Dadrian: Difference between revisions
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| Instance = Prime |
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== The Good Son == |
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The sun peaked above the distant horizon, chasing the early morning mists from the stone courtyard. Already, two figures toiled away in a large forge next to the well. A large Gor'Togg, his ebon skin glistening with remnants of the dew and perspiration, pounded his hammer against a white-hot length of steel. Attending him, a young boy of about 15 years struggled with the bellows, keeping the forge burning hot. The two men worked wordlessly, save for the occasional grunt as the Gor'Togg inspected his work. He brought the hammer down once more, a shower of sparks falling to the floor. "You're no son of mine, that's for sure," he exhaled disapprovingly as he looked up from his work. The boy was hunched over, breathing heavily - he looked up at the man as he spoke. "but you're the best I have so we'll continue after I've had some breakfast." He hated the man.<br /> |
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Working for the Gor'Togg was rarely pleasant, but he owed a debt and it had to be repaid. Khol, as the man was known to those he dealt with, was an older fellow in age only. He was still quite strong and quick of both body and mind. Traders came and went quite frequently these days, quite unlike in years past during the great war and his lucrative forging business had allowed a great many repairs and renovations to the now fully functional workshop. Khol was a very practical man, and nearly all the money he earned went into the maintenance and improvement of his smithyp; very little ever made its way towards luxury. He was all business. His ward, or "Boy" as he had come to call the young Rakash, was for all intents his property and he felt no shame in reminding him of this fact. He had, after all, saved his very life and the more than generous lodging that was provided had to be made up for in some way.<br /> |
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Boy lived in a tired and worn old shack that was in no way less extravagant than the others of his 'neighborhood'; they were all quite equal in their humble disrepair. They lined six in all, three on each side of the gravely path leading from the courtyard out to the main trade road. He lived alone now that he was old enough to manage for himself, which was more than adequate as he'd never gotten along well with the Human family which had raised him. They were a quiet and peaceful group, no doubt, but their acceptance of the poverty in which they'd found themselves was sickening. They had but one son, a boy his own age by the name of Dadrian. Dadrian was the very definition of average, in no way standing out in either physical or mental acuity. His only defining characteristic was a constant desire to earn the respect and adulation of his superiors which he fulfilled through shameless flattery. This had made him an easy rival to Boy as they both knew that Khol would eventually take on an apprentice to his trade, and eventually manage the smithy itself once the elder Gor'Togg had passed on. It was a bitter rivalry.<br /> |
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Boy returned from the short recess to find the forge empty. Khol had obviously not returned from his breakfast yet which gave him plenty of time to stoke the fires and have everything in working order prior to the blacksmith's return. He took hold of the bellows and prepared to operate it when shouting outside caught his attention. He left his station and ventured to the door just in time to see Dadrian tear past. Boy watched as Dadrian cleared the fence all the while shouting for his father. Boy's gaze traveled back to the stone house as Khol emerged, an amused grin on his face. Dadrian had won the contest for his approval. Khol swaggered across the courtyard rolling up his sleeves idly; he entered the forge and wordlessly donned his work apron. He looked up to see his ward staring at him; the amused expression disappeared almost immediately. "Stop lazing about!", he barked. "These blades must be finished today!" With that he turned back to inspect the lengths of steel arrayed on the anvil in front of him, muttering to himself. Boy felt the emotions boiling up inside him. He wanted to run, run far from here and never look back, but there was nowhere to run to - nowhere to go. The young Rakash took his place at the bellows, working the heavy chains that operated it in silence. Dadrian appeared in the doorway and the two boys locked eyes. "I'm ready to begin, Mr. Khol." he said, his mouth curving up in a triumphant smile. Boy's left eye ticked slightly, but he continued his work. The Gor'Togg beckoned him over to the anvil as he placed one of the unfinished blades into the fires of the great forge. The two began conversing amongst themselves, the boy occasionally offering a question to which Khol would let loose a deep laugh that echoed throughout the building. Tick. He indicated two of the blades that Boy and he had worked on since before sunrise, commenting on the desired outcomes and the various steps needed to achieve them. Tick. Khol glanced back over his shoulder and roared "Why aren't you working that bellows, Boy!? I swear I'll have your hide if I have to tell you again!" Tick. Dadrian glanced back at him and asked Khol a hushed question. Khol snorted in response and made no efforts to mask his words. "Far to lazy, though I'd expect little else from a Rakash." Tick. "He'll best serve us working the bellows, I can't really trust him with anything else." Dadrian smiled back at Boy as the Gor'Togg returned to describing the pounding process. Tick. The bellows went silent. Khol stopped mid-sentence, a large vein appearing on his forehead. He turned around to hurl another insult or possibly a motivating blow just in time for the white-hot poker to pierce his heart. His eyes grew wide, his mouth open in silent agony as the flesh around the metal sizzled and popped. He slumped to his knees as Dadrian backed away in fear and confusion. Khol fell to his side, his last breath escaping his lungs. Boy's eyes were locked on Dadrian's, his face an emotionless canvas; cold and resolute. He moved forward, tracing his fingertips along the anvil. Dadrian backed away, bumping against the wall. "W-what have you done?", he stammered quietly. Tick. Boy drew closer, his hand running across the steel blades. "Don't do this. I-I'll say it was an accident. They'll have to believe us." Tick. "Damnit, why'd you do that!? What's wrong with you?" With a fluid motion, the blade leapt from the anvil and sliced through the air. Dadrian fell to the ground in a cry of pain, his chest flayed wide by the sharpened steel. His eyes closed as Boy turned and calmly walked towards the door. 'Y-you'll regret this..." he whispered as his life faded. "I doubt that very much." Boy responded, a blank expression on his face.<br /> |
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Smoke arose over the trees to the west, a tragic fire had broken out at the secluded smithy. At least that's what the young Rakash lad had relayed to her. Much to far for any meaningful assistance to be offered in any case. Unfortunate. The guard turned her attention back to the traffic passing back and forth through the western gates of the Crossing. "What's your business?" the gatekeeper asked, his log book before him. "I'm here for work, sir.", came the response. "Name, please?" the gatekeeper inquired from behind his thick spectacles. The youth gazed back silently for a moment, a name. A name. "Dadrian.", he replied with a smile. |
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-Work in Progress- |
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Revision as of 12:30, 17 March 2011
| Dadrian | |
|---|---|
| Status | |
| Race | Rakash |
| Gender | Male |
| Guild | undisclosed |
| Instance | Prime |