darkSpyro

The singing voice was heard muffled from Tyrus's room, and it sounded more like a creepy wind. He covered his ears, since the sound was starting to creep him out.

Mason on the other hand, saw through his window the singing lady, and momentarily opened his door to talk to her.
"Hey now miss! What do you think you're doing outside in a storm like this? Go home!" the big man said, almost inviting the maiden to stay so that she wouldn't get wet, but after hearing her sing for a while, he succumbed to the enchantment.
"Miss... you really shouldn't be outside... with a storm... like this..." Mason said in a goofy voice, almost like he was still there, but unable to stop following the melody, almost as if there was a magnet attracting him, and he dumbfoundedly followed the voice, getting soaking wet with the rain.

His boy however, was harder to convince, being still too young to feel attracted to a singing voice like that, not to mention the walls helped, but after a while, he was just too curious to know why the wind sounded so strange. He went to the living room to see through the window, when he found the door opened and his father missing. He looked outside to see his titan of a dad walking funny through the rain. He was following something, or someone..l but he couldn't see well with the rain.
"Dad!? What are you doing in the rain!?" the teenager called, but when his father didn't listened, he grabbed his raincoat and began following him, wondering why he was ignoring him...

Dancing into the storm was a woman. Her white hair seemed to glow and her skin radiant against the darkness of the storm. She wore a an assortment of animal furs and skulls, including a deer skull mask. Her blue eyes pierced out from under her mask. Even while keeping her face hidden she was unmistakably beautiful. Away into the woods and into the storm she danced, singing her siren's song. Her voice called to the two now following her as she lead them into the woods.

While Mason still blindly followed the voice, Tyrus was still half conscious, and now that he has associated that the mysterious sound was not the wind, but a voice coming from the white figure his father was following. Tyrus knew there must have been some magic involved in whatever was going on with his dad, and it really frightened him.
"Dad! Please, snap out of it! I think that voice is enchanting you!" Tyrus urged, pulling his arm and begging him to come, really suspecting that it was supernatural what was going on with him.

"Now now boy. This lady is in trouble and we must help her." Mason answered him, though still looking at the figure and not at his son. Tyrus still followed his dad, trying to knock some sense into him, but it was useless. They were walking into a part of the forest where not even the adventurous teenager knew, and he was starting to believe they were in deep trouble now...

The woman continued to dance as she led them through the forest. After a good amount of time had passed she made her way to a clearing in the forest. Once she reached the center of the clearing she stopped and turned to face the two that had followed her. She held out her hands, one towards the both of them, and spoke instead of sang. "Will you partake in a dance of the storm?" She asked.

"Dance!?!" Tyrus asked furiously, as he watched how his father still had that idiotic face.
"You lured us here just to dance!?!" the boy repeated, very sure there was something else going on. He was in a part of the forest he didn't know, and his father wasn't going to be able to help him if something happened.

The woman cocked her head to the side and let out a hum. "A dance of the storm to be precise." They said in a smooth voice. She continued to hold her hands out towards Tyrus and Mason, her facial expression kept hidden by her deer skull mask. She continued to speak, her voice holding a tone of urgency, "The spirits of the wild are in unrest. A dance of the storm may calm them and return balance to us."
From off in the distance other singing voices begin to draw towards the clearing. Some male, others female. Each voice calling out to an intended listener as they neared the clearing."Of course not just once dance will do, many must be preformed to appease the spirits. Will you partake, child?"

Mason was already holding the woman's hand, but Tyrus took quite a while to decide to do the same. It's not like he had much of a choice, especially since it seemed like they were surrounded by other similar odd people. He couldn't leave the forest alone and his father wasn't helping, so it was better to get all that over with and maybe the woman would let them return home.
"Fine. Let's just be done with this." the boy exclaimed, joining hands with the woman and with an annoyed face. His mother's Druid community danced when performing certain enchantments, so Tyrus hoped it wasn't that different from it so that he wouldn't feel so embarrassed.

The woman holds the hands of the two very carefully, and very gently. She hums a tune fit for a dance quietly as she begins to lead the two in a dance. From the forest emerge other people wearing deer skull masks followed by people from the village and the surrounding farmsteads. One by one these groups of people begin singing and dancing in the storm. The air begins to feel alive and the ceremony itself seems to be watched by forces unknown.

