As they say: And now for something completely different!
Just keep Smithin'
-Clang, Clang, Clang.
-The hammering can be heard all the way up to the Parish. It borders on monotone; it's a never faltering rhythm. The hollows ignore it: They have long ago learned that it is best not to disturb the old smith. The wayward knight sits in front of the giant gate, waiting, the sound slowly lulling him to sleep once again. A lone Undead enters the tower, halts at the unexpected sound and raises her shield in expectation of a trap. She doesn't know yet that she has entered a small oasis of respite. Below, the creator of the sound hammers away at his steel, not minding any of them; completely focused on his work. The bonfire above crackles faintly, forming a quiet undertone to the hammer's rising and falling.
-Clang, Clang, Clang.
-The wary newcomer walks down the stairs, shield still at the ready. She scrutinizes the man behind the anvil for a moment.
-"You're not an enemy, are you?"
-Andre huffs: "Don't look like one, do I? Andre of Astora, blacksmith. If you require smithing, then speak to me."
-The Undead hands him a halberd. A quick inspection of the blade. The smith supresses a sigh: Clearly more walls have been hit with this than foes. He's seen that often enough from those who come from the Parish. Tricky place, that, but that's no excuse.
-"That will need repairing. Handle it with more care, if you would."
-The Undead shrugs: "I've used it a lot lately, that's a normal side-effect I guess. Besides, you can always repair it, right?"
-No respect. "I'd appreciate your weapon more if I were you. It's your companion; and if you don't take care of it, it won't take care of you. Might find that out sooner than you'd like."
-She seems to think about that for a while. "You have a point, I guess." She looks faintly embarrassed now: "I'm still getting used to its weight; maybe I've been a bit too enthusiastic with the sweeping attacks. I'll get the hang of it soon."
-The smith hands her back the good-as-new weapon, not without a meaningful look.
-The Undead nods: "I'll take more care, promise." When she walks back up the stairs, Andre is pleased to see that she has grasped the shaft with two hands now. Even after she is out of view, there is no sound of metal on stone.
-That went surprisingly well. Maybe this one will actually follow his advice; she seemed sincere enough. There might just be hope for her, and her halberd.
-Clang, clang, clang.
-A small man with angry slant eyes and headscarf. Katana user; figures. Weapon almost broken, of course. No word of greeting; he just hands him the weapon and peruses the shop. With a shake of the head, the smith gets to work. He'll never understand why those people bother with blades that so easily betray them. And he's skipping through the reinforcement stages with nary a word, too. Hasn't even realized the state of his weapon, it seems. Andre grimaces quietly. This one will be at this church a while. Would serve him right.
-Still, as a good smith, he can't just hand out a weapon in such bad shape: A quick repair later, the Katana is on his way again. Andre doesn't even bother with advice about durability. This one won't listen, that much is obvious.
-Clang, Clang, Clang.
-A warrior fully clad in steel. Carrying an impressive greatsword. Looks surprisingly intact, too.
-"You're the smith, right?"
-Stupid question. Another one with all muscle no intelligence. "Sure am. Andre of Astora, at your service."
-He actually pats his sword: "I want my little friend here to kill everything in one hit. Can you do that?"
-"Everything? Now, now, that's ambitious, my friend. Hope you got a lot of materials." This one will need more than basic upgrading. "Alright: There are two types of weapon forging. There's reinforcement…"
-"Yeah, yeah, I did all that already. Can't you do more than that? If not, I'll just stick with my smithbox."
-No clue of anything. Doubt he'll even understand Ascension. Still, could prove worth his metal. "Could do more I s'pose, but I'd need an ember for that." That should be simple enough.
-Still, it seems to be cause enough for a minute of thinking: "Any idea where I can find such an ember?"
-"Hmph, nearest might be that of the fellow up in his tower. You could try borrowing it. Way's right through there, through the forest."
-A nod, and a confident hulk of a warrior walks out the door.
-Clang, clang, clang.
-Bzzzzzzz!
-A shocked warrior lands back in front of his anvil. Literally shocked; his limbs twitch with electricity. "Therezzzzz a giant black zzzing out there! Zzzshooting lightning!"
-A low giggle: "Old boy's back, ey? Good thing, too, I'm running out of Titanite. Deal with him and get some for me while you're on the way, will ya?"
-He receives a completely aghast look: "How am I supposed to kill that when my weapon barely hurts it?!"
