Hifestus

*Months ago*

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG. WHOOSH. SIZZLE. CLANG.

The small boy could not resist. His friends had told him about the smith, the way he seemed to burn, he hadn't believed them though. He followed the sounds.

WHOOSH. CLANG. SIZZLE. CLANG.

He turned a corner and saw the stall. A blacksmith's shop, set up and open to the air so that passerby's could see the smith's work.

The man working was the one his friend's had described.

CLANG. WHOOSH. SIZZLE.

He was a tall man, seemed human, with white skin, though it was now dark with soot. It was hard to see him through the smoke and sparks. He raised the large hammer over his head and the boy realized that the man was not wearing gloves or any protective gear.

He brought the hammer down. CLANG. The man held a red piece of metal with his bare hand.

The boy moved closer to see better and was stunned. The man, the blacksmith, seemed to be on fire.

His skin glistened with sweat and as the sparks hit him, them seemed to ignite small fires across his skin. His eyes, so clearly the red eyes of burning embers, flared with each strike of his hammer. His hair, was on fire . . . or so it seemed. The man appeared to have fire in his hair, small flames burning throughout his blonde and red hair. The fire curled and flickered.

The boy was transifxed. Watching this blacksmith burn, holding painfully burning things without a care, body set with sparks of fire and a head ablaze.

When the smith finished, the fires went out. His body was just that of a tall, muscled white man. His hair, a reddish blonde. Only his eyes remained, red, without the intense look of burning fire, like embers in a dieing fire.

"You there, Boy," the smith said. "Are you here to buy or just watch."

With a squeel the child ran.






*On the Dock*

Hifestus chose to buy a simple outfit. A stylish orange piece. Clearly not one a noble would wear, but nicer than a peasant and hardy, an outfit for a trip. He carries a number of pouches and a weapon on each hip. He pulls a small cart with him, filled with crated items that a blacksmith would need to set up a shop.

With a small bow and a friendly smile, "Captain," Hifestus says, "my exact lineage is unknown, I was orphaned as a child and raised by kind local people. At best guess I am most likely an Ifrit, human with an ancestry that includes fire elemental of some type. Based on some of my affinities, I believe it may be Azer."

Hifestus reaches into a pouch at his hip and pulls out a few small fishing hooks and then draws a small dagger carefully, being sure to not appear threatening, and holds it up to the captain by the blade.

"I think I can be of use sir," he says with clear pride, "the family that took me in, the Smithsons, taught me to work metal and I must say that I seem to have a knack for it. Any sailor worth his salt can pound out a simple hook, but mine will hold true even against the largest of fish you might catch. The dagger I made as well. If you have the equipment on board I can assist repairing or making anything of metal your crew might need."