Don't Choke the Tuyere with Clinker (Torc)

[Sairque]

56 Winter, 510 AV

It seemed that something undesirable had come to Wind Reach. The memory of the previous day's conversation with Ulric played over and over in her mind. More intrusive was the wariness lingering within the Eagles and her fellow Endals. Something had overstayed its welcome before it had even had a chance to get comfortable. Glav had brought it--them. Petching outsiders. So Sai was in the market for a new knife or two, and that brought her to the arms gallery.

Her blood red hair neatly fell in one thick braid down her back, shimmering in the flickering light of fire and molten ore as she meandered along the large chamber. Pensive yellow eyes flashed in similar ways, sometimes wincing when they strayed too near a particularly bright blaze. Aware of the heat in the area, she was wearing a full length shirt with full sleeves this afternoon. The material was coarse, but protected her from the work environment. The shirt was green, her bryda brown. Despite her young face and limited physical stature, she deferred to no one in the short engagements over their work when she had a question or two.

Her whipcord slender build was helpful in staying out of the way, as well. She meandered through the work benches, and forges, anvil stands, carefully avoiding rushing workers or swinging blacksmiths. They worked so hard. All of them. If they didn't they were demoted, or cast out completely. It was necessary. But they got to play hard, as well. That's it. They got to work and play. They didn't spend their days worrying over plots or intrigue, manners didn't even computer. No, outsiders brought those to the mountain. Outsiders threatened their lives. Not the volcano, not the weather. Outsiders. Petching Leo. Petching Ulric.

She had yet to meet the former, but from the encounter with the later, she wasn't looking forward to it. There was a third member of this invasion party. He, thus far, hadn't been implicated in anything. But the chances of her meeting any of them today were slim, so with a decisive nod of her head, she dispelled them from mind and set about reaching the wings where she would find a good set of knives.

[Torc Ironwood]

It had been a long journey, and Torc had felt the pitfalls of every encounter. There had been failures and successes, but the end was coming and Torc wasn’t sure what he would do. The world was going to change and Torc could only hope for the better. A God of peace and cilivization was needed, and Torc could only pray that Glav was that man… but pray to who? Never before had Torc ever faced something like this. Kelwyn was his god and goddess that he usually prayed too, the twins domain were that of lost causes. Lately, he had learned lessons from Cheva and Sylir… well at least the being that was closest to the dead god. A part of Torc still felt so hollow after meeting Sylir. The god had encompassed something beyond peace. Torc felt like Sylir was like a mighty river. The world presented problems and hurt, yet Sylir was able to weave about them, and yet peace wasn’t just inaction, but action as well. Peace came from within and those that valued it knew its cost. So Torc had come to Wind Reach learning bit by bit the cost of peace. It had started with the plague and Sharn’s death, and only continued from there. Peace was precious and needed, it was also to be protected. Torc had began to understand that difference between a battlerager and a peaceful warrior. A true warrior of peace knew the price of death, he or she knew the very horror of killing, and yet they raised up arms to protect those that couldn’t or wouldn’t understand that price. It was with this thought that Torc had begun making his first weapon. It had sadden him knowing that the iron and steel he shaped would one day be used to kill. Yet, he also knew that the metal he made would help to save lives, and that is why he made the hunting/dueling daggers. He had started by taking several steel rods and case heating them up in the volcanic forge, and as Torc lowered the bars he felt the fiery heat of the forge blast itself on his skin. For this forging Torc had decided to wear simple pants and a leather apron. The heat had covered Torc body in sweat, and yet his left arm felt cool. The arm was brown like dravite with rose quartz veins running through it, as the magma vents opened his arm seemed to glow with a inner fire, never before had Torc seen his arm deepen its brown and the pink almost flecks of quartz send off its own light. Torc watched the bars and has they became a glowing yellow he brought them out of the magma forge back to anvil. Torc took tongs in his right hand and brought the rods out of the forge. The steel had softened under the heat and stress of the forge, With speed and skill Torc began to wrapped the case hardened steel into the core of the dagger. The hammer struck the rods and black flakes of steel would peel off, while sparks showered Torc torso. The rods began to twist and turn on themselves as Torc made sure the grain texture of the steel wouldn’t break under stress. Torc laid down the hammer and added flux, or powdered steel, to the bars making sure that the core of the dagger wouldn’t have air bubbles. Torc had understood that the core of the dagger or sword needed to be solid and stiff, while the outside of the dagger needed to be cover in spring steel. His teacher had showed him that the inner core of the dagger needed to be strong and able to withstand a blow from a heavy object. While the outside of the dagger needed to be flexible so that it could absorb and deflect some of the energy. So Torc continued to place the bars in and out of the forge. Slowly the core of the dagger began to fill in and Torc felt the strength of the steel each time he struck the mass of metal. The ringing of the metal told him that no air pockets had formed and the steel was shaped. Torc clamped the steel into a vice and began to form a bevel edge lengthwise down the blade. Sweat poured off his brow and his black hair began to get slick with sweat. He felt someone watching him, as he worked. The v edge began to form on the one side of the blade, while Torc began to deepen it again. The technique had been taught to him Zeltiva, though Torc had only helped some of the university weaponsmiths with it. The maraging steel had been casted by a metalsmith, but Torc had known its toughness would serve as a suitable base. The spring steel he was heating up, would form the cutting edge. The daggers would be well suited for heavy use, and were common on the streets of Zeltiva. The maraging steel couldn’t hold and edge, yet it wouldn’t break or dent The spring steel was softer, striking metal it would dent, but with a quick whack of the forge hammer the dagger could be repaired. The weaponsmiths had referred to them as pleasant daggers, because they could be used as crowbars to open boxes or butcher knives. Still, they were less complex then combat daggers, and they could hold up in a fight. As Torc brought poked at the spring steel realizing he had a few moments to spare, he broke the grip on the belly of the dagger and placed it back in the forge. Torc turned, seeing the woman before him, for a brief moment he worried that she had seen his mark from Cheva just below the hair line on the back of his neck. Clearing his throat, Torc spoke, “Pardon Miss, but is there something I can help you with?”

[Sairque]

The burly man, sweat sheening under the ambient light of the Arms Gallery in a way that highlighted every swell of muscle and cast every dip into a pronounced shadow, plied his trade with careful confidence. His apron revealed much. Narrowed yellow eyes had started at the sure ministrations of his hands, where the deeper brown of one had been noticed, and then the faintly gleaming veins of pink had drawn her gaze up his left arm. Finally catching sight of his dark...blue, he has blue hair, wasn't necessary to figure out he wasn't a local. The novelty of blue hair made the faint tint dominate over the black coloring. It was instrumental in figuring out what he was, however. There had been a man come through here with blue hair before, only shorter, paler, with silver veins, just as stocky. Of course, she couldn't remember what race he had been, but this could be looked up. Why the metalworker turned away, she didn't know, having momentarily lost interest in the work his hands were doing, he has blue hair...and a marking,. The spell his thick blue mane had cast was broken as she committed the image of the tattoo to memory. Sairque hadn't the faintest idea if it was a Gnosis or just a rather girly tattoo. Perhaps his lady friend back home had wanted to claim him before he wandered off to the perilous city of Wind Reach to...use their forges.

