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Posted: Thu Jun 04, 2015 7:12 pm
Painted Moose I hope this works for an opener! ovo It had been some time, now, since Shalvesta set out North from Oba on her journey towards Zena - a journey that had instead headed west, quite by accident. Following an awkward conversation with an Alkidike woman, the lost Oban had realized that all this while she'd been heading in quite the opposite direction - and so was quite chuffed that after weeks camping through a humid jungle, she had only just reached the eastern segments of Jauhar - Shifter territory.
It was early morning when she finally found a Shifter town, attracted by the sounds of life and promise of some sort of civilization. Dragging a hand across her sweat-damp brow, Shalvesta squinted uncertainly at the Shifter homes - the nests made up, high, in the trees, with the occasional establishment at the tree bases where travelers stayed. In the time following the war, more of her kind had crept back north, not to conquer this time but to explore. She couldn't say they were very welcome - and so it came as no surprise that they were sequestered in small shacks built at the fringes of the Shifter settlements, in damp, sunken buildings that slumped against the trees, too moist from the humidity to stay erect for very long.
Building here, in this strange environment, was still a work in progress. It was true Obans had established settlements in the forest before, back when it stretched further south, but there the forest's mugginess contrasted against the dry rasp of the impending desert, and this moist problem had never been such an issue! Wrinkling her nose at the sorry buildings, Shalvesta longed for a bath - far too sore and raw from where sweaty skin rubbed and chafed against her clothes. Dragging her pack from her shoulder, Shalvesta paused by the base of a tree, where a few Shifters had set up tarps and trading blankets, belly rumbling at the promise of fresh food. After buying a handfull of strange fruit (which she assumed was edible), she continued to stroll around the displays, peering in interest, one hand lazily leaning against the handle of her sword, more out of habit than any real threat.
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Posted: Thu Jun 04, 2015 7:35 pm
Scarlett Arbuckle It's awesome! You didn't have to start up both. x3 I was going to work on it tomorrow, lol, but thank you! Been busy with a 16 month old. There wasn't a day that went by that Dris'rynne wasn't making multiple trips from the forge to the familial nest. Her limber hands were calloused, but that only seemed to aid her in the battles carrying goods up to her sisters. Some days they seemed to want no assistance from her whatsoever, but then the inevitable whine would come about. This would, of course, be followed by a litany of requests that ended in Dris stopping whatever work she had for the day to tend to their needs. Most days they thankfully were down near the forge themselves, but today...today her sisters were staying in.
Her empty socket ached on this particularly humid day (that truly wasn't unlike any other). She supposed she would have to see the healer before the day was out to avoid infection. Dris'rynne had long since had the skin fused to close the hole, but it seemed a continual nuisance despite the obvious lack of vision. In truth, she had little time to worry about it when duties at home called her to act. Assist her grandfather, cater to her sisters, run errands for her parents...it was enough to drive her mad some days.
She nimbly curled her toes around low hanging branches so as to get better balance for moving from one tree to the next. Near a group of merchants Dris'rynne descended. Her lone eye searched for the snacks the little beasties had requested, but instead it found something different. Much different. Narrowing her gaze critically, the poised shifter took in the sight of an Oban in their midst. Although she had never truly come across on herself, Dris'rynne had heard all the stories. It was enough to put her on edge.
At least this one didn't look terribly aggressive. She looked a little worse for wear, honestly. Moving closer to the stall the female had vacated, Dris'rynne searched for a few specifc pieces of fruit. "Sorry miss, all sold out. That lady there bought the last ones."
Dris'rynne gritted her teeth and looked to the Oban. It couldn't be helped; she was going to have to talk to her. "Excuse me! You there, Oban!"
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Posted: Sat Jun 06, 2015 2:31 pm
Painted Moose Hahaha yeah I bet!!~ NP sorry I've been slow e=e How these people could so easily clamber around the trees Shalvesta couldn't understand. Some dropped fearlessly from heights that would make Shalvesta wince. The Oban had taught herself not to watch in morbid fascination when they clambered up vine-made ladders like it was easy. Taking a breath, Shalvesta turned from one stall and moved to the next, eyes narrowing in contemplation at the weapons she was seeing here on display. In Oba, they had whole buildings dedicated to their clay furnaces, whole teams for their craftsmanship. Here, she didn't understand how blades were even fashioned among the trees, with so little dry wood to burn. And yet here they were, glittering in what sunlight pressed insistently through the branches above, sharp and keen.