Tyrus didn't noticed these sudden changes, since he was more focused on covering his face with the raincoat so that nobody would recognized him. It felt really gloomy having so much people in just one particular part of the forest. It was both creepy and unnatural, but he went along with the silly dance anyway, since he knew there was no escaping it now.

As the woman led Tyrus and Mason through the dance the woman's eyes fixed themselves on Tyrus. "Why do you try to hide your face, child?" She asks, her voice holding genuine curiosity, "Are you afraid you will be recognized?"

Tyrus didn't talked, but he nodded, giving the woman a glare to show his frustration in being dragged into that somewhat humiliating situation. Sure the whole town seemed like it was forced into the dance as well, but just like his old man, Tyrus simply had too much pride to admit he was also forced into that part of the forest.

The woman pauses in her dance. She letting go of Mason's hand for a moment and reaching for her deer skull mask. "Worry not, child, I realize you did not come here for the same reasons as the other dancers." With a small effort the woman removes the mask she had been wearing and places it over Tyrus's face. The woman is the same person who came to warn Mason of the storm earlier. She watches Tyrus carefully with her endless blue eyes, a small patient smile upon her lips. "You may have this mask as a gift of the druids of the wood."

"Druids!?!" Tyrus exclaimed, his lip going white.
"You know my mother? She has this bluish, long hair and always wears a headband that looks like a wooden tiara." Tyrus asked, believing those were his mother's most outstanding traits. He has been trying to found her village for so long, he was almost ecstatic with the possibility that the woman probably knew where she lived.

"I have met many others in my time, child. Perhaps you could give me your mother's name?" The woman asked with a small smile. Their eyes shone with a certain admiration for the child's enthusiasm.

"Her name is Alissa. She works more with potions." Tyrus explained, knowing her mother wasn't that famous among the Druid community, but she still had strong ties with the main priests. He was now so caught up in the conversation that he has forgotten he was still dancing.

"Alissa... No, I am afraid I do not know any druid who has given me the name Alissa." The woman answered quietly, her smile fading. She stopped dancing and slowly shook her head. "I am sorry, child. It would seem that you very much wish to see her again."

"Not just see her! I want to live with her!" Tyrus said quickly, giving the answer straight and blunt. There was no doubt he felt miserable living with his father, so he wanted to find his mother badly. He has been trying so many times to figure out where the Druids live, the poor boy felt desperate, and felt that this woman was his one last shot in knowing where the reclusive community lived.

"Child, I may not know your mother, but surely there must be one such person who knows of her." She says and tugs on Tyrus's hand. "Come, let us ask the others who come to dance to the storm if they have heard the name Alissa." The woman begins to lead Tyrus towards someone of the other dancing figures among the rain.

Now Tyrus was regretting the idea of asking the woman, since he didn't want to talk to anybody that might recognize him. He had a mask, but his voice could still give him away. If only his mother was there to skip all that process, but he looked around and there was no sign of her, or any Druid he knew for that matter.

Foxxe peered out the window into the storm, pressing close to the glass, she swore that she could hear singing outside. Steele lay in the corner watching her quietly, he had been nervous and restless this whole storm, only now did he sit still as he watched the odd manner of his master.

Kora hadn't made it far, she had passed the man she had intended to pick pocket and found herself huddled under a large tree with her cloak wrapped tightly around her as the wind and rain beat against her body harshly.

The woman eyes Tyrus as they approach some of the other druids and then speaks, "You do not have to speak, child. However, it may do the others well to hear your plight from you yourself." She says to him before conversing with some of the other druids. These druids when asked about Alissa mostly give the same answer of not knowing her. However, one druid hums in response. "Alissa? I may have met an Alissa in my travels." He says, drumming his fingers against the sides of deer skull mask. "I might have met her two years ago, couldn't tell you what she is doing now."

@Foxxe: Outside in the rain and the wind is a willowy man with long black hair. He sings and dances gracefully in the rain, making his way towards the thicker part of the wood. His song is enchanting and beautiful, and can be clearly heard despite the storm outside.

