My name is jeramy barion. I was born in 2962 on the continent magius in a vistarian town called stoneburg. I was to be a metalworker as my father and generations before him had been. One day I told my father I didn’t want to be a metalworker. Then he asked me what I did want to be. There are some things you feel like you can’t tell people, so I didn’t. He wouldn’t understand anyway. However, since he was always busy I was mostly left to myself until I came of age to be of use in the metalworking shop. In my spare time I would wander the streets of stoneburg. Most people who lived in the city all their life hadn’t even seen most of it. The center of the city was always crowded so sometimes I would go to its environs where there was open space and run around carefree. Those were the best years of my life but that isn’t saying much. He had once brought me to his workplace when I was 6 but I accidentally burned my hand and this was the first time since then that I saw the workplace I in which I would have to spend the mainstay of my time awake but any contempt for the conditions I witnessed which I was now forced to envision myself in that I could express wouldn’t be taken as a legitimate consideration for if I should at least attempt to carry on house barion’s time-honored tradition. My father had been keen to point out before that initial shock was typical but short lived and with time the barion way of life would seem less onerous and more fulfilling. This, according to him was what separated us from house calding whose adventures offered momentary excitement but rarely provided any meaningful fulfillment or lasting satisfaction. However, as I grew older I learned not to trust everything my father told me and I couldn’t see the appeal of this lifestyle at the time. Now, having seen the world, everything else seems to be much the same- thankless, repetitive, burdensome. If my father were still alive right now I would probably not have told him that I regretted not listening to him unless he also admitted to his own mistakes since otherwise it would’ve emboldened him to feel more deserving of my unquestioning trust in other matters but had I known he was going to die that would’ve been one of the things I would want to tell him before saying goodbye forever. Once I heard he had died I imagined myself going to the site of his death and, hoping to meet his ghost, waiting there to say my final words to him perhaps for several years in case his journey back to that spot happened to be tortuous or delayed by wandering as was the misfortune of some ghosts but this scene remained only imagined because as much as he was my only human relation left (if dead men can be considered left), I was still in the middle of something that I wasn’t willing to give up to go where his ghost would return if he had become a ghost and remain there refusing to be moved or to move on for an indefinite period or until death closes closes the curtain on such an theatrical-seeming overdone display. To those unaware of the ways of ghosts, it would seem that I was staying next to his rotting corpse as a signal that was meant to be seen by those still living of my devotion to him whom I had abandoned rather than an arrangement for a seance but I digress. My father’s coworkers welcomed me to the metalworking shop and said they’d heard much about me already. My father began by explaining to me the various degrees of prestige I could attain depending on my competencies within metalworking. Some metalworkers would make things like gates, garden tools and any ordinary objects that required shaping metal. Those who had a reputation for quality and meticulousness could make weapons that were tested and judged based on slashing speed, base damage, stamina use and blocking power. If their performance was deemed inadequate they would be given back to the one who made them and reforged or have the brand name scratched out and sold for a lower price to shady traveling merchants (he didn’t tell me that part, I figured it out on my own). These inspections were a matter of self-preservation since the selling of even a single weapon which failed to meet the company’s vaunted standards could potentially result in damages it would be liable for and spell its end. Thus there was a certain pressure not to slip up but the higher pay compensated for it. After he finished his lecture he toured me through the workshop and showed me the whole process as well as the fire blanket. In case the fire blanket didn’t work, the building was prudently located on a street that goes directly to the fire department with nothing between to prevent the old water wizard named scot who works there from arriving as soon as the need should arise. He’d been a magic council soldier for an impressive 80 years and had on 4 occasions been grievously injured but it was the last of which and his age (he didn’t have a very high magic level to prolong his life by much) that eventually forced him to retire. Unfit for combat, he’d found a new way to serve the community but sometimes he still felt not needed. Stoneburg is aptly named. Most of the town is made of stone and uncontrolled fires were rare. Once there was a fire but a magic council scout who happened to be nearby put it out before word reached scot that a fire had started. He felt because he was old and had no arms (they’d been amputated) and couldn’t take care of himself anymore that the people thought he was useless and given him a job where he wouldn’t have to be relied on to do anything. Day after day he sat in his chair on alert for anyone who wanted his help to come calling but instead there was silence and his muscles gradually atrophied from disuse
(I don’t feel like this is a good place to leave off but I just saw that it passes the 750 word requirement and I want to know if people actually bothered to read the whole thing since I know it has a lot of lengthy side comments. Also, if anyone’s confused about the title, this is because I’m gonna delete the old series and remake it differently. Most of the lore from the old series will be preserved but not the 0th unknown guy. Every chapter will be in first person but I might switch narrators at some points in case one dies or gets sick)