Tralistaire smiles as Anora takes his hand, and bobs down in a bow to return her curtsey, likewise angling himself to include Shard.  Shard's question, though, recieves a blink, his tail twitching.  "Er," he says, with a glance over at Calisaren.  Looking back at Shard, he says, "We'd already begun.  I was lecturing.  Could you not tell?"  He reaches up, scratching absently at his crest.  "That's odd, usually I hear I do it too much.  But no, no, you're quite right, ours is a hands-on Discipline.  Tell me, then, with which of the five do you think you'd prefer to begin?"

Flechette actually smiles, turning briefly to look back, gesturing towards Ariadne.  But she quickly sees that nobody else is particularly paying attention to their corner at the moment, and, with a small shrug, turns back.  "I knew there was something about you.  Too many who follow my Discipline feel helpless without an actual sword in their hands.  I'll grant you - Swordmaster; it's in the Name.  But we're truly weapon masters.  And everything can be a weapon.  Axes and flails, clearly.  Sticks and stones, of course.  Elbows and feet, when needed."  She grins, and gives a small shake of her head, tossing her hair back.  "Words and smiles, the way we walk and the way we breathe.  A properly trained Swordmaster is never unarmed."

"But all the same - the first thing we need to do is get you a weapon of your own.  Your parents going to be a problem with that?"

Kira stops in the street, looking Peck in the eyes, and pauses a moment to consider her answer.  "Yes, and no, and it is too important to leave at either.  Yes; there is magic in what I do.  There's no getting around that.  Much as your father stands on the shoulders of his master, who stands on the shoulders of his - I am part of a weaving of Weaponmasters through time, all learning from each other's mistakes, sharing tricks and techniques and tales, and it is more than memory.  When I swing my hammer, a thousand who came before me, and a thousand who stand beside me, are there."

"But, a shortcut?  The easy path?  Can I wave my hands over a blade, mumble a bit, and hand it back sharp enough to slay a Dragon?  No.  Can I teach you to bend all twenty two thousand rings for a chain shirt in a day?"  She just snorts.  "Our magic is accepting iron into our hearts.  And I can't teach you that - either you will, or you won't, and ultimately, that is up to neither me nor your father."

Anora noted how different it felt to shake this hand compared to what few she had shook before.  Not many had ever offered her a hand, except the back of it.  Indeed, not many had ever offered her much of anything beyond either pointed dismissal or an indifferent shove to get her out of the way.

The differently coloured eyes wandered between Tralistaire and Shard as she chewed down lightly on her lip.  The question surely was aimed at Shard, she believed, and so she held her tongue.

Her attention briefly flittered around the room, her mind wondering what was being said, but soon they both returned to the two near her.  She was indeed in the midst of something that would be talked about for years.  It humbled her and sent a shiver through her even as her cheeks flushed under the dirt.

In reply to Tralistaire Ten-Tails (msg # 71):

Shard nods and rubs his beard thinking, "So, you are going to teach me the ways of the fire, water, air, earth and wood known as Elementalism and Anora illusion both at the same time?"  The dwarf had his doubts but he did want to learn this new magic, for he had heard the stories but he also knew that trying to work two projects at once would mean it would take longer for them both to learn.

He heaves a sigh and nods, "Very well.  I figured you were teaching with words, but I'm a more hands on learner."  Holding up his callused hands, "I'm sure you've figured that out though."

"I am listening, please continue.  I will be as the stone, patient and enduring.  Not like water, quick to evaporate and diminish under duress."

In reply to Flechette (msg # 72):

"Not as long as I don't use it at the dinner table...
Or was it inside the house? I'm getting confused now... In either case; as long as I know when and where my parents will accept it...
Well as long as I don't get too much dirty laundry out of it. Mother is already complaining I only have two dresses without patches on them now. No need to start a fight I can't possibly win."

Oplurik climbed out as well. S/he didn't bother shaking, the water sliding easily off her scales. But s/he had never seen someone not T'skrang look so good immediately after getting out of the water. S/he did take a moment for a long, maybe even admiring, second look at the elf upon noticing this.

