[SP][F01] - The Weight of the Hammer | <<Earning a Living: Blacksmith>>

[Jae 0]

The forge's heavy door creaked on weary hinges, groaning like an old sentinel reluctant to admit visitors. As Jaelynn pushed it open, a wave of smoke and the sharp tang of molten metal spilled into the cool, forgiving air outside. Inside, the heat enveloped her like a living thing, suffocating and immediate, pressing against her skin in unwelcome intimacy. Each strike of the hammer on the anvil cast out a spray of sparks that flickered like fleeting stars, swallowed quickly by the murky haze. At the center of this inferno, a man worked with singular focus. The forge’s glow painted his face in copper and shadow, the interplay of light making him appear as much a creation of the flame as the tools he shaped. His hammer rose and fell with a rhythm that spoke of instinct, a silent conversation between him and the stubborn metal.

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***

"Can I help you with something?" he asked without looking up, his tone even but indifferent, as though the words themselves were as habitual as his labor. The question hung for a moment as Jaelynn shifted her weight, the atmosphere pressing harder now, as though the room itself was waiting for her answer. "I want to learn blacksmithing," she said finally, her voice steady, though an undercurrent of doubt tugged at its edges.

***

A brief laugh escaped him, sharp and fleeting like the hiss of cooling steel. “I’m only just barely a blacksmith myself,” he admitted, his gaze flickering over her for the first time. “Took over after my father retired last month. But yes, I suppose I could pass on some of that knowledge." He paused his work long enough to glance around the chaotic space, where tools and materials seemed to fight for dominance. “Can’t spare our stock, though... Bring me something to work with, and I’ll teach you.”

***
With that, he returned to his hammering, the conversation dismissed like a puff of smoke. Jaelynn lingered in the oppressive heat for a moment longer, her resolve quietly solidifying, before stepping back into the cooler air of Tolbana’s streets. The forge’s stifling warmth fell away, replaced by the bustling murmur of the town.

 

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***

Quote

 

[Jae] | HP: 20/20 | EN: 20/20 | DMG: 1 (Paralyze|Accuracy)

Skills: N/A
Battle Equipment:
Rare Longsword (Paralyze|Accuracy)
(3) Starter Healing Potions (Heals 50 HP)
Black Cloak w/ Hood (Vanity Item | No Benefit)

 

 

Edited yesterday at 01:11 AM by Jae

[Jae 0]

The morning light broke over Tolbana like a hesitant promise, gilding the edges of rooftops and scattering golden coins across the streets below. Jaelynn, already far from the town’s waking bustle, moved with the silent purpose of a predator through the outskirts, where untamed nature lapped at the fringes of civilization. The weight of the blacksmith’s challenge hung in her chest like an anvil—a thing too heavy to carry yet impossible to set down.

Her boots crunched over frost-tipped grass, a muted rhythm that matched the cadence of her thoughts. This wasn’t her first attempt at scavenging. Days like these had defined her existence, even before Aincrad. Her parents, with their restless energy and unrelenting drive, had taught her the art of making do, but never the grace of finding joy in it. Their voices lingered like ghosts, murmuring about self-reliance and determination, lessons she had embraced out of necessity rather than love.

Ahead, the landscape sprawled in jagged defiance—a tangle of rocky outcrops and brittle trees clawing skyward. Somewhere in this wilderness lay what she needed: iron deposits to chip away at, raw materials to haul back to the forge. It was a simple task on paper, but simplicity had a way of dissolving under the weight of effort.

Her first stop was a dried riverbed, its once-vital waters reduced to a vein of pale stones winding through the earth. She crouched low, fingers probing the jagged terrain with a precision born of practice. Each stone she overturned was a small betrayal, offering nothing but damp earth or brittle shale. The chill of the morning clung to her fingertips, biting through her thin gloves as though mocking her persistence. Minutes bled into an hour, and still her satchel hung empty at her side. Jaelynn straightened, her muscles protesting the motion, and let out a sharp breath that lingered in the cold air like a ghost. Frustration simmered at the edges of her composure, but she tamped it down, channeling it into movement. She adjusted the strap of her cloak and pressed on, her resolve as sharp as the blade slung across her back.

The next site she chose was a rocky escarpment, its surface speckled with the promise of mineral deposits. She scaled it with care, her boots finding purchase on narrow ledges, her hands gripping stone polished smooth by time and weather. Each step upward was a silent argument against gravity, a refusal to yield. At the top, she paused to catch her breath, the town of Tolbana a distant smudge on the horizon below. She set to work, her pick striking stone with a steady rhythm that echoed through the stillness. Sparks flared briefly with each impact, tiny stars that vanished before they could fully form. But the rock refused to yield its secrets, offering only stubborn resistance and mocking silence. The futility of her efforts gnawed at her, a quiet frustration that felt as heavy as the blade on her back. By midmorning, the sun had risen high enough to burn away the last vestiges of frost, its warmth doing little to thaw her growing irritation. She descended the escarpment with careful precision, her body moving automatically even as her mind churned. Each failed attempt etched itself into her memory, a ledger of small defeats that weighed heavier than they should.

Her final stop was a dense grove, the trees standing like sentinels in the quiet. Here, the ground was soft and loamy, scattered with fallen leaves that muffled her steps. Jaelynn moved with practiced ease, her eyes scanning for signs of disturbed earth, for the subtle gleam of iron-bearing stones. She crouched once more, her fingers digging into the soil, searching for a glimmer of hope in the dark.