Shalvesta wondered if they were brittle - if the lack of high temperatures left impurities, if a well placed clash of blades from a higher quality weapon would make them shatter - or if there was some local secret she didn't understand.
Shaking the thought aside, she fancied the idea of buying a smaller blade just to test this theory, but knew it was foolish to waste her limited resources on such ideas.
In the midst of her musing, Shalvesta realized someone was addressing her - hard not to, when she was the Oban in sight. Her nerves instantly buzzed to life, jittering in her flesh, and her hand slid to briefly grip at the hilt of her sword.
Turning as she was called at, Shalvesta raised her eyebrows and played for a more curious, surprised expression - even while inside she felt anxiety and not a small amount of indignance coil at her, tugging her skin. It took all of her self control not to bite back 'What is it, Shifter?' - and instead took a breath and responded as evenly as she could (other than the slight shake that betrayed her emotions), "Yes, hello?"
The woman she saw when she turned did make her pause, briefly - but she overcame her surprise over the scarring on her flesh somehow and kept her expression level, not betraying the shock that had registered. "Something I can do for you?" She continued, taking a few steps from the weapon stall and moving her hand off her sword, so as not to agitate the younger woman.
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Posted: Sat Jun 06, 2015 9:21 pm
Dris'rynne tucked strands of flaccidly straight hair behind her ear, further exposing the scarring around her missing eye. It was an unconscious habit by now, but one born of annoyance. When the hairs brushed up against her scars they tended to either itch or feel odd, which was too distracting for her to put up with for long.
"The fruit." She motioned vaguely towards the Oban woman, or was it girl?, "You-" Dris'rynne furrowed her brows in contemplation. How was one supposed to word this without sounding petulant? The shifter cocked one full hip, the fringes of her dress coiling around her flesh before swaying on their own paths. "You've purchased the last of the specific type that I need. I don't have much in the way of trade, but what I have is yours if you're willing."
During times such as these Dris'rynne found herself thankful she never ventured far from home. Encompassed by merchants on her home turf, there would be little this woman could do to threaten her that wouldn't bring out a response in others. Although, she didn't expect it to come to that and should it happen Dris'rynne wasn't about to let others fight for her.
My mind is getting ahead of me. It was just so nerve wracking speaking with someone outside of the norm. Dris'rynne couldn't keep the image of scarlet haired woman's sword far from her mind. Perhaps there was something more she could offer. "If you're in need of maintenance, my grandfather is a weapon smith." Anything would be offered so long as it wasn't too outlandish. Dris'rynne truly did too much for her spoiled little sisters, but who could possibly deny those sweet smiles?
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Posted: Sun Jun 07, 2015 1:46 pm
"The... fruit." Shalvesta echoed, partly in disbelief, her tensed posture sagging into more of a relaxed one. She had expected some sort of challenge - that she take responsibility for Neued, or the invasion. Blinking, the woman watched the shifter girl readjust her posture, seeming impatient, even as she made a visible effort to be civil. Shalvesta had to hand it to her, she was exercising quite a bit of self restraint!
The alarm bells in her head faded, and Shalvesta let her features shift into thoughtfulness, pink eyes dropping to her bag as if in thought. Whatever it was this Shifter needed them for, it must have been important considering she was bargaining with an Oban to get them.
She had paid for the fruit with gold that not many traders here in the north accepted - the gold currency of Oba, which here was only useful for trading with Obans. That being said, it was still gold from her limited reserves of money for this trip - and even if she wanted to hand the fruit over as a sign of good will, prudence declared that she be more conservative with her resources.
Evidently, her thoughtful expression and visible hesitance urged the other girl to make some sort of bargain. At the offer, Shalvesta looked up, uncertain about letting a foreign craftsman near her blade -but also knowing it was very much needed. She'd tried to keep it in shape since running from Oba, but she didn't have the oils or the grindstone - and it had somewhat deteriorated in the humidity of the forest, its shining sheen overtaken by spots or tarnish, the handle wraps moldering in the wet and rain.
It did need maintenance - and trusting it to a Shifter was better than carrying on and not having a good weapon when she needed it. Besides, she might be able to see for herself what these Shifters were capable of...
"...I do. Need maintenance, that is." She shifted her stance and took a step away from the booth she'd been standing at, nodding in approval and making the smallest gesture with her golden clawed-hand for her to lead on. "This must be the sweetest fruit in the world if you would offer your services for them, though." She continued, her voice softer, lips cracking into a small smile. Some attempt at friendliness - because even if Shalvesta had let her body relax when her perception of a threat disappeared, the girl still seemed so coiled up. And being led to a weapon smith by someone so unnerved by her definitely rankled her own nerves back to alertness, making her wonder, vaguely, if this was some sort of trap...?
