Post by Pyre on Apr 12, 2014 4:23:19 GMT
Pyre looks around the city that had become his home since he had awoken in a brand new world. It had been almost a week since he had awoken in a field with nothing but his starter equipment and a head full of questions. So far very few of them had been answered, he knew that no one had found a way to leave and return to their normal life, and that so far the food tasted like mush. If he wanted food that had taste he would have to pay a chef to actually cook something, because even in his real life he had no skill with an oven that didn't threaten to kill him and most everyone else that tried to eat it.
However, food like most everything else in this world cost money, and since there were very few chefs who can actually cook they pretty much set their own prices. Picking up his pace Pyre paid no attention to where his feet were carrying him, if he had he might of notice that he was headed for a building with a small smoke stack out behind it. If this were still a game I would simply go kill a few monsters and complete a few quests for the money; buy the materials needed and sell some low level junk to the Landers.
A male voice brought him out of his thoughts, when Pyre looked up he was face to face with a gray haired man with deep set eyes and a warm smile on his face that was accompanied with wrinkles from many years of having a happy life. His frame was short and stout and his hands callused from years of working at his small forge repairing his tools as well as those of his neighbors. His clothes were rough and frayed at the edges though a heavy apron, behind him a fire burned hot in an old forge.
“How can I help you adventurer?” The old man spoke with a raspy voice as if he had spent a lifetime inhaling the smoke from his forge. “Do you need your equipment repaired?”
Pyre's eyes suddenly grew wide as the idea formed in his mind, “Actually sir, I was wondering if I could perhaps use your forge.” He paused when the old man gave him a very questionable look, “You see I am a blacksmith, but without a forge or the basic equipment I can hardly expect to practice my craft and become better.”
“Well, I guess you could use my forge...at least until you have the means to find or make your own.” The old man smiled, “After all I am getting much to old to keep swing my hammer day after day, and the People around here deserve a smith who can properly fix their tools so that they don't keep breaking time and time again.”
“Thank you, thank you...you have no ideas what this means to me sir.” Pyre smiled as he started to take in the small forge and tools that lay around the shop. Everything he needed to begin his adventure in becoming a master smith was housed in this small shop. It may be small, but everyone has to start somewhere. “Are you sure you don't mind if I work here sir?”
“Not at all, I will still own this building of course so if you start dealing in business that I don't approve of...well you will find yourself out of here...but for all intense and purpose this will be your shop if you can acquire the business and money to keep it running and in good condition.” The old man had a stern look on his face before the smile returned. “Also if you're going to be working here you can call me Christopher.”
“The business won't be a problem sir...Christopher...I have friends who are seeking a reliable blacksmith and once word of my skill gets out I am sure we will have more business than you have ever seen in the past.” Pyre was almost to the point of laughing with anticipation of all the work to come.
“Christopher?” Pyre looked the old man in the eye as he studied him, “I know it's a bit soon but do you mind if I go ahead and make a sign for the business...if you can call it that right now?”
The old man laughed, “Oh to be young and enthusiastic once more, go on and do as you wish I will leave you to better acquaint yourself with the forge.” The old man turned as he made his way out of the smithy.
Pyre's grin still hadn't subsided as he once again turned to study the the small area that would become his workspace. Tongs hung from the wall old and blackened from use they would serve their purpose for now but, something told the novice smith that they would soon need to be replaced. The heat he would have to work with dealing with higher grade metals would melt those or make them soft.
Below the tongs were hammers of ever shape size and weight for shaping and molding hot metals. But what caught his eye was a small sharp piece of iron that was shaped like a chisel but it had a smaller point on the end of it. No name for the tool magically floated to his the top of his consciousness but, it's use was obvious, it was used for marking things made in this shop with a maker's mark so that no other smith could claim the piece as their own.
The Anvil was a solid piece of iron that set as a center piece in the center of the room next to the forge that had just started to cool. Normally Pyre would keep it roaring hot, but with the end of the day closing in he didn't need it burning through the night.
