52nd of Spring, 515 AV
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Truly it was music to his ears. The sound of hammering metal could be heard down the street, but Terag was instead among the origin of the sounds. Today he had chosen to spend his time at The Ironworks. This was where he wanted to be, where he felt that he belonged for the time being. He wasn't working but he had managed to convince a smith to let him borrow the use of an avil and several tools to work with. The sheer size of it still amazed him, being here reminded him of home.
Ting-ting-ting. Ting-ting-ting.
The rhythmic tapping of hammers against steel caused a slow smile to creep across his face as the Isurian set to work. Unfortunately, all he could work with currently were the larger scraps that were shaved off from other projects around him. First he made sure his shirt and backpack were safe from stray sparks, both of which were laying against the far side of a tool rack. He reached over with his right, grabbing a decent sized hammer and set it through a loop in his pants for easy access. His left hand reached straight into the furnace, the flame inside gleaming off of his onyx arm as he pulled his heated metal and placed it atop his anvil.
At first it looked like a pile of red-hot iron scraps, though it wouldn't keep that shape for much longer. With the power of his arm he set about crushing the metal together in the same manner one would with several lumps of wet clay. As he worked he reached for a pair of tongs from the tool rack to allow his right hand to be of use and hold the metal in place as he used his other hand to work it first into a vague sphere and then into a rather rough cube. Unlike the rest of the forge his work was much quieter, no loud clangs from a hammer just yet. After quite a few chimes of work, Terag picked up the hunk of metal and placed it back into the open mouth of the forge to allow the metal to heat up once more.
"There's so much I can do with this arm, isn't there?", he half mumbled to himself as he looked over his black arm. "I guess they were right when I was told I won't be able to make anything beautiful with it, but I can use it." Terag couldn't help but smile again as he thought about it a bit more. It must have been fate he was born an Isurian, and if given the choice he would choose it time and time again.