To work. To do something constructive. The frown eased. Sai drew her braid over her shoulder and idly stroked her fingers down the plaits, callused fingers feeling the texture of the swells and dips more than the hair's straight grain. Something rumbled, deep and strong as the mountain. Sai blinked, realizing the sound came in time with the movement of the metalworker's lips. Should have seen that coming. The worker wasn't much taller than she was, four or five inches it seemed, and he was clearly a solid man, the forges had probably seen to that, but it wasn't his physicality that was arresting. His eyes. The expression on his face. The disconcerting feeling that he took more of her in than just the trappings of her appearance.

"Pardon?" she temporized, the Common heavily accented. The tone not asking for a repeat of the worker's words but an explanation of the term. Truly, the Endal had never heard the word and didn't understand its placement in front of the term of address. However, more important than expanding her vocabulary was realigning her thoughts. Daggers. The whole reason she had stopped and watched him work. Some of the workers shaped the metal with casual familiarity, others with mindless habit; this man had worked with careful precision. That didn't mean that these knives would be any better than any of the other's, but his work ethic did inspire confidence. Hand over hand, she caressed the thick braid idly, the beads tied in at the end tinkling softly against her hip. The light frown had turned to intent curiosity, but as that term was explained her expression changed again. The satiation of curiosity brought a cool openness to her features.

"I need new knives," she answered agreeably, eyes dropped to his work area and then toward the dagger glowing hot in the forge. "What do you plan for these?" a faint head tilt toward the item in question, words drawn out slowly in attempt to correctly pronounce the soft language that sounded more to her like incessant muttering than anything to have a proper conversation in. The answer to her question would hopefully tell her if he was working down here for himself or was earning his keep for the winter. And if she could enter into negotiations for them.

[Torc Ironwood]

Torc grimaced as he realized that he slipped into common once again, Sylir’s gift had been great at understanding languages but the one problem was not being able to speak them. “Miss, a young unmarried women who has honor and strength. I can understand Nari perfectly if that will help you.” Torc still spoke in common and then spoke again in Nari, “I hear Nari. I…no speak good.” The low bass of his voice broke upon several the new words he had been trying to learn of the language. In fact, his voice made the words sound like a goose was honking them instead of the sing song quality it was suppose to have. His face turned red from embarrassment, “By the Gods and Goddess I sound the fool.” He spoke in common. “I… know Yasi words Endal. Sorry, bad noises.” He felt bad that he couldn’t even put together a full sentence, but he needed to keep trying. “I gift for you, stop.” Torc went over to a waste barrel that he had earlier seen and picked up a scrap piece of brass. It was a soft metal and Torc could form it quickly. Sticking the brass into the magma forge, he began to clear the anvil of all the blacken steel that had come from the dagger. He then chosen delicate hammers and tongs placing them on a nearby workbench. As the brass finally showed a glowing orange, Torc took the brass out with the tongs and lifted the hammer. The downward blow struck flying embers to scatter across the air. Torc took his time and made sure every blow counted. On one end, Torc began to elongate it to a thin piece of metal, it became rectangle and thin. Yet it flared in several places with it’s thickness varying. While the other end became a flat shape that Torc hammered and chiseled. He worked hard and fast, each blow sinking the chisel and making a purposeful dent. Finally, Sairque could see that the one end was shaped like an eagle feather, and as Torc folded the other, it became certain that it was a hair pin for her braid. Torc quenched the pin in a bucket of ice cold water. Steam rose up in his face, and he brought out the pin, the feather was no bigger than six inches. However, if Sairque choose to wear it on the top of her braid in the back of her hair it would support its own weight. The pin was cool and discoloration was all over it, so he went over to the acid bath and lowered the glass bin down into the bath. Bubbles began to form on the feather pin, it Torc knew it was polishing the feather for faster than he could have ever done it on his own. And he was truly amazed at the glasswork that had gone into making the acid tub. Softly he pulled the hair pin away from the acid and saw that it had been polished, going to tubs of water he began to wash it again and again. “Sorry for bad noises. Work on noises, no offense Endal.” Torc pulled the feather from the water and presented it to Sairque. “Like?” Torc spoke as he presented Sairque with the hair pin. He felt more confident about his handy work then his tongue, but he got back to the question at hand. “I see…” Torc was at a lost of words, he pointed to the large chalk board and the order for ulitily knifes. Though the chalk before was for city orders, Torc pointed at his knives and the order on the board. “Food for work. Work for all.” Going back over to the forge, Torc motioned to the knifes, “Work for Inarta. Work… hard not break against metal.” Torc made a chopping motion against his arm and then another like a stabbing motion. He was trying his best to answer her question. “Work good for working, not fighting big things. Work grabs… holds sharp. Work strong…” Torc pointed to his stomach trying to mime the belly of the blade. “Two metals. Outside soft for cutting, inside hard for work.” Then Torc began to laugh at himself. He felt like such a fool and here he was trying to talk to an Endal with only a few words in his vocabulary. He could only imagine what he looked like. “Me not Dek in head. Yasi noises only, funny thought about Yasi noises.”

[Sairque]

Brows knit tightly together, the young unmarried woman, who had both honor and strength, watched and listened to the smith intently. It was easier to read his feelings than understand the ideas he was trying to convey. Listening to him speak her tongue was similar to how she imagined it would sound for a bear to attempt imitating a meadowlark. A smile tugged at her slightly parted lips, the flush creeping up the smith’s neck and face clearly not from the heat of his forge. He was determined to work on his Nari, the language spoken by his reclusive hosts which he could understand but was unable to reciprocate…for reasons Sai did not understand. It seemed a backwards learning to her. They would find out if it was true. I gift for you, stop? Sai cocked her head to the side a bit, understanding his disappointment in himself if not what he was trying to tell her. “You would like to me to stay here so you can give me something?” she interpreted gently in Nari, automatically spacing the words apart so it didn’t all run together and helped him differentiate the sounds for later repetition. In fact, she was rather proud of herself for the friendly and warm tone that hadn’t taken a bit of effort like it normally did. And she was surprised by her desire to encourage his work on their language.