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Posted: Sun Jun 07, 2015 3:56 pm
Dris'rynne became aware of the attention their conversation was gaining. A few of the older shifters behind her had begun to gossip in hushed voices, their 's'' carrying in the wind much louder than if they hadn't been whispering at all. The tension only aided in strengthening Dris'rynne's focus.
As the Oban seemed to ease before her Dris'rynne felt herself attempting the same. Her shoulders relaxed, though her posture remained rigid, as it always was. She wasn't brave enough to turn her back to the other female, so she settled with walking at an angle infront of her. This way Dris had complete control to lead, and to watch the others actions. What were those claws, anyway? It made Dris'rynne vaguely aware that as a traveler she may have more than a sword on her person. Best to be cautious. Besides, Obans were known beasts and it wouldn't surprised Dris'rynne if this came back to bite her.
It was a good distance from the market when the shifter warmed up enough to speak. "...I have younger sisters, twins, that rely on me to spoil them." Dris'rynne rolled her eye with the bare whisp of a smile. "Better to spend weeks gathering some of my own than to return empty handed." Of course, with her parents currently venturing through Tale the younglings relied on Dris'rynne for much more than simple spoiling. The responsibility sat heavily on her young shoulders, and Dris wore it well.
Traveling on the forest floor wasn't a common experience for Dris'rynne. A few times she stubbed her toes on exposed roots. Though to her credit she did not speak the curses in her mind. Crossing the shell of a decaying log, the girl took a sharp right and came upon a rather crude smithy. The structure had seen better days. As with most dwellings in Jauhar, the humid moisture had warped what bits of wood that had managed to withstand the intense heat from within. Other bits of "walls" were made with a mud based mixture and stone. It wasn't glorious by any means, but functionality was key for the family.
Noises came from within. The sharp clinks of a hammer beating on metal was the most prominent. Dris'rynne led the way to the open "doorway" and padded inside to see her grandfather hard at work on his latest project.
He looked up with a quick smile to his grand-daughter and was about to strike down on the hot metal once more when he caught sight of it. The rather large, burly shifter missed his mark in his growing anger. "Girl, what have you done?"
Dris'rynne never budged. She crossed her arms under her bust as the man came closer only to stop a safe distance from the armed Oban. "I've made a trade with this woman and I indeed to see it through. If you have a problem, then it's yours to deal with."
"A trade? No, hell no, you are not using my forge to assist some Fire b***h."
Dris'rynne stepped up to her grandfather, coming toe to toe with the virtual giant. "It's not your forge, it's our forge, and this is our smithy. If you've got a problem with how I do my business then go watch the girls with your wife!" After a long, tense moment of glaring he finally backed up a bit, and removed his gloves to slam them down onto a stone.
"I'll be watching." Snarling from under his great beard, Dris'rynne's grandfather stalked out the door way and slammed the stripped bark door shut.
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Posted: Fri Jun 12, 2015 11:56 pm
The sharp sibillants of the surrounding Shifter's conversations carried - but other than quiet complaints there seemed to be no issue with Shalvesta talking with the young woman. Disapproval, surely, but no one was brandishing a blade at her quite yet, so she let it lie. In truth, while the girl before her was guarded and suspicious, Shalvesta was simply pleased that someone here was willing to speak with her - and she felt that trading fruit she had bought on a whim in exchange for her weapons being tended to was definitely a deal made in her favor.
Following the girl, the Oban gave a passing thought that this might be a trap. Perhaps some sort of ruse to get any passing Obans secluded and discarded of. This possibility lingered in her mind, but she did little to betray such thoughts, focusing instead squarely on getting to the young Shifter's destination.
By the time the Shifter spoke again, Shalvesta had half forgotten what she'd asked previously - reminding herself after a moment of confused silence. Then, a half-fond smile rose onto her painted lips, her expression softening the slightest bit. She was an only child, but she could imagine the desire to dote on someone, if only distantly. The girl was a good sister, if she was willing to haggle with an Oban for fruit - considering the fact Shalvesta and her people had only just recently attempted to invade these lands.
Stepping carefully over exposed roots, Shalvesta looked up as they reached their destination and inwardly winced. Most shifters lived up in their trees, but it made sense that a smithy wouldn't do well up in a house made of wound vines. Even so, the weather hadn't been kind to the place. Her steps became more ginger, putting some distance between her and her guide.
