Post by The Dragons Disciple on Apr 12, 2014 16:09:12 GMT -5
Mar. 4th, 24 CLE
Tyrith arrived in Demacia early in the morning, but already the streets had filled with people. This came as a double-edged sword for him. On the one hand the crowds would allow him to remain hidden until he could get his armor off. On the other, if one of the individuals who could cause him some trouble approached him, he wouldn't know until the last moment.
Realizing this made it easy for him to determine his next move. He rushed straight for the blacksmiths shop he always went to while in town. Lord knows Alfred and Greta, the old couple who ran the shop, loved having him around. And for once those weren't his delusions of grandeur. They genuinely enjoyed his company but loved his craftsmanship even more. The old smith fawned over his Dragon armor and spear as though they were children. A sight his wife insists a respectable old man should never make. However it also brings no small amount of joy and pride to Tyrith as well.
As he opened the door, he accidently bumped someone with it. "Sorry about that," he says almost absentmindedly. The couple was busy filling out orders and almost didn't notice him until he said "Looks like you two could use a hand for the month." Alfred smiled. The old man was clearly grateful Tyrith was there as, when these weeks hit, he generally wouldn't be able to finish everything in a timely manner. He was still strong, but some of his speed and precision had gone with his age. "I'll change and get to the forge out front." Tyrith walks straight past the counter and to the back room, grabbing up the recently written orders so he could get started as soon as possible. He removed his armor as soon as he got into the back. He'd gotten used to quickly changing out of his armor over the course of 7 years and was soon outside in just his tank top and pants. It felt good to let his skin be kissed by the sun again as most of the smiths he worked at during his travels were indoors. He placed his armor on a rack outside, knowing it would attract attention as it had done most other times.
"Come one, come all!" He began his speech. "See the finest crafts of Ionia and Demacia, all in one place! For this week only, all orders will be completed by one months time. Don't miss your chance to get the strong armor or deadly new weapon you've always wanted! Master blacksmith Alfred is inside taking orders along with his lovely wife Greta. Stop in, say hello, and place your order!" He loved saying his lines. Though they were written by the old man himself, they all rang true and it gave Tyrith a distraction while he's working. Sometimes he would sing them, generally making himself a spectacle with his awful singing, but drawing a crowd none the less. Other times, he'll even shout it to the beat of his hammer. This would be a good month for both Tyrith and Alfred.
As Tyrith began working, the crowd around him got larger. The armor had its intended affect by drawing many people in to admire its craftsmanship. A well dressed young man seemed awe inspired by it. "How much for that wonderful armor?!" He exclaimed. Tyrith smiled a little as he said, "Its not for sale unfortunately my friend. That armor holds a special value to me, and I don't think I could ever part with it."
After about a minute the young man retorted, "But why put it out if you don't intend to sell it?"
"Because if I were to do that, I might forget a very important lesson. My first truly great failure."
Tyrith was clearly confusing him. "How can something that looks so amazing be a failure?"
"The armor itself isn't a failure. Its hands down the best work I've ever done, even if I had some help with it." He sighed. "Unfortunately inspiration has a poor sense of time. Now if you'll excuse me young man, I have a show to put on."
The admirer slumped his shoulders, looking dejected and slowly began to walk away. Tyrith shouted after him, "I didn't say you had to go away. On the contrary, I rather enjoy your company. Feel free to stay if you'd like." The young man smiled widely as he returned quickly and stared at the armor again, enthralled by the lines etched in the cold steel.
Tyrith smiled himself as he worked. 'Yep. This'll be a good month.' he thought.
'Freedom cannot be forced into existence, nor can it be won through painful struggle. Freedom cannot be bought or sold. It has nothing to do with one’s social status; one’s profession is of no consequence. In order for you to accept yourself as you are and live with your soul at peace, you must simply teach yourself to let it be, only then will you discover freedom.'
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Apr 14, 2014 8:13:03 GMT -5
((You might want to add a date for when the starting post happened, so people won't have to guess whether or not their characters would be around the area for this. ))
A yordle leaned against the doorframe, looking inside the building. Compared to the always busy humans, she would've been hard to even notice if not for the large, ornate hammer on her back and the two tall, white ponytails flowing from her head down to her feet. Poppy was never one who caught much attention, and when out of her armor and wearing simple, modest clothes, rather few paid any attention to her.
