ORIGIN

After cycles of witnessing the brutality of the caves, one inevitably had to face the unfortunate odds that someday relying on speed and cunning alone would meet a hard limit. Avoiding fights, though it always sounded like a fine plan to a small Gembound way out of their depth, was an impossibility when you'd be crushed sooner than you can escape the shadows cast by the caves' many hulking beasts. Reason and sweet-talking, too, had no guarantee of saving anyone from becoming a roasted meal; rarely did giants such as those in the Deathmatches care for those forms of civility, answering to violence's call above all else.

Therefore it came as no surprise that East was willing to risk singeing feathers for a chance at tipping the balances ever so slightly more in his favor. In a world of dramatic power differences, being able to leave a nasty parting blow in the right place might be the only way to create an opening to leave an unwanted conflict. What's more, failure might have a small upside then: he'd depart the world after giving his murderer a nice scar to remember their crime by.

It'd been rumor that'd first brought him to the Blacksmith. Despite initial hesitation, a bird's natural curiosity and a smidgen of likely misplaced hope had allowed him to brave the tunnel to Leo for a visit to this supposedly helpful being. The soft-spoken figure met there, while pleasant enough to converse with, didn't assuage the typical suspicions of deception lurking in his mind. Nevertheless he'd decided to give him a chance and see whether a small investment of faith would pay off or put him at a loss.

Wryly he thought the risk taken would provide plenty of entertainment as well for the Narrator's invisible viewing pleasure. Any danger encountered during his investigation might turn out a better show for them, after all, if he could provide an actual meaningful struggle against it.

Like all things requiring effort, the Blacksmith had needed time to craft this minor request of his, so East spent the wait on productive activities instead of lazing around and letting the hot cavern lights slow cook him. Whenever not poring over the contents of his ancient book and considering the information he had, prodding his secretive audience for answers they refused to directly hand over became a favorite past time. Once certain there must be some progress by now, a return was made to the workshop situated within the humid cave's volcano. Time to see the fruits that diligent work bore.

"Hey there," he said upon winging his way into the space. "You around? Any word on our project? You can take a look at my talons again if you're having trouble with the sizing," offered the hawk. He didn't know how much experience the Blacksmith had with Gembounds of his small stature.

When the bat hawk joined the Blacksmith, landing with a soft flutter of feathers upon the table indicated for him, he did so with neither high nor low expectations of what might be presented. All in all, the affair was regarded as an experiment, testing whether someone else could be relied upon to craft a method of self-defense he'd be hard-pressed to create on his own. While his independent streak would've preferred to keep the matter personal, facts didn't lie: he was more likely to fall out of a tree, smacking every branch on the way down, than succeed in making an apparatus for talons by his lonesome. Expertise lay entirely within the Blacksmith's hands, and so he listened attentively while the function of the contraptions before him was explained in depth.

Mind, silence couldn't quite be held once the model talons were pulled out for a demonstration. Struck by the sight like a raindrop to the eye, a dumbfounded blink took it in. Then came a gentle huff of laughter as an audacious, entirely fictitious scenario crawled through his mind. This he didn't even attempt the barest hint of suggesting at until given one half of the set to try for himself, at which point an outrageous statement was finally voiced.

"Well, if it comes to that, let's hope it goes better for me than the last fella," he said, nodding to the disembodied replica foot. "I don't think I've the rhythm to hop instead of run."

The knuckles were drawn even closer with a delicate tug of his talon, and East began attaching them.

If the pins' story matched the rest of the assembly, the work here was nothing to be scoffed at. True to the expressed hope, no struggle ensued to open the main bracelet; it closed like a charm too, the fit snug around the base of his leg. He lifted the appendage, testing its weight—a definite adjustment but not too burdensome to carry around. Toes flexed, and satisfaction noted little resistance would likely hamper him during his usual bat and bird hunts.

But that wasn't everything. The optional piece remained. After putting on the back talon ring and settling the required pin in its proper place, he ran through the same motions, comparing them to the previous sequence. Seeing negligible difference, operating the newly added feature followed. Metal rasped against metal as the claws activated and sprang, dark and wickedly hooked, in front of East's own.

"Fast and protected, huh?" He twisted his foot to capture the design at every possible angle. "Any way to tell them apart? Don't hear me wrong; I'm not interested in flying sideways stunts anytime soon. Just acquainting myself with these better."

Staying still as adjustments were made to the bracelet he wore wasn't too much trouble. If he'd been fooling himself, the absolute lack of motion on his part and refusal to ruffle a single feather out of place could have been chalked up to plain good manners. More realistically, the long shadow spilling over him and the table as the Blacksmith leaned in had activated old instinct. Despite his acquaintance's seemingly gentle nature, every muscle stayed frozen until the pictogram was etched. Only once this minor addition reached completion did East finally unwind the tension from his bones.

"Huh," he said regarding the simple depiction of waves now present. "Well aren't these the rat's whiskers."

And they really were, seeing as both symbols drawn didn't detract from the knuckles' overall design. From afar, it'd be doubtful anyone would notice these, small and burned into such a dark background. Up close they'd be slightly easier to separate from the steel—if not by using keen sight, then by noting the dips in what used to be a smooth surface with the casual brush of a foot.

"Neat. I suppose that's one way to make a point sink in."

Finishing his admiration of the new embellishments, he tugged the remaining set of knuckles over to him. Aided by demonstration and the previous practice of adorning the other half of the pair, putting these on became less of an exploration and more of a routine. Even though each feature was tested again, their novelty had faded; instead they were items to be checked off a list, ensuring no discrepancies in quality existed.

His verdict after he flexed his back talon and metal claws slid into place?

"Oh, there's plenty of things I'd like adjusting. A few attitudes, for starters. But talking about these?" He nodded toward his feet. "No, these are good. I dare say they'll do better for me than trying to peck out eyes. Especially when there's fellas around with more of them than I've feathers."

"For how high in demand hopes are, you'd think they'd have the decency to grow on trees for us all," East remarked. "Wish that were the case. I'd be one plump and pampered bird then."

Returning a respectful nod of his own to the benefactor in his midst, the observation made was a wistful one. Though the syllables spoken were a shallow reflection of the mind behind them, each carried a somber tint only unfortunate memories could grant. When eyes lifted to meet the Blacksmith's masked visage, no amount of staring could convey the various injustices they'd witnessed to achieve their current perspective. Nevertheless, from the other's statements, a mutual understanding of the caves' nature might certainly have been present: grim awareness of the dangers around every corner and domineering sorts who'd sooner swallow you whole than keep promises to the weak and weary.

"I'll be sure to drop in on you if there's any trouble though. Maybe bring them in for a polish?"

An effort to lighten the mood, the last was said mostly in jest, a glint in his eye. The whole of the comment, however, rang honest. While he didn't place trust in much, the solid craftsmanship he'd been presented with seemed decent enough items to hold it for the time being. So long as the steel endured, its forger would receive it too through association.