But his words broke her from whatever thoughts were running through her head. "Yes! Squirrels!" She started again at a jog, following the fence around the horse pasture, but broke into a faster splint as she came close to a gnarled old oak tree, leaping up to catch one of the lowest of the branches. It was high for a first branch, but was up that high, the rest was relatively easy. She pulled herself up another level, her tail gently wrapping around part of the trunk for balance. She didn't have any extra food at the moment, but she had fed the squirrels that lived in the upper branches enough times that she hoped that they would still come to her, as they often did when she brought some snacks for them. She pointed up for Llewendan, "There's two nests of squirrels up in the tree."

"I see what you mean about the boots.  Too recognisable.  Money is more anonymous.  Harder for a person to prove that it used to be his because it all looks the same."

As for the rest... "I want to learn.  When can we start?" Yona answers, almost too eagerly, then tempers her enthusiasm, "That is, I want to learn, but even if I can't learn to fix the gap completely, that's no excuse for not trying, is it?  And I might still be able to make it smaller."

She watches as the boots disappear from sight, "It's like my dad says - you should always try to patch a hole in the roof, because even if you only stop some of the rain getting in, that's a bit less to mop up off the floor.  And at least it's better now than what it was when it was worse than what it is."  Somehow, now that she says it aloud, it sounds a lot less wise...

Peck's feet fail him, and he is glad enough when Kira stops, though scarcely aware of aught but her words.

Magic ... dread and longing war within him.

"I am indeed glad that I had no inkling before I spoke with my father," he blurts out, brutally honest.

His lips tighten and his head dips abruptly in a nod of acquiescence. "Though if I'd dared admit it to myself, as much would have been apparent ..."

... a moment more.  "Aye." that acceptance a strange mixture of resignation and eagerness. "The need drives me.  I'll not say damn the consequences, but truth be told, I'd risk much to gain even that little you have been able to show me ... that I have been able to see."

His feet suddenly work again.  "Though I'm glad you'll be there when father sees ... better you be there on hand to explain it than my feeble explanations !"

Tralistaire grins.  "Funny thing about water," he muses, looking at Anora.  "Even when it disappears, it doesn't really go away."  Turning back to Shard, he ducks his head briefly.  "You know that, of course, and I'm only teasing.  Hands on, then, and," he nods again to Anora, "Then again, hands off.  It's an approach I think I can manage."

He takes a deep breath, and gives his head a quick shake.  Then he takes a handful of pebbles out of a pouch, and holds them flat on his palm.  "These.  Rocks, yes.  Dust in an enemy's eyes, perhaps; grit in a clock's works.  Or, alternately, the filler in a stone wall, shouldering the weight of stones far larger than themselves.  A pebble, it is said, can change the course of a raging river... and there is truth to that saying, but it's a subtle one."

"In the hands of an Illusionist, they are most commonly used for this."  He turns his other hand up, and reveals a glowing sphere of... light.  He closes his fist for a moment, and simply has a closed hand inside the sphere.  Then he opens his hand, and rops one of the pebbles into it.  He then tosses it up, and the light bobs up with it.  When he catches it, closing his hand around it, and this time, the light vanishes, save for what peeks out from between his fingers.

"In the hands of an Elementalist..."  He lifts his other hand, then, and suddenly flicks it towards the wall.  The remaining pebbles fling out, but rather than scattering, they cling together, almost immediately taking on a dart-like shape, and then changing from simple stone to quartz-like rock.  Three crystalline darts peg into the wall with a single thud... and then, a moment later, vanish, a handful of pebbles clattering to the floor.  "They are a trademark weapon.  Indeed," he grins at Anora, "One need hardly be an Elementalist to make use of them - a wizardly seeming sort, knowingly hefting a handful of dirt, will often back away simple threats.  Although," he allows, "Probably not here, as it seems even these well known magics are no longer expected."  Returning his attention to Shard, he continues, "It's a simple transformation - Earth to Earth - and momentary, as you see, but a true change."

Flechette laughs.  "Oh, a dress torn in the right places can be a weapon, too," she says, promptly.  "Now then," she turns and starts towards the doorway, "I suppose our own Peck's forge would be the place to go?  If you'll lead the way, perhaps we can make Kira's day a bit easier, too.  Or more difficult.  I haven't decided yet."

