Welcome to Gaia! ::

The Guardians, as a well-endowed and prestigious guild, had an armory, where the honorable warriors of the Guardians could go to get themselves outfitted against their foes or - alternatively - to fix and improve kit that had been damaged by the ravages of their work. And, of course, get their uniforms.

Raemos had glimpsed it on the brief tour of the HQ, and had wanted to go inside and take a look, but as a wet-behind-the-ears rookie, he had to get trained up first.

Finally, though, his swordsmanship and magic skills were at par, and he could take a look at what they had to offer, and - of course - pickup a shiny uniform for himself.

He was not disappointed by his wait. It was a well appointed smithy and store area. The various blades and armored shells and the like glittered, defying the dim light, and the smells of warm metal and smoke and sweat permeated the air.

Although Raemos's passions had always turned towards magics, he had always been fond of the craftsmanship that went into a well-made sword or suit of armor. He was admiring a sword - out of his price range, alas - when the smith inside shouted. Raemos thought nothing of it - from his experience with the smiths of Taliuma and the markets, Smiths shouted a lot.

The smith yelled again and, replacing the sword, Raemos went to investigate.

"Torkai, you lazy fool, where are you?! Pump the bellows, damn you!" the man shouted. He was a big, brawny Orderite, and Raemos wondered how on Magesc he managed to fly with such a thick slabs of muscle for a body.

Raemos knew enough about smithing to realize that said apprentice - whoever and whatever he was - was nowhere to be found, and that he might be able to help. Goody two-shoes that he was, he decided to go over and pump the bellows, steadily - as he had read.

The man noticed him and smiled. "Not around, is he? You mind keeping that up? You here to buy something?" he asked, turning back to his work, "Well, I'll help you with that once i'm done..." he punctuated his statement with a slam of his hammer, "This damn sword."

- - -

Finally, the man was done. Raemos could feel sweat beginning on his forehead from the heat of the room but, compared to the blazing sun of the desert and the heat of the Sheron in the daytime, it was pleasant.

"Allright." said the man, cooling the sword quickly to temper it, "I'm going to need your help again, since my fool of an apprentice hasn't shown up... probably drunk off his horned a** again" he pointed to a sheet of paper, "I've got an order of cast iron swords to make, and I need you to keep doing what your doing with the bellows."

Raemos nodded.

"And since you're there, can you get that iron over there ready to smelt and then take the swords over to my brother in the other room when I'm done with them?" he sighed, "I'd appreciate it."

"Yes sir." Raemos said, saluting.

"Good lad. Now, lets get to work."

- - -

It was hard, this work. Raemos was no stranger to hard work - working on a family ranch was not easy- but even just assisting here was a whole other cup of tea. It was hot. It was mucky. It was sooty. It was sweaty. The sweat that had been but beading on his brow was now soaking his clothing - he'd had to dry his palms multiple times now, and most of his outer wear lay - shed - on the floor (though, since he tended to wear layers, he was still decent - normal looking, even). As the last sword was delivered to the equally burly man at the back, Raemos stretched, his lean body arching as his joints creaked with pain.

That had hurt.

"All done." said the smith, giving Raemos a satisfied grin, offering Raemos a small flagon. Thirsty, Raemos took a swig - discovering, too late, that it was not water. He coughed and the man chuckled. "You do good work, kid. What are you, a new recruit?"

Raemos nodded, still choking, and handed the Flagon back.

"Lets get you outfitted then." said the smith.

Raemos was exhausted, but the smith soon had him trying on uniforms and picking out swords. Soon, he had everything that a young, new, Guardian mage should have, but as he reached to pay, the man stopped him. "Nah, you helped me out, there. Take that as your payment. And..." he took down the fine sword that Raemos had been admiring, switched it for the decent sword that came with the uniform, and winked, "This too."

A young Dovaa walked in, smelling of alcohol, and stumbled behind the counter, seeming not to notice either. The smith grimaced. "He and I have a talking-to to settle. But you... You come back, now... you hear?" Raemos nodded, stunned, as the smith left him there.

Then he left the smithy, exhausted, with his new belongings.

(+1 Metal Bracer Recipe
+5 Iron Bars)