(Thank you to Sylus Kurgen!)


Though the main shop had a closed sign on it, the fence of the forge was open. Rhythmic chiming of hammer on metal echoes from within in a battle cadence. Twisting the ever flattening piece of steel back and forth, Sylus Kurgen keeps folding it over and hammering down, pausing only to keep the metal hot. The only molds he used were for plating and decorative pieces.

It was the fresh air that Isuelt was craving, and getting out into the spring sunshine was enough to get her frustrated mind off of what was plaguing her lately. Weapons procurement, another of her favored pastimes, had led the Scathachian toward the forge headed up by a fellow teammate. The high-pitched singing of steel as it was molded wafted on the air and served as a lure for the Judge. Her darkly-clad form stood against the fence, arms folded lightly over her chest, as she peered into the forge. Sylus was not a welcoming soul, at least he wasn't the last time she had tried to extend her thanks to him. Still, the card he had put into her hand had this address on it. And the Scathachian wasn't foolish enough to not take the invitation.

That black hair of his, dark enough to absorb light, is pulled back into an intricate braid to keep as much as possible back from the flames and soot. A soot stained leather apron covers his thickly corded chest to protect him from the embers that spark off the struck metal. Ever rotating pieces between the forge and the anvil he appears to be working a few different items at once. Finally gets one of the pieces how he likes it and drops the hot metal into a bucket labeled Olive Oil. "Hoped you would stop by..." he says into the following silence.

Isuelt lifted her brows hearing his version of a hello. Seemed his senses weren't too far off from hers. Isuelt smirked and pushed off of the edge of the fencing, though it lightly pained her to do so. Her long legs carried her further into the forge, taking his words as invitation. "You did, did you?" A light sigh as she looked around at the workshop and the few weapons housed within in various states of completion. A slight nod to her espresso head as she approved of what she saw. "You looking to sell me something that will somehow keep me out of harm's way?" A morose stab at humor as she turned her chin to him and studied the warrior once more.

Wiping his face down with a rather dingy looking towel, Sylus lifted his gaze as Issy came closer. "Do you want one, I have a stock pile." Almost a smile to that, almost. "What do you know about the differences in Brian and Raven...beyond their psychology and appearance?"

As if he had stabbed her with the blade he was working on, just in between her ribs, her breath caught in her throat and her dark eyebrows stilled as she stared at him. She certainly wasn't expecting this sort of question, and certainly not from someone she felt she barely knew. The tall Scathachian exhaled and let her gaze fall to the ground, just beyond her left boot as she recovered herself. Her tongue licked at her lips as she inhaled and lifted her chin toward Sylus. "I thought I knew him well. Apparently, I didn't." It was a safe enough answer. At least, for now.

He regards her evenly with a gaze every warrior is used to seeing. A weapon's master gauging potential as his deep set amber eyes hold an infinite patience. "I see." Though that's not exactly what he asked for.

Her tongue clicked lightly against her teeth as she looked away from him as took long, slow strides further into the forge. Black lashes framed her dark eyes as their gaze moved over the weapons gathered. She'd been wrestling with this very question for a matter of weeks, and still had come to no answer. No answer could be given, lest by Brian Ravenlock himself. Her legs halted their walk-around and the Scathachian turned back to Sylus, her muscled arms coming to fold over her chest, signaling a creak from the leather of her bodice. "The differences are stark. So stark that it has left me questioning the relationship between this 'John Doe' we're meant to be on the lookout for and Ravenlock."

"You feel they are indeed two men and not one?" That was the obvious thought to her words but he mused further, turning to stop at a large bellows and used his powerful thews to raise and lower the heavy bar, igniting the forge coals. The angry red light lent a primal ferocity to his features only aided by the predatory nature he radiates. "I have seen Ravenlock fight on many occasions. I have yet to see this Raven, engage anyone in single combat, in fact he outright avoids it though will not hesitate to draw his weapons and keep enemies at a distance as we saw with the unfortunate demise of Miss Rhysata."

As she watched him work, she felt a bitter shudder rack her still healing frame. Though to convey that in any other way than a stumbling blink would have been folly. The mention of Katt made her pause. She still blamed herself, even though she knew she had no course to. "He wants me in single combat. He wants me to..." She sighed heavily and shared with this near-stranger what Ravenlock had told her, "To kill him. To try and kill him. He says he doesn't care anymore and that if I don't try to kill him, he will definitely kill me. He...he says that he blames me for leaving this city to fall into its state of despair. He blames me for some war that happened while I was away. With a Travanix." She lowered her form and sat on the edge of a concrete block, then looked up toward Sylus. "I really don't know what to f*cking think, to be honest."

"The downward spiral of an entire city...can hardly be laid on the shoulders of any single individual. I highly doubt that your sisters would have turned the tide too greatly. The city was invaded by a technology advanced, well disciplined, military force." Taking down a towel from a near-by shelf he wiped soot and sweat from his face before proceeding. "They made strategic strikes. Their allies hit specific targets, the whole ordeal was unexpected. No one came to Ravenlocks aid at the Public Works because everyone was entrenched in their own survival. I was on the same Avengers team as Brian. We received no intel on the attack and could not get in touch with the founder of the group. It was every Avenger for himself."

"Something happened to him," Isuelt uttered quietly after a moment. "It broke him. Maybe it was enough of a break to...create another person. Another personality. That's the easy answer. But then, the answers around here are rarely easy."

There was little he could react to in her final statement other than to say, "Welcome to Rhydin. Land of hypocrisy." Wiping the ash and soot from his thickly corded arms, Sylus moved to another shelf and took down a pair of crimson bracers, the adjustable straps set with brass buckles. They appeared definitely crafted for a woman, light but durable. Rather than made of overlapping boiled leather plates, chained links show between each layered leather strip. Unceremoniously, he held them out to her. "Well then...sounds like he's picked you to be the one to end this."