Curiously, she peered at his rummaging through the barrel, pushing up on her toes for a bit in the hopes that would help. It didn’t, but before long he had selected something and returned. He’s going to make me something! No, she couldn’t help the wide eyed wonder that lit up her face as she took in every move the confident and competent man made. She had stepped away when the sparks started flying but was practically invading his space once he had moved onto shaping the more delicate parts. Well, as much as she could considering he was swinging a hammer. Free things came into her possession frequently, but never before had she been so intrigued by it. When she needed new gloves, new strings, new arrows, new tack, she told an Avora and the items were delivered. Maybe it had something to do with the way she avoided procuring anything frivolous, anything that wasn’t necessary for her to do her job. This hair pin would not help her hunt for a single thing, not even a rabbit. So why are you so excited to receive it? Who cared! She tagged along to the acid bath and watched him plunge the pin inside. The bubbles surprised her, and she expected something just as interesting when he moved to another tub. Nope, just water. But the mild disappointment vanished at his sudden return to language.

Noises...Noises…Oh! His vocalizations, Sai realized, finally understanding his earlier use of the word. Comprehension spread over her features and she hesitantly reached out a hand for the offered pin. Was this a gesture of apology, more concrete than his vocalizations because he was apologizing for those? Running her callused fingers over the beautiful work, so artful despite the way he had hammered on it so hard, she spent long moments examining it with rapt attention. When finally the redhead looked up, her eyes met his with a warm openness.

“I’m not offended, smith. I appreciate your mercy for not forcing me to speak in or listen to common,” she told him with a playful twinkle, knowing he probably hadn’t thought of it that way and would understand that while she wasn’t being completely serious in the words, she was in the sentiment. “This is very beautiful, I like it very much,” yellow eyes dropped back to the piece in question and softened for the moment they rested there. Still, her natural balance of work and reward was warring with her delight at receiving a gift.

Getting back to her second question, she peered up at him with that same focused attention. Following his motions, using both his physicality and verbal clues to paint the picture he wanted her to understand, Sai kept careful track of his ideas. Concentrating so hard, his laughter baffled her at first. Nothing he had said thus far was remotely funny. Is he laughing at me? Her stare hardened, and the woman drew her formidable personality about her, seeming to gain stature enough to match it. His words took long moments to register, but the absurdity of the statement broke her offended annoyance neatly. Me not Dek in head…funny though about Yasi noises. A man that could laugh at himself, forcing himself to speak in a language and pantomime things that, indeed, made him seem the fool, was a rare thing and returned his companion to the previous friendliness. A smile lit up her face and sympathetic chuckles spilled from her lips. “Well, let’s see if I can’t help you with these Yasi noises,” she suggested, knowing that the more of the language he heard, since he already knew what each of the words meant, the easier her would be able to recall and mimic them.

“You’re working for us in order to receive rations,” she posited, feeling pleased that he was serious about the work-food agreement all those in Skyinarta lived under. A little tilt of her head to the chalkboard, “That’s the order they’ve requested of you. Your knives are hard enough to stand up to heavy contact with other metals, but are not designed for battle. The exterior metal is soft to it can be sharpened and reshaped to keep an edge, while the interior provides the strength to stand up to heavy work,” she summarized neatly, with a slightly questioning glance. “And, you’re not nearly as dim-witted as you appear,” she teased with a lopsided grin, finishing turning his words into sentences and moving on to her own assessment.

“You’re also happy to have the opportunity to work. You work hard, don’t you?” Eyes dropped pensively to the pin being turned over in her hands. “You’re stuck here until the road can be cleared in the spring. That’s a long time to be at the mercy of another people,” she told him slowly. “To us, there is nothing more important than working hard. If we don’t work hard, we starve. You’ll get to see this,” a shadow crossed her face at the death and pain that always clouded the last days of winter and beginning of spring. “You know of the caste system, you know that the Endal top the ladder and the Avora come close behind, the Chiet are next, and so on. Unlike some societies,” she thought back to the trip to Avanthal and all the crazy things Fen had told her. “We don’t have status because we inherited it, or because we have lots of money. When we work hard and display talent, we get housing and food. We are the life blood of this city. Truly, the Dek have deplorable lives, but when one dies, one dies. When an Endal or an Avora dies, there is no way to calculate how many more will die for lacking the potential food or export/imports that disappear with that soul,” Sairque paused, collecting her thoughts and trying to get to the point of the matter. The confident woman wasn’t sure why, but she had a feeling that this man wanted to be accorded the station in life that his merits earned. “Here, when you go above and beyond what is asked of you,” a quirked brow at the sturdy knives, “you get rewarded above and beyond.” She searched his face for understanding, or annoyance, or boredom.

[Torc Ironwood]

