Fable - Ask When The Hammer Fell

[Torin Gemheart]

Spoiler: Music OOC

To a smith, to a man such as him, that -clang!- was so unmistakable, undeniable, unbroken.
The latter term is sufficient, one might think, given that the bang of metal wasn’t to break.
Rather, it was to create, to shape, to slam the hammer on the anvil, like a potter to clay.
So one dwarf thought, anyway. It was a gift. Not his talent, technique, but being chosen.

Maybe those words would make no sense to others. Perhaps they disappear into wind.
To him, however, you were chosen for this. The forge picked the dwarf. That is the gift.
This wasn’t his forge, it wasn’t his store, yet the dwarf felt at home with this blacksmith.
A human, a citizen of Alliria city, Master Gyle Wendervich knew his arms, armor, hand, wrist.

He’d permitted his dwarven guest to assist him in his shop and to provide him supplies.
That dwarf did no less. No beggar, but a wanderer, that dwarf had made himself an ally.
For his part, Torin Gemheart thought Gyle no wild smith, but fit to work within the Inner City.
Yet he insisted otherwise, preferring the outskirts, where the rich would not sell him in pity.

Torin wasn’t sure what that meant, but in the Outer City he discovered comfort in the perimeter.
Gyle had decided to further permit the dwarven smith to sell his own wares by anvil and hammer.
It was a given business proposition; work together in arms and armor, and share drinks in a tavern.
Since Torin was just a visitor, he preferred such a venture, wherever the tavern. Horse and Hammer?

It was late in the morning after the two men had gathered, a tall human and a shorter dwarf.
When the hammer fell... Thought that dwarf as he stood in his apron plunging one new sword.
It wasn’t his, will never be, but he didn’t need it. The steel was made and shaped for purchase.
When winter fell… Memories took him back in that blacksmith’s shop. Metalwork. Never perfect.

Tzuriel Alanthis

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

The Outer City usually had little to offer to a man who lived in the Inner City, a born and raised Allirian who made his living through trade was generally better off conducting his business with more prosperous individuals.

But Tzuriel was different. He built much of his empire on the distribution and sale of unique and limited products from the most obscure sources. He shrewdly selected individuals who could produce a product that he could see has potential, and such individuals often stayed out of the public eye for they were often humble and of good repute with their neighbors.
Tzuriel loved finding these individuals and investing in them, seeing what they could accomplish for both of them with his money backing them.

Thus, Tzuriel rode his grey dappled horse among the shops of the Outer City seeking such people. It wasn't a ritual he had time for very often, but now with much of his workload delegated to others he had time to do some work on his own.

His merchant's eye scanned the wares as his horse plodded along at a relaxed pace, he gave the horse its head and allowed it to walk where it willed until such a time as something caught his eye.
And something indeed caught his eye.

A blacksmith with a shop in the front, Master Wendervich ran this place and provided adequate iron and steel working for the people in this area, nothing that attracted the attention of the Merchant King in the past... But this time, as Tzuriel rode by the stall and looked over the wares on display with his appraising eye, he noticed something different about the items.
He reigned his horse in and stopped in front of the stall, dismounting and holding the horses' reigns as he stepped under the eve of the stalls roof to examine the plain looking blade more closely.

Tzuriel had traveled to many countries outside of Alliria. Elbion, Vel Anir, Mardania and even Fal'Addas on occasion. But there was one more place that he'd yet to visit himself and has so far been content just to see their ironwork and Stonecraft... The Dwarven City of Belgrath.
And in this simple looking sword he recognized a distinct dwarven technique in its craftsmanship.

He glanced inside the shop where the door stood open to allow the intense heat of the forge to escape.
"Hey! Wendervich? Did you visit Belgrath when I wasn't looking, or do you have a new apprentice in there?"

