Ixzo]

72nd of Winter, 518AV

Ixzo found herself wandering into town on her day off. She hunted often enough to make more coin than the wild Kelvic had any need for, and while she hated the city she camped outside of, she could not help but find herself wandering into it. Today her sights were set on the Temple of the Unknown. The massive building loomed over the castle commons, and as far as she had seen, was the only sign of adequate architecture in the whole city. Although the Kelvic did not worship many Gods that required the focus or peace of mind of mediation, she enjoyed the serenity of the place. As far as she could tell, it seemed to be a haven among the senseless violence of the city. Since she discovered the building, she had come to visit it more. It seemed that the rage of the petty humans around her did not penetrate the aura of this building.

The dark woman approached with the caution that she approached all things in this city. Her worn red and simple red dress adorned her scarred body, her weapons attached to her hips, and new leather boots that were not strapped all the way being worn in by her feet. Once she entered the grounds of the Temple of the Unknown, the silent Kelvic headed straight inside. There were no outer doors and the large pillars that held up the architecture left open room. She wanted to meditate and pray to her beloved Priskil, and outside of her peaceful hut in the forest, this was a place that felt fitting to do so at. The lioness prowled through the large open hallways of the castle, careful to not disturb the few other souls that took advantage of the peaceful atmosphere in order to meditate, but searching for her own space to relax into. Ixzo ended up circling back around to the front of the building, settling on the side of the worn stone steps and watching the crowds of the market place below. To her right she could see the Jamoura that she had learned from earlier that season, but even his lessons were silent, letting the gurgle of the market place fade into the background.

Ixzo did not enjoy the fanfare that most people took for meditation, and instead found herself slumping back against the stairs, letting her dreads fall from her shoulders and pool behind her as she hung her head back and soaked up Syna’s comforting rays. The Kelvic leaned back on her elbows and closed her eyes.

”I don’t suppose you’re listening, my beloved mother of hope.” She murmured to Priskil in Myrian, the harsh language felt soothing to the Kelvic, and she was grateful that none would understand her. Ixzo did not feel as if her prayer would get through. She knew she had a direct line to her deity, but Ixzo found the city so repulsive, she wondered if her Goddess was the same. Was there kindness among these vermin? To make sure that the message would get through, the Kelvic allowed the djed of her gnosis to flow through her palms. It always felt comforting, although it was not the flashiest or most useful of gnosis, like Laviku’s or Myri’s Ixzo knew it for what it was. It connected her to her Goddess, and if that was all it did she would still be happily content with that. But as she let her gnosis engage itself in order for her deity to hear her prayers more clearly, her palms began to glow slightly. The vortex of Priskil’s light that rested permanently on her skin spread to the very tips of each of her fingers, and the Kelvic let her hands clasp loosely together, making the light appear as if she was holding the fire of a candle between her palms, noticeable, but less so under the light of Syna’s gaze in the full sun of the afternoon.

”But I must share with you the plight of this city. Chaos and hate infect all that live here, and only the children are untouched by such darkness.” Her mind wandered towards the almost teenager that she had met a few days ago, who had attempted to steal from her, which saddened the Kelvic more than angered her. ”At least most of them. I want to help them, to keep them kind and hopeful before the gruesome reality of this forsaken city infects them. I know there is hope for them, I just don’t know how to do it? I feed them when I can, I am kind to them, but the kindness of one is not enough, I know that.” Ixzo paused, opening her eyes and scanning the world around her. The winter sun was warm on her skin and she was feeling the heat, so she straightened up, letting her reflective gaze watch the world around her when she continued to talk to the Goddess, hoping that the prayer would lead her to some realization of what she could do. ”This is not the same as Catli, it is not one child that I feel responsible for. There are so many more, so many more than I can count. And I won’t let them die, I won’t let them succumb to the ways of this wretched city. If you care to listen to my prayer, know that I am trying. I will not give up, I just need to find the path.”

