Sparks fly out in all directions as Hineni strikes against the clamped down blade of the sword again, hammering the red-hot piece of metal flat into shape. It’s all he can do to hit the right spot with his non-dominant arm.

“Left,” says Obscura.

Hineni, following her words rather than his instincts, tries to hit a small bulge on the left side of the metal. This had been going on for a while, he would hammer his way through his work and it would chime in every few minutes, seeing something that he didn’t from her perch, high up by the roof-windows.

Working in the forge is brutal tonight though. Not only because of his throbbing, useless hand, or because of him trying to push his way through with his left hand, or because of the usual heat of the fire and the nervousness of having not only a visitor, but a keenly watching one. But because he is fully dressed. Apron, fireproof mantle, his hat and some rolled up leather instead of his scarf. He’s soaking wet, drenched with sweat beneath the odd assemblage of clothes, but he refuses to work in the buff with this pair of observant eyes watching him. There is no way that it couldn’t have seen his injuries during their last encounter here, but it hasn’t mentioned them. Still, he doesn’t want it to see more than it has.

This process goes on for a time as he makes the blade, the hilt and the pommel. But all of these things are… sub-optimal. This is a low-quality item, there’s no other way to look at it. Hineni sighs, wiping his forehead on his shoulder as he stares at the menu of the very shitty sword.

- [Iron Long-Sword]{Gift of the owl-god} -

- Quality -

Low

- Composition - [Iron Hilt](Low) [Threaded Iron Blade]{Long-Sword}(Low) [Iron Nut](Normal) [Leather Wrap](Normal) [Black Cloth Wrap](Normal) [Black Cord](Normal) - Quality Effects -

-1 DMG

“Chosen of the owl-god”

Adds additional attributes to the attached weapon - Title Effect - “Gift of the owl-god” +3 OBSCURANTISM +3 WIND DMG +3 LUK 2 PHYSICAL DMG An iron longsword. The metal is a little bumpy and the blade wobbles a small amount. ‘Made by weaponsmith Hineni - Chosen of the Owl God’ Wobbly hilt Weight: 1.33kg Durability: 23/23 Value: 233 Obols

Then again. Even for a bad item, this is…

“Strong,” notes a voice from above him. Hineni nods, sweat dripping down past his eyes. Usually you couldn’t give away a low-quality, low-level weapon in this town to anyone except the freshest of adventurers. But with the enchantment of the owl-god… it’s still a devastating weapon for its low-status class. Two physical and three elemental damage, plus the other bonuses, with a price of two-hundred and thirty-three Obols? It’s still worth a, for him, fortune.

He just has to find a way to sell it. But going outside into public is a new problem that he isn’t ready to think about just yet.

Anyways, that takes care of work for tonight. He’d love to get some wood, but making a sword was hard enough with just one good hand. Chopping wood is out of the question for the rest of the week.

The smell of forest comes over him as something soft touches the visible part of his forehead. Hineni turns his head, but before he can look, the creature has vanished from its spot and now sits on his workbench. A piece of cloth in its sharp fingers.

“Again,” says the owl-god, staring at Hineni from beneath its hood.

“Huh?” asks the man, ready to call it quits for the night.

“Hineni makes a second one,” says the creature, lifting up the sweaty cloth into its hood and smelling it. “Obscura wants.”

“Hineni doesn’t want,” replies the man, eyeing the odd creature warily. Its eyes shoot up back towards him. “It’s late. I need to sleep.”

“Whooo~!” it complains, its long taloned hands digging into the wood of the workbench. “Obscura gives power,” says the owl-god, pointing at the sword. “But Hineni doesn’t give to Obscura!” Its head tilts from side to side, its eyes widening at this, for it, clearly very upsetting fact of life. Hineni sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Give.”

He looks up to the workbench, the creature is gone.

“Give!” commands its voice from next to him. He doesn’t bother looking, he knows that if he does, it will just fly away and pester him from a different angle. “GIVE TO OBSCURA!” it screeches at him, its shrill voice ringing in his right ear as a sharp talon digs into and through his leather apron as he’s grabbed. Hineni tenses up, his muscles freezing stiff as his eyes wander down towards the hole in the apron that a trickle of blood is leaking out of, covering the bony fingers that press against him.