 

[Torin Gemheart]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

The Black Anvil. There was a tavern with that name, more than one, the dwarf reckoned. Fair game.
The last establishment he’d been in catered to roaring fires, malt beer and meat ripe off the bone.
In this instance, however, ‘The Black Anvil’ referred to the blacksmith’s shop in an Inner City street.
Master Gyle Wendervich is the known owner and resident amid his guest: dwarven patron; unknown.

That lack of identity, though, was itself fair game. It meant that Gyle had even more armor and weapons.
Exotic items to sell beside his typical merchandise, and his fellow laborer was himself a merchant.
‘Iron and steel’. That was a precise motto and code to live by. Gyle could have taken to Inner if he wanted.
He didn’t. The public eye was not his calling, neither was it Torin’s. They both survived. They’re honest.

Hammerfell… That was a dwarven settlement that this dwarf from Kazarek at least knew of.
He banged hammer on anvil—-clang!-—and heard the rang, turned to the ring, floor to ceiling.
He breathed in the sweet fumes of the fire’s forge—unending, undying—and he kept breathing.
Winterfell… That was a human settlement that this dwarf from Kazarek knew O so very little of.

Gyle Wendervich, however, sang that tune and had pleaded with his dwarven guest to just listen.
“When the hammer fell,” The human man began between clang and cling. “This was the moment.”
His dwarven assistant kept beating, clinging and clanging, clanking and clinking. “Oh?” He’s open.
He would listen. However, another noise cast its voice just then. A horse’s trot, and yet then broken.

“We have a guest,” the blacksmith’s guest, if not apprentice, beckoned, being the first to listen.
The first to serve as its witness. The Black Anvil, as the name went, was both closed and open.
In the sense that the forge is exposed to exhaust the heat as the rider had seen—with a building.
A humble structure, in all honesty, where the buying and selling was more properly fulfilled indeed.

"Hey! Wendervich? Did you visit Belgrath when I wasn't looking, or do you have a new apprentice in there?"

“Apprentice?” Wendervich laughed back. “You don’t know the half!”
The human wiped his hands on his apron, turned and walked back.
He faced the entrance and the other man who dismounted his horse.
“He’s no apprentice.” His head tilted in a gesture. “Not this here dwarf.”

“Aye.” The very same dwarf turned toward The Black Anvil’s latest patron.
“I’m a business partner.” He spat, but not in insult. He just needed a drink.
A waterskin filled his lips. “He came to me late in the day only last week.”
Gyle went on to say. “I offer weapons, armor,” said the dwarf. “I am Torin.”

Tzuriel Alanthis

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

“Apprentice?” Wendervich laughed back. “You don’t know the half!”
The human wiped his hands on his apron, turned and walked back.
He faced the entrance and the other man who dismounted his horse.
“He’s no apprentice.” His head tilted in a gesture. “Not this here dwarf.”

As average as Wendervich's skills were as a blacksmith, the man knew what good metallurgy looked like, and Tzuriel heard the distinct tone of an impressed man in his reply.
Noted.

“Aye.” The very same dwarf turned toward The Black Anvil’s latest patron.
“I’m a business partner.” He spat, but not in insult. He just needed a drink.
A waterskin filled his lips. “He came to me late in the day only last week.”
Gyle went on to say. “I offer weapons, armor,” said the dwarf. “I am Torin.”

Tzuriel let a merchant's smile drift to his face as the dwarf introduced himself. Tzuriel switched to the dwarven trade tongue commonly used in Belgrath as he introduced himself.
"Well met, Master Torin. I am Tzuriel Alanthis, and I offer wealth and trade, as your partner can confirm." He tied his horse to the shop post and returned to the Allirian common togue. "You craft a fine blade even when you are forging something relatively plain. If I could borrow you and your partner from your work we might discuss the future of this establishment, if you are willing?"

 

[Torin Gemheart]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Normally, Torin might sport his own armor on his person, garbed head or shoulder to toe in dwarven plate, lest the helmet be taken off and held at his hip. Today, in this place, he was forging the plate, the blade; sword, shield, helmet, arms and armor. There was even a warhammer on the agenda fit for the clang of his hammer. Torin was a warrior, but the smith stood in a black apron further blackened by soot and grayed by ash.