As the Endal spoke, Torc did his best to mouth the words, his earring helped because the words became duel in his mind. As he heard them the duel meaning floated into his mind, like an oak leaf falling in the wind. The more she talked the more the leaf helped in tuning Torc’s mind to the language. He smiled warmly at the Endal, for as she talked he saw the person she was. She loved her the good people around her, but hated those that didn’t offer her respect. Leadership for her had been granted and she was still trying to prove that she deserved it. Perhaps it was Cheva’s gift but he began to understand that she was looking for someone who was also a leader and yet wouldn’t challenge her. She needed someone to be equal and separate, so that her doubts and softness can be shown, but not exploited. “I work hard, for good of all. You work hard, for all. The work is important, but we are more then work. I see you. I see good in you, hardness for love, but softness as well. You search for whole, but its inside you. Gift is to show work for all, love is for all.” Torc wished he could express himself better, then he remembered the look of Cheva’s face and her eyes. Torc looked at the Endal and melted the hardness in his features, he wished for her to see Cheva, and so as he looked at her his head tilted and mined the inner qualities of her. Cheva didn’t judge people, she loved all and showed them they were worthy of it. Sometimes, Torc didn’t know if he was worthy of her understand or her gift, but till she took it away he would live to her standards. He gentle placed his rough hand over hers that held the pin. “We move forward before others, it is lonely being first. We need people to make noises too. Share hurt and sadness. Share love and closeness. You are hard, share softness with family.” Torc felt his hand warm upon hers, as he felt his eyes stare into her. The Endals spark was bright and yet she pushed to many people away. “When you walk, choose softness. Some will hurt you because of it, others will see its strength and love you for it.” Softly he withdrew his hand from hers. His features smiled again, hoping she understood the closeness shared. “I work for all. I have no need of reward. I see the Yasi grow. I see Chiet smile and love. I see Avora dance and Endal fly. Reward come from here.” Torc touched his chest right above the heart. “I work where I love. Orders are fine, but my work is a gift to all. All I want is love and family. Metal isn’t love or family. Large foods not love or family. Smiles, hugs, laughs of Yasi are family, I work hard for that. I here now, not go when warm.” Torc’s face took an introspective look. “Not go unless lady in sky says so…” Torc took a big breathe and showed the Endal his mark. His left hand pulled up his short cropped hair, as he turned to show the Endal Cheva’s mark. As he was turned away from her, spoke again. “Lady is love. I love her, yet still want family.” His voice seemed sad as he turned back to her. He knew that what he said was true and painful, yet looking at the Endal woman, he wanted to show her the goodness inside of him and the strength to show pain. Few leaders ever showed weakness to their people, and Torc understood that it was because those people with ambition would take advantage of them. Yet Torc remembered Sylirs face and knew that he had shared his inner most pain. The pain of his death and fall, and Torc wanted to show the Sylir that he was worthy of that trust. Pain was there, it was a part of life and life wasn’t fair, it was up to those special few to right the wrongs in the world. Torc understood the harshness of Wind Reach, he understood the reason why the Dek were given horrible jobs, and that the Chiet weren’t treated much differently. But the structure worked, it was unfair, but it worked. That was the understanding that Sylir gave him, Cheva had given him something else. Love of all, it meant that those Dek and Chiet were to be treated with love. To be cared for and to help them care for others, what he didn’t like was the rape of the Dek and Chiet. They low rations and poor living quarters were because they couldn’t work hard enough. Torc instead knew that if one asked, he would help them by showing them how to help themselves. That was what Cheva wanted, she wanted love to connect everyone, and so Torc would start with one person and then another. It was the only thing he could think of to honor them. Torc turned to the forge and saw that the blade was ready to be joined. “Wait, please Endal?” Torc went over to the forge and picked up the belly of the blade with tongs. He placed it in the middle of the vice and with his right hand spun the vice close onto the blade clamping it tight. He picked up the vice and placed it sideways on the anvil, the glowing metal radiate heat so extreme that if felt like he was putting his hand into a hot oven. Still as the vice settled and the v wedge against the cool black anvil. He picked up a bunch of flux and threw it into the wedge as he used his other hand picking up the spring steel with tongs. The spring steel was glowing yellow and seemed like it was the consistency of butter. As he placed it into the wedge the flux hissed and popped like embers from a fire. Torc raised the hammer and brought it down hard upon the margaring steel. The v began to close about the spring steel as Torc pick up the tempo of his strikes. The steel began to fold into the edge, the flux began to run like liquid as air hissed out of the metals joining. The butter consistency helped as the Torc used brute strength to bend the steel into the shape of the blade’s belly. Muscles bulged and sweat began to pour down his body as the intense heat pelted him in waves. The steel began to yield and as it wrapped itself around the belly Torc began to beat the wedge close. As the wedge closed Torc picked up the knife with tongs and placed it back in the forge, he needed to wait for a while to let the flux bond the steels before he hammered in the edge of the blade. Torc went back to the Endal, his hands running up and down his forearms. Small steel shavings fall off as he came to her. His face held pride and confidence at how the steel was forming. “Knife cutting metal need time to heat, please make more noises. I learn fast.”

[Sairque]

Like debris cleared off by the overflowing river, Sai’s focused expression melted away to reveal wide eyed enthrallment. She did work hard, it was important. I see you…like he nursed a new flame deep in a cold forge, Torc nourished and beckoned the buried softness until it overwhelmed the confines of her corporeal self. She felt it coming through the thin barrier of her skin, heavy in her chest, tight in her throat. I see you. Trying to swallow the lump in her throat only succeeded in parting her lips to facilitate the larger amount of oxygen her lungs seemed to need. I see you. Her hands trembled beneath his, the rough calluses of his palm and fingers scuffing against the unusually sensitive scarred flesh of her right hand.

Fear raced in a single pulse up the back of her neck, vulnerability so strong her eyelids flinched closed at every nearby ringing hammer stroke. She missed the detail that he was using the same terms to describe her as he had his knives. Share softness with family. Aidara’s face loomed in her mind’s eye, a deeply loving and trusting expression in the set of her lips, and shining in her eyes. An expression she hadn’t seen in a long time. Bereft of the one soul that meant more to her than her own, tears stung her eyes and she hesitantly reached out toward their bond, afraid of what she would find. The past season had been the most emotionally damaging and betrayal still dug deep. She’s mine, Addy had snarled with mind numbing hatred, just earlier this season. Her soul was a barren wasteland. There was no one in there. Nothing stirred the dust, pealed through the unopposed wind, or disturbed the wearisome march of time. A lone tear tracked down her right cheek, no twin joining it to journey toward oblivion. No twin. She recoiled from the bond, vulnerability enhanced fear overcoming her need for the healer. Healer. The rain to settle the dust, the verdant oasis to add scents of freshly blossomed flowers to the wind, the unexpected turbulence to disrupt the perception of time. Sai flung herself at the bond, immersing herself for the first time since she was a child in the visceral comfort it offered. The bubbles of her elder sister’s personality flowed through her, each one encased in a loving shell, support and understanding showering her with each splashing pop. She gathered up all the bubbles she could, spreading herself around them and cradling them tenderly. All the feelings she never vocalized or physically displayed, all of them, devotion, adoration, acceptance, enveloping the fragile presence. Another tear tracked down her cheek, opposite the earlier drop, and a joyful smile eased across her open features.

Catabasis gently extracted his Inarta from luxuriating in the safety of her sister’s love, replacing its strength with enough of his own to keep the overwhelmed woman from slipping back into panic. Some will hurt you, the Eagle reiterated Torc’s words, but the deeper you let us in, the stronger we can protect you. The more you let in, the more that are here to soothe the wounds others cause.

The open sincerity of her guide through this frightfully exposing journey placed him at the center of her small circle of acceptable participants. Not those that could simply look, but those that could affect her without the slightest trepidation on her part. She stared up into his dark eyes, I see you, bravely letting him have the myriad of emotions he had incited. Bravely letting him see the newfound fulfillment. When he had first touched her, opened her up and coaxed the repressed side out, she had felt alone. Even with the revitalized connection to her sister, and the support of Catabasis, she didn’t feel as grounded as she did looking up into the smith-turned-philosopher’s accepting and supportive gaze. The very real connection with him, his strong, capable hand cradling her own, just as the force of his personality was doing with her intangible self. Her hand chilled and felt naked when he removed his own, but he had not only delved deeper into her but shown her the cornerstone of who he was. A dignified man that sought lovable traits and could help those blind to them find self love. A man that understood the risks and accepted them, helped others to understand the connections between individuals and bridge them. A man that had evolved further than Sai, who loved her people to the exclusion of everyone else, yet struggled to show that any other way than doing her job and making sure that others did theirs as well. She didn’t spend time among them, she made sure that as many as possible would live through the winter to have the opportunity to find their own happiness. But there could be a balance.