(Obscura) has stabbed (Hineni) for {3} DMG with her [Talons] ! Applied Status: [Bleeding{1}] [HP: 36/39]

His gaze instead rises instinctively towards the sword, still laying on the workbench, a red glow reflecting off of it, born from the fire-light and there is a tense silence in the air, as both of them realize what is about to happen now.

Hineni swings the back of his bad hand out, making contact with the side of the creature’s head and knocking its arm loose from him.

(Hineni) strikes (Obscura) for {4} DMG with his [Fist] ! Self-Inflicted Damage: [Bleeding Severity Increased] [HP: 329/333]

A sharp pain shoots up his arm and torso, its sharp claw cutting further into his body as its arm pulls away too quickly. Obscura hoots in pained surprise as he jumps forward and grabs the sword with his good hand, swinging it around in an instant, a gust of air blowing back against him from the enchantment as he cuts through the empty space where he just stood a second ago.

Obscura is gone.

Panting, he holds the sword out in front of himself, looking around the firelit glow of the forge. Wet trickles down his body.

(Hineni) suffers {2} DMG [Bleeding{2}] [HP: 34/39]

Wind rushes around him. Hineni swings the sword out to the side, hitting nothing but darkness.

(Hineni) suffers {2} DMG [Bleeding{2}] [HP: 32/39]

This was a mistake. He should have known better than to trust some weird, spooky owl god. His greed had gotten the better of him, thinks Hineni. Or maybe it was just hope. His wide, paranoid eyes, reflecting a yellow gleam of the forge, scan the room as he makes his way across it, towards the door. “Get out!” he yells at the darkness, swinging the sword around at every shadow that he sees in the corners of his eyes. “GET OUT!” shouts Hineni, his eyes wide, the smell of fire in his nose.

(Hineni) suffers {2} DMG [Bleeding{2}] [HP: 30/39]

He sees the thing, sitting up in the corner by the roof windows, hunched down and staring at him with wide, glowing eyes. A hand is beneath its hood, clutching the spot that he struck. “Go away!” yells Hineni, now too stressed out to care anymore. “Take your three gifts and GO DIE IN THE FOREST!” he shouts at Obscura, pointing the sword at the creature. “I’M DONE!” he proclaims, throwing the weapon down to the ground and then grabbing the door, pushing himself through it and closing it tightly behind himself.

(Hineni) suffers {2} DMG [Bleeding{2}] [HP: 28/39]

Hobbling forward, holding his side with his good hand, he feels blood coming out of it fairly quickly. He doesn’t have much health to begin with, he needs to stop the bleeding soon or he’s going to run dry in a few minutes. Hineni makes his way through the stone corridor and out towards the hall.

(Hineni) suffers {2} DMG [Bleeding{2}] [HP: 26/39]

What had he gotten himself into? Of course it was a stupid idea, entering into a pact with some shady fucking owl-god. He was just so desperate and stupid that he believed this was a good plan. It’s probably just waiting for him to fall over so it can eviscerate him like that mouse it left on his window-sill.

(Hineni) suffers {2} DMG [Bleeding{2}] [HP: 24/39]

Hineni stumbles forward, feeling the leaking of his body continue. He’s lost too much blood to keep his balance well anymore. The world is starting to spin. He feels deeply nauseous, wanting, but not being able to vomit. The prospect of clenching his gut muscles hurts too much. He’s not going to get further than this though.

The man flops down on his favorite bench, falling backwards onto the spot he usually sits, down below the window and presses his hand tighter against his wet coat, trying to stop the bleeding. His hat pulls off itself off of his head, flopping down halfway over his face as it gets caught in the space between the bench and table. The laceration is deep. He doesn’t even need to peel open his coat to feel it.

He could use a spell from his primary class to cauterize it and stop the bleeding. But he decides that he’d rather bleed out. Going back into the forge to get a piece of hot metal isn’t in the cards now either.

