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[Eythen]

The ash dare not fall, which was rare for the Sootwarrens. The somber curtain of gray and black always seemed its worst here, as if to oppress the skaa particularly harshly where they lived. But nary a flake was brave nor foolish enough to drift towards the blackened streets today. And how could they?

There was a monster loose in the warrens today. It was not an Inquisitor, no, but a different creature entirely. Taller, stronger, far more intimidating for it. It was not the first time this massive figure had cast its shadow across the streets, and so as heavy footsteps echoed between the ash-blackened buildings the skaa knew exactly what course of action needed to be taken:

Gather the children. The behemoth always wanted the children.

*****

Children shrieked and some scattered as the monster took thundering steps after them. Clouds of ash rose up into the air like smoke from the monsters mouth as it roared mightily. Bleck. That looked impressive, but that was NOT my brightest idea..

Brave skaa boys latched on to the giant's powerful arms and were lifted high into the air despite their efforts. Another pair wrapped around his legs from behind, and still his footsteps thundered on. Yet one more, wrapping tiny arms around as much as the giant's waist as he could manage, was all it took to cause it to bellow out, toppling forward.

"Bwaaaaargh!! Alas, I am defeated!" The Behemoth, better known as the blacksmith Eythen of Goldheart Forge, stated all too dramatically, splayed out on the ashen ground in a fashion that had harmed none of the children. In fact, this had been the best reception he had received yet in the slums. Word must be spreading...good.

The children climbed off as others began to peek from behind doors, crates, and brown skirts, eyes wide with curiosity. Shifting up into a sitting position, Eythen slid the heavy pack off his arms and set it down with an appropriately heavy 'clunk' before him.

"I suppose I aught to give you my treasures, then. Great legendary beasts always have amazing hordes of treasure, after all! And you brave warriors certainly proved your mettle in defeating me!" The pack was opened wide as the children stared on, some with eyes almost anticipatory. Word was spreading indeed.

The tin soldiers were pulled out first, each one carefully crafted so not a sharp edge could be found upon them. He would know, after all. He had made them himself. The ragdolls that came after them, however, he had not made. Eythen shuddered to think what his thumbs would look like if he had tried sewing something at all, much less so delicate. Blue eyes looked up from the still half-full pack at the slowly gathering children.

"Well? Surely someone must want treasures such as these.."

[Klyde]

Klyde shook his head groggily. Where in the Lord Ruler's name was he? Where was Delissia? Wait, Delissia left him months ago. She was in Luthadel now. That's right... Luthadel. I came back, chasing that fool of a woman. He tried to open his eyes, but the sun proved too bright, so he closed them again. Why did his head feel like it had derranged inquisitors bouncing around in it? He moved his chin down to his chest, and tried to press his face into the ground. Take that sun, you red bastard! Just try blind me when the ground is in the way! Klyde sat up suddenly, nearly choking in his effort to rid his mouth of it's contents. He'd smotherd his face into a pile of ash. The coughing eventually led to heaving, which led (as too many things often did) to him lying on his back in the ash, cradling his head with a pile of vomit beside him.

Klyde's eyes snapped open. My informants! He'd met them at a small tavern the night before. None of them had been willing to help him, but they had given him names of people who might. Not much, but a start. In Luthadel, one had to be happy with what he got.

Where in this ash filled heap of a city am I then? The tavern was no where in sight. Klyde looked around carefully. The sunlight really wasn't so bright, not when you got used to it. If only those inquisitors would stop jumping around in his head. He was in an alleyway of some sort, in the soot warrens perhaps? He quickly checked for his knives and his coin pouch. Both were still intact. No wonder, he was a mess! Most likely any pit pockets who had stumbled his way thought he was probably some beggar, his last clips squandered on drink. He shook his head and rubbed his hands through his hair, streaking his already filthy locks with more ash. Why does getting good and drunk always seem like a good idea at the time? I should really...

A high pitched scream broke out.