Taking a glance outside to the armor on display, she shrugs. Seemed of good enough quality, but the design was way too impractical. Her training under her father years ago, and the work she did whenever she had a chance to visit home, kept the knowledge of metal and smithing fresh in her memory. And that knowledge told her, that the metal was simply steel, even if it was made to look draconic. Was the goal intimidation? Perhaps. That could work against newer soldiers, but those scarred by years of warfare barely felt fear anymore, Poppy even less than that. Determination had always conquered fear for her, ever since she delivered the Helm of the Protector to Demacia all those years ago.
Whomever made the armor, was a good smith, but must have known little about warfare itself, Poppy thinks to herself as she turns her gaze back inside, listening to the sound of the hammer hitting the anvil, and the flames of the forge. Perhaps one day, she could return to the forge full time and not worry about the world, and the duties she has as an Ambassador. That day would have to wait however.
That set of armor outside. Visually, it is quite impressive. It makes me wonder however... how much does it's maker know of combat? Something that excessive has a tendency of being more of a burden, than a boon. The voice of the Iron Ambassador is quite easy to recognize to those who have ever heard her speak, as her tone is always the same. Stern, serious and steeled by experience.
Post by The Dragons Disciple on Apr 15, 2014 3:00:23 GMT -5
Tyriths eyes never raised from his work as he listened to Poppy.
"I know next to nothing of combat ma'am, but that armor was made to the exact specifications of the person it was made for," he said, the rhythm of his hammer slowing down behind his words. He could feel as his strikes hit their mark, always perfect. "Thanks to some advice owed to me by some other Ionian smiths, I was able to trim off a lot of excessive weight and increase the effective range of motion far beyond what it appears."
He lifted the blade he was working on off the table with his tongs and dipped it in the water, the metal sizzled loudly as it cooled.
"While it is possible to fight in this armor, this is more about intimidation and image than anything else, as you seem to know." Tyrith laughed a little. "The person who wanted this armor was actually foolish enough to believe that he could change the world in it. That foolish young man is gone now though."
He turned his gaze to Poppy now, almost shocked to see a yordle, let alone Poppy. 'I must have really been lost in thought to not notice it was her that was speaking to me.' he thought. After composing himself, he went to work on the next blade and started speaking to her again. "I can't imagine there is something I can do for a person who was able to easily identify the metaphorical chink in my armor. So, if I may ask, to what do I owe the pleasure, my dear?"
'It can't be...' he thought. 'Poppy wouldn't come by to some random armor shop like this.'
Alfred and Greta had described her to Tyrith before, and aside from the armor this woman was a perfect match. 'She's a great smithy. White hair, darkish skin. A stern and terrifying expression that looks like she's staring into your soul... Yep. She's got that... Crap its really her.' The next blow from his hammer broke the blade he was working on. His face remained calm, but inside he was twisted. He needed to put on the best show he could for Alfred and Greta, but with Poppy around he would be tense. He cooled the broken pieces and placed them in the previously non-existant pile for reforges. At that moment, Alfred came out with a fresh batch of orders, a welcome interruption for Tyrith. Tyrith smiled and said, "Thanks Alfred. Any priority orders?"
The old man smiled, "You're a godsend my boy. Those are all high priorities. All of our regulars came in when they hear you were back." He laughed. "Isn't this wonderful? Every year you come back and save my shop! Hell with this many orders the wife and I might be able to take you on our trip with us this year."
Tyrith sighed. "Lets not talk about that until I knock these out," he says. "Besides, my fee is flat. Anything extra we make is all yours. Now hurry up and help the rest of those customers. I need your hands for a few of these."
'Freedom cannot be forced into existence, nor can it be won through painful struggle. Freedom cannot be bought or sold. It has nothing to do with one’s social status; one’s profession is of no consequence. In order for you to accept yourself as you are and live with your soul at peace, you must simply teach yourself to let it be, only then will you discover freedom.'