@Kora: From the door of the temple a voice calls out to Kora. Areleth's voice. "Kora, come and take shelter! Before the storm completely soaks you through!" She shouts, clanking her morning star against her shield to draw attention to herself.

Tyrus was about to ask him where did he saw her, but if it was two years ago, the whereabouts could be very different. The Druids that he met that night were all unknown to him, so they must've been from another community. Still, he was too curious to know what was up with his mother, and the stranger was his only chance.
"What was she doing?" she asked, trying to disguise his voice through the mask.

Drake hears it and says to Foxxe "don't go out their. I can almost tell it's some kind of trap."

Foxxe frowned at the window at Drakes voice but opened the door anyway, "Hey! It's not safe to be out there! Hey!" Steele growled from his spot on the floor but didn't move.

Kora, hearing the familiar voice, runs to Areleth and the temple, "Thank you," she says and throws her hood back, as wet as it was, it was heavy on her head.

Drake tries to get up to close the door and keeper in and fell because of his busted leg.

@Tyrus: "Last I saw her I believe she was traveling to Everlyn." The druid said, "I can not tell you where she is now, I'm afraid." He shook his head solemnly. The woman turned her head to Tyrus, giving him a small smile as she spoke to him, "Child, it seems you have an answer about your mother."

@Foxxe and Drake: The man in the rain pauses at the sound of Foxxe's voice and turns his head towards the cabin. He speaks in a flowing voice that reminds them of gentler times. "The storm is only dangerous to those who know not the nature of the wilds." His head turns briefly to Drake as he falls, but he makes no move to help him. He stands watching Foxxe in the rain, awaiting her response.

@Kora: Areleth lets out a long whistle and scratches the back of her head, "Looks like the storm got you good. Let me look for a towel to dry yourself with. I'll be back in just a second, I promise." She says, motioning for Kora to wait there as she turns and begins to search throughout the temple. Kora is not the only person taking shelter in the temple. There even appear to be two outsiders to the village. The more noteable of the two is a tall pale woman with long black hair that reached her waist. She is dressed in a mages' robe and around her vivid green eyes are crescent shaped tattoos. With her is a person who appears to be related to her in some way, tall with roughly cut black hair. His eyes are green as well, but pale in comparison to the woman's. They sit in one of the pews making idle conversation to one another.

"Everlyn!? That's more than a hundred miles away! Besides, that was two years ago! She could be anywhere by now!" Tyrus exclaimed, losing all hope in finding her. Her community sometimes went on the move, so it was practically impossible to find her in one place for long.

"Never mind! Never mind. Let's just be over with this. I want to go home." the boy then said after a brief pause, now feeling very tired. He had a very busy day after all, and after that disappointment, he just wanted to sleep it all.

"Very well, child. You may return to your home." The woman said, pointing towards the south, "Head south and you will find the village, I trust you can find your home from there." She turns her head towards Mason and gave a gesture in his general direction, "You may take him with you as well, if you wish."

Tyrus headed towards that direction, grabbing his still unconscious father's hand and walking home. It wasn't until they were halfway there that Mason was starting to return to his old self.
"Tyrus? What are we doing in the middle of the forest?" he asked as he looked around, only remembering having looked outside his window.

"It's kinda of a long story dad. Trust me, you don't want to know the details." Tyrus answered, continuing to lead his father home. Mason was a stubborn man and wanted to know what happened, but since he was tired as well, he was going to ask tomorrow. Like his son, he just wanted to be home.

Foxxe frowned at Drake and helped him back onto the bed before stepping out into the rain, the wind pulled strands loose from her braid but she didn't bother to brush them away as they tried to stick to her now damp face. "You are still welcome to come from the rain and in to share our fire." The wolf sat behind, just barely out of the rain.

Kora sighs and attempts to wring her hair and clothes out as she waits for Areleth and looks around at the others who had taken shelter here. Kora found her attention drawn to two people sitting in a pew together, they seemed possibly related in appearance but she had never seen them around, this town wasn't so big as to not notice them before if they were from here. Kora considered sitting but decided to stay in her little puddle of water she was making on the floor instead of making a mess everywhere.

