Hand Over Fist

The Clans

The big Tigris blacksmith paused in his pounding to take a long look at the piece of metal he was working on.  Pulling it off the massive anvil that the slightly curved piece sat on with a pair of long metal tongs, he raised it close enough to his face for the hot metal to curl his whiskers as he carefully examined the metal's grain.  In his other big hand the blacksmith held the thick wooden handle of a heavy handed hammer, the metal scratched and scarred from heavy use.

All around the stout Fisted male were the tools of his trade.  Besides the anvil, there was a great bellows made from leather and wood, the fire pit, cooling barrels of water and oil, metal stock; everything a blacksmith needed to do his work.

It was a struggle in the beginning.  The Fisted were born into a world being cleansed of the technology of Humanity by the Great Burn.  They had to start learning the arts and sciences from nothing.  Only through the accelerated intellect of a chosen few, given the spark of extraordinary intelligence by the cold fires that burned in the glow swamps, did the Fisted finally manage to claw their way out of their brief and devastating Stone Age.

The rise to the Fisted Iron Age wasn't a moment too soon.  Not only did the Fisted face each other in battle for the few resources that were left after the Burn.  But they also faced great freakish beasts, born in the midst of the cold fire, oozing forth to slay the Fisted by the hundreds.  Only the weapons forged strong with iron could withstand the armored carapaces, slashing claws and poisonous fangs that these new beasts carried as their weapons.

At first the Fisted searched the rubble of Humanity's destroyed cities for scraps of metal to use in their rough forges.  But, as their techniques were refined, these sources no longer were adequate.  Mines were swiftly dug into the ground to search for the ore that Humanity had managed to miss in their systematic plundering of the Earth's riches.

More often than not the mines failed.  But occasionally luck would be with the toiling Fisted miners and they would strike a vein of iron or copper.  If greater luck was with them, they would run into a slagheap left behind by the Great Burn where metals that humans had found were reduced to twisted mounds.  Finding the first of these great slag mounds in the southern interior of the Ryon kingdom fueled the first Renaissance for the Fisted races.  With those resources pouring into their nations, the Fisted discovered science unfettered by the restrictions of religion and technology quickly advanced.

As the Fisted continued to evolve, that technology and science created wealth for those that learned how to exploit it.  That in turn created a class that could afford leisure time.  And in that leisure time, art and culture developed.  Quickly the various races developed their own distinct societies, complete with culture, music, art and science unique to that people.

The development of society and culture triggered a second Renaissance for the Fisted, pushing them into a new Golden Ages of learning and achievement.  It was into this age that Humanity reinserted themselves in the Day of Rebirth, a thousand years after the Great Burn.  The wars began anew.

A soft scuffing noise caught the big Tigris's attention.  Big even for his massive people, he nevertheless turned quite spryly to face the sound.  Only to find a dark cloaked figure about half his height, leaning up against the rough entry way to his smithy.  A look of first amazement then joy washed across the big male's face.

"Van Joss!" he roared, putting the tongs down to scoop the smaller being up in a massive hug.  "You're still alive!"

"Urk.  Not for much longer, if you keep squeezing me like this," the human said hoarsely in the Tigris language, going red as the Tigris gave him a shake before putting him down.

The Tigris laughed with delight in response, a low, hearty belly sound, as he gave the human a smack on the shoulder that nearly knocked him over.

"You disappear for five years then suddenly return still owning all your limbs?  I will squeeze you until you tell us what in the name of the Maker happened to you!"  The Tigris rumbled with a grin.