Having turned around to face the newcomer, the dwarf cocked a brow. His introduction was met with one of the other person, whose tongue was more than courteous when spoken. It was merely a gesture in the custom of some, to speak in the language as the one whom you addressed, but to a dwarf like Torin it was born out of respect.

That was a good way for a first customer to impress a venture merchant. Granted, dialects were different, but the Halls of Kazarek knew the basics, and Belgrath’s language variant was just so known.

Torin caught Gyle’s nod at Tzuriel’s claim as the latter got off his horse and stood facing forward. The store’s owner appeared just as grateful that Tzuriel had only used the dwarven tongue for greeting; Gyle was not so versed in much else beyond Allirian had they continued further. His skill with hammer and anvil were what sold him.

At the other’s gesture for a business proposition, the human and dwarven smiths exchanged a look, the kind of eyes that suggested they had read each other’s mind.

“Tea?
“Ale?”
They spoke at the same time. Torin let Gyle finish.
“Hell, tea and ale and Tzuriel can have whatever he wants. Let’s head inside, gentlemen!”

Torin followed with Tzuriel in tow. A door in the forge led to a shop as plain as the dwarf’s crafted blade, if yet no less fine. Swords, spears, axes; helmets, breastplates, even ingots; all available for purchase and collected on stands or racks or in display cases.

The trio would head past the counter and into the back through a small corridor. A minor dining room had just as many humble fittings and furnishings; chests of drawers for dishes and cutlery, a table with a bowl of fresh fruit in the center, and meat and mead that Gyle promptly set up to eat and drink.

“Wait a minute,” Torin remarked as he took a seat. "This isn't ale."

“So,” Gyle ignored as he poured himself a cup of tea. “What business do you bring for us?”

Tzuriel Alanthis

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

At the other’s gesture for a business proposition, the human and dwarven smiths exchanged a look, the kind of eyes that suggested they had read each other’s mind.​

“Tea?
“Ale?”
They spoke at the same time. Torin let Gyle finish.
“Hell, tea and ale and Tzuriel can have whatever he wants. Let’s head inside, gentlemen!”

Torin followed with Tzuriel in tow. A door in the forge led to a shop as plain as the dwarf’s crafted blade, if yet no less fine. Swords, spears, axes; helmets, breastplates, even ingots; all available for purchase and collected on stands or racks or in display cases.

The trio would head past the counter and into the back through a small corridor. A minor dining room had just as many humble fittings and furnishings; chests of drawers for dishes and cutlery, a table with a bowl of fresh fruit in the center, and meat and mead that Gyle promptly set up to eat and drink.

Tzuriel followed the duo gamely into the interior of the shop and took a seat while Gyle played host.

“Wait a minute,” Torin remarked as he took a seat. "This isn't ale."

“So,” Gyle ignored as he poured himself a cup of tea. “What business do you bring for us?”

Tzuriel poured some mead into the cup placed before him and took a sip before responding.
Since he was the one who offered he knew that they knew he was interested, so they had all of the metaphorical cards. What Tzuriel didn't want was for them to get scared off, this offer was intimidating to some.

The sweet mead hit his tongue and slid down his throat like a balm. He licked his lips and set down his cup before he leaned forward. His expression was all business now.
"It's more of an offer for Master Torin, but if you two are partners it concerns you as well, Wendervich." He paused for a beat to make sure he had their attention, "Master Torin, I would like to invest in your talents. If you make finished products of iron and steel of such quality as I've seen thus far, my company can bring them to lands beyond Alliria and the Reach for the best prices. My fleets and caravans reach every nation in Arethil and my employees are skilled in their craft."

Obviously there was more to it than that, but to charge forward would be premature at this point, better to see how they respond to his opening offer and proceed from there.

