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The cool evening air greeted Seamus as he stepped out of the guild hall, following Beric down the winding streets of Hearthhaven. The town was quieter now, the bustling market square settling into a calmer rhythm after the morning – if he could call it that - buzz. The sky overhead had darkened, and lanterns hung from the doorways and street corners, casting a warm, amber glow over the cobbled streets, but he didn’t get the impression this was nighttime.
Beric walked with purpose, his broad frame moving easily through the narrow alleys. “If you’re going to stay, you’ll need to get to grips with crafting,” he said over his shoulder. “Hearthhaven, in fact everywhere in The Hollows, thrives on it. People come from deeper levels to trade their wares here, but we can’t rely on them for everything. We make our own tools, our own weapons. Keeps us ready for whatever comes.”
Seamus nodded, the quest still lingering at the back of his mind. The mechanics of it—progress, objectives—it was familiar, almost comforting. He had spent years in front of his computer, immersed in virtual worlds that operated on similar rules. And now, here he was, in a reality governed by them.
They arrived at the small forge Seamus had noticed earlier, the heat from the fire inside already reaching out into the cool square. The rhythmic clang of a hammer on metal rang out from within, accompanied by the occasional hiss of steam and pumping of bellows.
Beric gestured for Seamus to follow him inside. The forge was modest but well-kept. Tools hung neatly on the walls, and the smell of hot iron and burning wood filled the air. At the anvil stood the blacksmith—a woman with broad shoulders and calloused hands, her hair tied back in a tight knot. She looked up as they entered, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
“Beric,” she greeted with a nod, her voice gruff but not unfriendly. “Ah, bringing me a new apprentice are you?”
Beric chuckled. “Perhaps, Brigid. Seamus here needs to learn the basics of crafting. Thought you might have a task for him.”
Brigid looked Seamus up and down, her eyes lingering on his rough tunic. “You know anything about smithing, boy?”
Seamus shook his head. “Not smithing, no. But I know how to design things, and to craft them. I’ve built things before” He replied, sounding only a little uncertain.
Brigid grunted, her gaze shifting to the tools on the wall. “Well in any case, we’ll start simple. You’re going to need something better than that knife you’ve got if you’re planning on sticking around for any length of time. You’ll need some basic crafting materials: iron ore and some decent leather. The ore you can’t mine yourself in The Hearthlands, we import it from below, so I’ll lend you some for now. But the leather shouldn’t be too tricky - if you're as resourceful as you let on.” She smiled, raising an eyebrow.
He was being tested, was he? Good. He was itching to put his experience to some meaningful use. While he couldn’t recall the nature of this experience, he knew he was a capable craftsman, and as his time in The Hollows drew on, he was becoming more attuned to his deep affinity with how things seemed to work here.
And anyway, there was always that strange display which had been lingering nearby since he first encountered it in the Spawning Grounds. He felt certain he could interact with it more actively, use it to his advantage, if only he could work out how.
Just at that moment, it flickered into view again and he realized that it wasn’t something tangible. It wasn’t of the world itself – it was more an overlay on it. A product of his own mind, lying dormant until stimulated by specific experiences and encounters.
New Objective: Acquire Crafting Materials [leather hide x1]
***
Back outside, in the town square, he spotted Kara leaning against the modest stone well which sat in the center. He made his way over.
“How are things?” She asked. “Beric show you the lay of the land?”.
“A little,” he let out. Something about Kara’s demeanor, her overt confidence, made him recede into himself. “I’m learning to craft. Need to find some leather first though.”
“Want some company?”
But before he could reply she pushed herself off the well and set off in the direction of the nearest gate. Seamus stared after her a while, before she turned and called back, “you coming?”
He jogged to catch up, falling into step beside her as they walked through the town toward the outskirts. The lanterns hanging from doorways and street corners gradually thinned out as they neared the edge of Hearthhaven, the warmth of the village slowly giving way to the cool stillness of the surrounding wilderness.
“Where do we find the leather?” Seamus asked, not entirely sure what he should be looking for.
Kara cast him a sideways glance, her amber eyes flashing with amusement. “We’ll have to hunt for it. There’s a small herd of wild boar that tends to crop up not far from here. They’ve got the kind of hide you’re looking for—tough, but flexible. You’ve trapped animals before, right?”