The man pauses for a moment of thought. After this moment he hums and nods. "I thank you for your hospitality, dear maiden. I would very much like to join you by your fire." He says with an overly extravagant bow. Once he raises he gracefully walks his way over to Foxxe, waiting for her lead.

The two sitting in the pew continue conversing. Some of their conversation becomes loud enough for Kora to hear. "... What are we to this village again, Thorn?" The woman asks, resting her chin on her hand. The man lets out a hum before speaking,
"Lovers eloping." He says decisively. The woman raises an eye brow to him.
"Lovers? Well, that is certainly new..."
After a few minutes Areleth returns holding a large, fluffy white towel. "'ere you go. Sorry 'bout the wait... You go ahead and get dry." She says as she hands the towel to Kora.

While there were still people in the forest, Tyrus and Mason both arrived home, with the latter still confused as to what happened. Tyrus had some explaining to do tomorrow. But going to his room and having a midnight snack, the giant blacksmith settled down in his bed, knowing he had to sleep for tomorrow.

Tyrus couldn't sleep that night. He looked through his window to see if the woman that lead them to the forest was still there, when he realized he still had her deer skull mask, and wondered if he should give it back. Not even Mason, in his daze state, noticed the rather big accessory in his head, so that was a good thing. Tyrus wasn't in the mood to answer any questions. He sat on his bed, but still looking at the window, not wanting to go outside again but wondering if the mysterious woman was going to return someday.

I meant to reserve a spot, but I forgot. So, here I am, late and ready to fail.

Name: Halvard Esmond

Age: 29

Appearance: Halvard is a very large, imposing creature, standing at an impressive 6'5" in height and weighing 233 lbs. His skin is a jade green in colour, though the tone is very faded and dirty. His body is very broad, with defined muscle mass in his arms, legs, chest, and shoulders. Though adamantly bulkier than a mere human, his anatomy is nearly identical to one otherwise. He has two thick, tusks protruding from his lower jaw. He does in fact grow hair on his head, hair which is thick, reaching his shoulders, and a very haunting deep black in colour. He usually ties up his hair in some fashion, either to fit around a medium helmet or simply to keep it out of his eyes.

His attire differs based on his current activity, most importantly whether or not he is on the job. Casually, he dresses in primarily browns, wearing a mostly brown - with a white trim - sleeveless tunic and faded brown trousers. He does not wear shoes when casual, but instead footwraps, as he is self-aware that some people find him traveling barefooted insulting. He would prefer to be barefooted, though. On the job, he wears full body shiny steel armour. Contrary to many stereotypes, his armour does not leave his chest bare. He has a full set of armour consisting of a cuirass, greaves, pauldrons, gaunlets, and boots - which he still dislikes wearing, but begrudgingly does so. He owns a helmet, but only wears it in direct combat, given his dislike of it.

Race: Orc

Class: Warrior

Lifestyle: Militiaman

History: Halvard grew up a rather lucky orc, being more accepted by others than others orcs would enjoy. He was by no means adored, but there were people who would defend him when someone inevitably tried to show prejudice against him. He enjoyed a fairly comfortable life style, though he was very prone to sneaking out of his house to explore the wilderness and experience and more tribal lifestyle at times. His luck ran dry at a mere sixteen years of age, when a power far above his own decided the young orc was more than capable of handling himself in battle and approached him to join the local militia - a choice which was, suffice to say, non-optional. He was given basic training, which he found slightly easier than other recruits given his occasional practice with weaponry. Less than a year late, the now seventeen year old orc, with only a mid-level understanding of how his sword and shield worked, was thrust into the heart of combat.

The battle was harsh, but the cruelest mistress was not the enemy, but nature itself. Weather was a fickle beast and the terrain was rather unforgiving. Halvard, however, was ready to challenge it. His childhood hobby of prancing about the wild terrains and attempting to thrive on its resources - a game his parents were adamantly against - proved to be a blessing in disguise. He knew the land well and knew how to tame it. With his expertise, he was able to combat the beast of mother nature and when the fields of battle reared their ugly heads, he found himself filled with energy, charging foe who never would've thought he would survive such conditions. His performance was met with recognition and he was reward as such. He was gifted with a real set of armour, a brand new weapon, and was given complete, full, and proper combat training. With this new information, he was able to rise in the ranks of the militia, becoming a trust member of its ranks. Though he was given right to leave many times, the life grew to suit him, and he has stayed around for thirteen years.