[Crylon Stonecraft]

Crylon had not been in Sunberth long, and so had yet to venture too far into the city or explore even a fraction of its mysteries. In time Crylon hoped to see many things, but such a thing was far off in the future still. He was passing through the "bar of the inebriated fish" after a quick meal, when he overheard two men speaking as they also rose and headed out of the structure. "Yeah, meeting by the temple. Place gives me the creeps but its a safe enough place to meet in front of. Just don't ask me to go inside, eh!" A frown falling onto his lips, Crylon puzzled over these words. A temple, in Sunberth? He had not heard of such a place, but he also knew he had not been in the city long nor seen or heard much of it. His curiosity arisen, Crylon quietly followed the two men out and to their destination. A temple? A place of worship? They had not mentioned whose temple it was, which made him think it either had no particular deity or was well known in the city and so not needed to be stated. Though in his time in Sunberth Crylon had not seen much worship in one way or another, and so leaned towards the former. Today he wore his normal Sunberth attire, a pair of pants and boots and nothing else. The city was not cold enough to need more, particularly for the thick skinned Isur, and unlike in Ravok where his job required as a uniform him to be fully clothed such was not needed in Sunberth. Instead he displayed his body for Izurdin, a tool forged in his fires and birthed in Sultros. His left arm glinted in the light, like a black gem reflecting the light, a gift of Izurdin to better allow Crylon to serve him. Crylon was lost in thought when the two men stopped before a building, turning sharply to eye Crylon. "Ey! You following us shorty! What you want!" Crylon froze, not realizing he had been so obvious. Clearly the men knew him from the bar and knew that he had followed them all the way. Clearly his subtlety and stealth could use some work. “Ah, no sirs. I... Going temple as well.” "Well then keep going, mind your own nosy business. S'right there!" Crylon turned to see where the man pointed, his jaw dropping when he saw the structure. It was not amazing compared to his home in Sultros or the places he knew there, but compared to the rest of the city... Compared to this the rest of the city was an assortment of tiny hovels... “Ah, thanks, thanks. I going.” With that Crylon sped off, heading for the structure to the continued glare of the two men. It made Crylon wonder if they were up to something or heading to the temple to meet someone for some nefarious deed, or if they were simply not trusting and did not react well to being followed? Even with his short time in Sunberth Crylon knew it would easily be either. Or both. As he drew near Crylon's Architect's eye appreciated the structure. Easily one of the tallest if not the tallest buildings he had seen in the city at four stories. And old, very old. Whereas the rest of the city showed signs of repair and rebuilding, replacement, refurbishment, this place was clearly aged and yet still standing. A clear representation of good design and workmanship in such a city, if it still stood while others did not. As he headed inside however, he quickly saw that while it still stood, it was not truly in good repair. The insides were bare, pilfered or emptied of anything that could be taken. Little more than the structure itself stood. But entering, Crylon could understand what the man had meant. Unlike him though he was not creep-ed out, instead he felt... Calm. Centered. As one. He also felt almost pulled to pray, the finely made building reminding him of Izurdin once more and his gift of industry. Of making. Of using tools and creating. The fine building was just another example of Izurdin's gift, just one more facet of his domain and divine will from the smallest hut to a large well made structure like this. He was distracted however when he saw a light, an odd one he did not think was of the sun or other such sources like a torch. He felt oddly drawn to the light, like a weak voice calling to him, but not in a literal or forceful way. More like a set of finely made hammers set out in a shop quietly called to him to come closer and look. When he did he found a human speaking quietly, though in a tongue he did not recognize. And cupping the light in her hands like a small flame hid within. Like, but not quite, as Crylon knew flame from his time in the forge. It was a living thing, flickering, moving, while this was constant and pure. Whole, whereas flame was fluid and moving. As the woman seemed to finish speaking, a prayer by his estimation, Crylon cleared his throat from a small distance to make his presence known and to make clear he was not trying to sneak up on her. Using his best common, as it seemed the language most likely to be understood, Crylon introduced himself. “Excuses. I am Crylon. That light... What is? How is? Pardon, I curious. It... Nice..” Crylon spoke the last bit, trying to expand upon the idea, making some odd gestures with his hands, but finally fell on the word nice due to a lacking of common vocabulary and also his own lacking of knowing how to describe it.

[Ixzo]

Ixzo’s silvery gaze flitted up to the intruder on her prayer. The hunter would have normally been more vigilant to protect herself, but something of the serenity of this castle assured her that no violence would be had here. Not even newcomers seemed to break the veil of calm that surrounded them. Still, Ixzo’s gaze widened as she took in the stranger. The hunter took a deep instinctual breathe in, trying to catch the strange creature’s scent before her. She would have called him human, although short, except for the stone that seemed to replace his arm. It unsettled her to see the seemingly polished stone look and behave like his arm, but was clearly not. There was an odd ridge across his face, and his scent was not human enough to settle her. Had a statue woken to speak to her? The wild woman had no other explanation for such a creature before her, and found herself stiffly rising into a more versatile standing position, silvery cat-like eyes not breaking from his form, in case there were any sudden movements to spook her.

