New story - Chapter 2 (Patreon)

I made really good tables for this story, but they of course look like garbage on patreon. Sigh.

Chapter 1 has been updated, but only some cosmetic changes. https://www.patreon.com/posts/56001034

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The constant, rhythmic striking of the hammer landing against the strip of metal shines out through the enclosed, dark, stone-walled room. The space is nested into the side of the building. Each blow cuts clearly through the post-midnight darkness, like the ringing of a holy bell and with each toll, sparks fly out in all directions. The reflections of the small glimmers of light are the only shine that fill the man’s eyes, as he continues to hammer against his latest creation. It’s not an order, rather, this is something that he is making for himself. The sounds of the work bounce off of the high, tall walls, towards the distant ceiling of the square room.

He might not be strong of character, or in matters of social courage, but beneath the scarf, beneath the wizard’s hat and beneath the many layers of clothing that he hides himself below, his wiry body is toned and in form. Here, alone in the forge, alone from any source of outside disturbances, he works with only heat-resistant trousers and an apron covering his bare chest. Here in the half-darkness and the glow of fire, there is no-one who can see his scarred face and body. Here in the darkness, there isn’t a single reflective surface in which he can see himself.

The hammer strikes again, finally smashing the piece of scrap iron flat enough to suit his desires for it. Grabbing the end of the, still glowing, piece of metal with a pair of old, heavy tongs, he moves to the side of the room and sets the end of the heat-radiating strip into a mounted vice. Leveraging his body against the tongs, he bends the malleable metal into a slight curve, adjusting it until it has the proportions that he needs it to have.

While his primary class is that of a caster, the man never uses it and opts instead to spend his days following his sub-class, blacksmithing. It’s what had earned him his keep during his years in the orphanage and it’s what does so now as well.

The sight of fire doesn’t disturb him anymore when it’s there, down in the kiln, or in a hearth -

His scarred hands pull the tongs back out and he drops the bent piece of metal into a barrel of water, which immediately starts hissing and bubbling, a waft of ghostly steam rises up for a brief second.

- But he doesn’t want to see it on himself, on his body. So no magic. No casting. Just blacksmithing.

He returns to his work, making more several bent pieces of metal as he hammers his way through the night and then, two hours before sunrise, he finishes his personal project. After adjusting the final details of the sculpture, he stands back and admires his work.

A night well spent.

[Owl Sculpture]{Mixed scrap metal}{Average}

A metal statue of an owl, made out of poor quality metal.

13x28cm

3kg

The man nods to himself, very happy with this piece. Often he’ll have to make things like hammers or ploughs, though also often enough swords and and such things as well. There was a war effort, after all. Anyways, one of the upsides of living in a city full of adventurers is that there is a huge market for repairs as well.

Unfortunately, this also means there is a lot of competition.

Most of his work, he gets from the crafting-board in the adventurer’s guild. Those usually offered payment on delivery, no questions asked, no small-talk.

He wipes his sweaty forehead on his just as sweaty arm and isn’t sure if doing so had achieved anything at all. But that doesn’t matter. The morning would be here soon, that means it’s time to go to bed.

But first…

He grabs his engraver’s pen, which is essentially just a sharp, metal stick, and he writes his name onto the base of the statue. The menu updates, popping back up a second later.

[Owl Sculpture]{Mixed scrap metal}{Average}

A metal statue of an owl, made out of poor quality metal.

‘Made by Hineni’

13x28cm

3kg

Feeling a happy feeling, the man sets to his final-final task for the night, before putting out the kiln, which would actually be his final-final-final task. Cleaning the forge can wait until… next week?

Hineni nods, satisfied with that idea. Obviously, doing so every day would be ideal. But, when is something in life ever ideal?

He pulls out a large ladder from its corner, sliding it over to the blank, very high wall with the rectangular, half-open windows at the top, below the roof. This room had been designed like this, in this almost tower-like way, to let the rising heat vent out of the indoor forge. Space is at a premium in the inner city, especially in this neighborhood.

Locking the ladder in place, he holds the statue under his arm and climbs up. Reaching the ledge, he sets the statue on top of it, to the left, near to the corner wall. Hineni looks at for a second and then gives it a slight nudge and a twist, turning it, so that it always looks down over the room.

Satisfied, the man nods to himself and slides down the ladder, packing it away and putting out the forge for tonight. The last thing that he does, before leaving the room, is to look up at the metal owl staring down at him.

“Who hoo,” says Hineni with a smile, before leaving the forge and going to bed.

He opens the window of his upstairs bedroom to let in a gust of fresh air before he sleeps and takes a step back, somewhat surprised and revolted. Not at the sights or the smells of the city, which in his eyes was beautiful in this pre-dawn hour, but rather because of the dead mouse laying outside of his window on the sill. Its neck is cleanly eviscerated, as if a cat had gotten it.

This is a second story window though, how did this thing even get here? Confused, he looks around and finds no answer, simply attributing it as one of those oddities of life. Grabbing the mouse by the tail, he gets rid of it and shuts his window again. That’s enough fresh air for one night.