 

[Torin Gemheart]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Across the table, the dwarf met the human’s expression with seriousness already stapled onto his countenance. Torin’s was a naturally stern look, determined, except on the oft, not odd, occasion where the Blackheart erupted in a grin.

Tzuriel definitely had both men’s attention. Torin lifted his own mead for a sip, licking sweet honey from his lips. He could take compliments but never really showed it. They all but went in one ear and out the other, but that didn’t mean he took offense instead.

Rather, as good as his works were considered, the dwarf never did what he did to impress others. Yet, it did earn him a number of customers. Tzuriel had seen as much; the blade in the forge outside, and had passed by a collection of both smiths’ items on his way inside.

Fleets. Caravans. Torin breathed deep, thinking. The entrepreneur had his eye.

“Sounds like you’ve got a whole cargo hold of hands already, if you ask me.” Gyle maintained a conversational smile.

“Aye,” Torin agreed. Tzuriel did mention having employees skilled in their craft. Then again, a businessman was always after new opportunities. “But it sounds simple enough." So far. He scratched an itch on the black heart tattooed on his forehead.

“We’re listening.” Wendervich sipped his tea. Tzuriel mentioned his business proposition centered more toward the dwarf. That meant the merchant king was looking for something different. Still, Gyle would be party in what way he could be.

Tzuriel Alanthis

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

“Sounds like you’ve got a whole cargo hold of hands already, if you ask me.” Gyle maintained a conversational smile.

“Aye,” Torin agreed. Tzuriel did mention having employees skilled in their craft. Then again, a businessman was always after new opportunities. “But it sounds simple enough." So far. He scratched an itch on the black heart tattooed on his forehead.

“We’re listening.” Wendervich sipped his tea. Tzuriel mentioned his business proposition centered more toward the dwarf. That meant the merchant king was looking for something different. Still, Gyle would be party in what way he could be.

"Apologies. I didn't mean to imply that I have many skilled craftsmen working for me. Rather, my employees are skilled salesmen and merchants, and their craft is getting the best price for the best goods."
Tzuriel clarified with a good natured wave, as if clearing misunderstanding from the air.
"I also hire reputable mercenary groups for quality protection, and I also have contracts with the Adventurers Guild and Monster Hunters Guild to ensure that all merchandise arrives safely to market."

"Moving on. If it is amenable to everyone we can discuss the contract. I am prepared to buy your products in order to resell them at a premium in other markets, and naturally I am inclined to be generous for generosity in return. If I can buy your wares at a reduced cost up-front, I would be willing to share a percentage of whatever profits proceed from the sales which naturally will fluctuate with the economy."
He reached into his satchel and produced two leather folders of documents.
"Alternatively, I can buy your products at full price and keep all subsequent proceeds for myself. These are my two offers, but I am also open to hearing a counter offer if you have any."

Spoiler: Apologies

Sorry about the wait. Other priorities came up. I'll hopefully be more available now!

 

[Torin Gemheart]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Master Wendervich nodded at Alanthis’ apology. It wasn’t necessary. Merely a misunderstanding in speech. That was typical, especially when it came to conversing between different beings. All this nonsense to mean both merchant-smiths quickly adapted to Tzuriel’s actual meaning.

Quality, quantity, whatever, really, the name of the game was that Tzuriel Alanthis was a merchant prince or king here to trade, by desire or by need. He mentioned his protection, his contracts with guilds of adventurers and monster hunters still, and that did not go over either listener’s head as they glanced at one another with a silent ‘Yes’.

Then came the documents, the papers, of which either merchant-smith is accustomed. After all, it wasn’t all about the hammer that falls upon the anvil. Though it is much and more easy. Torin thought as he sipped his mead. With hidden fine print from a merchant king.

“A generous offer,” Wendervich thankfully interjected amid Torin’s thoughts, sipping his tea. “Buy our fine product at a reduced cost. Share with us a generous percentage of the profits.” With or without a word added into the mix like potion or poison in a witch’s cauldron.