I see them all grow, laugh, and dance. They live through the work and the winter to play as hard as they can. Sai understood, felt the warmth in her chest that he was indicating with his hand above his heart. He wanted to be a part of his society, not sit on the sidelines. And above all, he wanted a tight-knit family, someone to share the quiet moments in life with. He wanted someone to love him back the way he loved everyone, deeper than the way he loved everyone. As deep as he would love her. Sai felt herself smiling, pleased, he worked where he loved and he was planning on staying through the spring. He wanted to be here. As long as his…Goddess let him. A Gnosis, then, not a proprietary marking of the mortal kind. Cheva. Lady is love. Cheva. Comprehension dawned. His love for every being was pure enough to warrant attention from the Goddess of love. Sai gazed at him fondly, sincere sympathy for the situation he found himself in.

The knowledge that he was in love with a being that belonged to everyone, and he could never allow himself to be selfish enough to ask her to love him beyond how she felt for all peoples. He loved her enough to let her go. Enough to settle for something similar with a more attainable woman, but one that could understand his heart would always belong a little bit more to Cheva. That Cheva would ask things of him that would take him away from her, and he needed there to be no jealousy or envy clouding the relationship. He needed a woman that could love him as he loved Cheva. It hurt him, and could be used against him, but he faced that risk boldly with full faith that the love he shared would stand stalwart and carry him through whatever came of his full disclosure. A little more admiration and confidence grew for the way he was trying to show her.

She nodded at his request, letting him tend to his work while she watched his sure movements. With great care, befitting the gift that was given unbegrudgingly and for no practical reason, she reached back and situated the pin at the top of her braid. Every few seconds she reached back and assured herself it was holding in place and positioned properly. He finished and turned back toward her; she had a soft smile on her face and was fiddling with the pin again.

It didn’t even occur to her to hide the expression from him. Or the young apprentice staring at her from over his shoulder. “You do learn fast, smith, that’s true,” she chuckled. “You know,” I see you, he did know. Her expression turned introspective and her speech slow as she formulated her thoughts into coherent sentences. “I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I haven’t felt like anything except an Endal, adhering to all the responsibility and eschewing all the perks, since I was a kid,” she paused, gazing up at him with her big yellow eyes. “I haven’t felt like a woman in a very long time.” Digesting that realization. “What a queer thing to say, what a queer thing to feel. At the most fundamental level, I’m a woman, but at the functioning level I’m…something less and something more all at the same time,” she searched for understanding, realizing it could need further explaining even as she knew that articulating the idea better wasn’t possible for her.

“No one here can make me forget what I am. No one can see beneath the hardness, the strength. No one here wants anything…less…than that.” Was she trying to explain, was she throwing a pity party? She didn’t know, there was no attempt to analyze the words, just a vocalization of how she felt in that moment. The slow introspection continued. “I have a sister. A twin. We feel each other’s emotions. I stopped giving her the love she needed when I realized that she was barely an Avora and could easily fall to commoner status. I couldn’t let that happen. It terrified me to think what would happen to her if I lost my status. I thought that she would understand the distance between us wasn’t because I didn’t love her any less but because I didn’t know how to give her what she needed as my sister and what she needed to stay safe. What I needed for her as my sister. She wants me to forget what I am. She wants underneath this shell.”

She hesitated, lips parted for speech, wondering if perhaps it wasn’t her place to question certain things. Then snorted at herself, the man had just pried her open and told her not to be afraid. He lived like that. She realized that it wasn’t his privacy she was concerned with invading, but instead concerned with causing him pain. She had assumed a lot of things about him from what he told her, especially about the family he wanted. Now wasn’t the time. Suddenly, she chuckled silently with a self deprecating shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know if that’s what you had in mind when you asked me to continue speaking…”

[Torc Ironwood]