And then she was spotted. Shalvesta's lips pinched together in a stern straight line, doing what she could to suppress the flash of indignant anger at the man's sharp words. There was no missing the near-hatred in his expression, but somehow Shalvesta kept the flash of resentment from her face, and stayed silent throughout, even as she bristled and nearly bared white pearly teeth at his rough words. Even if she understood the cause for his outburst, it was almost too much to suffer through for fruit - and only the more practical side of Shalvesta that knew she wouldn't have another chance to get her weapons tended kept her from lunging at the man.
As he neared her, on his way out of the forge, Shalvesta nearly quailed at his size, a shred of herself from only months ago wanting to duck down and scurry out of his way- but instead she stayed put, unmoving as he stalked out, their shoulders bumping roughly (even if she stumbled back a step from his mass). Once he'd left, Shalvesta released a long, tense breath, then forced a sharp smile onto her face as she carefully untied the fine, indigo rope that bound her sword to her hip. With it untied, she carefully passed the sword to the young woman.
There was another sword on her person, a decorated sword that was strapped over her shoulder and back, but this one she made no move to remove - she was only concerned for the more practical blade's maintenance - even if she was sure the decorated sword had rusted itself in its sheath, by now. "A friendly fellow, that one." Shal said lowly, but she didn't press any further. Once the sword was volunteered, she took a step back and crossed her arms tensely. "You work this forge yourself?"
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Posted: Fri Jun 19, 2015 8:05 pm
To her credit the oban didn't rise to her grandfather's challenge, which spoke well of her character. Dris'rynne had been momentarily concerned that she may have inadvertently started a fight, but it all seemed to work out well. For the moment.
"Go ahead and curse if you want, he's a cranky ol' miser." Unaware that the same could have been spoken of her, Dris'rynne moved to a set of tools her grandfather had left out. Most were still hot, so there was no question as to whether she would need gloves to get close, but where were the damn things? Clucking her tongue, the young woman tapped her foot impatiently before digging around and finally coming out of it with a pair small enough to fit her hands. Dris'rynne pulled her hair back into a tight, neat little bun at the base of her neck with a leather cord.
When she took an apron from a hook on one of the support posts, she turned to look at her 'customer'. "My grandfather taught me the basics. Normally he's the one who runs it, with my mother helping when she's in town. Most days I try to help out." She may have knowledge of weapon maintenance, but it was obvious from her thinner build that Dris'rynne was no smith.
The shifter made a few quick knots around her waist to secure the apron before carefully taking the sword. She held it at an angle, switching it with first the hilt side up and then the blade. "Your pommel is in good shape, cross guard seems a bit worn...the grip is shot. It's going to need to be redone. Nice balance, and a good weight. Shouldn't be surprised from an oban blade, though." The last bits were a murmured assessment as Dris'rynne walked the weapon over to her work table.
Eyeing the stranger, Dris motioned with a nod to a stool near a 'window'. "Have a seat; this might take a while. We've got water if you're thirsty, some soup if you're hungry. Nothing fancy."
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Posted: Wed Jun 24, 2015 8:36 pm
...Oh, right. She'd just handed her sword off to a shifter - even if that young shifter had, just moments ago, insisted on helping her. Shal paused, then let out a surprised snort of laughter, shaking her head in disbelief, watching the other woman bustling around, getting ready. "I'm surprised you would risk upsetting him, even if it's for your sisters." Shal admitted, shoulders shrugging helplessly.
Her feet carried her a few paces away from the heat of the forge, her hands settling against the thick band of corded rope around her waist, fingers tugging at the threads almost nervously - hands betraying her emotions, even as her face remained passively interested, but calm. A facade, honestly - being nearly unarmed in an unfamiliar place tugged at her, but the shifter girl seemed trustworthy enough...
"Whatever repairs you do is better than it was before, trust me." Shal finally admitted, forcing herself to relax and listen to the girl's assessment. Was..that a compliment about Obans? Finally quirking another smile, Shalvesta forced herself to stop her fussing and instead crossed her arms, attempting to casually lean to the side to watch her work, without getting in her way.
"... I'm Shalvesta. By the way." The woman finally shot out, rather suddenly, having just realized they hadn't made introductions - not really. And honestly it may not be necessary to introduce herself - but even so, she felt odd being offered food and water and services and not knowing who she was doing 'business' with. The soup was ... tempting, but for now she settled for sitting on the stool, thankful for some bit of civilized amenities after traveling on the road for the past few weeks. ... And she never thought 'civilized' would come to mind when she thought of the north-people - she really WAS maturing.
