Username: oneinthecold
Name: Frederick Burnsteel
Gender: Male
Items/accessories:
-Has a golden ring (he got from his father and it has been passed down from son to son)
-Has a bracelet around his tail made of bronze to identify his class/rank.
-Pair of black gloves and goggles
Extra:
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Fred sat at his bench outside of his workshop, rubbing the coal stains off his toughened hands. One hand felt the smooth gold ring and began to shift it back and forth around his finger. His face softened as he remembered how he got it.
It was his 16th birthday, a day that he would become a true man. After celebrating with some rum cake, his father asked him to join him on a walk. They walked in silence, Fredrick knowing that it was rude to break it. He waited, walking with his father further into the woods till they stopped at a tall oak. His father let out a deep sigh, the smell of rum filling his nose. "Boy," he began. "You have done great service to this family, to your home." He looked down, clasping his hands. "Its about time I give you this." he pulled from his finger the golden ring and handed it to Fredrick. But held back when he reached for it. "Remember this is not a piece of jewelry, it is an emblem, a token. A bond of trust." He fully gave it to Fredrick, and he stared at before putting it on his hand. It shimmered as the sun began to set, feeling warm from his father wearing it. He looked up and smiled, his father returning a small grin. "Wear it with pride," he said, patting his sons shoulder. "Know that you are Burnsteel, and if you know that, no one can stop your fire."
Fredrick sighed, then raised his head to look at the village below him. He got up and smeared the remaining ash on his pants before walking into his hut to get some shut eye, blew out his candle, and went to bed.
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At the age 20 all residents of the villages were required to take the rank of their fathers. There was no choice. Fredrick's father was a blacksmith, and that would mean he would be the next. Rick didn't mind becoming one, he actually was quiet fond of the profession. Bending metal into war or shaping it into peace was the way of the blacksmith. He was taught at a young age and grew into being just like his father. Tough, but gentle. Funny, but wise. Fighter, but defender. His father was quiet proud of Fredrick, saying praises like 'Im glad to call you my son' or 'You will become a great noblemen'. Fred took these praises to heart, working hard to fulfill those names of honor. And now it was time to be officially anointed them. He walked up the stage in front of the giant crowd of villagers and knelt before the king, who visited every year to anoint new workers just like this. "My dear boy," he said in a pompous tone, but sounding pleased. "It is time to accept your calling. Do you, Fredrick accept your fate, becoming a blacksmith for this here village, or, do you deny your destiny, choosing to be nothing and living like the dirt." He kept his head low, thinking it was a bit harsh of how he worded it, but it didn't matter. He accepted his work long ago.
"I accept," he said in a strong voice that could be turned into a lullaby. The king nodded gently down at him, then brought out a sword.
"I, king of this village." He lowered it on one of Fredricks shoulders, going from the left one to the right. "anoint you, Fredrick Burnsteel, son of ------ Burnsteel, as blacksmith." The crowd cheered as the sword was removed. A servant brought over a bronze circle, and the king took it into his hand, then handed it to Fredrick. He took his tail and clasped it with just enough tightness so it wouldn't wall off. Rick looked up to see the kings face, proud. He got up and bowed once more.
"Thank you, my king." He turned to the crowd and smiled, making them cheer even more. After he gazed over the many fellows, he found his father. Tears brimmed his face, causing Fredrick to be surprised. His father gave an approving smile, closing his eyes, and dipping his head. Fredrick felt a new pride that day, for he became what his destiny and what he wanted to always be. A blacksmith.
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Fredrick woke up the next day, feeling refreshed and new. He first made some coffee, serving it to himself dark, which was his favorite besides what people thought. After that he set to work, flipping the sign CLOSED to OPEN. He added more wood to the ashen, dead fire, then lit it, a flame instantly rising. He tied his apron on, humming a little tune as he walked around to get his tools. He set a thick pounding hammer and a stoker on the table next to the fire, then put on his gloves. "Now where?" He began to shuffle stuff around on his metal filled desk. Merow? He glanced over to see a cat with his black goggles in its mouth. Fredrick chuckled, gently taking them, then gave the cat a pat on the head. "You little rascal." The cat sat and began to lick its paws. He put his goggles on and began to look at his orders, starting with heating different metal combinations. He started with the daggers, then went on to the bigger weapons. After about an five hours or so, there was a noise at the door. "Hark?" he called.
"Ho!" the voice answered. A Viscet came in with a broken bow. "I know you are a master of metal, and this is a craft of wood, but, I was wondering if you could design the handle to be much stronger made with a few designs?" Fredrick rubbed his beard.
"Hmmm, I say why not?" They chuckled, the Viscet giving a thankful pat on the back of Fredrick.
"Thank you dear friend, I will pay you greatly when I return!" They left and Fredrick set to work on it, making a curved rod of steel then melting it in with the wood. After combining the two, he carved intricate designs of deer and hounds in a forest. It was now late at night when he finished, setting the work at his table. He drowned the fire, and rubbed his brow. A knock at the door made his ear twitch, which he went to and opened. "Ho!"
"Ho!" Fredrick said smiling to the Viscet that came earlier.
"How is it?" he asked. Fred gestured to his workshop.
"Come and see friend." He brought his to the piece and the Viscet gasped.
"Its a beauty! Simply stunning!" Fredrick beamed at there praise. The Viscet brought out double the payment but Fredrick refused."My dear metal master, this is the perfect amount!"
"No no," he insisted, taking the right amount of payment. "Beauty can never be bought, I believe you will make her useful." he said changing the subject. The Viscet looked down at the bow, holding it.
"Indeed, I will treat her well." They began to shuffle out and they waved off. "Farewell!"
"Farewell and goodnight!" He nodded, closing the door. He took off his gloves and set them on his nightstand, then hung his apron on the edge on his bed. Slipping into some shorts he shuffled into bed. He couldn't wait to begin another day.
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