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Apr 16, 2014 5:07:41 GMT -5
Poppy silently watches as the young smith breaks a blade. Unfortunate, but nothing out of the ordinary. She had broken a few blades in her childhood as well, and a crowd was never a thing to help one work better. Seemed like a good enough smith, even if he knew little of what was important in combat.
I am just looking around. This far from home, I rarely get the chance to work a forge myself, so I observe the local smiths to refresh my memory and see differences in how they create what they are commissioned.
She looks up at the older smith for a short moment, no clear expression on her face as she listens to the notion about the young smith being a "godsend". She then turns back to Tyrith.
And trying to change the world for the better is never foolish. Often, all that people need, is a symbol. I was once a little girl, sitting in a smithy with my father, barely known even by my own people. After his death at the hands of assassins, I took up his hammer, his memory. A Demacian general suggested that Bandle City appoint me as the Yordle ambassador to Demacia due to my determination, and with that grim determination I forged myself a set of armor and volunteered for the League of Legends in order to fight for what I believe in, and against those who murdered my father.
Simply a symbol of something, be it determination of good will, can change the world in itself. Demacia and Bandle City have become close allies through the loss I suffered, and the work I have done since. It is never easy, but one person can make a difference in this world.
Whomper starts glowing slightly on her back around the time that she mentions her father, as if reacting to the story out of some external will. Poppy merely glances at the hammer before turning back to Tyrith once more.
The armor outside is still too excessive for combat in my opinion. Intimidation only works on new soldiers, and most fighters around these days have seen enough bloodshed, enough of the horrors of war, to not be affected by it anymore.
It is still quite impressive however... not many smiths choose to create something that elaborate. Metal can be quite tricky to mold into such an intricate form, let alone in a condition that still allows for movement.
Post by The Dragons Disciple on Apr 16, 2014 6:50:07 GMT -5
"Oh my goodness!" Alfred exclaims as Poppy begins speaking again. "Tyrith, why didn't you tell me we had such a distinguished guest as this?"
"I was uncertain myself until just now Alfred," Tyrith says. "I've never seen her in all these years. Now, if you'll please...?"
The old man seemed to forget what he was doing up until now and rushed back inside to finish orders. Tyrith sighed, ran his hand through his blonde hair, and turned back to his work. He was already sweating profusely from the work, but didn't seem exhausted at all. "I swear, sometimes I wonder if I'm not better served staying in Demacia," he says absentmindedly. "And changing the world is a noble idea, you'll never hear me truly discredit that. No argument there. But an untrained individual attempting it is nothing more than a death wish. Still I forged the armor. And now its fate is in my hands. I threw everything I had into that armor. Its part of the reason I had to sell my shop even." He clears his throat in between two blows from his hammer. "Doing what I can for people like this is all I have left now. As I'm sure someone who has been through what you have will agree, there is no end to it. Though tragedy may sometimes beget positive results, a tragedy must still be endured." He smiles again. "But then again, I guess thats never stopped us from pushing on. As much as I'm sure you miss you're father, you must be happy with how things have turned out. You're a champion. An idol to the people. Maybe that is all it takes to change the world..."
He was finally at ease with himself. Poppy's kind words, whether she knew their true implication to Tyrith or not, had inspired him to push on. The time on the road had grown weary to him, and no matter how many people he helped, he could never really see the changes. The peoples situations never got better, but maybe the people did. Maybe they give a little more than they would have to others. Maybe they don't. Maybe it is pointless. Tyrith chuckles again. "Who cares?" he says under his breath, still chuckling. His hammer blows were becoming more rapid, the beat becoming more complex, but still every blow found its mark at Tyriths ideal positions.
"If I had more time, Miss Poppy, I'd show you how truly versatile that armor is," he says in between a few hammer blows. "Its no more cumbersome than a standard issue knights armor. Hell, I've even worked a forge in that thing. I don't recommend it, because its hot as hell in there, but its been done. As far as it having special properties beyond that, you're right. This wouldn't scare most of the people who have seen battle. But its not made for dealing with them."