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Posted: Tue Aug 04, 2015 12:53 pm
The laughter was surprising, but not unwelcomed. It helped to alleviate the tension in Dris'rynne, even if it didn't outwardly show. Sometimes she was far too rigid for her own good. The comment made her think about relations with her sisters. Was she spoiling them too much? Dris liked to think of herself as a mentor in hard life lessons, but going this far just for some fruit...I'm going soft..
Dris'rynne steeled herself on the inside and moved closer to the fire. If her body wasn't so frozen she might have shook. It was obvious she wasn't exactly comfortable near the warmth, but all of the equipment were near the open flames. The process of heating the metal was much more taxing than the actual repairs would ever be. After taking what seemed like ages to her, Dris'rynne exhaled and thrust the sword into the fire. "Hmm?" Worried she had missed a chunk of conversation, without actually missing anything, Dris turned her head to the Oban. It's just a fire, and the sword won't even stay hot for long. You need to calm down.
At least the limited conversation had taken her mind off the fire for the moment. When she went to retrieve the blade, the young shifter barely flinched. "Dris'rynne." She moved the blade to a work worn anvil, and reached for a mallet. "...what's it like, in Oba? Are you all slave traders?" The question came out with her natural bite, but it wasn't intended to be malicious. Dris'rynne didn't give her a glance, though, and instead began to strike the hot metal.
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Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2015 8:29 pm
Shalvesta sighed and readjusted her seated position, giving a soft grunt as her overly tensed muscles tugged in complaint. Kneading a hand against a protesting shoulder, Shal watched the girl work, childishly intrigued by the process and the slow heat of metal. If she noticed Dris'rynne's tension as she moved to work with the fire, Shal didn't think much of it - more than likely she dismissed the blanching as a normal reaction to working with a forge. She would have never seen someone working, unflinchingly, while striking hot metal into shape.
As time passed, and Dris'rynne worked on the sword, Shalvesta finally stood and slowly meandered around the shop, looking at things (but not touching, out of respect and the fear she might break something). Even if there had been a long, noticeable gap between Shalvesta's introduction and Dris'rynne's response, the Oban didn't seem to mind - she was content to let the girl proceed with her work - though she perked up and smiled when a response finally came. Even if it was followed by so blunt a question.
Blinking, Shalvesta's lips twitched, resisting the urge to laugh at the question. "No. That is like asking if everyone who owns a sword is a blacksmith - slave trade was a profession." The response was said with an apologetic tone - because although Shalvesta had never thought to question slavery, growing up, that didn't mean she didn't realize the dark shadow it left on her people, in the eyes of these northerners. In her culture it had seemed so normal to have slaves; she would be lying if she said that she had been one of the enlightened few who, years ago, had thought it was a horrible practice.
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Posted: Thu Aug 13, 2015 9:42 am
With each strike of her mallet against the blazing metal, sparks seemed to spawn from the friction itself and burst into the air. Dris'rynne reflexively jerked away from them each and every time. Her grandfather would have worn longer gloves, perhaps even withstood the brief pinpricks of pain on his bare flesh to finish the job earlier. She wasn't capable of that, nor was she willing to half-a** the project to save her pride.
She shifted on the balls of her feet, rotating her rather ample hips so that she could get in harder and more precise strikes. The skin around her face and neck began to darken while sweat beaded down from her hair line, trailing down her jugular and onto her chest. Were she not already flushed, Dris'rynne would have been now. "I...had no idea." She struck once more, looking troubled now. When she looked back up, she tried to make eye contact. "...I'm sorry. I've only heard tales, but that doesn't excuse me from being ignorant to the truth." Each sharp, pounding motion vibrated up her arms, and by the time she dipped the metal into a barrel of cooling water Dris'rynne's ears were ringing. She leaned back, turning her face away from the steam.
It was only when the vapors began to clear that Dris'rynne realized she needn't have gone through the fire at all. The blade didn't need to be reshaped; just sharpened and properly oiled. I'm an idiot. When she lifted the sword it certainly had the makings of a new shine, though Dris now couldn't stop thinking about all the unnecessary steps she had taken. At least Shalvesta doesn't know that.
After drying and prepping the sword for the sharpening stone, Dris'rynne moved to get started on the TRUE maintenance. "So, what is it really like?"