But hope, it seemed, was not hers to find that morning.

By the time she rose, empty-handed and aching, the sun was climbing toward its zenith. Her cloak hung heavy on her shoulders, dusted with earth and the faint scent of pine. The weight of her failure pressed against her chest, not unbearable but persistent, a reminder of the effort spent for no reward.

And yet, Jaelynn lingered in the wilderness, unwilling to turn back, unwilling to let the day end without something to show for it. Her breath was a whisper in the still air, her resolve tightening with each measured step.

Quote

Gathering Attempt
ID 240237 | LD 7 | Failure

 

Edited 3 hours ago by Jae

[Jae 0]

The failure of the morning hung over Jaelynn like a storm cloud, trailing her steps as she pushed deeper into the wilderness beyond Tolbana. She clung to the mountain’s edge now, the land sloping steeply away beneath her boots. Here, where the ground was less forgiving, the forest thinned and gave way to jagged outcroppings of stone. The air was colder, sharper, cutting against her skin with every gust of wind. The whistle of it through the rocks sounded like some mournful lament, and Jaelynn couldn’t help but feel the world itself was mocking her perseverance. She adjusted the weight of the pickaxe slung across her back, its handle tapping rhythmically against her shoulder as she climbed. The path she followed wasn’t a path at all—just a precarious line of footing where dirt crumbled into scree and boulders loomed like sentinels. Her boots scraped against the rock face as she hauled herself upward, her breath coming in short bursts that fogged the chill air. The strain bit into her legs, and her arms burned from steadying herself against the rough stone, but she pressed on, her gaze fixed on the distant promise of iron veins tucked somewhere in these heights.

At one point, the trail narrowed to little more than a ribbon of earth, bordered by a sheer drop on one side and an unforgiving rock wall on the other. Jaelynn’s heart pounded as she sidled along, one hand pressed flat against the stone for balance. Pebbles shifted and skittered down into the abyss with every careful step, their faint echoes a haunting reminder of how far there was to fall.

The effort was maddening, the minutes stretching into an hour or more as the climb dragged on. Her body ached with the labor, and frustration simmered beneath her composure. This is ridiculous, she thought, biting back the urge to curse aloud. All this, for what? A few scraps of metal?

But even as her resolve wavered, the flicker of something caught her eye. Up ahead, where the mountain curved away from the sun, a faint reddish-brown gleam emerged from the shadow of an overhanging ledge. Iron. The sight of it spurred her forward, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Reaching the ledge meant clambering over an uneven tangle of rocks, each one slick with dew and treacherous beneath her weight. Her fingers sought purchase on the stone, the sharp edges biting into her skin as she hoisted herself up. Finally, she reached the small plateau, dropping to her knees to catch her breath. The iron vein stretched before her like a prize waiting to be claimed, its surface dull but unmistakable against the pale gray of the surrounding rock. Jaelynn unshouldered her pickaxe, her grip steady despite the trembling in her hands, and positioned herself to begin.

The first strike echoed through the narrow gorge, a sharp crack that reverberated like a cry into the wilderness. The rock was stubborn, yielding only small fragments at a time, and each swing sent vibrations up her arms, compounding her fatigue. The sun crept higher overhead as she worked, the sky shifting to a pale, hazy blue. Time blurred into the rhythm of the pickaxe’s rise and fall, each impact scattering tiny shards of stone and dust into the air. She chipped away slowly, the iron revealing itself in slivers and chunks, until at last, her efforts bore fruit—a sizable piece breaking free and clattering to the ground. She stooped to retrieve it, turning the ore over in her hands. The rough, uneven surface was cool against her palm, its weight heavier than she’d expected. A small smile tugged at her lips, unbidden—a glimmer of satisfaction amidst the day’s toil.

But her reprieve was short-lived. The ledge beneath her feet was not as stable as it appeared, and as she shifted her weight to pack the iron into her satchel, the ground gave a sudden, violent lurch. A crack split the air as a chunk of rock splintered away from the edge, taking her footing with it.

Instinct took over as Jaelynn threw herself backward, her heart pounding in her chest as she scrambled for stability. The edge crumbled away into the ravine below, leaving her sprawled on her hands and knees, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The pickaxe had clattered out of reach, lying precariously close to the jagged drop. For a long moment, she simply knelt there, her body trembling with the aftershock of narrowly avoiding disaster. The iron in her satchel seemed impossibly heavy now, a weight both literal and symbolic of the cost of her ambition. Gathering herself, Jaelynn crawled forward on unsteady limbs, reclaiming her pickaxe with deliberate care. Her fingers brushed the edge of the handle, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as she pulled it safely back.

Her descent was cautious, each step measured as she retraced her way down the mountainside. The path was no less treacherous than before, but something in her had shifted—a renewed determination threading through her exhaustion.

Quote

Gathering Attempt
ID 240241 | LD 15 | Success
1/5 Materials Gathered

 

Edited 3 hours ago by Jae

[Jae 0]

[OOC: Placeholder]

 

Quote

Gathering Attempt
ID 240242 | LD 15 | Success
2/5 Materials Gathered

 

Edited 2 minutes ago by Jae