She had confidence that no violence would happen in the Temple. Through her few short visits, she had found a thin veil of protection for those who meditated here, but instincts told her to be careful when faced with something she didn’t know. Suddenly unsure of her surroundings, her gaze flitted across the area surrounding them, and if her ears worked as they did in her lion form, she would have attuned them to this creature before her. She felt suddenly limited in this body, but despite what the man before her may be, he seemed intentionally attempting to not appear threatening. Perhaps the Temple was working. He spoke Common to her, and Ixzo vaguely understood his words, realizing that he also did not speak it well. He seemed to speak the tongue more than she though, and so she opted not to answer the man in so many words.

”Priskil,” She said simply, daring him to take offense at the name. Not many cities looked down on the Goddess of hope, but Sunberth did not seem a hospitable environment for such things. Ixzo was not inclined to hide her hard-earned faith though, confident enough in herself enough to handle the reactions of others to such a name, if they even knew what it was. With no more explanation, Ixzo straightened her posture. Her hands still glowed with the light of Priskil, and so she reached one large calloused palm out to the stranger, nodding for him to take it. She was in a relatively stable and serene place and unlike her meeting with the brown haired human or the Drykas, she felt calm here. Ixzo still wanted to assess the situation, but violence didn’t seem the necessary answer to such a confrontation. Ixzo noticed that she was over a foot taller than him. That fact which would normally make her more comfortable around a stranger, did not have such an effect this time. She didn’t trust the strange stone attached to him, but part of her wondered if he could use it like an arm.

There were, of course, benefits to her gnosis, and she was happy to use them on any one she could. As the light neared him, whether he took her hand or not, it would affect him. Either she would bring out the goodness and confidence of the man, or he will shrink away from the light, like roaches from a flame. Ixzo had an easy answer for if he feared the glow, but she was almost uncertain of how to proceed if he didn’t. She wanted to now what he was, but how did she ask? Ixzo watched his reaction carefully, waiting to see how he reacted to the gift, and thus whether she was to bother with this not-quite human or not. She was curious, more curious than she had a right to be, but she would always listen to her gnosis.

”What are you?” She finally asked, unable to help herself. The light was beginning to fade now, she had prayed with it and then used it on this stranger, and it was overdue to relax the divine djed back into the glowing vortex that regularly rested on her palm.

[Crylon Stonecraft]

Crylon met the woman's eyes as she jerked her head around as Crylon announced his presence. It seemed to prove his point valid, that she like many in Sunberth might be jumpy and would not react well to her approaching her unannounced. It was understandable, what with the city being rife with violence and crime. It seemed normal and a good habit to form, to react as if anyone who approached or followed you might try to put a knife in you, though a habit Crylon had yet to form for himself. She seemed a normal enough human, if a bit darker than most of the paler humans he met. He himself of course had the bluish tinged skin of an Isur, with prominent silver veins most clearly visible when juxtaposed against the black background of his left arm. And other Isur clans had other colored arms entirely. For him such coloration was merely aesthetics, like different colored fabrics, albeit one you were born with. Like most humans she also towered over him, though more so than many of the others he had met. He simply watched as her gaze roved over him, waiting for it to pass as it did with others not familiar with Isur. When she did speak, it was in short clipped words, not even proper sentences. While had had thought his own understanding of common needed work, it was clear hers needed even more. The word she did speak brought a short flare of recognition to his eyes. He had heard the name before, in reference at the time to a supposed deity. After the initial flare of recognition Crylon had to ponder her words for a bit, before remembering his question had been the source of the light. Glancing at his own left arm and the first mark of Izurdin visible on it, he took the conclusion that this was likewise related to a mark of this deity Priskil. If she also knew of her then, it seemed doubly likely that this was an actual Goddess, and not some hallucination of the mist in Ravok he had encountered... Or at least not just a hallucination. Though Crylon was left unclear on how to explain such an experience to her. “I hear of, afore. In colored ground cloud, hear her speak. Heard of her then. In light.” When the woman held out an arm and offered her still glowing hand, Crylon reached out his right less threatening limb to take it. At their touch he felt a slight turning in his stomach which faded, though one he was not quite familiar with. She seemed, to Crylon, to be expecting something to happen. However besides the fleeting oddness in his stomach which could have been related to the contact or the gnosis, he did not feel anything else he could perceive for ill or good. Which perhaps meant it was so subtle as to not be noticeable? Or perhaps as an Isur Crylon was simply so confident and firm in himself and his path, in the rightness of his current state or being, that is had nothing left to enhance. Something Crylon might have thought, if he knew of what she was doing or attempting. Trying to break the tension Crylon took on a small smile, while the woman gripped his hand. Gripped, not held, as held seemed a much more passive action than her hold on his body. He could feel the callouses on her flesh, his own right hand somewhat rough from his time in the forge. But unlike human flesh Isur skin was tough and thick, and did not bruise or callous so easily. Bones were dense and harder, more uncommon to break or be hurt, as if someone had taken the mass of two humans of his size and mashed them into one being of squat size. His left arm on the other hand, besides the mark of his gnosis, was utterly perfect and clean, untouched by so much as the smallest scar or callous or other marking of wear or damage. As if it had been freshly chiselled from black marble and attached in that pristine state. As the light was starting to fade Crylon was distracted, further caught off guard when the woman then asked quite unashamedly what he was. Not who he was. What. Breaking the grip Crylon took a half step back, the smile from before fading from his lips at the slight. But it returned in a few moments as he reminded himself that she simply did not speak common well and perhaps did not know any better how to vocalize her question. “I Crylon. Is person, not what. I is Isur, of Kalea. People of Izurdin. Touched by his gift.” As he spoke the last bit somewhat proudly Crylon flexed and then held up his left arm like he was presenting it to her. He finished by correcting her misstatement as best he could, before pointedly reminding her that she had not given her own name yet. “People who, things what. Yes? And you name?”