“This dependent, of course, on how many arms and armor we forge, and where, when and to whom you sell our shields and swords.” Gyle drummed his fingers on the table while still able to sip heartily of his tea amid Torin and his mead.

This was a merchant’s trick: Detecting where the profit began and where it ended on either end of the spectrum. “I’d be willing to give you my decision later this morning, even into the evening, on one condition, Mr. Alanthis.”

The human sniffed, words spoken like someone who already had a relationship, whatever his reputation, with the visiting merchant.

“Your proposition is in part dependent,” Torin broke off to sip his drink. “On the time and labor of our output.”

“My counter offer, sir,” Gyle interjected. “Take my master dwarf, Torin Gemheart, with you on your next business venture.” Wendervich burped as though his tea was actually mead. “Let him taste your adventure, experience your partners, and then we shall decide whether we are inclined to sell to you at full price or a fool’s price.”

Gyle smiled. Torin didn’t. His lips were rigid, watching Tzuriel Alanthis for his reaction. “I learned to swing my hammer as a smith.” He shrugged. “And I learned to swing my hammer as a warrior.” He swigged. “I am an adventurer by nature. Let me see what you have to offer in the field, mister, then I shall tell you if you are worth my steel.”

Tzuriel Alanthis

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Master Wendervich nodded at Alanthis’ apology. It wasn’t necessary. Merely a misunderstanding in speech. That was typical, especially when it came to conversing between different beings. All this nonsense to mean both merchant-smiths quickly adapted to Tzuriel’s actual meaning.

Quality, quantity, whatever, really, the name of the game was that Tzuriel Alanthis was a merchant prince or king here to trade, by desire or by need. He mentioned his protection, his contracts with guilds of adventurers and monster hunters still, and that did not go over either listener’s head as they glanced at one another with a silent ‘Yes’.

Then came the documents, the papers, of which either merchant-smith is accustomed. After all, it wasn’t all about the hammer that falls upon the anvil. Though it is much and more easy. Torin thought as he sipped his mead. With hidden fine print from a merchant king.

“A generous offer,” Wendervich thankfully interjected amid Torin’s thoughts, sipping his tea. “Buy our fine product at a reduced cost. Share with us a generous percentage of the profits.” With or without a word added into the mix like potion or poison in a witch’s cauldron.

“This dependent, of course, on how many arms and armor we forge, and where, when and to whom you sell our shields and swords.” Gyle drummed his fingers on the table while still able to sip heartily of his tea amid Torin and his mead.

"Naturally."
Tzuriel agreed. All of this was entirely hinged on their production. Of course, given the quality of the product this would only serve to drive up the potential price. Supply and demand and such. For a high-quality item like this, and with a limited supply, they could practically ask any price for them!
They could even attach the name of the dwarf's family to them! 'Gemheart crafted weapons and armor', that was a nice slogan! And the fact that his name is 'Gemheart' just makes anything he creates sound that much more valuable!

This was a merchant’s trick: Detecting where the profit began and where it ended on either end of the spectrum. “I’d be willing to give you my decision later this morning, even into the evening, on one condition, Mr. Alanthis.”

Tzuriel was all ears to hear whatever either of them had to say. At the end of the day Tzuriel couldn't lose, whether they closed this deal or not. But his own sensibilities told him it would be a shame to let this talent be wasted in the fringes of Alliria.

The human sniffed, words spoken like someone who already had a relationship, whatever his reputation, with the visiting merchant.

“Your proposition is in part dependent,” Torin broke off to sip his drink. “On the time and labor of our output.”

“My counter offer, sir,” Gyle interjected. “Take my master dwarf, Torin Gemheart, with you on your next business venture.” Wendervich burped as though his tea was actually mead. “Let him taste your adventure, experience your partners, and then we shall decide whether we are inclined to sell to you at full price or a fool’s price.”