Seamus hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. He couldn’t remember ever having trapping an animal in his old life, but his instincts told him it was something he could do – and for some reason he felt he needed to impress Kara. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
Kara smirked. “Good. Because chasing those things down won’t do us any good, and I’m not going to shoot them down for you. This is your quest, let’s see what you can come up with.”
The path led them into the forest, where the tall trees cast long shadows, their branches rustling in the faint breeze. The undergrowth grew thicker here, with ferns and bushes making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. Kara moved with ease, her steps quiet and deliberate, while Seamus focused on scanning the ground for signs of the boar she mentioned.
After a while, Kara stopped and crouched down, her fingers brushing against the soft earth. Seamus followed her lead, watching as she pointed to a patch of freshly disturbed dirt. Hoofprints, small and round, were scattered across the ground.
“They’re close,” Kara murmured.
Seamus looked around, taking in the layout of the forest. The trees were dense here, their trunks thick and sturdy, perfect for tying off a snare. Yes, and nearby, there was a cluster of rocks which could serve as a natural bottleneck—a place the boar would have to pass through if they could be tempted to come this way.
“That’s the spot,” Seamus said, nodding toward the rocks. “We can funnel them through there.”
Kara raised an eyebrow, but nodded in approval. “Alright. Show me what you’ve got.”
Seamus set to work quickly, gathering materials from the surrounding area. As he worked, he felt a certain pull towards particular areas of the forest, could register a faint light emanating from the sturdier branches, the more substantial vines, drawing him to them.
He fashioned the wood into a frame for the snare, tying the vines he’d into a noose. He used the natural terrain to his advantage, setting up the trap between the rocks, ensuring that any animal passing through would step right into the loop. The whole process had taken now more than a few minutes. Shocked by his own efficiency, he turned to Kara, indicating the finished product.
“Not bad,” Kara commented. “But what’s the plan for bait?”
Seamus grinned. “Simple.” He pulled a handful of small fruit from a nearby tree, breaking it into pieces and scattering them just in front of the trap. “Boar love sweet things. This should lure them in.”
Kara’s smirk widened. “Alright. Now we wait.”
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The two of them settled in behind a nearby bush, staying low and quiet as they watched the trap. The minutes ticked by, the forest around them growing still and quiet. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of rustling leaves reached Seamus’s ears.
A substantial, stout boar emerged from the underbrush, its snout twitching as it sniffed the air. It moved cautiously, drawn to the scent of the fruit scattered on the ground. Seamus held his breath, watching as the animal edged closer to the trap.
With a soft snap, the vine noose tightened, and the boar let out a startled squeal as it was lifted just off the ground, immobilized by the snare. Seamus moved quickly, approaching the creature with calm, measured steps. He drew a small knife from his belt and swiftly ended the boar’s struggle, surprised again by the precision and efficiency of his movements. Something about this interface was guiding his hand, coaxing him into a graceful and fluid interaction with the world. And with every accomplished task he felt a tangible increase in knowledge and experience. It was magnificent.
Kara stood, watching with her arms crossed. “I’m impressed,” she said, nodding at the snare. “You’re more capable than I thought.”
Seamus smiled as he knelt to skin the hide, working quickly to strip the boar of its leather. The process came naturally to him, his hands moving with a practiced ease he hadn’t known he possessed. In no time, the hide was packed away in his satchel, ready to be taken back to the forge.
Item Acquired: Boar Hide x1
New Objective: Return to the Forge
“Alright, let’s head back,” Seamus said, elated as he stood and wiped his hands clean on his tunic.
Kara nodded, a hint of approval in her eyes. “Not bad for your first time. You’ll fit in around here just fine.”
***
Seamus stepped back into the forge, the comforting glow of the furnace dancing across the stone walls. The blacksmith’s forge was a modest affair—no grandiose machinery, but everything in it felt purposeful and alive, like an extension of Brigid herself. She glanced up as Seamus entered, her gaze falling immediately on the bundle of leather in his arms.
“You got the hide, and sooner than I’d expected” she said, a tone of mild surprise in her voice. “Good. But gathering materials is the easy part. Now we see what you can actually do with them.”
She turned her back to him, busying herself with the tools laid out neatly across a workbench. Seamus, not missing a beat, dropped the leather onto the table and ran his fingers over it, feeling the texture. It was thick, yet supple, the perfect material for crafting the light armor and gear Brigid had hinted at.
