[sup][h1][b][center][color=black] K A Z R A N[/color]
[color=00aeef]K A Z R A N[/color][/center]
[/b][/h1][/sup]
[Right][sub][@Carlyle][/sub][/right][hr]
[color=26adc0]"I believe we're alike. Two peas in a pod, as old Dorcas used to say. Two strangers, both adventuring in the unknown."[/color]

[color=00aeef][i]Alike?[/i][/color]

Kaz looked down at the gleaming armor wrapped around his chest and suddenly felt its weight. He knew the instrument Annifer bore well. Part of him wished to reach for it, yearning for salt and citrus to soak the tines. He had made a few pitchforks early on as an apprentice, and had used one well before then when working in stables for scraps. It had been years since he struggled as he did then. And it felt clear, then, as Kaz's eyes drifted up to the wild displays in front of him, just how alike they were in all but one way.

She was stronger than he was.

[color=26adc0]“Are we over our heads? Maybe, but perhaps that is what makes this all worth it."[/color]

He knew, for certain, that this struggle [i]had[/i] be worth it. His cause was noble and pure, at least that is what he told himself. His love’s locket felt warm pressed against his breast. This Annifer seemed impressed by his display, and the looks from others around certainly meant that he was noticed if not seen. That attention was fickle and fleeting.

Kazran was distracted from Annifer’s request for a name by a torrent of red hair and sharp steel that cut into one of the practice dummies. A remarkably toned archer loosed a bolt of lightning from their bow. He even caught the briefest glimpse of another flash of electricity from someone he barely caught a glimpse of. Of course, this all paled in comparison to the display from a particularly sharp-eared individual. While others had displayed an affinity and control over magic that Kazran could not yet visualize for himself, this elven stranger was an entirely different beast altogether. Her sword seemed to blaze with an entire world foreign to the blacksmith’s apprentice. His mind raced with questions about the nature of the weapon, before a creeping despair grasped his throat.

He did not belong here, and he was a fool to dream of standing alongside folks like these. Annifer was right, for he was truly braving the unknown. Kazran turned his gaze to the stranger. Her calm demeanor was less a comfort, and more a challenge to his own composure. He could not fathom her nonchalance, as his own gaping jaw attested. This hospitable stranger seemed to regard it all with some level of normalcy, for a moment at least. And then came the urgency.

[color=26adc0]"I have some matters to attend to, but I look forward to meeting you again. Perhaps later you could teach me that move from before. What say you?"[/color]

[color=00aeef]"I pray to see you on the morrow, as contenders. I fear my move may be incompatible with a fork… but I would be happy to clean off the rust!”[/color]

His words rang with a strange bravado that betrayed his own anxieties, or perhaps were instead just a reflection of her well-wishes. His final offer was met with a few strange looks from passers-by. As Kazran stood alone once again, he felt his heart race in his chest. He had to prove he belonged here, through whatever means necessary. He prayed the Wardens had need of a resident Blacksmith, if nothing else. His thoughts thrummed at the same speed as the beating in his breast. He replayed his display and the conversation, before a dawning horror left him frustrated.

[sup][color=00aeef]"Fut, Kazran, you never shared your name.”[/color][/sup]