Torc thought over what the Endal was saying, but what he saw in her eyes showed him that she had pried loose the woman inside. As she finished he reached over and took her hand again in his rough callused left hand. The deep brown copper skin stood against her paler sun kiss skin. He knew that she spent a great deal outside and that her skin had become permanently darker from the exposure, no winter would make it return to milky white. Softly he stroked the back of her palm with his thumb. Perhaps it was a gesture of familiarity, but he wanted to show her that her weakness wouldn’t be used against her with him. It was trust that Torc tried to build in everyone, life was unfair and contained pain and failure, but as a people they could choose to accept each other and their pain. They could choose a different path then what they were on and that was what made man great. He heard an apprentice at an anvil, working hard and fast… working too hard and fast in fact. His head turned from the Endal and pointed the smith out to her. “He works to hard. He stresses the metal, like he stresses himself. Pushing, pounding, heating it to a breaking point. He believes that in order to create, one must destroy what it was before. We are different Endal, woman… man… those describe our bodies. We who are in the inside know something more, and crave to grow like a tree. Like a tree, we can become twisted and ill, and though that is our past, we can choose to grow different.” As Torc turned back to her, “Come help me shape metal, and settle your thoughts.” He voice told her that he didn’t expect her to say no, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He let go of her hand and turned to the tools section, with care and thought he picked up a small detailing hammer and an apron. The hammer weigh but a mere ten pounds and was one of the smallest hammers that a blacksmith could wield. The apron was made of heavy leather, the underside was still smooth from the cut buckskin, but the outer layer was the thick tanned hide. It would protect the Endal’s body from missed blows of the hammer and sparks that were likely to burn her tender flesh. Torc came back and placed the apron on the anvil and the small hammer. Once placed he opened his hands showing them to her, and then slowly he began to move them to her body. His right hand felt the energy bubble about her stomach and as he moved it slowly towards her the energy felt like it warmed and began to build. Many times Torc had used his auristics to build and unplug energies in his own body, but experience the currents of another person was unusual. It was like stroking a small fire, warmth began to spread between the closing inches of his hand and her belly. Finally, his fingers were no more than an inch from her upper two ab muscles. His palm felt the heated energy swirl and slowly straighten. “Here is where you strike from. As you raise the hammer, breathe in.” Torc took a deep breath through his nose. He felt the hot air pull in the metal tang in the air. He waited till the Endal began breath in, as she did so Torc began moving his fingers in slow circles in the air above her belly. He felt the energy build and build warming and strengthen wanted to bring itself into something. “It is here that your fire spills into your work. Build your fire with goodness and strength. Feel the things you love in your fire. The fire wouldn’t steal them, and as your breathe out allow that fire run through you. Allow it to spill out of your arm, into the hammer’s head, and into the metal.” Slowly, Torc pulled away his right hand. He felt the energy trails come away with his fingers, and slowly he brought them to his own belly. He felt her fire in his. It was held behind a dam of control, and yet Torc knew that the metal would bring them out. His belly fire was like a cold flame, yet he felt its brightness shining through, Cheva had changed him in many ways. The energy in him no longer just created heat and anger, now it shown through him like a light in the dark. His energy spilled out of him into the world and in a way he felt all the little connections that were formed between all. Cheva was like a sun compared to him, but his campfire was provided a beacon for many. So Torc took the Endal’s energy, and felt his energy began to wrap about her’s in a lovely embracing. Smooth warm the energy was like water touching bare skin and then slowly it began to mix. The small connection of feeling began to form, the connection was like a team of people working together. They knew when one was weak, when one was strong to continued, they were a team that moved without thought and allowed all things to be forgiven in the stage of working. Torc second hand went to the crown of her head and like a father feeling the temperature of his daughter. Yet he didn’t touch her, just like her stomach, he felt her. He felt the swirls of thoughts, he felt the stress and worry. The undercurrents of projecting a façade for everyone. He felt her wants and needs, her fears and insecurities, like a warm brush combing hair, he ran his hand down. His hand traveled over her face, then her neck, then down her right arm and finally down into her arm. It felt like wisps of smoke trailing down her arm. Torc repeated the process again and again, “Endal, first think of your sister. Choose one shape and symbol to describe her. Let that guide your arm as the hammer falls.” Torc felt her thoughts began to slide down her arm, and two strong connections were left as the last movement down her arm began. It was like taking a sponge and feeling the water roll down her arm. The energy had straighten itself and Torc knew that if the Endal choose to work with him, her worries would spill out of her and she could find herself for one moment. It took courage to feel yourself completely, and Torc knew that if she wanted she could walk away, but sometimes it was wonderful feeling like your skin fit you. Everyday Torc felt like he was either too big for his own skin, or so small and insignificant that nothing he did mattered. It was only when he was crafting that he harmonized with the world and his body. Feeling like you had a place and that you fit into it was scary, because you felt the wholeness of yourself and just how the world felt you. Yet you understood yourself, your soul. You felt that weakness burn away and felt the strengths run through you. It was the only time he felt naked and bare against the world, for his energies spilled into his piece that he was crafting. His soul poured into the world and the world accepted him. There was no looks of disgust, jealousy, lust, hate, or pain. No there was only the feeling of completeness for those bare moments before his own thoughts began to come back. If the Endal choose to say she would feel the world just like him, yet her experience would be different because she was different and separate. Torc turned to the scrap barrel and picked up a dull red bronze bar. It felt right to work with bronze for a gift for her sister. Bronze came from copper and yet they were different, both were mixed with other metals and had different qualities. As he placed it in the forge he felt the small connection between them. The energy guide his movements wanting to create something special and unique just as he had done for her, but to make sure it was different and equal. There was worry that they would mess it up, and Torc allowed the fire inside to burn out the thought. He was preparing himself for the work ahead of them. He gave her confidence and feeling of guided vision. The world began to clear and he felt the energy began to equalize once again. His thoughts began running down his arms as he turned and flipped the bar. He felt the woman behind him, she was glowing like a candle. Her energy had began to spread into the world, she was ready and so was the bar of bronze. The bronze had turned to a deep blood red as the temperature had soaked into it. Torc reached for the tongs with his right hand. The black iron grabbed the bar between its two fingers. The heat of the bar pulsed with the energy that Torc awaken within him. Slowly, he turned around bringing the bar to the anvil, each step awoke the buildup of energy with in him. His world had narrowed, and he felt himself say in Nari, “Your arm raises and falls like an eagle, the hammer is a apart of you, as you fly above let your soul soar. As you fall down on your prey, let it be precise and fluid.” If Torc hadn’t been so focused on the feeling of emptiness and yet the feeling of completeness, he might have wondered why the words came so easy to him. Instead he brought up his hammer, no longer did the fifth teen pound hammer feel like something else. No, now the wood grain fit within his hand and it flowed into his forearm , his mind recognized the weight like it recognized the weight of his foot. Torc felt the head of the hammer and his breath began to expand into his lungs as his eyes aimed for the bar. The energy in his belly began to build. It was a storm of light and power, and as his hammer began to fall lighting shot through his body into arm and then into the hammer. The bar exploded in sparks and fire, yet the energy of his strike had exploded in light and heat began to circle again. He felt the pool began to raise before he had clear his hammer strike, and he knew someone else was there. So he let the hammer pull away waiting for the energy to strike again and buildup once again.

[Sairque]

The faint apprehension she’d felt upon falling to silence melted away under his tender touch. His hand dwarfed hers. By no means were they delicate, but they looked down right fragile when he enveloped them. He could squish the bones to bits with nary a thought, but doing physical harm to her was just as likely as mishandling her vulnerability. His big dark eyes, portals to the velvet fuzziness of his heart, comforted her in the comprehension and approval there. Her eyes left his only when he pointed her attention elsewhere, a lad hastily hammering away. Did this man just tell her that she had grown up twisted and ill? Shoulders slumped a bit, disappointed that she’d done so poorly for herself. There was no doubt that she could change, and that her likelihood of changing was high at the moment, but she hadn’t thought she’d been doing that badly.

Sai eyed the tools he brought over, and then his hands as they were offered to her. Still just as big as they had been. And they tickled. Sai wriggled infinitesimally, and although she wanted to ask him what in the petch he thought he was doing to her all magic-like, refrained. This was at the limit of trust though, for all she knew he was planting a little monster baby in her belly. Like those furry ones with the wings that she heard about from traders. Perhaps this was how they reproduced. Well bring it on! She could tame a little bat baby. Pulling a deep breath into her lungs, she felt the ease of her arm muscles as they prepared to raise and strike. With the exhalation, her core tightened and energy solidified. Her arm tingled, the tickling had spread, as the pent-up energy roiled through the appendage with no hope of release. Hand flailing and wrist flopping, Sai shook the arm vigorously to dispel the increasingly unpleasant build up.

Right arm still itching, her brow furrowed as she felt…expanded. Torc pulled away with not her corporeal self but the simmering essence she recognized as being her. The very most condensed unit her being could be compacted in to, where no single trait, desire, mood, or mentality dominated but all aspects were represented equally. This tampered material was the power behind all actions and moods generated within her person. Pulled away from her as it was, in thin sheets and spindly threads, it sang with all the robust emotion that Torc had coaxed out of the shadows. Something new grew around her, gradually forming a solid intertwining.