Klyde hopped to his feet, instantly alert, ready to fight whatever... And he fell back to the ground and nearly passed out again. Another scream saved him. From the sound, he knew it was either a woman or a child. Klyde hated kids, but he decided the children of the slums fell under his protection none the less. Women fell into that category far more easily. He stood up, slowly this time. With a quick shake of his head to clear the dizziness, he stalked out of the alleyway, with a knife in both hands. He snuck a quick look around the corner and saw...

A tall man handing out... were those toys? Klyde shook his head, but when he looked again, the scene before him was still there, children, toys and all. Everyone present was skaa, the man with the bag included, and judging by the way the ash coated him, he'd spent some time on the ground as well. He was obviously a crafstmen of some sort, what other Skaa could afford toys of all things. Unless... could this man be a member of the underground? If so he was being more than foolish, displaying his wealth for all to see. That was a good way to get a knife in the back, especially in the soot warrens. He should be more careful. Klyde ducked, keeping himself in the shadowed alleyway. The man was large, bigger even thean him, and his muscles seemd to bulge out of his clothing. A smith, or a bodyguard? If he was one of Kindle's street toughs, Klyde might be in trouble.

Would a tough be handing out toys to children? Klyde carefully resecured his knives in his sleeves. Kindle may be a woman, but Klyde knew better than any that she had no heart. If she had a sizeable score, she would not be sharing it with the village brats.

He approached the man, cuatiously, trying his best to be unthreating. Lord Ruler, did those little devils have to shout so? Didn't they know there were tiny inquisitors banging obsidian axes into his skull?

"You should be more careful how you show your wealth friend. There are all kinds of unsavoury characters in these parts."

[Eythen]

There were footsteps approaching. A far cry from the soft patter of the skaa children, these sounded heavier...and a little unsteady at that. A voice, obviously male, began to speak.

"You should be more careful how you show your wealth friend. There are all kinds of unsavoury characters in these parts."

Eythen looked over his shoulder, making sure that his face remained as warm and friendly as it had been. It was completely against his intentions today to frighten the children who already lived in fear. The large man stoked the Soulforge inside of him, adding copper and then iron to its fires. Iron's azure chains reached out from the forge, snaking through the air and up the figure's sleeves. Though his expression did not change in the slightest, his eyes seemed to shift towards a steelier gray as he regarded the newcomer. The man looked like he had walked to Hathsin and back last night. Hopefully that was far from the case.

"Is that so? You certainly have an unusual concept of unsavory, friend." The blacksmith replied in the gentlest tone his rumbling voice could muster, as he turned his gaze back towards the little ones with a warm smile to match the tone. The tiniest girl he could remember seeing in quite some time had managed to toddle all the way from her mother's skirts to Eythen's place in the middle of the street.

Looking over the dolls he had removed so far, he reached into the pack once more and pulled out one that was more to scale for her. Holding out the cloth figure to her, Eythen nodded softly. "Go ahead, she's all yours. Needs a good hugging after spending all morning in a big, dark backpack. You'll be fast friends in no time, I know."

The doll was out of his hand faster than he could blink, the girl already moving back to her mother's side as fast as her tiny legs would carry her, new treasure clutched tightly to her chest. Eythen had seen the smile, though, and the light in her eyes. He turned his head back towards the strange man, grinning as the sounds of more light footsteps began rapidly approaching. "I can think of no better use for wealth than lifting the spirits of others, friend. Even gold boxings pale in comparison to the glowing smile I just received. Today, I am richer than any noble could hope to be."

[Klyde]

Klyde rolled his eyes. The man was obviously some sort of sentimental fool, valueing some cheeky little brat's smile over boxings. The only thing worth more than the boxings in your pocket was a pretty woman. Boxings could buy all kinds of things, such as drink, and women were, well, women. Smiles however, were completely worthless.

Klyde almost stalked away, before eyeing some of the mothers in the square. If this man wasn't careful, he mgith make it out okay, he was humungous after all. What happened to the pretty young women when some street tough tried to take her son's new toy to melt down and make into weapons?

