Closed Running Hot

[Eadon]

Of all of the different seasons in Mizahar, Eadon found that Summer was one of the hardest to get through intact. Since he had been relegated down to the Dek caste, he had been assigned to what was possibly one of the most menial jobs that Wind Reach could offer. It was also quite likely the one with the greatest possibility of giving you heatstroke, especially during the hotter months. Gritting his teeth, Eadon struggled to keep from falling over from the weight of the heavy bucket of coal he was carrying, while still moving at more than a snails pace.

Maintaining the heat in the various forges kept him on his feet; running, dodging and weaving out of the way of the various artisans, apprentices and mastersmiths from before the sun rose til' long after it had set every day. Really though, it was as much an art of staying hidden and out of the way, as it was one of keeping the forges running. The forges needed to be maintained, but that was made doubly difficult when every lowly apprentice or visiting Endal tried to order you away from the task you had been set on some minor errand. No excuses would keep you from punishment, if a forge went cold.

Running coal and water and making sure that the various Avora had all of the tools they needed to complete their tasks was a full time job in and of itself. Trying to keep on top of the soot, ash and metal scraps that invariably found their way onto every conceivable surface was even more brutal and thankless. Especially when you barely weigh a hundred pounds and all that skin and bone, Eadon thought bemusedly to himself, sweat dripping down from his soot streaked hair and into his eyes. Normally he would have wiped it away, but with his hands full of coal it was rather difficult.

Despite his harsh life there, the Arms Gallery itself that housed the forges was coldly beautiful in its own way. Everything had a sense of purpose, a reason for being. Eadon liked it. He especially loved the swords, and watching the work of the various artisans. Not that he got a chance to, very often. If he had a moment to stop and look, it almost always meant he was letting some important task go, and would be punished for it shortly.

"On that note," Eadon muttered to himself, picking up his pace, arms straining to keep from dropping his bucket, "I am going to be in for it if the mastersmith finds me dawdling, when he asked for more coal a whole fifteen chimes ago."

It had not been his fault really, that he had taken so long running and getting the bucket of coal for Mastersmith Avik. An apprentice had ordered him to the other side of the Weapons Gallery in search of a lost file, which had taken him nearly ten of those fifteen chimes to find and return to its owner. The apprentice, a full three years younger than Eadon himself, had left it on a workbench and been too lazy to go and get it, instead choosing to order the nearest Dek to go and play fetch.

Eadon had sighed, refrained from telling the apprentice just what he thought of the idiotic request, and proceeded to do it without question, as was his lot in life. I really need to practice blending into walls more, he thought to himself, finally arriving back at the forge with the bucket of coal he had been sent for, if that apprentice had never seen me, then I wouldn't have been late bringing Mastersmith Avik his coal.

Shrinking away to the side, Eadon attempted to sneak past and empty his bucket into the forge without attracting the Avora's attention. It was likely a wasted effort, but getting yelled at would just put him even further behind for the day.

OOC :

Timestamp: 24th day of Summer, 513.
Location: The Arms Gallery

[Harrier]

oocI'd choose another name besides Avik btw Avik is actually a Dek, though I'm sure the name's are commin.

Where is that blasted boy... The smith was grumbling, glancing up from his sharpening to search the faces of the other dozen or so dek who worked the forges. None of them were Eadon, though as none of them held any coal. They were too busy doing other things.

When at last the kid appeared, Avik straightened up, letting the whetstone grind to a halt simply by letting off the handle. He approached the boy and yanked the bucket out of his hands once it had been emptied. "Fifteen chimes ago is when I needed that coal, Dek." He growled. "Now the fires are too cool. It'll be a bell at least before they're hot enough again to work with." His anger and disappointment were apparent and it was with supreme effort that the man did not strike the drudge. "It's no wonder you're a Dek, boy. You can't even keep up with simple tasks. My apprentices have more stamina than you!" He then proceeded to aim a good kick to the young mans backside in order to either knock him away, or knock him down.