His hand came up, and she lifted her eyes to look at it hovering just in front of her forehead. Confident he wasn’t implanting parasitic life forms, or anything of the like, she remained curiously observant, more of a passive participant under his care until she understood his goal. He delved into her, working the malleable energy just as he did his iron, but she focused on his instruction. One shape and symbol. Immediately, a delicate and frail flower sprang to mind, the kind that brought pain to the observer because its beauty was as breathtaking as ephemeral. Her strength and guiding energy was still strong in her abdomen, railing for her to let it run down her arm and transfer her love to the outside world.

She felt centered, strong, capable. The guiding energy behind her actions was pure and untainted; the meld with Torc was not supportive so much as it formed a companionship in unadultered work and creation. She was just as capable as projected for everyone, but there was no hint of repressing the other aspects of her personality. Emotion and rationale existed side by side in chummy companionship. Warm affection for her sister ran down her right arm, focusing the energy that had previously left her twitching. Anything purely generated could be the focus, but the current choice was Aidara.

Sai turned as Torc did, but she went for the apron and the hammer. The ten pounds was unfamiliar and she wrapped her fingers around the handle in a death grip. It felt good in her hand, though. Solid, effective. The heft complemented the clear focus running down her arm, it could coax her vision out of the metal. She rolled the hammer around in her hand, feeling how the manipulations of her muscles affected the control. Her grip loosened as her arm acclimated to the tool. Then she slipped the apron on, tying it snugly.

Watching Torc work the glowing metal, sparks flying, she breathed in with every lift of his arm and concentrated her energy into the image of their creation. Sai was no novice when it came to intimate connections. This one held the vague elasticity of an empathetic bond but the two-way transmission of a telepathic bond. The longer she explored his warmth, the effect it had on her, and the effect she could have on him. It hadn’t occurred to her to vocalize her choice for their creation, now she simply brought it to the forefront of her mind, like transmitting it to Catabasis, who currently focused solely on her to the annoyance of the Eagle he was visiting, and applied the logistics of this new connection. The energy flowing between them took on the delicacy of the flower petals, the fibrous strength surprising for something so slender, the fire of the colors, blazing oranges and reds, deep purple, the unblemished canvas of the whites. The pain of ephemeral beauty. A creation that gave only a splash of color to the world yet was at the mercy and whim of anything larger or mobile. Yellow eyes scrutinized Torc as he worked while a more subtle sense felt around at his receptiveness to her experiment. More direct was the energy that flowed, smooth and accurate as the great Eagle’s attack, with certain exhalations and carried her symbol to imprint upon the metal.

If he got to a point at which her inexperienced hand would do no damage, and allowed her to give the metal a swipe or two, she’d step up to the anvil. His energy was confident and he’d already given her the instructions. Her energy was straight and focused, all the worry and distractions had been cleared from her mind. She struck from her core, the energy built until the rivulets down her arm were charged, and like the bronze was a fish skimming the surface, the hammer fell upon it with the grace…of someone that had never hammered a single object in their entire existence.

[Torc Ironwood]

