Crafting for inner peace (Solo)

by **Vez** on September 28th, 2011, 7:30 pm

Timestamp: 30th day of Fall, 511 A.V

It was still dark outside as the sun had yet to rise, and a cool breeze swept along the stones bedded in the ground. The streets were almost empty, save for a few patrolling knights and a handful of staggering drunks. But overall, it was quiet. Vez liked the quiet. It gave him a peaceful time to think.

Vez thought about his father, Zei, as he walked down the stone road and up towards the Ironworks. He greatly missed him. He could still hear his father’s voice inside of his head. Now son, don’t just go bangin’ away with that hammer now, he chuckled, it’s all about precision. Think about where you want the hammer to land. Think about what you’re shaping. Vez pushed the memory out of his head. He needed to make something. He needed something to distract him from his loneliness.

He approached the Ironworks and was greeted by Ros, the head blacksmith, “Hello there Vez, how are you doing today?”

“Good Ros,” He replied, “I’ll need about 4 pounds of iron, a pound of cold iron, some flux, and a wooden handle.”

“How about 40 silver mizas then?” Ros inquired after adding up the price.

“Sounds good,” Vez replied, “where can I work?” Ros pointed to an anvil and forge not too far from where they were standing. Vez nodded, picked up his belongings, and made his way to the work station.

Receipt :

by **Vez** on October 1st, 2011, 6:21 am

Upon reaching the work station, Vez carefully set down his belongings one by one. He took off his brown leather jerkin and laid it over a nearby chair, exposing his white cotton undershirt. He then donned one of the smithy’s leather aprons and slipped on a pair of brown leather work gloves. Turning back to his belongings he picked up the heavy block of iron. He idly tossed it from hand to hand as he thought about what he was going to make. He really had no clue; he just bought a few things out of instinct hoping he could somehow put them together. Think, boy, Think! His father’s voice rang clear in his head. You need to imagine every detail before you start any project. Or else who knows what you’ll get! Vez thought for a moment, still trying to decide how he was going to make these pieces fit.

Well I need to attach the handle somehow; I suppose I’ll start with that. Vez stopped toying with the block of iron and set it on the anvil. He turned to his tools and picked out his long-handled iron tongs that his father had made, carefully placed on the wooden workbench. He then picked up the block of iron with his tongs and placed it prudently in the forge. As the iron began to heat, Vez thought back to the teachings of his father.

Now son, when you put the iron in you have to keep a good eye on it. The color of the metal is vital to knowing when it is ready to be shaped. The first color it should turn is red. Vez stared at the iron in the forge and watched it as it slowly turned a dark, glowing red. He remembered being fascinated as a child when the color changed and frowned. He missed his father.

Now after that son, it will turn orange, then yellow, then white; if you let it heat further it will melt and you will have quite a mess to clean up, and Ros wouldn’t be too happy about that would he? Vez’s father chuckled in his mind, and the iron began to turn into a red-orange hue. The appropriate time for you to take the metal out, son, is when it turns a bright, orange-ish yellow. The iron will be malleable enough to shape, but not to the point you will lose control. Vez continued to stare at the forge, watching as the iron block turned a vibrant orange, and then finally to the forging heat of yellow-orange. He seized his tongs again and snatched out the iron, placing it on the anvil. He had to be swift, the iron was cooling and he had little time to work.

by **Vez** on November 13th, 2011, 11:53 pm

After placing the iron on the anvil, Vez quickly secured the iron down with some clamps. He turned to his workbench and seized his mandrel and hammer. Turning back to the anvil, he carefully placed the mandrel on the iron, about a finger’s width away from three of the four sides. This hole was going to be for the handle. He took his hammer, and after a few soft hits to set the mandrel, began banging away. A few seconds later, he had hammered the hole all the way through, and placed the iron back into the forge. Now he had to wait again until it reheated to that yellow-orange color. As he waited he began to ready up a few tools, in case he needed to grab them in a hurry. While he was working, memories of his father popped into his head. No Vez, concentrate! Zei smacked the younger version of himself. I told you that you need to plan out the whole project before you start, how else can you ensure quality work? You can’t just go banging shit around all willy-nilly like because you’re just going to end up with a pile of junk. And that’s money wasted. Concentrate son!

The harsh memory of his father angered him a little. What his father had said was true, but did his father really have to slap him? He felt guilty too since he was doing exactly what his father had told him not to do. And he felt sad, like a piece of him inside was dead, because indeed his father was dead, and his father meant more to him than anyone else in the world. Vez was a whirling ball of emotion. He could hardly think straight anymore. Everything he was doing was of mechanical instinct.

He glanced over at the forge and noticed the iron was ready to be pulled out. He snatched it out with his tongs and after placing it back on the anvil began beating it maliciously with his hammer, flattening out the iron on the opposing side of the hole. Why did he have to die? Why?! He thought harder about his father, and banged harder on the iron. Sweat dripping down his cheeks, red sparks flying in all directions. Soon the iron became a dull red, and was becoming harder to shape, so he placed it back into the forge. As he sat there staring at the forge, he realized what he was making…