-It's hard to concentrate on his words when his features constantly twitch with the aftershocks, but the smith maintains a straight face: "And how am I supposed to make your weapon hurt it if you have nothing to steady it with? It's give and be given, my friend."
-Clang, Clang, Clang.
-A very young cleric stumbles into his room. Mace and chime. Looking very inexperienced. Keeps looking over his shoulder, as if expecting pursuit.
-"Well, you must be a new arrival." It's not a question; a blind man could see that.
-"Please, I need help!"
-"Sure thing, lad. Gimme your steel, it'll be fixed in no time…"
-"No! Please, it's just; do you have any directions where I have to go?! I've been chased all over the place, and I don't have a map. Nor have I even been given a goal!"
-Ah. "Then you should think somethin' up, young 'n! Everyone needs a goal in life, no? Why do you need someone to tell you?"
-An embarrassed mutter: "A map…?"
-Newcomers. "Do I look like a map-salesman to you, lad? Ask that shady merchant in the Burg if you must, but I think you're better off without that."
-Relief spreads over his features: "Thanks for the tip! I'll make it up to you, promise!" And with that he's already out again, completely unwarranted optimism personified.
-Andre laughs in amusement. Can't say I haven't warned him. Oh well, one double crossing or two might help the newbie settle in. Better the merchants than that Trusty-backstabber. He really doesn't like clerics…
-Clang, Clang, Clang.
-The Katana again. He brushes past the smith without a word, choosing the second path leading into Darkroot. Evidently fed up with the bellkeepers, this one. Andre secretly grins to himself: He can't deny a certain satisfaction at the Brittle-blade's annoyance.
-Should have bought some quality steel. Or listened. Either would have done.
-Clang. Clang. Clang.
-A distinct sound from the bonfire above, and a very bedraggled-looking Undead, full of spikes, comes back down the stairs, muttering something into his scarf. Something about cutting down every last tree he sees. Andre chuckles. They all say that at some point; that forest is still standing. Control your anger, mate, else it's gonna be a long journey for you.
-Clang. Clang. Clang.
-Heavy footsteps down the winding staircase. A little hesitant, maybe. Aha, an older acquaintance. Must have been- what, a couple of weeks since this one first showed up? Stuck with one friend all the time, too; a good old claymore. Trusty steel, wise choice. Andre is not surprised he has made it this long. He wears shining new armour and looks a little bigger than last time. His arm no longer strains with the weight of the blade; he must have gained some endurance. The smith greets him with a grin; he has earned that respect.
-"Been a long time, pal. Need another upgrade? I'm afraid I'm out of embers at the moment; those newcomers still have no clue where to look. But I do have some Titanite to spare."
-He's more pensive than the smith remembers: "Thanks, but there's no need. I think I'm as ready as I'm gonna get." He pats the blade on his shoulder: "This one has gotten me this far, no need to change anything so close to the end. Look, buddy, I- erm, I'm probably going to burn to death, so I just wanted to say Goodbye. And thanks for all the help, seriously. Wouldn't have made it this far without me' trusty blade and your hammer."
-"Sure thing, don't mention it. 'Tis my purpose after all. Good luck with your task."
-With a wave, he's on his way back up the stairs: "Thanks. And happy smithing!" His footsteps recede, after a moment, the smith can hear him sit down at the bonfire.
-Shame about this one, truly. He might actually stand a chance to reach the Kiln, and maybe even overcome it. Only to then face those two-faced serpents and their empty promises. He grunts in disgust. Why do none of them ever see past them? He's had half a mind to tell the warrior. But no; if he doesn't see for himself, it won't matter.
-Whatever choice he makes, it's unlikely to make a difference. Like old Goldy said: Like moths, flittering towards a flame. Clang. Clang. Clang. And there comes the next one. Spear user for a change.
-Not that it matters. He will stay here with his anvil and offer whatever help he can, to whomever is willing to accept it. Sometimes, someone actually listens, like the Claymore, and maybe the Halberd. That's enough. And besides; there's always demand for smiths.
-The hammering never stops for long. It's been filling the air of this tower for as long as anyone can remember. To Andre, it's his task, and one that he happily fulfils. For the wanderers, it is one of the few constants in this dreary place. Whether they learn to appreciate it or not.
Never skip and old blacksmith's advice; he knows his stuff.
