“ Gold is a soft metal. Soft metals means poor longevity, and weapons that don’t last long doesn’t serve anyone any good. Easy wear and tear, susceptible to heat. “
He paused.
“ Is what I’d say if I was any other blacksmith. I have a way around it. “
The smallest smirk of triumph tugged the corner of his lips, and his hammering suddenly perks with a quicker, more energetic pace. When the blade was finally molded into the desired shape was when faster hits were needed for more minute adjustments. +
ᅠ
Hammer struck steel. Again. And
then again. And the—, “ Okay,
damn!! ” he'd exclaimed once his
agitation finally boiled over. Hand
reached to yank the cloth from
over his face as he sprung out of
his seat, unrested.
cont.
“ My people have a story about a creature called Hatanpi. It takes the appearance of a moose that walks on its hind legs and has the ability to mimic voices. Don’t worry, this beast doesn’t kill, not in the physical sense at least.
Still interested in hearing the story? “
“ An open-minded man. Rare for me to see ever since I came to these lands. Your people have a strange aversion to the supernatural. “
He reached for a satchel that rested on his leather waist piece, before retrieving a carving knife and a piece of oak wood.
+
precision at the moment. Snore away, smithies are infamously known for being good places to sleep, after all. “
Vycenti’s voice was thick with sarcasm and ire. He was 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 an agreeable person, but when it came to forging, few could tread on that mental space.
𝐅𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐇 —
A howling flame is spurred within the confines of the furnace, drenching the smithy in a wave of sweltering heat.
“ No, I don’t mind, truly. “
𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆, 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆, 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆 —
Then came the sound of the hammer, and ear-piercing ring accompanying each +
ᅠ
A thin white cloth sat draped
over his face, head leaning back
as he tried to get some shut eye.
Hopefully the * 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 wouldn't
disrupt his moment of rest ...
ᅠ
hit. Melding, folding, and pressing layers of metal and ore until it’s shape took identity, occasionally returning to the bowels of the flame to keep it’s malleability.
“ It’s not like I’m busy or anything, I mean, I’m only doing something that takes incredible focus and +
Something stirs beyond the night – in four directions, a faint presence.
You must make the decision to exist. Otherwise, nothing else will. The spark of the world lives and dies within your hand.
Where do you reach towards? You can hardly see your own hands in the dark.
#mvrp