(Hineni) suffers {1} DMG [Bleeding{1}] Status: [Bleeding Severity Reduced] [HP: 23/39]

Hineni smiles, finally some good luck. But having lost the amount of blood he has, his smile falls limp as the vision leaves his eyes and he falls into darkness, unsure if he is going to wake up, come the morning.

He hopes that nobody looks in through the window and sees him while he lays here.

(Hineni) suffers {1} DMG [Bleeding{1}] [HP: 22/39]

His peaceful sleep is interrupted by a loud, sharp knocking.

Hineni opens his eyes, feeling his entire body aching and burning with a deeply unpleasant sensation that pushes through him like a fever. He groans. It hurts a lot.

The knocking of something against glass comes again. His eyes shoot open wide and he shoots upright straight away, his hat flying down to the ground. Hineni lets out a pained groan, as he keels over to the side and holds his front with his good arm. His body is a real mess right now. He’s still alive though, that’s something, right?

“Excuse me?” asks a muffled voice. His eyes grow wide and he pushes through the pain, grabbing his hat from the ground and pulling up the leather covering his face as he turns around to look at the window, realizing what a sight he must be. “Are you alright?” asks the person. Hineni, in his daze, narrows his eyes, trying to identify them. It’s the receptionist from the adventurer’s guild.

Eager to get her to go away, Hineni gives her an awkward thumbs-up and shuffles off himself, before she can say or ask anything else.

A second later, there’s a sharp knocking on the front door. He freezes. Shit.

She saw him, he interacted with her. He can’t just pretend that he isn’t home now, realizes Hineni. Maybe he can just lie down and pretend to be dead? That sounds like a good idea. He needs to rest, he feels sick.

The door is knocked on again and his eyes wander towards it as he searches his thoughts for an escape. But there’s no way out of this.

Hobbling towards the entrance, he grabs his coat from the rack, double checks his attire and then carefully opens the door an inch, peeking out at the face on the other side.

“Are you sure that you’re okay?!” she asks. “Did you get robbed? Should I call the guards?!” asks the elf with deep eye-bags.

“I’m fine,” lies Hinani. “Work accident,” he says, closing the door again.

She jams her foot in, stopping him. “Wait! Ow!” she yelps. He stops, pulling back an inch.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, though, honestly, it’s her fault for doing something so rude. “What?” he asks, lowering his head so that the brim of his hat can hide his eyes.

“The guild just wanted to give you this,” she says. “Your money for the sword.”

“How did you find me?” he asks, this being his first worry.

“Some of the regulars knew you lived here,” she explains. “I saw you through the window.” Hineni’s eyes shift around, staring at the ground. How did people know about him? He supposes it must be some of the neighbors, who had seen him come out at night. He looks up at the satchel she is holding through the door with her fingers. He doesn’t need to take it to know that there are more than forty Obols in that bag.

“It’s too much.”

“The guild wants to cover the rest of the price, as a gesture of respect for your patron deity.”

Hineni narrows his eyes and pushes the bag back out of the door. “Thank you. No,” he says, quickly closing it now that her foot is gone. He sighs, sliding back down against the door, clenching his body. He really needs to look at his wounds. In an ideal world, he’d get professional treatment to prevent infection. But that isn’t the world he lives in.

She knocks on the door again.

“Please go away,” says Hineni.

“I need to give you this!” she says, sounding increasingly desperate.

Hineni sits there for a while, not answering. His stomach growls. With tired eyes, he looks down at his coat and reaches in, grabbing some of the dried meat in it. The last of it is covered in his blood. He sighs, his head flopping back against the door. He really does need the money though. But…

Hineni forces himself to stand up, wishing that he hadn’t bothered sitting down to begin with. He opens the door again, seeing that the elf is still standing there, her tired eyes worried about something.

He gestures for the bag, looking down away from her eyes at it and then digs out forty Obols, handing the rest of the bag back to her. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

“Huh? But -”

(Hineni) got [{40} Obols] !