His dreams are restless and he tosses and turns, soaking his sheets in sweat once again. The fabric, unchanged since several months, soaks it up as he twists himself in and around his blanket which feels like it is constricting him tighter and tighter, the more he tries to escape it. He dreams an odd dream about the owl. It sits on top of his menu-window and the two of them stand alone in the dark forest. It hoots at him for hours.

[Sub-class specialization unlocked!]

You have advanced your sub-class {Blacksmith}, please choose a specialization.

The owl, bends over forward and taps the menu with its beak.

[Sub-class advanced!]{Weaponsmith}

You have specialized in weaponsmithing!

[Sub-Class-Title gained] - “Chosen of the owl-god”

{Weaponsmith - Chosen of the owl god}

[Class-Title gained] - “Chosen of the owl-god”

The day next comes and Hineni wakes up, having slept, but not feeling rested. Another day like every other. What an odd dream.

The man gets up, going about his morning business and sort-of kind-of washing up and getting ready for the day. Breakfast is some dried meat from his coat-pocket and a few sips of water from a two day old bottle. About an hour later, he makes his way downstairs and into the open-hall area with all of the tables and windows. It used to be an adventurers guild, back when he was young. Now it’s just a giant home for him alone.

He makes a beeline towards his spot, grabbing the empty mug on the way there.

Sitting down, he sets the mug down and adjusts the dusty book that lays there, still open. As before, Hineni’s eyes find neither of those two things. His head turns to the right and he stares out of the window at the many people passing by.

It looks like a lot of them are going into the dungeon today. Maybe there’s some kind of event going on? There are definitely more groups than usual. Usually this kind of traffic only starts three or four hours from now.

He stares out at them and starts his daydreaming.

But something is wrong with his daydreams today. This has never happened before. He doesn’t find any peace in them, he doesn’t find any solace in the idea of joining one of the many groups, walking past his sanctuary. This place used to be so lively and vibrant, but now it’s just him. Just him and the sensation that causes the hairs on his neck to stand on end.

Hineni pulls himself out of his failed daydreams and looks around for the problem. 

Someone is watching him.

This has never happened before.

The man jumps up to his feet, running across the room in an instant to throw on his scarf, coat and hat, quickly adjusting them. Was someone looking in his window? He’s sure of it. Now dressed, he cautiously moves back towards the table, sliding with his back against the other booths until he reaches the one before the window. Carefully, he tilts his head, looking around and out of the glass, searching for any passing face that could be looking his way.

But there is nothing there. Everyone who passes by spares not even the slightest inkling of interest at the figure behind the window. So what was that feeling, just now? Nervously, Hineni moves back to his spot on the bench and looks out of the window.

Then, just as he sits back down, he sees it.

The metal owl.

Across the street, on the upstairs windowsill, perched there in broad, open daylight, sits his metal owl and from there, it stares down at him with wide, curious eyes.

“What the hell?” Hineni squints his eyes, making sure. He’s positive that that’s his owl. Jumping to his feet, he heads down through the side-door and into the forge. His eyes rise up towards the very high spot that he had placed the owl on, just the night before. But it is no longer there. Hineni is perplexed. Did the neighbors steal his owl? That doesn’t make any sense, he’s never spoken to them before in his life and he knows that they’re wealthy people. Besides, would they really climb on his roof to steal a dinky metal owl?

But he doesn’t know what else could have happened. The question is, now what?

He crosses his arms. Does he talk to them and explain the situation? The man sighs, not knowing what to do. He doesn’t want to confront them, what if he’s wrong and it was just some prankster? No, he’d wait until the night came and then he’d take his owl back in secret. It’s the only sensible, reasonable thing to do.

Nodding to himself, he returns to his spot and spends the rest of the day staring not at the people, but at the owl whose gaze he chooses to not escape and much like in his dream, the two of them simply stare, quietly.

Later on, after night falls, he makes his way outside with his bag, his axe and with a long stick from the forge to poke the owl down.

But as he steps outside, he notices that the owl is gone from their windowsill.

Hineni stares at the empty spot in disappointment for a moment. They must have taken it inside. Maybe they did steal it after all?

Frowning beneath his scarf, he drops his stick, realizing what a cruel world this place can be. Shaking his head, muttering to himself quietly on the way, he heads into the forest. There is still a lot of wood to collect before winter. On his way out of the city, he stops by the adventurer’s guild and takes a sheet of paper off of the crafter’s board there. Someone needs an order for a custom iron short-sword, payment on delivery to the guild.

Happy at least at this good turn of events, he tucks the page into the pocket of his coat and heads into the forest, starting his work for the night. As he finishes taking apart the last of the fallen tree, his eyes wander up to the empty branch, where they had longingly wandered several times already this night, during his chopping.

But now, the metal owl is there, high up on the branch above his head.

Hineni curses, gripping his axe and looking around himself with wide, paranoid eyes, illuminated by a lantern-light glow. He stares at every shadow that dares to creep and inch closer towards him, out of the dark forest.

“Who’s there?!” shouts Hineni, grabbing the lantern and holding it up into the air, spinning around as the bushes behind him rustle.

Just the wind.

Nervously, he looks around the dark forest. But he sees nothing. His eyes rise back up to the branch.

The owl is gone.

Hineni runs.

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Note: Hineni is pronounced 'He - nay - knee'

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