“Well...I guess I should thank the fates for giving me such a miracle find. If I hadn't been paying attention to where I was going I may have never found this place.” Pyre spoke to himself as he leaned against the anvil. “Here begins the origins of a grand master.”
(Blacksmith - 1041 Words)
However, food like most everything else in this world cost money, and since there were very few chefs who can actually cook they pretty much set their own prices. Picking up his pace Pyre paid no attention to where his feet were carrying him, if he had he might of notice that he was headed for a building with a small smoke stack out behind it. If this were still a game I would simply go kill a few monsters and complete a few quests for the money; buy the materials needed and sell some low level junk to the Landers.
A male voice brought him out of his thoughts, when Pyre looked up he was face to face with a gray haired man with deep set eyes and a warm smile on his face that was accompanied with wrinkles from many years of having a happy life. His frame was short and stout and his hands callused from years of working at his small forge repairing his tools as well as those of his neighbors. His clothes were rough and frayed at the edges though a heavy apron, behind him a fire burned hot in an old forge.
“How can I help you adventurer?” The old man spoke with a raspy voice as if he had spent a lifetime inhaling the smoke from his forge. “Do you need your equipment repaired?”
Pyre's eyes suddenly grew wide as the idea formed in his mind, “Actually sir, I was wondering if I could perhaps use your forge.” He paused when the old man gave him a very questionable look, “You see I am a blacksmith, but without a forge or the basic equipment I can hardly expect to practice my craft and become better.”
“Well, I guess you could use my forge...at least until you have the means to find or make your own.” The old man smiled, “After all I am getting much to old to keep swing my hammer day after day, and the People around here deserve a smith who can properly fix their tools so that they don't keep breaking time and time again.”
“Thank you, thank you...you have no ideas what this means to me sir.” Pyre smiled as he started to take in the small forge and tools that lay around the shop. Everything he needed to begin his adventure in becoming a master smith was housed in this small shop. It may be small, but everyone has to start somewhere. “Are you sure you don't mind if I work here sir?”
“Not at all, I will still own this building of course so if you start dealing in business that I don't approve of...well you will find yourself out of here...but for all intense and purpose this will be your shop if you can acquire the business and money to keep it running and in good condition.” The old man had a stern look on his face before the smile returned. “Also if you're going to be working here you can call me Christopher.”
“The business won't be a problem sir...Christopher...I have friends who are seeking a reliable blacksmith and once word of my skill gets out I am sure we will have more business than you have ever seen in the past.” Pyre was almost to the point of laughing with anticipation of all the work to come.
“Christopher?” Pyre looked the old man in the eye as he studied him, “I know it's a bit soon but do you mind if I go ahead and make a sign for the business...if you can call it that right now?”
The old man laughed, “Oh to be young and enthusiastic once more, go on and do as you wish I will leave you to better acquaint yourself with the forge.” The old man turned as he made his way out of the smithy.
Pyre's grin still hadn't subsided as he once again turned to study the the small area that would become his workspace. Tongs hung from the wall old and blackened from use they would serve their purpose for now but, something told the novice smith that they would soon need to be replaced. The heat he would have to work with dealing with higher grade metals would melt those or make them soft.
Below the tongs were hammers of ever shape size and weight for shaping and molding hot metals. But what caught his eye was a small sharp piece of iron that was shaped like a chisel but it had a smaller point on the end of it. No name for the tool magically floated to his the top of his consciousness but, it's use was obvious, it was used for marking things made in this shop with a maker's mark so that no other smith could claim the piece as their own.
The Anvil was a solid piece of iron that set as a center piece in the center of the room next to the forge that had just started to cool. Normally Pyre would keep it roaring hot, but with the end of the day closing in he didn't need it burning through the night.
“Well...I guess I should thank the fates for giving me such a miracle find. If I hadn't been paying attention to where I was going I may have never found this place.” Pyre spoke to himself as he leaned against the anvil. “Here begins the origins of a grand master.”
(Blacksmith - 1041 Words)
