[hider=Long, uneventful forging--just a day in the workforce]
Startled, Alisea looked up at the bear--er, man.  She obediently followed his gesture, but didn't waste the effort to confirm the existence of the alleged notice.  Rather, she turned back to scrutinize the man.  Several moments passed as she sized him up--and indeed, there was a lot to size.  Then her face split into a wide, friendly smile.  [color=ec008c]"I see!  I was wondering how to begin.  Thank you, Mister...?"[/color]

[color=silver]"Bahkmann, but that's only for royalty and priests. You call me Forge-Master."[/color] The smith wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his thick arms. The heat in the forge was considerable, despite the fact that only a few stations were occupied. The workshop was rather large, being able to host nearly 20 or so freelance smiths and crafters at once. A simple forge, an anvil, barrel of water for cooling and a standing wooden table with all the various tools were all there was. Yet it was enough to get anyone started on simple crafting.  [color=silver]"Holler over there when you got the coins in the chest. I'm gonna grab some embers for you."[/color] Bahkmann went off, wiping his grimy arms on his dirty shirt.

Approaching the box, Alisea did wonder briefly if the game could be cheated.  Would it recognize if she didn't put the money in?  The obvious answer was yes--and the fact that the developers put a fee on crafting facilities to begin with was proof enough they were sadists--but theoretically the ultra-realism Talrae tried to provide should leave holes like that.  Dropping her two silvers in, the magess had to wonder what beginning crafter would even be able to afford those kinds of fees; fifty renn for a day was no paltry sum.  Not this early.

With a silent sigh Alisea turned away from her departed coin.  She called cheerfully to the Forge-Master and walked back to her station.  As he came back, she smiled wide.  [color=ec008c]"Again, thank you.  Do you have any tips for someone trying this for her first time, Forge-Master?"[/color]

[color=silver]"Don't hit your self with the hammer. Ha ha ha!"[/color] Bahkmann laughed heartily at the terrible joke as he carefully put in the embers with some dry leaves to get the fire started. He blew softly until the leaves caught fire. He proceeded put some thicker logs in to really feed the fire. [color=silver]"I can't reveal all my secrets lil' missy. Or else you'd have my job."[/color]

She couldn't force more than a courteous smile at his joke, but force that much she did.  [color=ec008c]"Secrets were not what I had in mind, Forge-Master.  I would be happy for a review of the basics."[/color]

[color=silver]"Well... if you are in here it probably means that you know at least the basics about smithing."[/color]  The smith scratched the side of his face a little bit before picking up the little shovel he used to bring over the ember. [color=silver]"I suppose if I had to give a word... just do what your instinct tells you to do. Let your body tell you where the hammer should strike."[/color] He began taking off but turned around briefly to add. [color=silver]"And don't hit the anvil so hard! I'll make you pay if it breaks."[/color]

And that was it.  In review:  the game charged you if you wanted to craft.  You would have to interact with Forge-Master Bahkmann every time you came.  And he offered no tutorial whatsoever, so his only real purpose was to enforce the extor...ah, toll.  All in a game that professed to be the Best and was trying to kill you.  Alisea had never been one to curse, but if ever she felt there was an appropriate target, it was the nimrods calling themselves developers.

[color=ec338c][I]'Very well.  I really should accept it as a given that they hate players.  Except...[/I][/color]  The memory of rich rewards upon departing the dungeon arose.  [color=ec338c][I]'Except whomever is in charge of the dungeons.  He favors players who take the risk of raiding.'[/I][/color]  It was a curious thought, but it was one Alisea certainly wasn't going to discard.  Somebody wanted to watch them clear dungeons--clear floors, even--and somebody (maybe the same person, maybe not) was brutally discouraging attempts to be anywhere but.

Still, they had agreed to wait a few days before going again, so she had a job to do now.  The magess donned the heavy apron, arranged her tools as she guessed she would need them, and readied her iron.  Alisea spent some time pumping the bellows, bringing the fresh fire to a point it would actually be usable.  Finally the game threw her a consolation:  the flames were heated in a fraction of the time it would take in reality.  Everything ready, the irritated magess enthusiastically set to work.

Burn out impurities; cool.  Heat until it glows; beat it into the desired shape; when the heat fades, cool it in water, wait, reheat, and continue beating.  The process was guesswork built on unrealistic games and semi-realistic books, but--irksome though it was--she found Forge-Master Bahkmann's words to be accurate:  there was a moment when it simply felt right.  The more she trusted those moments and acted on the instinct, the more she grew confident that the weapon would turn out well.

With a small beep and accompanying notification screen, Alisea received an iron dagger.  Fatigue swept through her body.  Her arms were heavy as dumbbells and sweat dripped from her brow.  Even her core was warning her that she was overworking.  But she had finished the dagger.  For that, the girl rewarded herself with a respite--a sit near her station that lasted just long enough for her arms to be able to swing a hammer again.  Then she went back to work, crafting her second dagger.  When the notification confirmed her success, she let herself slump to the ground and breathe out in relief.[/hider]
Checking the time again, Alisea found eleven had come and gone.  It had taken nearly an hour--but that included the time to find the ore and the Workshop.  Pushing herself to her feet, Alisea hurried back to Forge-Master Bahkmann.  [color=ec008c]"Forge-Master!  Thank you again for your help.  Do you know the nearest place I might sell these daggers?"[/color]  Making more would prove faster, even factoring in time to rest.  Buy the ore; forge the iron; sell the daggers--if she kept that cycle going for the entire day (and indeed, after two silver she wasn't going to do any less), Alisea could finish... sixteen blades, she hoped.  Twenty if she hit a steady rhythm.