When the tides of war are at peace, as they have been for a decent while, he finds himself patrolling the city, playing almost a local guard role. He keeps an eye out for suspicious activity, as well as offers a helping hand to citizens in need. He is by all means satisfied playing city guard, but is always ready for a fight to begin, for a war to rise.

Other: He was to properly make use of a sword, shield, spear, and axe. His preferred weapon of choice is sword and shield and contrary to popular belief, he dislikes two-handed weaponry, often opting to use a one-handed variant - usually with a shield - instead.

ooc: It's okay. You're accepted. Feel free to post in character whenever you're ready.
--

@Halvard: You find yourself where ever you would normally be during the evening in Hamlet. The rain is still coming down fairly hard and it seems it will run on into the night. The village is fairly quiet today. It is as if the rain is deterring those who would normally cause trouble. People are in their homes or other places taking shelter from the storm.

((OOC: Thanks for letting me leap in))

There was a strong rain rushing from the sky, fiercely striking the ground and asserting its dominance. Halvard had spent a while keeping tabs on the area quietly, but after about an hour it seemed like the rain was deterring negative forces. Satisfaction finally entering his system at the concept of peace in Hamlet, he retreated to his home. Like many other days, things had been silent for him. Few people had spoken to him or even glanced his way, trouble wasn't too great. It gave him something to find comfort in as he firmly closed the door to his dwelling behind him, shaking the rainwater out of his hair. He was satisfied to be in more comforting clothing, nestled in the comfort of his own home. After a long day, it felt nice to sink into the nearest chair and enjoy a warm fire on his face. Halvard spent a while simply sitting about, reading an old novel he had slowly been working on. With how little free time he had, progress had been slow on reading, but he enjoyed these moments.

Halvard heaved a long sigh, lowering the book halfway and looking up, glancing at the dancing flames of the fire. Sometimes he swore he would fall asleep like that, get too comfortable. Not a good idea, of course. With another exhale, he lowered his eyes back to his book.

That morning, still dark, Mason woke up looking tired but firm. The weather was still a little restless, but that didn't stop him from going to his shop. He was going to wait for the sun to appear in the horizon to open. Although he doesn't remember what happened last night, he did remember being at the middle of the forest, and that Tyrus owed him an explanation. The boy was still sleeping, still too tired with everything that happened yesterday, but luckily for him, his father was feeling strangely benevolent that morning, so he let him sleep for as long as he needed to while he took care of everything.

The morning seemed gloomy, and the prior night's book reading was nothing more but a fond memory lurking in the back of Halvard's mind. The morning gloom didn't seem sinister, but merely tired and dull, an assumption he hoped he was safe in making. Like usual, he was up early, well rested and comfortable in mindset. He was quick in his morning routine, preparing himself and eating. He stretched out the limbs of his body, making certain his armour was not too impeding of his natural movements. He moved to the door, gazing at the extra helmet hanging on the wall for a few seconds before opting to forgo it. For one, he wanted people to be able to fully see his face, and secondly, he greatly disliked the idea of having to change the way his hair was tied just to fit the helmet on. With a shake of the head, to opted to forgo it.

Halvard stepped outside to meet the cool morning, a lingering wetness attempting to cling to the shiny metal of his armour. The morning seemed fairly silent, a part of him inside secretly hoping it would stay this way for the rest of the day. He was by no means lazy, but given some of the chaos he had been through in his years, he greatly appreciated lazy days as well. Unlikely. There would be some kind of minor trouble and he would feel like it imposed upon him to do something about it, even if that wasn't officially in his job description.

With a huff, he began making his way deeper into town.