"I don't want to see you over here until you've finished cleaned Durtha." His tone remained savage as he turned away to wait for the fires to reach optimum temperature, calling over a different Dek to continue hauling coal for him. As for Durtha, well, that was a notorious piece of shyke. The sixth and least lucky forge to work in, Durtha was renowned for its consumption of coal and difficulty in cleaning. Not only did the upper caste members hate using it, but the Dek typically feared it. On more than one occasion, a drudge had become trapped inside the oven and had roasted to death when the fires in it were restarted. How nobody knew there was an individual trapped inside, none have yet determined. Some believe the forge is haunted, others that it is a more physical problem such as faulty doors and vents. Either way, it is an oven Dek do not particularly enjoy working.

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[Eadon]

It was through an extreme exertion of willpower that Eadon managed to avoid yelping like a startled puppy when Avik appeared and forcibly yanked the bucket of coal from his hands. The mastersmith was terrifying when he wanted to be, and the ease with which he hoisted the bucket that had caused the young Dek such trouble was rather humiliating. I really am useless, Eadon thought to himself, his arms and body already sore from todays work, there really is nothing I can do. They were right to make me into a Dek.

The worst part of it was, when he messed up too badly he would often find himself going without for meals, making the work even harder the next day. Carting around buckets of coal and keeping the forges in working order was hard enough on a full stomach, let alone when he could hardly concentrate from lack of food. Malnutrition was probably one of the main reasons he was so tiny, after all. The blonde headed Dek had some vague muscle tone, sure - but it was all lean and lithe. Barely noticeable. When you worked every day like Eadon did, your body slowly developed to cope with the physical strain, but without proper food and sustenance it was something of a struggle.

"I'm s-sorry, mastersmith Avik," Eadon stutered out, voice barely audible over the noise of the various Avora and their apprentices at work, not to mention the dull murmer of a dozen conversations and clanging hammers doing their very best to drown out his voice.

Too tired, and body too battered, bruised and sore to even try and dodge the kick that the mastersmith had aimed at him, Eadon went down like a sack of bricks. He was used to falling though, and managed to grit his teeth through the pain, and turn the fall into a roll, springing back onto his feet with a small grimace. He did not want to know what kind of punishment lying around on the floor would earn him, especially after this latest failure of his.

Eadon had to fight back the resentment building in him. It was not his fault that he had been accosted by an apprentice, demanding him to complete yet another pointless task. It was not his fault that he did not get enough food to allow his body to keep up with the work, and have the stamina to get through a whole day without making more mistakes. But he could never say such things. To do so would just earn him more work and more abuse.

Eyes glazed over from barely concealed pain, Eadon headed over towards the giant old forge - Durtha as it was not so affectionately known. It had been the death of many a Dek, and cleaning it out was a job not taken on lightly. Eadon would be here shoveling out ash and soot until the early hours of the morning, and that if he were lucky.

Grabbing a nearby shovel, Eadon turned to the deceptively quiet forge, climbing through the narrow entry and into its soot filled interior, resisting the urge to sneeze from the soot that assaulted his eyes and nose and set to work.

"I really need to get better at avoiding those good for nothing apprentices," Eadon seethed to himself through grit teeth, sending a shovel full of soot into a waiting wheelbarrow, "if I had, then I would never have had to do this."

[Harrier]

The interior of Durtha was filthy, as usual. For as often as it was cleaned, it sure didn't look like that. Due to its bloody history, some even believed the oven was haunted and if you sat really still inside it, you might agree for the sound of the neighboring bellows did sound a bit like ghostly wails.

Ironically, so did the thrumming murmur of Durtha's bellows. Whenever he dumped his shovel, he would hear the low groan of the forges pumps, as if someone was trying to get them running. Though no fires or burning coals were obvious, the smith and glass ovens were always dangerous to be in. You never knew if there were still active coals in them that simply needed a little stoking; it was enough of an insight to make all who worked in them wary.

And the low groaning of the notoriously lethal Durtha should have set even Eadon on edge if not sent him running. As he went to scoop another load of coal into the bin outside the oven, the rumble intensified before, on the other side, a spark appeared. Oh no!

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