Suddenly, the faint glow of the interface flickered into view, bringing a familiar presence back to his awareness. A subtle shift in his vision revealed a new set of instructions, overlaying the real world like translucent text:
New Crafting Quest: Forge Light Leather Armor and Short Sword
Use acquired materials to create basic gear for Hearthhaven’s armory.
Objective: Craft one short sword and one light leather armor set.
Crafting Interface: Available
Material bonuses detected: [Boar Hide], [Iron Ore]
Seamus blinked, his mind adjusting to the overlay as though it had always been there. He had a clear understanding of what he needed to do and the mechanics that guided it. The materials weren’t just objects anymore—they had potential, and the process was more intricate than simply hammering metal or stitching leather.
Brigid pushed a set of tools toward him: hammers of varying sizes, tongs, chisels, files, a few sturdy needles, and some thick thread. “Let’s see if your hands can back up that head of yours,” she said gruffly, but there was a gleam of expectation in her eyes. “Start with the sword. Leather’s a delicate business, but that iron? You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”
Seamus nodded, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. He wasn’t sure where this confidence in crafting came from, but the interface flickered subtly at the edge of his mind, like a constant guide reminding him of his task.
He approached the furnace, where a few chunks of iron ore were already glowing, slowly softening in the intense heat. As Seamus reached for the nearest chunk, the crafting interface flared up again, offering options:
Available Materials: Iron Ore [3]
Enhancements available: 0
Tools required: Hammer, Tongs, Anvil
His hands moved instinctively, guided by both muscle memory and the knowledge that seemed to be woven into the interface. He grabbed the tongs and pulled the glowing piece of iron from the forge, its red-hot surface sparking as it touched the cooler air. A faint line of instructions hovered in his mind’s eye:
New Objective: Shape the Blade
Seamus raised the hammer and brought it down with a satisfying clang, sparks flying as he struck the iron. The sound resonated in the air, and with each strike, the lump of ore began to flatten, the raw metal taking on a longer, more defined shape. Every swing felt deliberate, the process more than brute force alone—it was an intentional act of shaping something primal, pulling it from a formless state into a weapon.
With every hammer fall, a soft hum vibrated in the air around him. The world beyond the forge seemed to blur slightly, the heat and focus narrowing his attention. As the iron bent and folded under his blows, subtle reminders filled his awareness:
Heat Level: Optimal
Shaping Progress: 35%
The metal wasn’t just iron anymore; it had become part of the process, something almost alive that reacted to his touch. He could sense nuances rippling through the material—spots that needed more attention, areas where it was beginning to lose heat. The interface provided gentle nudges, no longer only visual, coaxing him towards attending to particular parts of the metal. Though it was his hands and his instinct that guided the hammer with precision.
The blade lengthened, taking on the form of a short sword. He worked methodically, the repetition of each strike merging with the rhythm of the forge’s flames and the pumping of the bellows. Sparks flew as the blade took shape, and Seamus lost himself in the meditative pattern of hammering, checking, heating, and hammering again.
Finally, the blade was ready to cool. Seamus lifted it from the anvil, admiring its shape—a simple but effective design, streamlined and clean. It wasn’t ornate, but it had balance. Functionality. A weapon designed for practical use.
[Blade] Progress: 65%
New Objective: Quench the blade.
He moved quickly to the quenching barrel, the hissing sound of hot metal meeting cool water filling the forge as steam billowed up around him, pressing in close around his face. He watched, transfixed, as the blade hardened, the metal darkening to a rich, steely grey.
Blade successfully quenched.
Next Objective: Sharpening.
Seamus eyes were drawn to the nearby whetstone. He grabbed it and set to work. Each pass of the blade over the stone released a thin metallic rasp, the edge of the sword growing deadlier with each stroke. The blade glimmered faintly in the dim light of the forge, and Seamus felt a swell of pride as the edge gleamed with perfection.
Blade complete.
Next Objective: Craft the Hilt.
Seamus exhaled, wiping away the last traces of metal shavings from the blade before setting it aside. The blade gleamed under the forge’s dim light, but the weapon wasn’t complete yet. Without a proper grip, the blade was just an inert piece of steel. He needed to create something that could provide the sleek form of the blade with functionality.
His eyes were drawn instinctively to a woodpile at the foot of the workbench.