With the sun gently greeting the horizon, Mason opened his shop, ready to receive any customer. His blacksmith's skills were unique among the kingdom, a fact that he was boastfully proud of. He cleaned his work table and put all the heavy armory in the way around a corner, looking at his open door the people that were greeting the morning as well and just keeping up with their everyday lives. Instead of envying the simple life of those people, he pitied them for having to walk around from place to place in order to have what they needed, while all he had to do was stay close to his home and receive the money for his skills right at the palm of his gigantic hands.

((OOC: I'll stop by the shop for some interaction))

Halvard had been making his way towards a blacksmith's shop, the first place he was planning to visit while the morning was still young. He liked to get shopping trips done early if possible, give himself an open schedule for thriving around the community, rather than having to bring everything to a sharp halt and go shopping. For a while he had been planning and putting off a trip to the blacksmith, and for whatever reason that trip continued not to happen until it becomes increasingly important. There came a day where he overlooked his weaponry and realized he was going to need some work done, at least on his favourite sword. He carried it with him, made it a main staple of his arsenal, and it was dulling with time and use. He didn't like the idea of getting it replaced - it had been costly enough to obtain - but couldn't put off at least getting it worked on any longer.

His eyes eventually locked on a small sign, a subtle indication of the shop he was looking for. It was by no means a fanciful display, but quaint and simple, which was often greater in his opinion anyways. He turned sharply on his heel, approaching the door and yanking it open with a huff. The display of light adjusted ever so slightly as he shifted into the indoor space, a new air and a different environment greeting him as he entered.

Mason saw the big figure entering his door, just slightly taller and stronger than himself, and could tell immediately that whoever entered his shop wasn't human at all. He suspected it was an orc, but he looked more like an ogre to him. No matter the case, Mason never judged his customers by looks or species as long as he was getting paid.
"Greetings customer. I don't believe I have seen your face before. What will it be today?" Mason asked politely, quite glad to have his first customer so early in the morning. Usually he has to wait minutes, or even hours after he has opened before somebody enters his shop.

Halvard's eyes quickly focused on the blacksmith himself, overlooking his figure and gauging him as a person. The man spoke in a polite, kind tone, which held a comforting feeling. Halvard had met his fair share of seemingly aggressive shopkeepers, men and women who seemed to just want their money. He turned on his heel, moving towards the man.

"Hello there," Halvard began in a friendly tone, eyes still held strong on Mason's figure. "I did not used to shop on my own time, but the recent peace and quiet has given me more time to personally shop." He paused momentarily. "I have been putting off getting my blade sharpened for a while, likely a poor choice, but I'll have time to regret that later should it be the case." He drew the long, dull blade, placing it upon a counter. "I would prefer simply getting it sharpened, greatly dislike the idea of having to go through the trouble of getting a new one."

Mason took the sword and had a long look at it. The sword wasn't as fine or luxurious as the king's knights, but whoever made it poured some care and sweat into it.
"Hmm, a fine blade, but a little out of date. I can fix this sword if you don't want a new one, but it will cost ya a pretty penny." Mason warned, knowing by the look of the sword that it was going to take him a while fixing it. Although he was a man that fought well when the occasion demanded it, he always tried to avoid unnecessary fights, especially if it meant a potential regular customer.

He waited patiently as the blacksmith observed his blade, overlooking it quietly and thoroughly. Finally, he spoke up, and the notion of a large price was not surprising. "This sword has been in my armory for quite a while. It's no surprise that is qualifies as outdated now," Halvard responded calmly. He smiled a little, "I would have been surprised had it been cheap. I would expect nothing less for a service as such. I am by no means noble, but I can still afford the price of having my weapon maintained. Where would a man such as myself be without his blade, after all?"

Halvard held a pause for a fleeting moment, but when there was no further input, he continued, "Just give me a cost and an idea of how long I'll be waiting and I'm sure we can work from there."

"Well, that's just the trouble sir. I can't give you a specific prize. It depends on how long this takes me." Mason explained, being quite a while since he received a blade as poorly conditioned as that. The knights occasionally visited him in order to have maintain acne to their swords, so it was a pretty rare occasion for him.
"But if I must speculate, it will cost ya from twenty to even fifty pieces of silver. Just look at the handle! Even that needs fixing!" Mason said, almost sounding like a scold. He believed no true warrior would treat a beloved blade as poorly as that.

