Kala the Smith's Apprentice's page

Kala wakes first, her demonic, forge tempered body reacting to the dying heat from the coals of what used to be their campfire. She gave a slight shiver before opening her eyes and sitting up slowly. While she was never susceptible to the cold, she never appreciated it as much as she did a roaring flame, preferably one well stoked and holding iron. Glancing about to see the others still resting, she got to her feet and carefully padded around the sleeping forms to use the latrine, even the bells on her boots barely giving a whisper.

With herself taken care of, Kala returned to her spot and pulled her tool kit from her backpack turned makeshift pillow. She went to work tending to her gear, carefully as to not disturb the others and let them get the couple hours of sleep they were still due.

Kala runs through the steps for weapon maintenance slowly, taking her time to explain the proper techniques she'd been trained in and the reason for each step. She stopped often and tested the mongrelfolk to make sure he understood before correcting him or continuing with the lesson. She demonstrated on the first few inches above the hilt before handing the blade back to Lann along with a whetstone, oil, a bit of steel wool, and a rag for him to do the rest as she supervised.

As the visitor knocked and was let in, she was sitting cross legged on her mat of straw, watching carefully as Lann practiced. She gave the ratfolk a curious glance, but otherwise left the issue for the others as she quickly returned her attention to her lesson. Upon hearing the woman was an alchemist, however, her interest piqued again. "You wouldn't happen to know how to make something along the lines of a rust solvent, would you?" She asks Katei, trusting Lann long enough to politely meet the ratfolk's eye. "A bit of the right stuff will help eat through the tougher spots and save Lann, here some elbow grease."

Kala had just finished maintenance of her own gear when Zaigan returned with Lann at his heels. Hearing the offer, she holds her hand out for the sword and gives it a thorough inspection. "Well it definitely looks like a First Crusade blade," She muses to herself, running a thumb over an unrusted patch along the flat. She shakes her hand, rubbing her fingers together at the tingling sensation of the cold iron. "And it looks like it's been abused for a century!"

She gives Lann a chiding look before grabbing him and pulling him down to sit with the sword between them. "You're going to watch, and you're going to learn." She pulls out her tools before continuing, "You're not fighting if you don't know how to care for your equipment. You're liable to die, otherwise."

"A way back to the surface, mainly." Kala pipes up, "We fell during the quake."

Kala followed along silently, finding nothing worth adding as the group conversed with the mongrel folk. She grimaced to herself upon hearing Lady Anevia's description of the plant creature awaiting them. She kept herself near the front of the group as they grew closer to the danger and readied her hammer as Lann translates the hastily signed information. "Well, that's a damn shame, but at least they seemed to have put a dent into the monster for us. Maybe the fight won't be as nightmarish as we first thought."

Kala gives a short snort of laughter at Aravashnial's excited and poorly phrased questions, giving the Elven wizard a pat on the shoulder as she passes him. It was kind of nice not being the strangest looking being for once.

Kala's hammer has Torag's symbol engraved on the non-business sides of her hammer along with a dwarven prayer etched into the handle.

Kala glances over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow at Zaigan, already at least three strides into the side passage, "I know I'm short, but I'm not invisible."

Kala comes to a stop as she notices the side-tunnel, staring down it curiously before turning to take it. "You think these mongrel-men could summon lights?" She asks over her shoulder.

"I'm sure it's a heart wrenching tale," Kala says flatly from the front of the group, "But could you tell Orange Juice to keep his challenges to himself until we're not in a gods-know-what infested cave gods-know-how deep underground?"

Kala takes a moment to wipe the head of her hammer clean with a rag looped around her belt before resting it against her shoulder. She appraises the pair with a flat expression as they make comment of her combat prowess and responds with a casual shrug, "My master says 'A good smith should know their wares.'"

She gladly hands the bag over for Amyrtaeus to examine as she continues forward, keeping an eye out for dangers.

Kala recoils slightly at the sudden appearance of the orange tinted spirit, eyeing it and the half-orc cautiously, "What is that and why is it orange?"

Kala catches sight of one of the silver scales among the scattered weapon debris. At first, she thought it a broken tip from a sword or an arrow, but just brushing her fingers over it proved it wasn't so disposable. The flash of draconic knowledge makes her hand recoil before again reaching out to pick it up.

She gives the scale a flip and catches it again to stash in her belt pouch. What magic it had was little use to the small tiefling, but discarding it would be both a waste and a major disrespect to the fallen dragon guardian of Kenabres.

The others draw Kala's attention to the Spider lurking just outside the light, her demonic eyes allowing her to see a fair bit farther. She takes hold of her hammer in both hands, prepared to defend herself, but warns, "If it let's us alone, we should let it alone. Slaying vermin isn't my idea of glorious."

Kala gets to her feet after a long moment, finding herself fit enough, and the area safe enough to do so. After all, if the entitled man whining for light hadn't brought the demon horde down on their heads with his demands by now, she doubts the sound of her bells will. She dusts herself off and looks the others over curiously.

"If the constant complaints haven't doomed us, yet, I think we're safe for the moment, Hero," The short tiefling quips, taking a few jingling steps to examine some of the scattered wares she had, until just recently been transporting. She cursed under her breath at the chipped and dented arms before pulling her personal hammer off her back and checked it as well.

Tagged.