Then he thought of something Poppy had said in her speech. "Hmmm..." he says as he sets the metal down. "A symbol. I might have to incorporate that in my designs from now on."
"Here's your tea Poppy," Alfred said as he came from the store. "I figured it would be impolite to not offer such a distinguished woman such as yourself some of my wives tea. She just brewed it." Tyrith stepped back to where Alfred shouldn't see and shook his head slightly. She doesn't want that tea. Tyrith was not even certain that's what you would call that beverage. "Ah and here's your flask Tyrith," Alfred says, turning to him. "Its hot out here, so I put the good scotch in it."
"You're a lifesaver Alfred," Tyrith says with a smile. He opens the flask and takes a swig. "Thaaaaannnnk you," he continues, relieved to have a drink. He holds it out a bit to Poppy, as if to offer her some if she wanted it.
'Freedom cannot be forced into existence, nor can it be won through painful struggle. Freedom cannot be bought or sold. It has nothing to do with one’s social status; one’s profession is of no consequence. In order for you to accept yourself as you are and live with your soul at peace, you must simply teach yourself to let it be, only then will you discover freedom.'
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Apr 16, 2014 14:42:41 GMT -5
Poppy looks up at Alfred, taking the offered tea before turning to Tyrith who offered his flask a moment later.
I prefer to stay away from that type of drinks. I usually don't drink tea either, but... it would be rude of me to decline. Also, I wouldn't call myself distinguished by any margin. I'm merely a smith's daughter after all.
She takes a sip from the cup, her expression still steeled, hiding any sign of her thoughts about the tea. She takes a glance towards the forge, pondering to herself for a moment.
An untrained person may be foolish to try and change the world, but you forget... I was not trained myself when I was appointed ambassador. All I had, was my father's hammer and a determination to learn. When you focus your mind on it, you can accomplish more than you'd expect.
Demacia is also full of trained military personnel, all the way up to it's king. If you were to put your mind to it, I'm quite certain you could find a good trainer to teach you and guide you. The path of a soldier is not for everyone though... there are as many ways to change to world as there is to live. Even a simple blacksmith can choose to only make weapons for peaceful causes, and otherwise become more of an artist with metal. With a hammer shaped like Whomper... you need to be one to work metal into the correct shapes.
Post by The Dragons Disciple on Apr 16, 2014 17:12:44 GMT -5
"Making weapons for peaceful causes is more of an oxymoron isn't it?" Tyrith replies with a little laugh. "But I see what you're saying. And I'm most definitely not looking for training. In this country, as soon as the next war breaks out, I'd die in the first wave. Besides all that, I'm no hero. Just a simple blacksmith who enjoys talking and drinking. Don't let my rugged good looks and charm fool you. I'm nothing more than that." He laughs a little after that, realizing how stupid it sounds.
"You seem like you miss the forge, if you don't mind me saying," he says after a brief pause."Why haven't you come back to it? I'm sure there's a fortune to be made from your gear."
'Freedom cannot be forced into existence, nor can it be won through painful struggle. Freedom cannot be bought or sold. It has nothing to do with one’s social status; one’s profession is of no consequence. In order for you to accept yourself as you are and live with your soul at peace, you must simply teach yourself to let it be, only then will you discover freedom.'
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Apr 18, 2014 5:58:38 GMT -5
Hard to let your looks fool me, when us yordles have our own views on what is attractive. And sometimes, you have to fight to bring peace. Sometimes, you will need weapons for peace to be achieved.
Poppy gazes over to the forge momentarily again, able to hear the clang of steel from back home in her mind once more. She then turns to Tyrith once again.
I am an Ambassador, a champion of the League. My duties as both keep me from returning to the forge full time, but whenever I get the chance to visit home, I light the forge and make sure I do not forget what I learned so many years ago. Also gives me an excuse to improve upon my armor. It was needed last year when the Shadow Isles invaded.
The world is not as peaceful as it once was, and having the relations between Demacia and Bandle City handled by a new Ambassador who doesn't know Demacia or it's leaders, would be very risky in these times. Once it is safe to do so, I might let someone new take over, and return home. But... that day is not yet on the horizon. Until then, I will represent Bandle City as I have done for years.