A scoff at his sentiment. Since she had come here, so many years ago, she had found every day to be a challenge to her skills and her faith. He was certainly right about that. However, as she watched his presentation of the strikingly beautiful bracers, her deep espresso gaze lifted to him. The Judge didn't reach out for the crimson bracers, nor did she recoil from them. She simply stared at Sylus, naked in her expression. Her voice, which seemed to be of a volume of confession, crept past her lips, "I...can't kill him." Her history with Brian Ravenlock has been a long one, anchored by a deep friendship that had weathered many, many storms. "I can't be the one. If...if it comes to that." And she was sure that it would. "I...I'll be the bait, but I don't think that I could strike him down. I know I should have brought this up at the meeting, but I...I was ashamed." Said one warrior to another. Never had she shied away from a kill that she knew must be. But there was a first time for everything.

His hold on the presented bracers didn't waver. Those hands were steady, unwavering, and patient as he listened to her words with a slow nod. "Then best him. Face him in single combat, and ensure the outcome. With this revelation of yours, I get a sense I was right to make these for you shortly after the meeting." As he slowly turns the braces in his hand, exposing the bottom portion where she'd slide her hands through, something glitters inside, an intricate spring system that runs the full length of the bracer.

The trick of light caught her attention and her studious expression which was fixated upon the weapons maker, shifted to his prize. Her arm lifted to extend toward the bracers, her brows lowered as she took them to inspect them with an experienced eye. "What's this?" It was more than the basics, that was for sure.

"The right houses a six inch sword-breaker designed to extend when you apply enough pressure with your wrist to the housing matrix. The left, holds a single, spring loaded dart that can be laced with...anything you could consider. The interwoven chain mail reinforces them against piercing and slashing, though I would not attempt to completely stop something of a heavier weapon like an axe, or broad sword which are meant to break bones more than shed blood." As she took them from him, Sylus folded his arms casually. They had been made before the Marketplace incident and on a complete hunch. "Keep them, or sell them...your choice. But the Scathachian colors were a deliberate choice."

She was impressed. They reminded her of the bracers that Scorpion Wraitharan had back in Metro. But, then of course he was a crime boss and needed a little extra help. After a beat, Isuelt's dark brow eyes flickered up from the bracers and focused on Sylus. "Thank you. A little extra help seems right about up my alley lately." Turning them over, she slipped on the bracers and pulled the buckles tight over her skin. Flexing her fingers, she nodded her head at the feel of the new additions. Without looking up, she began a new line of questions. "Why did you pass me over at the Inn?"

This he'd been expecting for some time. "Unless the Avengers are called to assemble, we are not supposed to know one another. Hence the reason for the code names. Even though many of us are fairly public defenders of the realm." He watched as she gave them a try and seemed to approve of their fit. "You and I had never met or spoken in public, suddenly you are coming up to me and saying thank you. That alone can be a red flag to our enemies if they are watching closely. Raven wants you to dance to his tune, expect him to be watching...."

Her head nodded, "Fair enough." Secrecy, while not something she was unfamiliar with when it came her identity, was not something she was employing lately. She understood completely, however and conceded her error. "Well, then at least I can say thank you here." The shadow of a smirk roved over her features, "Thank you." She held up her forearms, now sporting the bracers, "For these too. Of course, I shall pay you for your time."

"I have no need of thanks. I'm more or less the senior squad member. It's unofficially my job to make sure you all survive as best I can." Turning away from her, Sylus returned to the piece of metal he'd put in the Olive oil and shook it off and cast it back upon the coals to heat up all over again. Every movement is a calculated display before stopping by a work bench with a series of yellow slips of paper pierced on a spike. Taking it up he returned to her, holding it out. "So everything appears official...." the slip is a receipt for the bracers, just labeling them as leather bracers, no mention of the chain mail or extras. "Saw Kruger made your sisters some gear...think it'll hold up?"

The Scathachian took the slip and nodded at it, then responded to Sylus, "Yeah. It's a heat resistant material that will help us face our own enemy. The Temple of Bhaal has been gaining strength here. They've...their members have been spotted here. They have a Fire Dancer with them. All the blades in the world are no match for a fire storm from her hands. We're trying to even the odds."

He tapped the bracer with the dart. "That's why you strike before she can manifest her powers, no?" Just his observation on the issue. "If you'd like, I could work up some heat resistant armor. The equipment he made may be able to stand up to the flames she conjures, but the lack of oxygen in the air produced by them, plus ambient temperatures would still be a threat to you. Was this accounted for?" This was Sylus the weapon smith and adventurer talking. The man who'd killed a Red dragon in its own volcanic lair.

"Yeah...if we could find her." She shook her head, "They are like cockroaches. Nowhere to be found until you turn off the lights, then they are on you before you know where they came from." On this second count, Isuelt was stubborn. While her Sisters had urged her to green light the armor project with Kruger, she had denied them. Scathachians, like their goddess before them, shunned armor as a signal of weakness in battle. She knew that their resolve was gaining while hers was weakening and she gave Sylus a long, pensive gaze before she stood up. "I'll let you know." This was as close to a 'yes' as she cared to get at this point. She waved the yellow paper lightly, "I'll see that the money is left to you. Here?" She inquired after an appropriate delivery spot as she looked around.

"No need." Once again waving off the offer of payment. Twice offered and twice denied. He knew she wanted to thank him but the man really didn't need it. If the bracers kept her alive, that was payment enough to him.

Repayment was left undone. She thought along much the same lines he did; she was looking forward to aiding him in the battles promised to come. With only another nod of her chocolate brown head, she exited through the fencing and was on her way back to the Sanctuary with her new crimson bracers warming her wrists.