[Ixzo]

Ixzo was slightly stumped by the stone-man’s reaction to her gnosis. Most people felt and effect in some way, however small, either good or bad. Ixzo’’s mind flew and she imagined that whatever this man was, was not human enough to react to her Goddess’ gift. The ever curious cat found this to be more interesting than off-putting. What would cause one to be affected so little? Was it a bad thing that this was so? Or the result of the effect of another God that she did not know? Her mind whirled with the possibilities, and the cat’s shoulder’s began to relax, but her reflective gaze darting from his face to his arm to the temple in the background and making the circuit again. When he corrected her words, she couldn’t help a crook of a smile. Thick dark lips parted briefly with amusement and then returned to their set stoic expression that she wore forever now. There was a time when Ixzo was younger and full of laughter and smiles but life had not been kind to the Kelvic and she found few things to amuse her nowadays. Ixzo had actually known the difference between ’who’ and ‘what’, the five ways to ask questions had been one of the first things she learned, as it was just about the only Common she was good at. Still, he offered his own name, so the woman of little words did not find it worth defending her question. He was Crylon, an Isur.

”Ixzo, Kelvic.” She thought of all the names and titles she had worn in her life. She followed the traditions of the Shorn Skulls, and that of the Stormbloods, but she no longer belonged to these families. Surely Crylon’s families that he spoke of with pride were not here? Did he then still belong if he was not with them? The Kelvic had guessed at his explanation as a family bloodline, and so did not recognize that he meant a region or a God, and assumed he spoke of his family. She wanted to ask, but didn’t.

Isur. The name brought faint recognition to the Kelvic, and she recalled the half-Myrian she had met in Endrykas. The Kelvic was so intent on the part of him that was familiar to her, she had not learned much of his other side, the Isur. Quzon had an odd tint to his skin, as she recalled, but nothing like Crylon who stood before her. Quzon had also been flesh and bones, and the lioness remained unsure if this man was. She had felt his hand, but she didn’t understand his looks, and so she didn’t trust the touch to be real. The lion watched the man for a few ticks, taking note that he stood tall, not shying from her as so many did. It was the kind of tall that came with pride and confidence, and was surprisingly hard to find in humans, or whatever he was. The stone man seemed willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, and while she had not understood a lick of what he meant about her Goddess when he spoke before, she decided it might be their only point of contact.

”Priskil. Hope, light.” The simple and gruff Common was thickly accented on her lips, but she had grown used to using only words she knew. Her grasp on the language extended to mere vocabulary, and form of sentence structure was a loss. Even if this stone man had spoken fluent Myrian or Pavi, she might not have said much more to him. Her wide silver gaze floated to the odd stone limb on his arm. Something compelled her to touch it, but the hunter decided she valued keeping her own limbs than to try such a move. Instead she resumed her seat on the step, nodding to the space beside her. It made her uncomfortable to stand so far above the man like he was a child, and she had already decided she wanted to get along with him. She was capable enough that sitting would not hinder her if a fight was necessary, but it showed she was not going to be the one to start it.