Post by The Dragons Disciple on Apr 21, 2014 6:36:08 GMT -5
The heat of the forge was starting to get to Tyrith as sweat beaded down his forehead and face. He wiped around his eyes with a handkerchief from his pocket. "Well I hope that day comes soon," he says, smiling to Poppy. "Not only for your sake but the people of Runeterra. A little peace and quiet would do this world some good. Demacia and Noxus getting along, Zaun and Piltover working together for the good of all." He laughs at the idea. "I know its just a pipe dream. But still, the world would be a much better place. Of course if it was all rainbows and sunshine, I'd be outta business." He strikes with his hammer. "Can't have that. I'd go stir crazy."
'Freedom cannot be forced into existence, nor can it be won through painful struggle. Freedom cannot be bought or sold. It has nothing to do with one’s social status; one’s profession is of no consequence. In order for you to accept yourself as you are and live with your soul at peace, you must simply teach yourself to let it be, only then will you discover freedom.'
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Apr 22, 2014 2:09:23 GMT -5
I doubt a day will come when Noxus and Demacia, or Piltover and Zaun, will forget their hatreds of the past and work together. Their ways are so different from another, and they dislike the ways of the other side.
Poppy sighs, shaking her head slightly. She knew the hatred for the other side all too well, and despite how much she had learned over the years, deep down she still had a deep hatred for Noxus and it's leadership.
I cannot claim to be much different. Noxus has done atrocities in the past, and even chose to break down an innocent family for creating a helm for their enemy. All they need as a reason to butcher innocents, is interacting with their enemy without any sort of allegiance or loyalty.
Until they see past that... I cannot see any sort of peace with them.
Post by The Dragons Disciple on Apr 22, 2014 5:00:57 GMT -5
"Ahem... Sorry," Tyrith says, remembering her story from earlier. "Shouldn't have brought that up."
After a moment he sighs. The stack of orders seemed to not even be moving as went through them. Nothing was ever exciting on the sheets of paper. No ornamental armor. No ceremonial blades. While the work was good in Demacia, they're sense of style in their weapons was pretty basic. Sure there were the Champions in the city, but they weren't the people coming 'It is easy money I suppose,' he thinks.
"So," he says back to Poppy, "Shyvana lives here yeah? Whats she like?"
'Stupid stupid stupid stupid man...' he thinks to himself, panicked though trying to remain calm on the outside. 'Why would you bring up the main person you're trying to avoid when you're talking to one of the few people who may know her personally.'
"... O-or Lux?" he says suddenly. "Garen? King Jarvan? Any Demacian champion really. I find all that stuff very..." he clears his throat, "interesting."
Last Edit: Apr 22, 2014 5:33:32 GMT -5 by The Dragons Disciple: Called the King a Prince...
'Freedom cannot be forced into existence, nor can it be won through painful struggle. Freedom cannot be bought or sold. It has nothing to do with one’s social status; one’s profession is of no consequence. In order for you to accept yourself as you are and live with your soul at peace, you must simply teach yourself to let it be, only then will you discover freedom.'
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Apr 23, 2014 11:57:28 GMT -5
Shyvana? In the service of Jarvan the Fourth, she has learned honor and to some degree, patience. The dragon's blood still causes fury to flow through her however... never get on her bad side, no matter who you are. Stories say she ripped out the heart of the dragon that killed her father, with her bare hands.
Poppy glances outside towards the busy crowd of Demacians going about their daily lives. There were still those wary of the Half-Dragon's temper, and for a good reason.
Luxanna is... well, it is not easy to say. Up front, she seems like a bright, happy girl, always thinking positively. But from a young child, she has been called a prodigy, and military trained by Demacia, with her parents consent. She is probably one of the brightest tactical minds in this land, and no doubt you've heard of her skills with magic.
I'd suggest to staying away from her. Not because of who she is, but because of her brother. The Might of Demacia, while a true paragon of Demacian ideals, can be quite protective of his only sister. There isn't much that can be said about him, he is military through and through.