"I think you and I both know that these snot nosed..." Klyde paused seeing the look in the man's eye, "children are not who I was talking about? This is Luthadel man. If you insist on doing handouts like this, don't do it in the open. If you continue, I'll bet some theiving crew comes knocking on your door, or the doors of the people you've 'helped' here. Even the garrisson barely patrols here. Take my advice, save your 'smiles' for behind closed doors." Klyde paused, remembering the real reason he had approached the man in the first place. Somehow, he now doubted this man had anything to do with the underground.

[Eythen]

So his new 'friend' was one of those types.

He was familiar with the type, the ones who seemed to somehow forget that they, too, were once 'snot nosed brats'. It was a sad perpetuated loop, really. Every generation someone would come along professing a distaste for children, and that would get seeded in their young minds and one of them would grow up thinking there was something wrong with children...such a vicious cycle.

"I know very well where I am, good sir, though based upon the telltale scent wafting from your person, I wonder if you can claim the same clarity." Eythen mused back with a slight grin, not bothering to turn his head back around. It was far more enjoyable to watch their faces light up than the stranger's sour.

"You said so yourself, even the Garrison barely patrols here. And why? They do not care what happens to the skaa. Day in and day out, these people work themselves to exhaustion, in constant fear of beatings from a taskmaster or lord. And even if they work their hardest and go out of their way to avoid them, they may be beaten just for being skaa." Shaking his head, he smiled at a young boy, assuring him that his mighty tin warrior would help him slay any monster that dared try to ruin his dreams.

Pulling out the remainder of the toys to be claimed, he was quite proud to see that there had been enough. It just would not do to disappoint one child. " That is not living, friend. Look at them. I do not think a single one of these children has ever had something they could call their own. And look at what such a simple gesture has done for them. They stand a little straighter. They smile. And maybe, hopefully, they dare to dream a little."

" If thieving crews came to my forge seeking my boxings, I would give them to them: By teaching them the trade of the forge that they would not have to risk their lives to eat every day." Eythen rose to his feet with the pack's straps in a hand, turning to look down at this man so that he did not risk any of the children seeing the stern look on his face or the cold blue fire in his eyes as he continued to speak.

" If the Lord Ruler himself came to take these children's toys from them, just to continue oppressing them as much as he can, I would face him until every fiber of my being was torn asunder by the so-called 'Living God', or until my hammer has driven the last breath from his body." These words were spoken near silently, so that only the man before him would hear, but with the tenacity to seem as if they were being shouted from the rooftops.

" The Final Empire will fall, one day, and under a blue sky all peoples will be united as one. On that day, children will need to know how to be children again. How to laugh, how to play, how to live. That, good sir, is why I do what I do, and why their smiles are worth more than gold."

[Klyde]

Tell tale scent? I do not smell! Klyde rolled his eyes again. This man was definately not part of the underground. He was soot-loving crazy, that's what he was. Klyde dislike the Lord Ruler as much as any man, but to challenge him over a child's toy? Klyde moved to go, but then caught the fires of passion burning in the man's cold blue eyes. Lord Ruler, he's a scary one. Klyde didn't consider men like this under his protection. Fools got what they deserved in Luthadel, but he felt he should say something more. Torn between staying and leaving, Klyde did the only possible thing.

He vomited.

[Eythen]

Working as a blacksmith had a certain effect on one's nerves. There was a near-constant threat of injury, be it by hammer, molten metal, or even the forge itself. Needless to say, in such an environment, a man's reflexes were honed very quickly.

Dodging an errant spray of bile did not require even thinking about pewter, much less warming it up. It could hardly be said Eythen was surprised, either. The man had every bit of the look of one who had woken up in an alley wondering where he was after a night of ale. Probably what he thought the proper use of wealth was, for that matter.

He almost pitied this man, really. His general demeanor thus far suggested he was far too accustomed to looking for a knife in any hand held his way. It was a terribly way to live, really. Sighing, Eythen reached to his side and removed the waterskin he had been saving to wash up a bit with after rolling around in the soot, offering it to the stranger. "Here. That should help your head stop pounding a bit."