Gyle smiled. Torin didn’t. His lips were rigid, watching Tzuriel Alanthis for his reaction. “I learned to swing my hammer as a smith.” He shrugged. “And I learned to swing my hammer as a warrior.” He swigged. “I am an adventurer by nature. Let me see what you have to offer in the field, mister, then I shall tell you if you are worth my steel.”

An interesting request and condition. Letting a potential client travel with his caravans was not an issue, many made a similar request to ensure that his security was everything he claimed it was. He often traveled with his caravans himself just to get out of Alliria for a few months, as a matter of personal pride he uses the hardships of the road to keep himself sharp and in top condition.

Sure, most by now knew and trusted the reputation of Alanthis Trade & Co., they weren't a small company. But he took no offense, he could forgive the foreigner for being less familiar with the reliability of his brand.

"So, you wish to travel with my caravans? easily granted! I take it you would like to take the trip first before finalizing a contract?"
Tzuriel gulped the last of his mead and set the cup aside.
"If that is all it will take to earn your trust, I have a few options should you like to choose. There's a caravan preparing for a shorter trip, they are to leave for Oban in three days and the round trip should be a little over six weeks. The day after that there's a ship being prepared to make its way to Elbion, that will take four months round trip. And the day after that there is a caravan leaving for the country of Mardania. That will also take around six or seven weeks to complete the round trip."

Tzuriel presented these options, but he didn't begin to put away the papers quite yet.

 

[Torin Gemheart]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Trust. It was indeed something that had to be earned for both merchant-smiths amid this merchant prince. Wendervich had set up shop in the Outer City on purpose, in part to avoid the big wigs, keep things simple, but perhaps he’d be inclined to change his mind for this proposition.

For Torin, a traveler by nature, passing through this city with a temporary partnership, he’d rather make his decision by experiencing the business up close and personal, and this was granted. “Oban. Let’s keep it simple and local.” He decided in a moment.

The rich city had its fair share of merchants, boasted formidable defenses, had its problems but plenty to offer for import and export. It was just opposite Alliria, and while neither Torin nor Gyle were in a rush, this business trip should be short and sweet in comparison to the other options.

Obviously it would take longer than late morning or early evening, but this conversation was as much amusing to Gyle Wendervich as an opportunity. Personally, Torin was looking forward to the journey.

“We shall discover what each other has to offer, Mr. Alanthis,” the dwarf promised, finishing his drink with a bit of glee. “And then we shall see what becomes of this proposition.”

Tzuriel Alanthis

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Trust. It was indeed something that had to be earned for both merchant-smiths amid this merchant prince. Wendervich had set up shop in the Outer City on purpose, in part to avoid the big wigs, keep things simple, but perhaps he’d be inclined to change his mind for this proposition.

For Torin, a traveler by nature, passing through this city with a temporary partnership, he’d rather make his decision by experiencing the business up close and personal, and this was granted. “Oban. Let’s keep it simple and local.” He decided in a moment.

Oban was a good choice, probably the safest trade route out of country by land or sea!
Oban does a good job keeping its roads clear of monsters and unsavory groups with their griffin knights. Not to say that something couldn't happen, But it was far from risky.

The rich city had its fair share of merchants, boasted formidable defenses, had its problems but plenty to offer for import and export. It was just opposite Alliria, and while neither Torin nor Gyle were in a rush, this business trip should be short and sweet in comparison to the other options.

Obviously it would take longer than late morning or early evening, but this conversation was as much amusing to Gyle Wendervich as an opportunity. Personally, Torin was looking forward to the journey.

“We shall discover what each other has to offer, Mr. Alanthis,” the dwarf promised, finishing his drink with a bit of glee. “And then we shall see what becomes of this proposition.”

"Very well!"
Tzuriel packed up his papers and stood up from the table, facing the dwarf.
"I will meet you at the warehouse district in three days to see you off. I look forward to doing business with you."

With a confident smile he put out his hand to shake with the dwarf, and then mister Wendervich.
"I hope you will continue to support our mutual friend."