Opluriko bounds up and hauls herself into the tree, making it look suitably casual, and manages to shake the tree little enough that only a pair of birds flutter off.  Llewendan nods when she points.  "I see one," he confirms, but waits on the ground, head tilted back, looking up.

Opluriko stills herself, and waits, hoping the squirrels will remember her from times past.  Llewendan, too, goes quiet.  Moments turn into minutes, but then she feels... something.  One of the squirrels comes around the trunk, having climbed down to almost eye-level with her on the other side, but she's not startled.  As she looks into its eyes, it climbs forward, and then onto the branch she's holding onto, tilting its head  curiously.

Jeanette blinks, her eyes shifting several times as she sorts that out.  "Um, right, that's... oh!  Right, exactly," she confirms, as the grammar sorts itself out.  "And for a Thief.. wanting is a very good beginning already."

"I just got here.  Where would you start?"

Kira shrugs, picking up her pace to keep up with Peck.  "I don't know that it'll look so different, really, and I hope you'll forgive me if I don't immediately offer all of that up for your father's ears... but I'll answer honestly any questions he asks," she promises.  She grins, then, and claps Peck on the shoulder.  "And I'm glad you'll not say that.  Consequences should be weighed.  If you cast them aside this soon, I'd be very much afraid the risks weren't fair to ask of you - but so long as you keep your judgment, I'm glad to trust in it."

In reply to Flechette (msg # 81):

"If she's with Peck her day can't get any more difficult...
But then I'd certainly be willing to try.

Oh... If we're going that way can we stop by Mort the leatherworker?
Father told me to look for a new whip and some leather straps."

In reply to Tralistaire Ten-Tails (msg # 80):

Shard watching, was in awe of the magic.  Frowning he studied the T'skrang intently, "But how did you summon the ... magic to make the rock into the dart?  I've picked up dirt and rocks and thrown them before but never had that happen."

Scooping up a bit of dirt and pebbles he holds him in his hand, "How do you gather the magic to focus it into what you will, and isn't the taint of the scourge something to be feared?  I've heard stories that were the horrors walk, the taint is left upon the land much like a snail and the trail it leaves behind."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:30, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

Opluriko was a bit surprised that Llewendan didn't join her in the tree, but didn't protest his decision. S/he then focused on the squirrel. After all, that is why they had come here. S/he could be a patient waiter, if s/he saw the point in waiting, and so let her breathing calm from the run and swim.

When one came, a grin spread across her lips. As their eyes meet, s/he feels... somehow a deeper connection than s/he has ever felt with a squirrel before. S/he couldn't have described it in words, but words were often so inaccurate, imprecise... "Llewendan?" s/he asked quietly, though her eyes still met the squirrel's.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 14:02, Sat 11 Jan 2014.

The blacksmith's son slows to allow Kira to catch up with him, though her words have no trouble reaching his ears.  Self-consciously he adjusts his pace to match her stride, the action made more awkward as he analyses her response and almost trips himself up.

The hand on his shoulder finally convinces him that the Half-Orc finds some merit in his response, and he nods his head, chin bobbing up and down.  Though he has promised to weigh an decision, still he feels he has committed to something ... and that is both thrilling and terrifying.

"I guess Marden taught me that much," Peck ventures, wanting Kira to know that he respects his father - both the smith's skill, however mundane its origins, and the man himself.

Yona thinks for a few heartbeats, licking her lips as ideas chase each other through her mind.  Then, "I'd follow him to see where he's going.  I know where he lives, but if I know where he's going then I know how long it's likely to be before he gets home.  If he's going to see the mayor they'll talk for a long time - they always do."

"Truth be told, the mayor doesn't get a chance to say much - I've seen them together in the market.  Oh, and he talks a lot to other dwarves too."

A nervous smile follows, and the girl licks her lips again.

"After that I'd maybe take the long way home.  Just because it's a nice day and my leg isn't hurting too much, and because if I do that then I can make sure I pass his house on the way.  Maybe stop for a rest nearby.  There's a good place for sitting in the sun."