Available Materials: Oak [1]; Yew [3]; Chestnut [2]
Enhancements available: Leather Wrapping (+Grip)
Seamus’ eyes were drawn instinctively to the block of solid dark oak. The grain in the wood was tight, the texture smooth and durable, a promise of both strength and comfort. He ran his fingers over it, feeling the weight of its potential. His newly enhanced instincts all but confirmed this as the best choice.
New Objective: Shape the Hilt.
Using a small chisel and a knife, Seamus began carving the oak, shaping it into a grip that would cradle his palm. He moved slowly at first, feeling the grain of the wood and the way it responded to each cut. His hands worked with an almost subconscious rhythm, and he could sense the influence of the interface guiding his strokes, offering an overlay of tactile feedback on his progress.
As the handle took form, the world around him seemed to narrow. The noise of the forge, the crackling of the fire, it all faded into a backdrop. The wood under his hands consumed his attention. He focused on the contours, the weight distribution—how it would feel in a hand, not just his own, but in the hands of others too. He hollowed out sections carefully, ensuring the grip would be secure without compromising the sword’s balance.
Hilt Progress: 50%
Once the basic form was complete, Seamus set the carved hilt down for a moment, allowing himself a moment to breathe. His gaze fell on the leather strips Brigid had cut from the boar hide, their texture rough and durable: perfect for the grip.
New Objective: Craft the Grip
He carefully selected a length of thick leather, its dark surface supple in his hands. Starting from the top of the handle, he began wrapping it tightly around the carved oak, each loop overlapping with expert precision. As he worked, the leather softened slightly from the warmth of the forge, and it became easier to manipulate and mold to the outline of the wood. With each turn of the leather, the grip became more secure, the sword coming together in his hands, its weight shifting to something more balanced, more functional.
There was a soft thrum of energy:
Grip Bonus: +5 Stability
Satisfied with the wrapping, Seamus secured the ends with small, precise stitches, the threads disappearing seamlessly into the leather, reinforcing the unity of the weapon.
Final Objective: Attach Pommel.
Almost unable to believe the expeditiousness of his own work, Seamus reached for a hunk of iron the blacksmith had set aside for the pommel. The finishing touch to his very first weapon. Feeling its cool weight in his palm, he carefully fitted it into place, securing it tightly to the tang. He paused, staring at the blank surface of the metal gleaming in the firelight. It was beautiful, but it lacked something.
An idea struck him.
With a small, precise chisel and file, Seamus began to shape the pommel, focusing his intentions integrate with the guidance of the interface informing his every movement. Slowly, the polished metal began to take on a form, its smooth surface giving way to the rough semblance of a wild boar’s head.
The details were subtle and rudimentary, not overly ornate, but enough to lend the whole sword a mark personality—a nod to the first beast he had killed in The Hollows. The very creature whose sacrifice had made this blade possible.
Seamus smiled to himself as he admired the carving, and with careful precision he fitted the pommel securely onto the tang. It was a powerful moment. The completion not just of a sword, but of Seamus’ very first step as a crafter in this strange new world.
Pommel Attached.
Hilt Complete.
Seamus tested the short sword in his grip, feeling the close fit to his hand. Its weight felt well-distributed, its balance precise. He couldn’t help but smile as the interface glimmered softly, a final confirmation appearing before his eyes:
[Iron Short Sword] Successfully Crafted.
Enhancements: +Grip, +Stability, +Aesthetic
Quality: Excellent.
It took all his energy not to jump with excitement. He’d crafted an Excellent quality weapon on his first attempt. That had to mean something. Something began to shift, and he no longer felt quite so out of place.
He turned to Brigid, who had been watching silently from the back of the room. She walked over now, her eyes scanning the blade before taking it from him and inspecting the edge, the stitching, the balance. After a moment, she gave her most enthusiastic grunt yet. “Not bad, lad. Not bad at all.”
Seamus wiped the sweat from his brow, a satisfied smile creeping over his face.
“That pommel is really something too,” she said, looking genuinely impressed. “You know, I’m required to send this off to the armory, it being forged from the town’s ore and all, but…I can see you’ve really left your mark on this blade. And by the looks of things, it’s left its own mark on you too.”
Seamus was brimming with emotion. He wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion or enthusiasm that was fueling the sentimentality, but he felt a lump form in his throat as she said these words, her usual hoarse voice transformed to something gentler.
“Keep it, the iron’s on me.”