Whomper glows slightly on her back, it's weight having become barely noticeable to Poppy by now.
King Lightshield I cannot really talk about. He has changed multiple times during his life, and what I say now about him might have changed by tomorrow.
Post by The Dragons Disciple on Apr 25, 2014 4:58:20 GMT -5
Tyrith can't help but feel bad for Shyvana, hearing Poppy talk. Her words weren't so bad, compared to some others he's heard speak of the half-dragon. The people certainly don't hate her, but they definitely fear her. He has seen enough people in fear over his travels to know that, whether they realize they do it or not, they might treat the object of their fear differently than others.
Tyrith listened as Poppy spoke on the other champions of Demacia. He laughs when she talks about Garen and Lux. "Wow," he says, " I must not make a very good first impression. I must be acting like some kind of an ass if you think I'd just up and hit on Luxanna. The entire aristocracy is one big sign that reads," he raises his hand as high as he can get it and moves it as he speaks, "'You're stupid to even think about it.'"
"Naw," he continues after a moment. "The Noble Houses dealing with us commoners in any fashion other than soldiers is beyond absurd. They're much too stuck in their ways, and it'll eventually lead to the downfall of Demacia." He sips from his flask as he looks over the busy people along the streets. "I understand that they promote the exceptional people... that a few can make it." His voice gets a bit quiet. "But your opportunities shouldn't be limited by where you're born, societal status or location."
He shakes his head. "Sorry," he says after a deep breath. "Don't know why I got heated about all this."
'Freedom cannot be forced into existence, nor can it be won through painful struggle. Freedom cannot be bought or sold. It has nothing to do with one’s social status; one’s profession is of no consequence. In order for you to accept yourself as you are and live with your soul at peace, you must simply teach yourself to let it be, only then will you discover freedom.'
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Apr 27, 2014 16:52:47 GMT -5
It is not you, it is simply something every demacian needs to know.
Poppy shrugs, pulling Whomper from her back leaning against it slightly.
Demacia may focus on it's nobility, but that is simply how it has been for ages past. However, when heroes rise, no matter of what standing, they are recognized. Quinn, is a good example of this. In a way... so am I. The little smith's daughter from a land far away, appointed as representative of my kind due to simply my spirit.
She looks down at Whomper, the hammer glowing once more.
If you have the talent, you can make it. Shyvana was a mistrusted child shunned for her dragon blood, now she is a part of King Jarvan's elite forces. Quinn was merely a ranger who knew the wilds, yet her skills lead her to the Fields of Justice as a representative of her nation.
Who you are, always matters more than where you are from.
Post by The Dragons Disciple on Apr 28, 2014 5:20:38 GMT -5
"Good examples," Tyrith says, finishing a blade before sitting down on a bench near the door. "But the exceptions are never the rule are they? Nobles are special because they're nobles. Many of them, excluding the champions of the League, haven't actually accomplished anything of their own. They ride along the coat-tails of their ancestors and feel entitled to things they haven't earned." He sighs.
"Don't get me wrong though," he continues. "Demacia is still better than Noxus or..." He hesitates before speaking again, "Zaun... As far as these things go. Noxus believes power can be quantified. That is all perception. Zaun... Well I'm sure I don't have to explain how messed up that place is. At least Demacia has the decency to treat its commoners well and not like trash or lab rats."
He stands back up. " My gripe is that with all you, Quinn, and Shyvana have accomplished your names might go down in a book somewhere as a great ally of Demacia, but it'll be lost to history. Where as the nobles will have their names remembered because they are nobles. And thats not right."
"That's enough Tyrith," Alfred says, coming out to work finally, though seemingly in a panic about what Tyrith was saying. "Don't trouble our Ambassador with any more of your talk. I'm sorry Miss Poppy. He gets like this after a long trip. He doesn't really mean it."
'Freedom cannot be forced into existence, nor can it be won through painful struggle. Freedom cannot be bought or sold. It has nothing to do with one’s social status; one’s profession is of no consequence. In order for you to accept yourself as you are and live with your soul at peace, you must simply teach yourself to let it be, only then will you discover freedom.'
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