Post by james p on Mar 7, 2022 22:06:01 GMT
[DTA 06/03/22]
Having just arrived in DH, Ana was more than a little bit lost in such a big city. She'd much rather have been navigating 10 times as far, outdoors in the wild!
Fortunately, however, she stumbled past Samed's Smithy. The clank of hammer on anvil and the lively roar of the forge felt like a small piece of home, and she decided to chance her luck to see if there was any work to be had.
Looking at the size of her muscles, and given the larger than usual backlog in the order book, her offer was taken up with welcome hands. The boys who both normally pumped the bellows were still in bed recovering from ... digestive issues, and were out of action.
Soon, Samed knew he had made the right choice, as the forge changed colour from black to smokey red, burnt orange, a greasy yellow, and finally an almost overwhelmingly radiant white. It had been many years since he had been able to heat so much iron so fast or so well.
Ana enjoyed herself too. This was very different to skating on an icy lake, like last week, and yet she felt somehow that this was also where she was meant to be - in her element here as well.
Before the first day was out, the smith was more than happy to cover Ana's expenses and a good room in the Fair Winds, as well as a further 25 gp if she would stay the week.
However, before the week was out, Ana's luck would turn again...
Despite the unusually soft feather down covers, and bulging, generously stuffed mattress, she struggled to sleep. Perhaps it was due to spending each day at the furnace? Her bad dreams came back once more, wild and vivid, disturbing her sleep with raging fires and seething blizzards chasing one another through frozen forests, and the blood pounded in her head until she finally drifted off ... only leaving a faint taste of bloody iron in her mouth when she woke each morning.
By the end of the week, Ana was dead on her feet. Though she still pumped the bellows with gritted teeth and a fierce determination, her mind was elsewhere ... thinking back to home. As she worked, memories sprang unbidden into her head of some of the mead-addled warriors of her tribe taunting and teasing her friends for their lack of muscles, their small frames, and for "wasting their time" on music and other such "small person things".
The flickering light of the forge, reflected in her eyes, pulsing brighter and brighter, in time with the burning blood that filled her straining muscles, and the searing cold that shot in bursts around her bulky frame, setting her skin and her scalp tingling.
So unaware was she, that she was oblivious to the sudden panicked shouts, crashes, and stamping of feet, or the dwarf running up to her, yelling for her to stop.
It wasn't her who was in control as the bucket of water flew through the air towards her. The next thing she would remember would be the stunned circle of faces around her, and the small, crooked heap in leather overalls, lying on the flagstone floor.
Fortunately, there were no broken bones, the healer said - but it would be a good few days before he would be back and able to work again.
As the day came to a close, she felt like she would rather do anything else than come back to this place, feeling the shame of having hurt the people who had taken her in. However, Ana reluctantly agreed to take the gold that she was owed for the week, and to instead come back to work some shifts on behalf of her convalescing colleague - once she had taken a week or two to settle herself and "cool off". She felt in no position to argue with the forgemaster's customs.
The work had been no more demanding than any other day, but it felt to Ana as if she carried at least two leaden anvils on her back as she trudged back to the inn, stooping in the night, hoping that she could find a way to make amends.
She walked with a heavy heart, wondering if there was even any point, or if she would be destined to walk this world always bringing harm to others, and putting those she loved in danger.
Having just arrived in DH, Ana was more than a little bit lost in such a big city. She'd much rather have been navigating 10 times as far, outdoors in the wild!
Fortunately, however, she stumbled past Samed's Smithy. The clank of hammer on anvil and the lively roar of the forge felt like a small piece of home, and she decided to chance her luck to see if there was any work to be had.
Looking at the size of her muscles, and given the larger than usual backlog in the order book, her offer was taken up with welcome hands. The boys who both normally pumped the bellows were still in bed recovering from ... digestive issues, and were out of action.
Soon, Samed knew he had made the right choice, as the forge changed colour from black to smokey red, burnt orange, a greasy yellow, and finally an almost overwhelmingly radiant white. It had been many years since he had been able to heat so much iron so fast or so well.
Ana enjoyed herself too. This was very different to skating on an icy lake, like last week, and yet she felt somehow that this was also where she was meant to be - in her element here as well.
Before the first day was out, the smith was more than happy to cover Ana's expenses and a good room in the Fair Winds, as well as a further 25 gp if she would stay the week.
However, before the week was out, Ana's luck would turn again...
Despite the unusually soft feather down covers, and bulging, generously stuffed mattress, she struggled to sleep. Perhaps it was due to spending each day at the furnace? Her bad dreams came back once more, wild and vivid, disturbing her sleep with raging fires and seething blizzards chasing one another through frozen forests, and the blood pounded in her head until she finally drifted off ... only leaving a faint taste of bloody iron in her mouth when she woke each morning.
By the end of the week, Ana was dead on her feet. Though she still pumped the bellows with gritted teeth and a fierce determination, her mind was elsewhere ... thinking back to home. As she worked, memories sprang unbidden into her head of some of the mead-addled warriors of her tribe taunting and teasing her friends for their lack of muscles, their small frames, and for "wasting their time" on music and other such "small person things".
The flickering light of the forge, reflected in her eyes, pulsing brighter and brighter, in time with the burning blood that filled her straining muscles, and the searing cold that shot in bursts around her bulky frame, setting her skin and her scalp tingling.
So unaware was she, that she was oblivious to the sudden panicked shouts, crashes, and stamping of feet, or the dwarf running up to her, yelling for her to stop.
It wasn't her who was in control as the bucket of water flew through the air towards her. The next thing she would remember would be the stunned circle of faces around her, and the small, crooked heap in leather overalls, lying on the flagstone floor.
Fortunately, there were no broken bones, the healer said - but it would be a good few days before he would be back and able to work again.
As the day came to a close, she felt like she would rather do anything else than come back to this place, feeling the shame of having hurt the people who had taken her in. However, Ana reluctantly agreed to take the gold that she was owed for the week, and to instead come back to work some shifts on behalf of her convalescing colleague - once she had taken a week or two to settle herself and "cool off". She felt in no position to argue with the forgemaster's customs.
The work had been no more demanding than any other day, but it felt to Ana as if she carried at least two leaden anvils on her back as she trudged back to the inn, stooping in the night, hoping that she could find a way to make amends.
She walked with a heavy heart, wondering if there was even any point, or if she would be destined to walk this world always bringing harm to others, and putting those she loved in danger.