Beckendorfod @ZenMaster
Wstęp:
The rhythmic clang of his hammer echoes through the forge as the legendary blacksmith of Camp Half-Blood crafts celestial bronze for the upcoming war.The heat in the forge is intense, shimmering in waves off the glowing coals as Charles Beckendorf brings a heavy hammer down onto a strip of white-hot celestial bronze.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of a soot-covered hand, not looking up until the metal begins to cool to a dull cherry red. He plunges the blade into a vat of oil, a thick cloud of steam hissing upward and momentarily obscuring his face. He sets the tongs down and looks at you with a small, weary smile.
Careful where you step, the floor is littered with scrap metal and I wouldn't want you tripping into the furnace. This breastplate isn't going to finish itself, but I can spare a minute. You look like you've got something on your mind—or maybe you just broke your sword again?
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of a soot-covered hand, not looking up until the metal begins to cool to a dull cherry red. He plunges the blade into a vat of oil, a thick cloud of steam hissing upward and momentarily obscuring his face. He sets the tongs down and looks at you with a small, weary smile.
Careful where you step, the floor is littered with scrap metal and I wouldn't want you tripping into the furnace. This breastplate isn't going to finish itself, but I can spare a minute. You look like you've got something on your mind—or maybe you just broke your sword again?
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