Turning back towards the other skaa, the smile inadvertently returned to his face, his hand reaching to the small cloth bundles that comprised the other half of his equally gigantic pack. Leaving the pessimist behind to drink water and perhaps clear his head a bit further, Eythen began to walk amongst the gathered skaa, watching the children explore the possibilities of their new treasures. Smiles mostly greeted him, though there were the doubting, suspicious few. No doubt they were in the stranger's frame of mind, expecting the toys to be poisoned or something of that like.

To the older skaa, he began to distribute the small cloth bundles, one to every couple of people. He did not have as many by nature, but their contents would be just as valued; a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and several strips of smoked meats. Food of better quantity and quality than most of these people had ever seen, much less had, unless it was stolen. Eythen could already see the ash caked on several faces beginning to run in black, salty rivers.

[Klyde]

Klyde eyed the water for a moment before snatching it from the bull sized loon and began gulping it down thirstily. When had his throat become so parched? As he did, he eyed the other residents of the alley. Some appeared startled, but most seemed to ignore him, focusing their attention on the man who was giving them things. Klyde didn't blame them; in the the slums, drunken bastards were far more common than generous koloss. How big was the man?

Klyde realized he had finished half of the water. He felt no need to take advantage of this man's generosity, and so he walked up to him and handed it back.

"Thanks, I guess." He eyed the cloth parcels the man was handing out. Just how rich was he, to have all this to spare? He must be skaa, even the least of nobleman would never stoop to rolling in the ash. If he was a craftsman he must be a prosperous one, and going without the relative luxuries that most of those privileged indivuals enjoyed. No matter how skilled they might be, skaa were never payed much. Craftsmen or labourers, skaa were skaa.

But where did this man's wealth come from? The familiar itch of curiousity began to replace the roaring headache. "I appreciate your aid, friend. I hope you don't mind but, how do you afford all of this?" He finished with a grandoise gesture to the milling skaa and their 'presents.'

[Eythen]

At least the man had some courtesy to him, it seemed. Accepting the returned skin, he was almost pleased to feel its weight almost cut in half. Clearly this world-weary figure had been in need of good, non-alcoholic, drink. It wasn't as if he needed to clean up, after all. Nobody batted a lash at a skaa covered in ash, after all. He simply nodded in acknowledgment to the other man's thanks.

"I appreciate your aid, friend. I hope you don't mind but, how do you afford all of this?" Eythen had wondered how long it would take a man with knives up his sleeves to get to such a question. Again, at least he was polite about it. Maybe this one would not be foolish enough to try tailing him back to the forge in an attempt to gain access to his proposed wealth.

"I work hard for it, of course. I was fortunate enough to be born to a craftsman father, and followed him in his trade. We run the Goldheart Forge on Kenton Street, and you'll find no finer blacksmith in The Final Empire." Eythen explained, a healthy dose of pride filtering into his deep voice as he thought of all the work his father had done to get them where they were. Not too much, though. Father would be cross if he became too arrogant, after all. "When you provide superior work for an honest amount of boxings, people will bring you all the work they can. And while I do not know if you hail from Luthadel, friend, strange people sail across the night here. Because of them, there is always a hinge, bracket or gate that needs repair or replacement with one that will not yield as easily to future abuse.

"So I make a good living for myself, but have no desire to live in the wasteful extravagance of the nobility. So when my bills and taxes are paid, and the simple needs of my father and I met, I do what I can to better the lives of those who were not as fortunate in their births as I." The man would laugh, or call him a fool. Possibly both. Eythen rarely explained his actions to others, but more often than not that was the case when he did. He supposed that it did come off as a bit foolish, one could not bring down the Final Empire with tin soldiers, rag dolls, and the smiles of children.

But if someone cared about these children, showed them that they too deserved to be happy and free, perhaps one of them would grow up to be the kind of hero of legend needed to put an end to such tyranny.

