RP:Zyren becomes Hugh's Apprentice
Rynvale Blacksmith
This appears to be the smith who makes all the armor next door. A great orange fire burns brightly in the center of the room with a long iron poker and a great bucket of sooty black coal next to it. A large muscular man bangs away at a glowing orange piece of metal on his anvil with a great hammer producing a large clanging as he does so and of course the odd spark, this man is obviously the smith. To the right of the smith is a young man who you assume is his apprentice cooling off a large metal breastplate in a trough of cool water producing great thick clouds of steam and a hissing as he does so. This room is hot busy and noisy you probably best head south back into the relative quiet of the shop.
Slight note: NPC played by Ranok.
Zyren enters the blacksmith area from the armro shop. He tucks his wings carefully behind the slightly larger than human body. He figured blacksmithing would be about the perfect fit for him, considering his control over fire and the rough fireproof hide that covered him. "Hello? I'm seeking to learn the art of smithing." He takes the time waiting on the smith to observe the tools and machines.
The environment in the smithy was hot. Stifling, as it were. The forge was in full blast, and the smith was working away. Hammer blows rain down on a sheet of metal, the proto-form of what eventually will be a breastplate. Rynvale's military was a prime source of income for the smith, providing nearly all of it. Militarys always needed new equipment, and the new influx of men and the resurge of the economy as it was slowly repaired helped things along. The smith was big, but then, all smiths tended to be. All that muscle gave them a presence. This one went by the name of Hugh. The chap was about average height, but in the forge, the looming shadows made him appear larger, somehow. As Zyren enters, beetly brows furrow and a booming voice shouts out, "Eh?! Whadda want, boy? Huh? Buy a piece? Talk to Gus!" The hammering had drowned out Zyren's words. Tongs pick up the piece and stick it into a trouch to quench, producing a hissing noise. At least they could talk without yelling, now.
Zyren turns his attentions to the man as he starts talking. He quickly steps closer to the man, hoping to get his attention before speaking agian. Zyren briefly clears his throat, this time speaking with a bit of power in his words. "I'm no customer. I'd like to learn smithing and I'd like for you to teach me." He steps into the light of the furnace allowing himself to be judged worthy or not. "And Perhaps I could save you a bit of money for a while. While you're teaching me I might cut down the cost of firewood." He adds, hoping the extra incentive might sway the man's mind.
Hugh wipes his hands off on a rag that had truly seen better days. The poor thing was wracked in dust, oil, and various other black unmentionables. "I been lookin' for a 'pprentice awhile. A dragon, huh? What are ya doin' out of the Dragonplains, boy?" The equally dirty looking smith shakes his head, "Right, lemme get a look at ya. Name's Hugh." He offers his hand to shake. When taken, he would subsequently proceed to crush Zyren's hand with his, or try to. It was every bit the test it implied. He wanted to test Zyren's mettle, to begin with.
Zyren takes the man's hand, quickly realizing that the man was trying to squeeze hard. A grin slowly spreads across his face as he squeezes back, making sure it's not hard enough to break bones, but just barely. "Nice to meet you. I'm Zyren." He finally let's go of the man's hand after a couple seconds. He smiles at him as though he didn't know, though. He looks off briefly at a recently finished work. "Looks like you have a good amount of work here."
Hugh says, gruffly, "I hope ya aren't gonna keep pointin' out the obvious, boy. I'll slap you out of that right quick. Hold still." The smith would start inspecting Zyren. Looking at his upper body. He wasn't expecting Beefcake McAwesome, but Zyren couldn't be sticky. Check the hands. Were they soft, indicating a life of soft labor, or hard and calloused, indicating the opposite? The more important things to answer had to be asked, "You ain't gonna run off, are ya? My last 'pprentice scurried off with some lass that caught his eye, damn him to hell. I ain't got time to teach someone that's gonna leave me at the drop of a hat."
Zyren nods as the man inspects his somewhat calloused hands, mostly from brawling and hunting. He chuckles a little at the question, "I havn't been seduced yet, but, no. I plan to stick around until I've learned all I can from you. So as long as you have plenty of know-how, I should be here for a while." He grins at the smith.
Hugh grunts. Zyren seemed to pass muster. "Alright, then. Let's see how you do. It's gonna be a lotta gruntwork. No one got to journeyman overnight, ya hear? Don't be pesterin' me about teachin' ya how to do stuff that ya shouldn't be doing yet." The man goes to the back of the workshop to grab an equally dirty apron off a hook. He goes back to Zyren to hand the thing to him, "You got a place to sleep? If ya don't, you'll have to make do with the loft. It's dusty and there are rats, but it can do."
Zyren says to Hugh, "I'll take it." He drapes the apron over his neck and ties it in the back. "Whatever you say goes. I got it."
Hugh waves Zyren over, "We're gonna start ya on the billows. It's what my master did for me, and I'm gonna do the same for ya. Builds character! And muscle. Gotta be able to swing the hammer all day long 'for you can pick 'un up!" And so would begin Zyren's apprenticeship. Carrying firewood and coke to fuel the forge, billowing it to keep oxygen flowing in nice and even, carrying materials around. Chopping firewood, carrying water, everything menial that the master couldn't be bothered to expected to do. It was all towards a goal, with a little bit of force labor mixed in, but everyone had to do it. The coming weeks would be hard for Zyren, but no doubt, with his saurian heritage and willingness to be a smith, he'd make it through no troubles.