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Posted: Sun Aug 16, 2015 7:39 pm
Any discomfort Dris'rynne felt from her work, Shalvesta disregarded as simply a novice being unused to the sparks - after all, she was sure she would flinch away as well, sure that her bones would be just as jarred by the hammer blows. While the girl worked, Shalvesta shifted to cross her arms, pacing, more out of excess energy than discomfort, craning to watch the young girl's work with interest. Eventually, Shalvesta realized the girl was making apologies - once it hit her, her lips quirked and she released a surprised laugh, short and soft, before settling into a quietly amused smile.
"We weren't all slavers, but slavery is -- was... a large part of our culture, nonetheless." Shalvesta waited until the steam stopped roiling off her sword before stepping closer, still a pace away, for safety, but closer now so she could watch. Her eyes dipped to focus on Dris'rynne's work, lips pursed in quiet thought. "The 'truth' doesn't change much, really. My people are competitive, wrapped up in family traditions, seeking out fame and honor. With a new king, families that backed the war will lose favor and be replaced by the kings' new favorites - and adding to that the loss of slaves, whose labor kept the cities running, Oba has lost whatever strength it used to have with the signing of one document." Many back home would see this as her spilling secrets to an enemy, but the state of Oba was clear to any who traveled through it.
Shalvesta felt both heartbreak for her homeland - and relief, because the tumultuous political climate meant it was easier to sneak away, up north.
After spilling all this, Shalvesta fell into silence, watching the girl work. "I'm sure you have little interest in Oban politics though- of course, I don't know how your people go about finding your leaders. Do you have kings, here?"
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2015 1:16 pm
The sudden piping laughter caught Dris'rynne off guard. She tensed, a firm scowl already prepared, but instead it was a softer sort. This woman wasn't making fun of her, nor was she laughing maliciously. It was just...natural. The light hearted nature of it was infectious, and soon enough, the young shifter had a smile of her own.
She used the rudimentary foot pump to propel the wheel to spin, and with a horribly practiced skill, Dris'rynne set to work. As a member of her Grandfather's clan, she knew just enough about metal working not to wreck anything. If she were to rebuild the sword from scratch...well, Shalvesta would have been better off using a stick.
"It's hard for me to imagine a culture built on fame and competition. To have so much on the line all the time...would be draining." Dris'rynne flipped the blade, grinding out her worries as well as the weapon's imperfections. "Oba may have lost power, but it's not the first to face change and it won't be the last. The old Oba was just too stubborn to change without bloodshed. The new Oba has a chance, so long as the new King isn't a complete idiot." Honestly, she didn't have high hopes, but Dris'rynne was far enough away form Oba not to care.
Dris'rynne peeled the glove from her hand and testing the blades edge along her palm. Little crimson beads bubbled to the surface, which only served to bring a brighter smile to her face. "No. We have Elders when guidance is needed, but for the most part we fix our problems ourselves. The older ones teach the younger, and we generally look out for one another. So, yeah, I'm...actually interested in your politics. They sound complicated, and mostly unnecessary, but it must work if you've built a nation around it."
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Posted: Sat Aug 22, 2015 5:46 pm
Oh, and it was draining. Somehow, Shal hadn't imagined that a foreignor would sympathize with the oddities of Oban society. A reaction like 'You slavers deserve to have your economy and culture torn apart, it's what you get!' seemed more likely to her. If anything, the girl's continued thoughts - about the king and Oba's change - brought raised eyebrows, and a thoughtful nod from the woman. For a moment they fell into silence - Shalvesta watching as her blade was sharpened. Eventually, Dris'rynne leaned back and tested the blade - which made Shalvesta wince, sympathetic and somewhat startled that the girl would test the blade on herself, of all things!
She had more guts than Shalvesta did, certainly!
"So simple - I wouldn't have thought it would work, if I hadn't seen your people for myself." Shalvesta said, impressed. "I believe our politics work because the king's army makes sure it works." She replied, honestly pessimistic. The more she heard, the more glad she was that she was leaving Oba behind to try and find a place here, as far away as she could! "The king and the nobles, whose bloodlines are pure and virtuous, guide the 'common' rabble. Now that the slaves are gone, it's more likely that the more common Obans will be slid into their place instead. And those that disagree, or who feel that no Oban should be so disgraced..." Shalvesta shook her head, frowning. There would be a revolution, she feared - those who sided with the king's changes and those that disagreed.
And if her people learned from the northerners? And learned to fix their own problems? Gods above, that would be a miracle.
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