”Priskil, I have.” She held up her left hand, pressing a long inked finger into the palm to show the glowing vortex that rested there now. ”You have? Priskil?” She already knew he did not wear the mark of her Goddess, otherwise she would have felt it before. But Crylon had spoken something of her Goddess earlier, and she wondered if there were other Gods who took interest in this strange stone man.

[Crylon Stonecraft]

Crylon watched as the woman's gaze darted about. It did not seem to settle much, however would occasionally pause as she took interest in something even if only for a moment more than her perpetual scanning. His arm. His face. The temple. His arm. It was unclear if she was confused, or his explanation had not been satisfactory. Or perhaps she simply wanted to know more even if she did understand what he had said. If it was any of these or another it was unclear to Crylon, but such was his limit of understanding with the woman. He did settle a bit more though when the woman smiled in return, perhaps showing she was not utterly serious and focused. Even if it only lasted a few moments, a flaw in the raw bulwark of uncut stone hinting at a way through or inside. Her next words though confused him, as he dug at his own memories. Her name was straightforward, Ixzo. But kelvic? His mind hinted at some knowledge, half forgotten, but he could not completely recall... Something to do with animal people? People animals? Something akin to that? But as long as they were trading questions and answers, it seemed as good a time as any to ask. When he spoke it was with honest curiosity, his tone a genuine one of questioning and wanting to know and not malicious in any regard. Somewhat similar in some regards to a child asking an adult why. “Kelvic? Is that the... Animal person thing? How that work? And... You born that way? Become? Not familiar.” When she brought up Priskil, describing her similarly to how he had been told of her in the magic fog, he simply nodded. As he did her eyes moved once more to his left arm, the gem/metal/stone limb ending at his shoulder and merging seamlessly into his plain flesh. When the woman sat on the step Crylon did likewise, moving a few paces to the side before taking a seat, unconsciously sitting so that his left arm was between them like a buffer. While many things he consciously did, protecting himself with his special Isurian arm was as instinctive as breathing. Though once he sat he turned so that his chest and head were more turned towards her rather than his shoulder. Crylon eyed the mark on her hand, understanding then that it had been the source of the light and was a gnosis mark. A connection to this goddess Priskil. Much as his own gnosis mark was a connection to Izurdin. “No, I no gift from Priskil. Just hear voice, in odd ground cloud in other city. See light, hear voice, tells of Priskil. Not sure real till now, but if you marked and know, must be real. I gift from Izurdin.” At the last bit Crylon pointed at his own gem/metal arm, specifically the gnosis mark on his shoulder which looked like a tattoo or something of the sort. “Is gift of Izurdin. Isur, people of Izurdin. He God of Strength. Patience. Industry. You know, making, building? All who make, who build, have tiny bit of his gift. Is his gift lets all make. When you make, you bring glory him. But that gift for all, not like this gift.”

[Ixzo]

Ixzo just looked at the man, turning to him more fully as he had to her. Who was this stoneman that he did not know what a Kelvic was? Her kind seemed as known as humans, but if they weren’t where he was from, then how removed was he? She got it in her mind to show the man, she was at a loss on how to explain it, but his answers to her question distracted her. He hadn’t believed in Priskil, but he seemed to have been introduced to her somehow. A hallucinatory dream perhaps? Ixzo was far too used to being stumped by language, and so her curiosity ended there. She had not known Pavi well and by the time she learned that language circumstances had forced her from her bondmate and people, and now she knew common even less so. If it could not be shown, the lioness did not find it worth explaining. She stored the information that he had heard of Priskil in some unknown way, and that was all she needed to know. He seemed curious about the Goddess, and Ixzo wanted to further introduce her mother of vigilance to Crylon, but without words it would be more difficult.

