Well, well, welcome one and all to this wonderful monarchy of Rasten. You might recognize it from my story, The Ascended, which I post on myspace: http://www.myspace.com/seniko
Please go and read it, I accept all friend requests if sent with a note saying you're not a robot! =D
"Okay, now use that hammer there, yes that one. Now use it to shape the metal while I go get the water," Drake's master said.
Drake nodded and began to pound the glowing red metal with the hammer. He sighed and thought, "I miss my hometown...but I have to earn money somehow."
His master came back carrying a large barrel full of water and set it down next to Drake, a bit of the water splashing over the side.
Drake hammered the metal into a now-familiar pointed shape, "What's with all the orders for swords all of a sudden?" he thought.
His master picked up the scorching hot blade with a pair of thick, metal tongs and dipped it in the water, a loud hiss rising up as well as plenty of steam. He then took the metal over to a grinding stone and began to sharpen it.
He yelled to Drake, "Good job, Drake! Now start work on the next one!"
Drake sighed and fetched another fair-sized piece of metal to work on. As he was bringing it over to the forge, he thought to himself, "I really wish I could just skip all this work..."
Suddenly, a flash of bright white light appeared from the piece of rough metal in Drake's hand, and he covered his eyes to protect them. When he lowered his arm, he saw a perfectly smooth, and nicely sharpened blade where the piece of metal had been a minute earlier.
His master walked over, rubbing his eyes vigorously, and asked, "What was that Drake?"
Drake simply stood staring at the piece of metal lying in his hands.
His master looked at Drake, and at the blade, and back at Drake. His face turned red with rage and he yelled, "Get out of here, you foul magician!"
Drake protested weakly, "But...but...I didn't mean to..!"
His master said angrily, "I don't believe you! I don't need any of that devilry in here! Now leave!"
Drake ran over to the far wall and grabbed a hilt from a stack on the counter, hastily attaching it to the end of the blade. He ran out the door, followed by a string of curses and insults from the old blacksmith. He dashed into a dark side alley and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.
After a few minutes his breathing slowed and he calmed down. He slid down the wall until he was sitting against it. Glancing around him, his eyes locked onto the sword laying next to him, and he thought, "How in the seven hells did I do that?!?"
A few weeks later, after Drake had gotten a stable job at the local tavern, he was thinking back to the old blacksmith when a man in well worn clothes stumbled in the door and sat down wearily at the bar. Drake walked over in front of him and asked, "What can I getcha?"
The man looked at Drake, and said, "Just an ale."
Drake quickly fiilled a mug and set it in front of the man, who gave the sword at Drake's hip a weird look, shrugged, and drank down half of it. Drake asked him, "So what brings you in here?"
The man wiped his mouth and said, "Well I'll tell ya, that old blacksmith in town just went and fired me outta the blue! Now I got no way to make money."
Drake shook his head and said, "Well, after that I can't make you pay for something as simple as a drink, it's on the house tonight, and here," Drake handed him a note, "that'll get you some female company for the night to cheer you up."
The man drained the rest of the ale and shook Drake's hand roughly, "That's kind of ye, thank you young man."
Drake re-filled his mug and walked back to serve another person who had just come in.
He served drinks at the bar until his shift ended, his mind off somewhere else the entire time. As he walked back to the inn where he was staying, he found himself walking by the blacksmith's shop, which was just closing down for the night. Drake dashed into the alley right next to the building and drew his sword, peeking around the corner.
He saw the old blacksmith come out of the shop and lock the door, his back to Drake. Something overcame him, and he charged forward with his sword pointed in front of him. He heard a slight, "urk" as his sword ran through the man, and his body went limp. The man fell off his sword onto the ground, and Drake dragged him into the alley he was hiding in. As he dropped the body onto the ground, what he had just done came back to him, and he stared horror stricken at the blood that covered his shirt and pants from the wound in the old man's back. He dropped the sword and ran back to the inn, grateful that nobody was in the common room of it. He dashed up to his room and changed his clothes as soon as possible, washing his hands and face to try and bring back some color to his skin.
After close on ten hours sitting on his bed, he was calm, but exhausted. He lay down and immediately fell asleep on the shabby, worn bed, still fully dressed.
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