[Klyde]

Strange people sailing across the night on hinges? Klyde's eyes widened slightly. Few skaa knew anything real about allomancers, and those who did were mostly high up in the underground. Did this man know as much as he implied? Klyde had heard of this Goldenheart forge, and it was one of Luthadel's best, definately the best of the shops run by skaa. Klyde eyed the man appraisingly. He was obviously strong, an intimidating figure, with a bit of capital behind him, and some knowledge of the nobility... Klyde wasn't sure if it was wise or not, but he decided he'd ask anyway. When plans failed, he usually went with his gut, and it rarely steered him wrong. Except of course when it steers me into a tavern, he reminded himself. A turn towards the drink was almost always a wrong one.

He lowered his voice so only the man next to him would hear. It was doubtful there were any allomancers about, especially among all of these skaa, but it always payed to be careful. "It's too bad the constraints of your wages limit the good you can do, friend. If your interested, I know of ways a man like you could... expand his operation, so to speak."

[Eythen]

An eyebrow arched, and it was plain to see Eythen was more than a little concerned about that turn of phrase. Just what is he implying I do? It didn't sound good, regardless of which way he turned it in his mind. Then again, perhaps he was letting his first impression of the man cloud his thoughts. Being judgmental was something the nobles did, not something he should be perpetrating.

"And how, precisely, might I go about doing that?"

[Klyde]

Klyde suddenly realized where he was. In the skaa slums, surrounded by bystanders, discussing an incriminating topic with a man who seemed to legitimately have a heart of gold.

"Never mind," he said stretching, and thinking of how much he missed Delissia's back massages. "I wasn't thinking straight. I suppose I'll have to walk it off. Thank's for the water, friend. I'll see you in another life, perhaps."

[Eythen]

Eythen nodded slowly, his head canting just slightly to the side as he looked over this man. What had he seen in his life to make him so world-weary?

"You are quite welcome, friend. If you need help finding that other life, swing by the forge sometime. You're a bit old to be an apprentice, I think.." Grinning broadly, he hoped the humor would be appreciated at least. "But I could always use a set of strong hands for deliveries and the like. At worst, I can usually point you towards someone else who would appreciate a hand. Wouldn't be much, but it'd be a start, yeah? Best of luck to you either way."

[Klyde]

Klyde looked back at the fellow one more time. A job in the forge? He could certainly use the money... he'd spent most of his on drink, and he would need some more to find... Delissia!

Klyde shook his head as if startled, and walked hurriedly away. The memories night was still patchy, but something stuck suddenly for him. There were some secret, supposedly dangerous instructions whispered in that tavern, though Klyde could not remember for the life of him what they were. All he remembered now is that they had lead him to a eirie sounding figure shrouded in mists, who had told him all he needed to know. There was to be a ball tonight! Surely Delissia would be there, she would never miss her first chance to attend a Luthadel ball, would she?

Klyde took a good look at himself, and sighed. There was no way he'd be ready for the ball in time... perhaps if he caught her on the way out? No, if he showed up looking like he was, the guards would likely do away with him. But what to do, what to do. Klyde smiled. What he needed now, was a plan. And Klyde was very good with plans.

[Eythen]

Watching as the somber figure retreated, seemingly quite suddenly preoccupied, Eythen blinked just slightly. What had gotten in to him? The look of a man who had just remembered something important was dominant on his features; had Eythen played a hand in that?

Probably never know.. There was a healthy amount of doubt that he would ever see that man again, and either way, he had more pressing matters to attend to. Turning back to the small group of children with a smile, he up-righted a large barrel, sitting down upon it.

"Now then. Who would like to hear a story?" He knew several by heart, Dehnib had made sure of that, having never seemed to tire of Eythen's childishly-incessant pleas to repeat his favored tales. Truth be told, the blacksmith was fairly certain old Dehnib had enjoyed telling the stories as much as he had loved to hear them.

"It begins a very long time ago, in a land far away.."