Torc felt the urgings of the Endal in front of him. He felt the delicate shape and ethereal beauty that she exerted from her mind stamping itself between the two of them. Yet he felt it forced, like she was overpowering everything else. Her sense of focus was on the flower and its beauty and it rang in the metal as she hit the bar. Torc spoke, “It is beautiful, but in its beauty is peace. Ease your mind from forcing the flower to soak in. The flower grows because of the peace around it, not because we force it so.” Torc felt the energy around them began to swirl as they continued to hammer the bronze bar down into a flat disk. Torc allowed the heat around them to influence the flower, making it a small delicate desert flower. He allowed the stillness of the rock to make the stem small and delicate. The world found its center about them, Torc felt his strength go deep into the bracelet bringing with it the flower with it. The ringing of the metal echoed with a buzzing of energy, a soft music came to him, it spoke of the forest and the wild. The rain of sparks and clash of metal made it feel like Torc was traveling through the Wildlands. Torc began to speak almost as if in a trance. His voice was loud and clear over the metalwork that he did, and the emotion fell about him with each word. “Sifting sands as time goes by, Ribs of the wind as it meanders by. The arid loneliness that wrenches the heart, The fertile plains so far apart. Lowly carcasses are all that remain, Of the beauty that was once a plain. An illusion of water, The bright thirsting sky. The carrion of death hovering by, The thorny tree that makes you cry.” Torc remembered the pain of losing Sharn. He remembered the feeling that death was closing in on them as the crossed the sea. Pain, fear, and grief went through him. He had never really mourned the death of his friend and brother. He had been a gentle being on a quest that was meant to be soaked in blood. There had been times when dark thoughts had entered Torc’s mind. When he wondered why the illness had killed Sharn and not him. Why the Goddess had choose to end Sharn’s life instead of his. It had craved a hole through him, an emptiness where death had taken an innocent. How many nights had Torc wished that he could have protected Sharn? How many nights had he thought about all the horrible people in Zeltiva living, while Sharn was dead. Torc had gritted his teeth from the frustration. Where had been Tyveth? Wasn’t he the protector of all that was innocent and right? Torc felt so angry at the thought about Sharn, there had to be someone to protect those that couldn’t protect themselves, and that had to come from love of them. Torc felt the hammer strike the metal with a stamp of something more. The whisper of fate had come with that thought and had propelled Torc arm to bring it about. Torc felt that there was a hole in the universe, and that he was began to step on a path that would lead him to it. Who protected the young, the innocent, virgins to evil? Tyveth had justice and valor, but that pure protection came from love and duty. He had told the endal that the children of Wind Reach were his family, and now he knew they deserved a protector. “Raptures of uncertainty that that build a sand tower, Arise dear bud, hopes great single flower. Give me that desert flower that blooms in the heat of day and never decays. The soft brown sands, beautiful to the eye, Anthem of life that has gone by. Treacherous, unassuming, dead and dry, Sifting endlessly as time does fly. Call of the past with Kihala’s hand, Memorable times in each grain of sand. Out in the open in the brown dead hue, I dream of my time I spent with you.” Torc spoke of his meeting of Cheva. It had changed him in a way that nothing else could. He began to understand love. He had began to understand the most primal of feelings. He had loved Mola, and yet she had never loved him. It hurt the pain of rejection, and yet it didn’t weaken the love he had felt. Cheva didn’t curse people with love, she gave them the ability to love the persons behind the masks that everyone put up. He had loved Mola for her vitality and the way she pushed her limits. She had brought him the gift of joy and working outside rules and limits, and he had loved it. However, he realized that she had always had expectations of what he would do and how he should provide for her. She had wanted someone that she could move in line with her own needs, not share them with someone. Torc was waiting for that person that fitted perfectly with him, but now he knew the feeling of love, and Cheva filled every part of his being with it. She was so overwhelming that Torc still hadn’t regained his thoughts from the encounter. Yet that experience had filled him with hope and courage to carrying on, because he knew what love felt like, and he wanted to find it here in the world. “Wondrous and beautiful like a field after shower, The gift of life, my lonely desert flower. Perfumed and pretty and a symbol of life, Anthem of resilience through pain and strife. Beautiful and unscathed by the sun’s hard day, Amorous and inviting in every way. You gave to me my symbol of hope, The gift of happiness to help me cope. The beautiful flower on the arid plain, Full of vigour through life’s great pain. The oasis of life keeps you sublime, Unaged and pretty through the sands of time. You live inside the ring of eternity, One in happiness through life’s infinity. My desert flower, so beautiful and true, You fill my life with a colourful hue. Although, life’s sands are arid and grey, You are my hope through life’s sandy way. Oasis of life my creative giver, Thank you for life’s beautiful flower. The sands may shift in the passing of time, You live on forever in memory sublime. Desert flower of a colourful hue, You are one of the rarest few. Blooming beside the Oasis blue, With all my heart, I love you.” As Torc finished his words he realized that the bar had flattened into a elongated disk. How many times had he gone back to the forge as the words fell from his mouth? It was a question that he couldn’t remember, nor could he remember the shaping of it. He was covered in sweat and as he fired up the bronze, he put away the hammers that he had gotten out. He knew the connection had ended as the hammering was done, and he was sad for it. He had felt the woman through the whole thing, she had been connected to others, while Torc had spread his existence throughout the mountain. He wondered how his djed was changing, he knew being close to so many large releases of Djed was going to invoke a change. His own sight had shown him that his aura was becoming dense with Djed, and that its field was beginning to expand. Any mage had the same things happen to them, but somehow Torc had a feeling that fate had a different need of him? “Did you like the… experience? I felt you there as we worked. I felt you down to the bottom, and you need not fear.” Torc picked up a big heavy iron device from one of the jewelry makers tables in one arm. The thing must have weight a 100 pounds and yet he felt like it weight nothing more than a few iron bars. As he passed the Endal, he used his right hand to gently stroke her red hair, it was damp with sweat and yet he didn’t care. He poured himself into his eyes, he gave a look of approval, of love, of respect, and of honor. He brushed his hand down to her shoulder and said, “You do nice work.” Torc went over to the anvil and placed the large instrument down onto the anvil. Using metal fasteners he began tightening it down. In the center of the device was a large circular piece of iron that had been shaped like an hourglass. The center had been hollowed out and left with handle for people to hold it in place. Around the middle piece was a collar that had rounded edges that fit the hourglass center. Torc opened the large lever removing the center. The instrument was a press for metal, and relied on upward pressure to close the device. Torc and the Endal had hammered the bronze to a decent thickness so that it wouldn’t warp with hand pressure, but now as Torc looked into the forge he saw that outlines of hammer strokes began to smooth. He began pulling the piece of metal up from the forge before it melted. As he reached into the forge with a pair of tongs, the glowing yellow metal began to bend as he pulled it out. The bronze had almost looked like a piece of stiff cloth as he put in the press. Hissing sounds came from the fat that had been rubbed down in the press, quickly Torc placed the center piece in as he saw the metal edges losing the heat that had been infused in it. Torc body surged as he closed the press. His arms muscles bulged to their fullest, while his back flexed with a power that was close to crushing a man’s skull. The metal in the press began to squeal and hiss as it bent into a circle with a curved edge. The cold iron of the press began to cold the bronze rapidly making sure that the shape would be tempered. Torc had guessed at the Endal sisters wrist size, for the center was slightly bigger than the Endals. As the bronze began to turn a dull red Torc felt the press close and lock into place. With his stone like left hand Torc picked up the press and placed it into a bath of ice melt water. Steam began to rise as the heat was drained into the cold tub of water. He felt the hot steam billow about him as drops of water began to condense on his sweaty body. He felt streams of water fall down his muscles as he took the time to wash his hands and forearms from the ash on them. Torc waited several moment before opening the press under water and seeing the bronze bracelet clinging about the center. He pulled out the center and showed the Endal the bronze bracelet wrapped tightly against the center core. Torc walked back over to the forge and placed the center into the heat. As Torc waited for the bracelet to heat up he pulled out the iron press and explained to the Endal what he was doing. “Different metals warm up differently. Right now, the bronze is pressed tightly to the core. The heat will make the bronze flexible without breaking, while the iron stays fairly cool.” Torc dried the press near a forge and went over to a jewelers table to grab some fat and grease. “I will be able to peel off the bracelet with tongs and then quench it in water to return its shape.” As Torc waited for the bracelet he rubbed down the press with the slightly rancid fat and grease, thankfully no one would be eating off the press, and the fat would make it easier for the next metal to come off. Looking up at the core Torc saw that the bronze had enlarged itself around the iron core. Torc went over to the core and picked up the heated metal with his left hand. Normally a smith would have used gloves, but Torc had long ago learned how much heat his hand could take. Torc pulled a delicate pair of tongs out from pile and began to pull the bracelet from the core. At first it only rotated about the core, but once Torc pulled the tongue of the tong under the lip of the bracelet and wedged it over the core’s side the bracelet nearly popped out. Torc picked up the bracelet and walked back over to the water tub. Dropping the bracelet into the tub, Torc put his hand in it quickly afterwards. He felt the hot bracelet with one of his hand and began picked it up. The heat was dying quickly away under the freezing water, and the difference of heat made Torc grimace in pain as he cupped the bracelet pushing the sides back into its original shape. Torc pulled bracelet out and showed the Endal the almost finished product. He then moved over to the jewelers bench. Torc began applying a paste about the bracelet. He gave generous portion all over the bracelet and then picked up a small knife and began to scrape off some of paste. He was artful in the use of the knife, scraping away the paste that surrounded a wild flower, Torc felt the energies that they had instilled in to bracelet help with his artwork. Torc looked over the bracelet, seeing the paste dry and the flower pattern he had scraped out on the outside of it. The paste had began to flake by the time he was done carving the intricate pattern into it. He placed the bracelet into a acid bath, instead of small bubbles coming up to the surface, the paste left a blue runny trail as the acid began to pit and tarnish the bronze. Torc grabbed some glass rods and fished the bracelet out of the bath. Hissing metal with small trails of smoke came from the bracelet as he went over to the water bath to dilute the bracelet. Gently he lowered the smoking bracelet into the bath. The blue paste began to dislodge showing that the bronze had been protected by it, while the tarnished and pitted metal showed the flower design. Torc took a wire brush and began to scrub the bracelet. Finally he placed the bracelet into a polishing acid bath and repeated the process of a water bath once again. With his work finished Torc held up the bracelet and asked the Endal, “Well do you think your sister will like our work?”