Blacksmith Drift Novels & Stories

I suddenly feel cold hands reach out from behind me and pull me violently back. I shoot up startled as fear runs through my body. I quickly look around me and realize I'm back in my room. I flop down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling. It's been two weeks since I've moved into the Draven manor in the town of Draphend and each night is as sleepless as the one before. I was hired by Mr. Draven to be a live-in sitter for his youngest child, a 7 year old girl named Lorie. She's a relatively sweet and calm child. Very mature for her age but she often clings to me. She speaks often of her brother's Nicolae and Victor, neither of whom I have yet to meet. The same day I was hired Mr. Draven had t

Henry “A pain in my ass...” “A mate who’s a pain in your ass,” she said, looking around, “What is out here?” The Drifters—rogue groups of enchanted evildoers who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted—our land, our women, our goods.. “You know what’s out there,” I growled, still feeling her wrapped around my cock. I hadn’t the slightest clue she could feel so good. “Eh, what the fuck are you doing?”

"We still have Draven's chains. The ones he broke." "Three of them," Sable said. "We forge better ones." Drift looked at Sable. "Not trade-weight. Something proper. Something built for what he is." He glanced at Nero. "There's a blacksmith at the south end of the settlement. Orren. He builds for the mountain hunters — heavier gauge than anything you'd find in market stock." He paused. "He can do it." Sable was quiet. "Sable," Drift said. "Think about what we're standing next to."

Drago had a death grip on her arm, trying to calm her, but who could be calm at a time like this? The golden beast lumbered toward them, then stopped directly in front of Drago, letting out a low growl, steam puffing from it’s huge nostrils. When Drago growled in return, Madchen jumped, trying to free herself from Drago’s grip, but he wasn’t letting her go.

The seventy-two-year-old Master Forge was practically floating, the sheer celestial pull stripping his massive physical weight away. "Focus, Master," I ordered, my black-veined hands gripping the heavy iron handle of the first Starved Iron crate. "If you lose your footing, you fall into the sky." We positioned the four heavy crates perfectly around the base of the glowing silver shard. "Drill it!" I shouted. Elias, pushing through the agonizing sickness of his lunar withdrawal, triggered the heavy, steam-powered pneumatic drill we had brought from the train. He drove the screaming, diamond-tipped bit directly into the blindingly bright celestial silver.

The air inside the lower forges was a sweltering suffocating wall of sulfur, coal smoke, and radiating thermal heat. Down here, deep within the subterranean roots of the Obsidian Hold, the rhythmic thud of heavy iron hammers striking anvils echoed like a frantic metallic heartbeat. But as Silas and I stepped off the stone lift, the sweating blacksmiths and forge masters immediately ceased their labor, dropping heavily to their knees on the soot-stained floor.

he asked with a frown. Blaze is sure. That scent belongs to the drifters. The airy drifting scent only belongs to them. "I am sure" Blaze confirmed. Brandon is now in confusion. As far as they know, Drifters are a Myth. They have powers and they can drift between worlds and one place to another without being detected. Just like the fae who can shift from one place to another, all the drifters can drift from one place to another. It's their nature. There was a time when their services are used by the kings for the greater good of the citizens. But the drifters became greedy and they began to accept petty jobs against the crown for money.

After saying that, we all watched with curiosity as he crouched, built a pit, arranged dried wood into the pit and struck a flint that brought fire to life. Sparks leaped and flame spread. He placed the iron on it, and a minute later, it was glowing red, hissing as it bent beneath hammer and stone. The forge rose from nothing. Sparks kissed the air, and sweat glistened on their foreheads, sharp edges forming from sharp rock. Drake lifted one and looked at all of us with admiration. You have all done amazingly well. With these as your claws, you'll fight with these at day. Together with the bows, you are no longer prey.

From elves, to ancient dwarves came magic along In the midst of joining the blacksmiths, with the weapons, his hammers were made The beats that resound, on the walls. Let's dig the darkness dreamed, now, let's hit. When they came in the hollow hall of the cold hillside. From the poor, to the noble elf and ancient king From the darkness, to the beautiful shine of friendly gold Even the dwarves, even the blacksmiths, who gave form, with the light that adorns Forging weapons from beautiful weapons, to jewels, in which they have shelter in weapons.

“I offered to get the metal ourselves, why?” Her eyes widened. “I believe you may have signed away our death wish. There is only one mine – and it’s at the bottom of a dragon’s lair. Why do you think the metal is so special, and why do these creatures slave away for it and charge so much,” she grumbled. “You’re kidding me, he didn’t say anything like that!” I turned around to glare at the blacksmith, but he wasn’t there anymore, the entire place looked closed up.