It was at his explanation of Izurdin, that Ixzo found herself more curious about the stoneman. She could see the mark, and if he allowed it, possibly touch it. She understood the words for build and strength. As far as she could grasp from his words, all who built things paid homage to this unknown God. Her mind crawled back to her shabby hut in the woods, which she had put up last season and since winter never came, if it ever would again, had been adding to and improving. She had no intention of moving into the city anytime soon, but her hut hardly seemed to bring glory to anyone, not herself, let alone a deity. She would think him confused, but there was an thick pride to his voice, and admiration in his tone. Whoever this God was, Crylon knew of him, and so she trusted what he said. Like herself with Priskil, he was acknowledged by Izurdin, which meant something at least.

Her eyes floated back to his arm, examining the gnosis that lay there more closely now. Her self-control to not touch it seemed less important, and so the Kelvic slowly raised her hand, meeting his deep brown eyes with her slit silver ones. At first she simply held the right palm up to show she meant no harm, and then patted her own left arm to convey her meaning. If he let her, she would reach for his arm and gently prod the stone with her fingers. Finding it to not move, intent would replace the gentle touch as she poke and prodded at the odd arm trying to find it to give under her finger tips, when it ultimately did not. If he did not allow her touch, she would simply ask. ”Why?”

[Crylon Stonecraft]

Crylon waited for a response from the woman, a kelvic apparently, buy ended up finding himself waiting for nothing. Rather, she seemed more focused on him, more so than actually answering anything he had asked. Crylon had waited patiently, assuming that in turn for his responses she would give some in turn, but throughout their encounter the woman had been rather tight lipped. Part of this could be attributed to her lack of vocabulary, appearing even less fluent than he was, but the longer they interacted the more he felt the woman was more so choosing not to speak rather than not having any words to say. Taking in a deep breath and letting out a slow sigh, Crylon accepted this and decided to take this as a fact that she was more interested in him at the moment and was simply distracted by this rather than other more negative connotations. Considering this, Crylon let a small smile come to his lips. Could he blame her? Isur were a mighty and wondrous folk, and so it made sense that she would be curious and want to know more of them. Crylon knew Isur in these lands were far rarer than kelvic, which even he had a passing knowledge of if not much in the way of specifics. When her eyes once more turned to his left arm, the smile grew into a knowing one. In hindsight he was a bit surprised at her patience and restraint, not having brought it up before or simply began to openly feel and fondle it as a few had. Instead she had waited, putting it off into it came up more directly. Perhaps this was in part her distraction. Her hand reached out, but she stopped before making contact. At that point she instead turned and motioned in a manner that made it clear that she was asking for permission to touch it. His arm was at once smooth and solid as a statue, akin to a bust hewed from a single dark gem or metal shaped and cooled into shape, with tiny rivers of silver marking his veins snaking about the surface. Solid, and yet alive and moving as a normal limb. Muscles, sinew, bone, moving and flexing as a living limb. To him it was normal, a part of him, having lived with it for so long. To others, particularly those not familiar with Isur... For those he could see how it would be odd or mysterious. With a nod Crylon accepted, and waited while the kelvic felt and prodded at his arm like some mysterious knew substance she had found and was investigating. He could feel the pressure of her touch in a somewhat detached way, was aware of it, though did not feel it in the same way his other flesh did. There was no tickle, no joy, no pain. He could feel pressure, heat, but more akin to the way way one saw green and understood its color. Aware of the information, but not strongly affected. After she had felt it enough, Crylon flexed his arm, bending it and making his muscles move, to show that it was a living and fluid thing, moving like a normal arm would in the same instance. He was careful to do so when her fingers were not near a crevice or joint, not wanting to risk pinching her fingers which might end with the portion of the offending finger or fingers being pinched right off like in a vice. If he wanted to he could take his hand and grip her arm, and crush it bones and all like a hollow metal tube in a strong vice. But he did not wish it, and so was careful to not injure her by accident. “Is special Isur arm, all Isur have, though color vary. We children of Izurdin, and he domain making, crafting. So he give Isur tool to make, make better with.Tool with always, part of us. Special arm. But also protected by his might, his gift.” Holding out the arm, Crylon motioned with his chin at the limb. “Put in forge, fire not burn. Smash with hammer, no harm. Strike with blade, no cut. Is protected. Safe. Tool, part of gift to his people Isur. You try if wish, if have knife or thing. No hurt special arm, is safe from hurt.”

[Ixzo]

Ixzo could not help her brow furrow at the words he spoke. It sounded as if he was claiming his arm to be invincible, something she doubted very dearly. She heard him say no blade would cut it, and was eager to call his bluff. With a swift motion, she produced the hand ax that rested in her belt at her hip. This time she did not give the man warning, her blood pumping at the thought that he may attack her if she had misunderstood his offer for her to try. Or perhaps he would attack her anyway, the lioness didn’t care. Gripping the small ax in one hand, she twisted on her toes, remaining crouched on the step beneath him but at a better advantage to throw all her weight into her hit. Unceremoniously she slammed the sharp blade of the ax into the man’s arm.