Hineni shuts the door, determined not to open it again this time, no matter how many times she knocks. These forty Obols are his by right. He made a sword. The others? He doesn’t want them. The owl-god can shove them right up its feathery…

The man blinks, realizing that he doesn’t know anything about bird biology. He makes a note to stop off in the library again, after he’s cleaned himself up. No. No… no. He says, shaking his head. He’s done with this owl nonsense. If it wants to come and kill him in his sleep for breaking up with it, then it should get it over with.

The man hobbles his way across the hall, ignoring the splatters and smears of his own blood all around himself. Nothing that a lot of time and some more dust can’t hide. He also does his best to ignore the sensation of eyes watching him as he goes. Probably the elf still, peeping through a window again. He wishes people would just leave him alone. He just wants that right now.

The washroom is a large, communal bathing area, made entirely out of massive, white and very ornate stonework. It had been the most expensive part of the house. His mother had insisted on it, saying that adventurers were the dirtiest, most disgusting bunch of people in this world and she wasn’t entirely wrong about it. A good guild needs a heavy-duty washroom to keep up with the demand of hundreds of muddy, bloody, gore and urine soaked people running in and out of it all day.

Now, he has the giant thing all to himself. The bath is a massive, steaming pool, heated by an underground aquifer with a few special enchantments in place. The water is always hot. Hineni hangs up his hat, undoes his scarf and then drops his coat. Though he isn’t looking forward to this next part. Wincing, he slowly undoes the apron and begins peeling it apart from himself. Crusted blood causes the damp leather to stick to his wound and the surrounding skin.

He’s a real mess, realizes Hineni. The wound is next to impossible to see. The whole area is just red and caked with more dried out, crusted red. There is a stained piece of fabric covering the area, which he doesn’t remember applying. His hand is still blistered beneath the bandage too. He really can’t catch a break this week. He can’t go into the bath like this, his wound might end up reopening, because of the hot water. But he can wash it at least. Hineni sits down on the edge of the bath, putting his legs into the hot water with some relief, as he reaches to the side, grabbing some long since unfolded towels. He dips one into the water, dabbing his torso clean. Blood smears off everywhere, the light-gray towel becoming ruined as it soaks up the juices of his body.

Eventually, nine minutes and three towels later, the area is clean and the wound is clearly visible. It runs along the right side of his body, from the side of his stomach to his second lowest rib. The talon must have gotten in pretty deep, to cause that kind of bleeding. “Fucking owl…” curses the man, throwing the next red towel onto the heap on the floor.

He takes a moment to gently clean off his hurt hand as well. It looks gross. But that’s fine. It will just look as scarred and ruined as the rest of his body now when it heals. Just something else to hide. He supposes he’s going to have to start wearing a glove now too. Well, gloves. People would look at him oddly if he only wore one glove.

Hineni stops, sitting there at the edge of the water and just staring down at the face that stares back up his way, as an odd wave of nostalgia washes over him for just a moment, his spine tingling as for only the briefest flash of an instant, he feels like he was a child, staring into this same water.

But he isn’t that child and this isn’t the same water. The tired, hurt man sighs. Back to life as usual then, he supposes.

Hineni takes a moment to wipe the rest of his body clean before simply getting up. He picks up the whole bunch of dirty, bloody clothes and towels, including the leather apron and wrap and just throws all of them into the hot bath.

If he lets it soak long enough, it will get clean on its own, right?

Buck naked, the king of his own castle, Hineni hobbles through the back door of the washroom and heads up the staircase to get to his room so that he can get some real rest. He’s going to take it easy for a few days, he can buy some food tonight. By the time his wet form gets there though, it has a noticeable amount of ambient dust sticking to it.

Opening his door, he stops in his tracks, staring at the thing in his room, sitting on his bed.

The metal owl.

Was this a threat? Was Obscura trying to intimidate him? Scowling, he slams the door to his bedroom shut, grabs the metal owl and tosses it down into the street, fairly confident that he didn’t just kill someone, as no scream comes back up in retaliation.

Shaking his head, the man gently lowers his mostly-clean body down on top of his old, dirty sheets and doesn’t even have time to complain about the smell before he falls asleep.

It smells like owl.