[Iceglaze Hold] Finding Work

[Rhuryc]

1st Spring, 511AV There was nothing impressive about this building. The Iceglaze. It was simple, built for efficiency. No rustle or grandiose entranceway. Rhuryc liked it. For all of the pomp and circumstance that artisans associated with their work it was the easy work that set them apart. The plain, every day crafts that were in no way noticed by the populace. They were just necessary. Perhaps that was what drew him here. That and the promise of work. His funding was not unlimited, and being inactive was a fate worse then most Rhuryc could fathom. From what he knew of the Vantha they were not known for their smiths, the short, slender people inclined to the softer trades of weaving and more dexterous arts. Perhaps his experience would give an edge. One did not spend years in the Syliras Ironworks without picking up a great deal of work. And besides, someone was bound to need furniture. Nails? If anything he could take up job as an apprentice. If he knew anything it was how to cater to better masters. He stepped inside. The "lobby", or what suited for one, was familiar. The sounds of tinkering filled his ears, the clanging of hammers and grind of saws a pleasant rhythm with its own tune. His boots clunked along as he continued on, his gaze sweeping about the various spaces and workshops as they came about. The looks that came with his visit were plentiful. Such a stranger. Not only did he stand far above the tallest man but his attire, and even his hair, were foreign, peculiar. Unknown. Fortunately such things did not bother Rhuryc. He offered polite nods to those that looked and kept his tongue at the low whisperings. His path was steady. Meandering through the various stations he was drawn to the tink of metal, the heat of the forge. Far off from the more common crafts the man found what he sought. It was small. Homely. The need for blacksmiths was light in such a hold, but the lone smith whom worked the kiln appeared busy enough. Stacks of potential projects lined shelf upon shelf, directions and stray metals, tools, bolts, nails, the organized mess every blacksmith found themselves forced into. Rhuryc smiled. His presence was ignore for a time, the master engaged as he was in a simple manner. Mending. Some kind of frame it looked, maybe for a couch, a bed even. Not many found that sort of work appealing. "Excuse me." The man spoke between hammerfalls, his voice able to somehow cut through the stray noise of the shops. Neat trick, that. The muscled, thick Vani at the forge responded in kind. His hammer was gently laid aside. In a thorough, crisp fashion, the elder dark haired northerner turned his attention aside. He was a smith through and through. Thick, burly brows kept to a face lined with concentration, at least from what could be seen behind the burly, well fed badger that attached itself to his chin. He took his time. Sharp, beady eyes did as they willed, examining the new comer like any other project. Weighed. Measured. The two exchanged a surveying glance of the other. While the unknown workman examined the Syliran, the foreigner returned the favor with observations of his own. Neither spoke for several chimes. Finally, it was the Vantha that spoke. "Hm?" The question was oddly appropriate. "Looking for work. Sylirian Smith, from Ironworks. Vani is dull, please forgive." Rhuryc spoke through his heavily accented baritone. When was the last time he had practiced those words? On the way over he had gone through the phrases he would need, now all he had to hope for was that he wasn't asking to take the man's daughter. Or something. "Ah. I speak Common, boy." The smith nodded in approval, his own accent light, but his Common was far superior to Rhuryc's Vani. What a relief. He could have kissed the man. Not that he would, but the willingness was there. "I know of the Ironworks. And I need help." His voice was gruff, used, but hard like iron. Rhruyc felt as if he was speaking to some strange metal given form as a living creature. "That was easy. You don't need me to demonstrate my skill at all?" Rhuryc spoke as he stepped down into the smithy. He removed his coat and discarded it alongside what appeared to be the Smith's own covering. His sword came next. There was not much need to carry the damn thing in such a place. "That will show itself. Either you work well or you don't have a job. There are plenty of spare anvils. Orders are on the shelves. Get started." Brief. Blunt. The smith returned to his word. It felt nice to be at home.

[Rhuryc]

Tink. Click Click. Tink. Click Click. Tink. Click. Clatter. Nothing unusual. Rhuryc raised his hammer and brought it down again in his rhythmic melody, strike, set, turn, hit, remove. Repeat. This frame was complex. Easy, but complex. The edges were smooth to start. Maneuver his way about the anvil he finished beating the base into its right place, the still orange-red exterior alight and sparking with the impacts. Welding was a simple process. Placing the metal aside, he reached down and retrieved a handful of flux that he cast over the malleable iron. The hammer came again and he beat the grainy sand out of the substance, mounding the metal in the center to create the proper connections for the second piece. He released his hold on the first section and used his faithful tongs to retrieve the addition from the kiln. Perfect. Bringing it around Rhuryc aligned both sides and set one against the other, pressing them firmly at the base with a keen hiss. A few taps on either end completed the form and he released the product, satisfied for the moment. How long had he been at it? Rhuryc stepped back. He surveyed the various projects that were set aside to cool, some by air - those of which were a great more difficult to keep track of. The world was colder this far north. So far as he had figured he needed to keep the smaller items closer to the fire where it was warmer, let them cool slowly before he could move them away, otherwise the metal would warp far to fast to be saved. His first hour of work had been voided by that dilemma. His new "master" had not deemed to inform him, albeit the man was most likely unaware of the issue. No matter, Rhuryc learned most of the entire trade by his lonesome. A simple matter such as warped metal did not take long to rectify. Still, there was a great deal more work to be had. From what he could tell this Vantha was one of the few blacksmiths Avanthal had. Or needed. Despite the onset of work the other craftsmen were far more important, more important, once more leaving the common artisan left without much credit. "Running on flux." He said in Vani, his gaze sweeping aside to the smithy's owner. How old was the man? They had worked an equal share, but somehow Rhruyc felt far more tired the master looked. Maybe it was the beard. Or he just hid it better. In any case there was cause to be jealous. "Is there a supply?" "Your Vani is like a broken hammer. Works, but is shameful for any smith to own." The man spoke with a slight glint in his eye. From what Rhuryc could tell that meant he was making a joke. Or attempting humor. Or something. He was not altogether sure what exactly. "Supply comes in every fifteen days. This is the fourteen." Rhuryc nodded. There interactions were short. Pointed. There was no wasted banter with this man, nothing frivolous. On occasion he would spare a joke, but the work was what mattered. You did what you were supposed to do. Then when that was done you did more. So far the man was pleased with the situation. For once luck played out in his fashion. Now, if only the rest of the day could get off without a hitch. If only.

[Cheshire]

. Character: Rhuryc Experience: Blacksmithing +1 Lore: Broken Conversation Additional Note: Congrats! You are now a blacksmith for Iceglaze hold. You make 9 GM a day. Notify me if you reach Expert and we will increase your wages. This job will be added into your SS thread. PM me with concerns.