The metal complained loudly against the arm, as if she had hit another blade with it. Ixzo’s eyes flew to the man, shock and confusion clearly registering on her usually emotionless face while she gauged his reaction. As soon as she realized he was utterly unharmed, a large grin of enjoyment spread across her lips and she grabbed at his hand, as if she would be able to hold it down. Without hesitating again, she pressed the tip of the blade into the inside of his forearm as hard as she could manage, and felt the metal complain beneath her hand. Once she put too much pressure into it, it slipped and clattered to the floor. Ixzo laughed out loud, ignoring the abandoned weapon and running her hand over his forearm where not a single mark of her work remained. Ixzo laughed again.

”What a beast! Your mother must be very proud.” She couldn’t help but praise the man in Myrian, utterly impressed by the Stoneman. She momentarily forgot that she was stoic and wordless wild woman, as a childish joy for excused violence brightened her face. Only, she was sure he would not take kindly to her continuously trying to chop his arm off. Immediately her mind wandered to see if the rest of him would react the same to the blade. Her smile faded as the hunter pondered the possibilities. Could she still remove his scalp if she managed to kill him? What of the bones in his arm? Could she find them? Or could she use her barbaric magic on the stone part of the arm itself? She could not do that while he was alive, she could barely maledict a rabbit. Still, her thoughts wondered to the dark places of what legacies she could make of this man.

Snapping herself from the thoughts, she turned to retrieve her ax, inspecting the blade which was seemed not bent as she had imagined, but had the wear of being using excessively, as if against another blade. Her gaze settled back on him, if she was to manage to kill this man, she would have to hinder him. Even as a lion she assumed her ability to fight him would be severely disadvantaged if he could get that arm anywhere near her. Perhaps if she ripped the thing from his shoulder, but the stone seemed to encompass the joint where the arm met the torso, making this feat a difficult one. If she could get close enough to tear that far into his chest, she might as well have gone for his neck. But doing so would expose herself to his impossibly hardened limb. Ixzo had no intention of killing the man of course, he seemed kind and she had so many more things to ask him, but when faced with such an alien thing as he, she could not help but think of the strategy it would take to do so, regardless of what skill he may have. Storing the thoughts in her mind, she stood before the man again, already slipping her feet from her unstrapped leather boots.

”My turn.” She said simply, finding the man’s lack of knowledge on Kelvics as a point to attempt to impress him. With a practiced hand she pulled at the string on the front of her red dress and slipped from the constricting human fabric. Giving herself room, knowing that she was much larger as a lion than as a human, Ixzo stepped down the steps a little. Sunlight that had previously been absorbed by her hair and dress now gave shadows as contrast to the raised scarring on her bare chest and back. Deep ink wove through her purposeful decorative scarring, and one could now also see the unintentional scarring that told of the life the Kelvic had led thus far. Although she was a mere eight years old, she appeared to be just past that of thirty years as a human. There were no stretch marks of pregnancy, as many women her age should have, but many deep purple drags across her skin to tell of blades that had made love to her skin instead.

Ixzo could feel the tingling warmth in her chest where her alternative form lay and was eager to let her wilder side loose, but a thought occurred to her just before she grasped the magic. Ixzo held a single finger up to him in warning. ”Do not scare.”

Giving no more words as explanation, she let the lion form take control, pulling her human manifestation into her soul. He would see a shimmering of light around her, and within a mere tick the weight of her new body slammed into the ground as she fell forward onto all four paws. The same reflective gaze he had seen in her human form appeared in her lion form, much larger and more perceptive now. She could smell him better now too, the clear flush of blood in his veins told her he could also be prey, negating her earlier suspicions that he was actually a statue come to life. Immediately, as a practiced move to not make those watching her feel threatened, the lioness sat herself down, curling her tail around her paws and flicking it in anticipation of his reaction. Had he noticed her decorative scarring before he would see the same patterns on her chest and back, weaving divots between the glossy black fur to create the same patterns that looked to be etched into her fur. The intention of the scars could now be seen, although they were also pleasing to the eye, they helped identify her lion form to her human form, for anyone who knew the pattern.