At the mention of water Anora feels a bit of confusion setting in.  Why did he look at her?  Was it just a glance or was it something more?  The fact that she tends to try to stay from sight, if possible?  Self-awareness sent a slight blush to her cheeks.

Then the slight blush grew deeper as the hands on-off comment was made, and two thoughts fought in her mind.  The idea of someone, anyone, touching her and the notion that he would not want to do it, hence the comment.

At the same time she knew she was being silly and over-thinking and overreacting - how often has she not been told that - and yet, that poor lone logical notions was swept away without mercy by the torrent of the other two emotions as they fought each other for domination.

So occupied is she with her internal struggle that she barely register the demonstration beyond a deep sense of awe.  Surely they cannot expect her, a no one of nobody, to ever do something similar.

Painfully aware of her flustered face she bends her head forward to, in her own clumsy way, use her hair to provide an illusionary shield for her blush, although blushing usually makes her blush deeper still, as it betrays her insecurity so blatantly.

Flechette barks a laugh at Ariadne's comment.  "Sounds like a challenge," she replies, with a grin.  "But sure, let's get you a whip.  I don't suppose I really have anywhere better to be.  Lead on."

"Mm-hm?" Llewendan replies, quietly.  "I think it likes you."  His voice is soft, quiet without having to be a whisper.  "You feed them sometimes?" he guesses.

The squirrel doesn't come closer, but still doesn't run away, watching Opluriko curiously.

Kira and Peck reach the Forge, and find Marden, unsurprisingly, at work.  He glances up as they approach, but doesn't pause in his hammering, the steady clang ringing out in a regular, comforting rhythm.  After a couple of minutes, he stops and sets the piece aside -- Peck recognizes it, one of a dozen pieces being shaped to reenforce the fencing along the T'skrang ranch.

"Ah, Peck," he calls over, stepping out.  "Glad you could make it today."  He gives Peck a mildly stern look, clearly having hoped the boy would be back a bit earlier after yesterday's shenanigans, but his eyes shift quickly to Kira, and, after a quick wipe on his apron, he offers a hand politely.  "And you must be Kira.  The boy told me he'd be asking you by.  Hear tell you could teach me a thing or two about Smithing?"  His tone stays firmly polite, but there's an unmistakable steel in his eyes when he looks at her.

Kira, though, just smiles back and takes the hand, giving him a firm shake.  "Aye," she agrees, "And you, me.  Been Smithing fifteen years, and I've never seen a cold forged twist as neat as you just put on that post.  If it's not a family secret, maybe you could show me how it's done and we can help get the rest of those matching?" she asks.

Jenette lifts an eyebrow, tilting her head.  "You think about this sort of thing a lot?" she asks, curiously.  "That's... an almost disturbingly good start for a first try.  Most I've known - including me - jump straight to thinking about how to get in and where to get the good stuff."  She grins.  "If I could take us back a step, though, your friend Peck was giving us a bit of a worried look on his way out... like he thinks I'm taking you down the wrong path.  And that," she shrugs, "Got me thinking, I guess.  A lot of Thieves work alone.  Think alone.  Call themselves `Solitaries'.  It's actually a pretty popular view in our line of work."  She pauses a moment, eyes narrowing briefly.  "Maybe ironically so," she laughs.

"But I've always found them a little bit creepy, to be honest.  There's nothing about my philosophy that says I can't have friends, too.  But let's say we did this - crept into the windbag's home and made off with some coin he has to spare, passed some of it on to some people who could use it and kept a share because, well, if they could afford to pay us for our services, we'd have passed it on to someone else.  What do you suppose your friends'll think about it?  And, good or bad, how do you feel about that?"

Anora ducks her head down, letting a cascading curtain of hair cover her face as she sorts through a torrent of thoughts and feelings.  Then Tralistaire reaches over, with one finger, and brushes the hair lightly aside, tucking it gently back behind an ear.  She finds that he has leaned forward slightly, looking into her eyes.  "Some disguises reveal more than they hide," he says, softly.  "And the one thing we may never hide from, is ourselves."

He shifts back a little bit, withdrawing from her personal space, and tosses a hand lightly.  "I have other pithy sayings, of course, but those two seemed the most applicable at the moment."