Tyrus was slowly waking up from the long, uncomfortable night he had yesterday. The rays of the sun left him no choice. He was feeling lousy and tired, but looking at the morning sun, he knew he was late for work, and he worriedly wondered why his father didn't wake him. He went to see if his father was in the shop, and there he was, from the window he could see. Mason generally wakes Tyrus up with a bucket of cold water, so why not today?

Halvard sighed slightly, an action he regretted immediately upon taking it. "Ah, this blade has been through quite a lot of trouble and been through many a poor blacksmith." He lifted a hand, "That is quite a price, but this blade is important to me, been with me for as long as I can remember." He felt troubled to think he had let that sword fall apart so quickly, wondered if it was a fault he could have done something about sooner. "As much as I'd find it easier to buy a new, I'm sure a man such as yourself can understand sentiment of an item like this. If that's what it takes to keep this weapon in my armory, then I will have to allow it."

He bowed his head slightly. "I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice." He breathed outwards. "I know this blade is in such poor condition. I wish I could regale it's tales, but I fear such stories would only come off as an excuse." His voice held a lower volume, quieter, as if each word he spoke felt almost wrong to be spoken.

"Well, I'm no warrior, so I wouldn't know about sentimental value." Mason explained, that coming from a man who has a son.
"Of course there is the always needed money, but that is gone before having any sentimental value." he joked, starting to work on the sword right now.

Just a few seconds later, Tyrus entered the shop, rubbing his still sleepy eyes.
"Tyrus! You lazy boy. The shop is already open! Didn't the sun wake you up sooner? You know daddy isn't going to be here always to remind you of your responsibilities." Mason scolded, grabbing him by the sleeve and practically pushing him in front of a table full of dusty shields before even giving the boy a chance to reply.
"Well, there is no metal collection today, so I want you to polish these shields nicely." Mason ordered, with Tyrus starting to work right away, still with those sleepy, baggy eyes. He knew it was no use discussing with his father, and anyone could see by his expression that he was used to such rough treatment.

Halvard flashed the man a smile. He was moments from speaking when another person entered the shop, a younger boy, seemingly half-dazed and only partially awake. He waited silently as the blacksmith reprimanded the boy - his son as it became quickly apparent - knowing that this conversation was hardly his business. Once the conversation came to a halt, the boy going about his business, Halvard turned back to the blacksmith. "Well, I nonetheless thank you for your willingness to work on such an aged weapon. I must be on my way. If you ever need to contact me about the blade, just ask for Halvard. I'm fairly active around town, and I'm sure someone will be able to quickly inform me that we need to discuss anything further." Though the militia was by no means actively social, anyone within their ranks would likely know him. Having spent thirteen years in such a force, he was not a name the other militia members could forget easily, even if they wanted to.

"Wait sir. Are you going to leave? Just like that? Without even waiting for the sword to be finished?" Mason asked, finding it strange how a customer would simply leave. They normally waited at the bench nearby.

Tyrus worked with the shields, just occasionally giving glances at the strange new customers and not even caring who or what he was. He felt embarrassed that his father scolded him so severely in front of this new face, but nevertheless, he continued to pretend to ignore him.

"Not far, not far," laughed Halvard. "I dislike the idea of sitting around, so I just want to get some fresh air."

He changed his tone a little. "You did say it would take a while."

"Oh alright. Just don't get very far." Mason said, having the previous experience of somebody leaving him a lousy weapon and left without paying. That was unforgivable to him, which is why he was going to keep an eye outside.

As Tyrus polished the shields, he talked to his father, trying to find some conversation.
"That... that was an Orc, wasn't he?" Tyrus asked, wondering how an Orc could be wondering around town without causing an uproar. He has heard rumors of them eating people when angry, but Tyrus believed that was just people and guards whispering among each other for the sake of gossip, so he really didn't believe that.

"That's none of your concern boy. A customer is a customer. Now keep it up! Don't distract yourself." his father scolded, not having the time to listen to his son's idle chatter. Tyrus lowered his head, ashamed that he should've known better than trying to find pleasant conversation with a father like that.