[Crylon Stonecraft]

The more time Crylon spent with Ixzo, the more he felt he was picking up on her and her mannerism. She increasingly struck him as a physical person, respect being related to said physicality and prowess related to it. If he had been unsure of this before, her gleeful reaction to his offering of striking his arm clarified it for him. It struck him from her reaction that the woman was trying to call his bluff, and was even more excited to find out his "bluff" was no bluff but true. She reacted with no hesitation to his offer, almost as if she had been waiting for just such a word, taking out an axe and moving to chop off part of his arm. The follow through was clear, unerring, and if it had been a normal arm he did not doubt she would have just disarmed him quite literally. Even if he had wanted to react he was far too surprised by the sudden assault, and simply sat as she struck... And of course as Crylon knew, failed to do just what she intended. Instead there was the subtle whine of metal on metal, like two swords clashing and groaning against one another. Her face at first was struck by shock, confusion, and other such emotions. But then it turned into another grin even larger than the first as if he had just done some marvelous trick. Regardless that if it had been a bluff she would have just lopped off part of his body. But her reaction was infectious, and he could not help smiling back at her and her amazement. It was, he supposed, amazing. He tended at times to forget as such, having lived with it as a part of him for so long, but truly he knew quite clearly in that moment that he was blessed by a true gift of Izurdin. The woman did not stop there, revelling in the action as she tried another spot and found that not only did a strong strike bounce off but also a close up pressure did not work as she slowly applied more weight and tried to push the weapon into his arm. With the eye of a maker and smith he inspected the weapon, a small axe of simple make. Crylon simply shook his head and smiled as the woman laughed, as if she had just done something silly which amused him. Next were he fingers, more pressure he could feel in a detached way but not truly sense as with normal flesh. It was not insensitive, rather it sensed in a different and more limited fashion than normal flesh like with his other arm. When she spoke it was an excited ululation, though in a tongue he did not understand at all. As her eyes wandered to the rest of his body, Crylon instinctively put the arm further between the two of them like a wall. “Just one arm Ixzo, not same rest of body.” When she picked the weapon back up after having calmed she inspected it, Crylon doing likewise. It did not to his eye seem much the worse for wear, though perhaps blunted by the action and requiring a fresh sharpening. She did not react after this with much more words, beginning to undress as she made it clear it was her turn to show a trick. After her foot coverings it was her it was her dress, as she was clearly going to fully disrobe right in the open. If he had been a prudish human his reaction might have been different, but growing up among Isur baring flesh was quite normal. He in turn inspected her in much the same manner as an artist would inspect a stone sculpture for its design and workmanship. His main focus was on her scars and ink across her body. The scars covered her front and back, and did not seem accidental. Instead they seemed massed, as if purposely given and designed similar to the ink on her flesh. Along with this though he did see a few other scars, distinct from the main mass of ones in that they did not seem with purpose but earned or received in a more normal manner and typing. They were the thin cuts and scars of blades, not larger ones of bludgeoning or blunt objects or fists. He had known for awhile this woman was a fighter, but this even more so made it clear. He smiled once more as she told him not to be scared, unclear on exactly what she intended from that distance, but vaguely aware of kelvic's and their animal person nature. Though what exactly that meant, how it worked, he was not so familiar with. With that their was a nimbus of light about her, and then moments later a new form of a large animal was before him. His eyes widened at the instance of change, but he did not flinch or pull away due to having managed to brace and calm himself prior. Four legs. Paws. The same eyes. A large cat. She quietly and with grace rested on the ground, not something as simple as sitting, moving her tail about and into position with a small intended motion. As he looked closer though he noticed the markings, scars on her back, were still there. Or at least, they appeared to still be there. He had not in that short time memorized them, but they seemed similar enough to be the same scars with the same overall rough design. He could not for sure say they were the same, but they seemed similar in their mass compared to their mass to her body in her human form. “Ah, so is how work. Is... Hurt? Or just, do? And is born do this, or learn, become?” After speaking Crylon realized that Ixzo was a large cat, and so likely had no way of speaking. “Ah, you still speak like this? Or only in other body?” If she did not immediately change back Crylon would try asking again, giving her each question discretely and offering her the chance to answer in some manner if she could, perhaps using body language or some such things he assumed still conveyed to this animal form. He assumed she was still the same on the inside, in her thinking and mind, or else she would not he thought be reacting as she did so quietly sitting there.