The winter's cold settled into Jigano's bones and he pulled his new cloak closer about his shoulders, appreciating the warmth of wool and fur - though not, of course, as warm as his own would have been. He'd been spending more and more time as beast rather than man just to survive the abrupt and brutal change in season thanks to how long the cold nights were growing. He was too gregarious, however, to ever shun human company completely, and he had begun a few tentative friendships among some of the natives and other Outlanders. Friendships that required time and maintenance, no less than any machine, and time was in short supply as he raced to learn what he could of a world that was breathtakingly, excitingly, terrifyingly new to him.
But... so old and worn down to those who had lived here their whole lives.
As he picked his way through the settlement his eyes glanced over the fading of bright colors, washed far too many times and rarely re-dyed due to the difficulty and expense of it. Stone that was shored up rather than replaced from a fresh quarry. Wood that was, yes, warped and riddled with dry rot from too long in weather that varied too fast and too suddenly. Even here, where the most care had been taken to patch the holes, to whitewash the brickwork, and create a semblance of normalcy things had a subtle undertone of weariness.
But also perseverance. Here were those who were determined not to give up, who took joy in hand and wrung the last ounce from it. Or at least, who saw nothing abnormal in the general air of age and genteel shabbiness, and who dutifully soldiered on in their normal lives and appointed tasks.
Today Jigano needed someone with a bit of both. A tradesman who could still call beauty from the fire, but steady enough to have studied his craft well. The bard hummed as he walked, sharp blue eyes on the lookout for the smith a Rathskeller regular had told him about. He found the building he had been told to look out for and slipped in the door, stamping the snow from his boots as he looked around curiously for whoever was in - and what the place looked like, as well. He could tell a lot about a craftsman from how they kept their shop and the quality of their goods on display.
"Hello?" he called out courteously. "Is the master of the shop in? I've a small commission for him, if he's open."
But... so old and worn down to those who had lived here their whole lives.
As he picked his way through the settlement his eyes glanced over the fading of bright colors, washed far too many times and rarely re-dyed due to the difficulty and expense of it. Stone that was shored up rather than replaced from a fresh quarry. Wood that was, yes, warped and riddled with dry rot from too long in weather that varied too fast and too suddenly. Even here, where the most care had been taken to patch the holes, to whitewash the brickwork, and create a semblance of normalcy things had a subtle undertone of weariness.
But also perseverance. Here were those who were determined not to give up, who took joy in hand and wrung the last ounce from it. Or at least, who saw nothing abnormal in the general air of age and genteel shabbiness, and who dutifully soldiered on in their normal lives and appointed tasks.
Today Jigano needed someone with a bit of both. A tradesman who could still call beauty from the fire, but steady enough to have studied his craft well. The bard hummed as he walked, sharp blue eyes on the lookout for the smith a Rathskeller regular had told him about. He found the building he had been told to look out for and slipped in the door, stamping the snow from his boots as he looked around curiously for whoever was in - and what the place looked like, as well. He could tell a lot about a craftsman from how they kept their shop and the quality of their goods on display.
"Hello?" he called out courteously. "Is the master of the shop in? I've a small commission for him, if he's open."
