Sun Haven Blacksmith Novels & Stories

"But what are these resources you meant?" The leader of the Travis Tribe grinned at them as he leaned back. "We are the Blacksmiths of Karhan. The blades of the Travis are impenetrable, and sturdy. If you allow us to make you a fine blade, then you will become unbeatable." Dana stared at the Travis leader with her finger intertwined under her chin. She closed her eyes and stood, her hands pressed on the table. Dana's hands reached for her sword and they tensed when she pulled out the blade of the Blood Star. A black blade with sharp double edges despite the many battles it faced. It made a whirring noise when she pulled it out of its silver sheath.

she felt so much offended by the choice of the crowd and planning to order now But before she shouts, a man from the building showed himself, wearing black Sando, black tattered slacks and coat, wrap around his waist; wielding a head size hammer. The man spoke and with his threatening words made everyone feels suffocated. “try to pull your trigger and every one of you will die”. wearing his usual smile sarcastically. The man was their only blacksmith. The creator of their weapons! PHIL!

So the sun was still up and wouldn’t be setting for at least another hour and a half. Alpha Samuel was good. He outfitted 15 SUVs with special blacked-out windows, allowing one to see out but no sunlight to get in. Samuel, Angie and I get into the first SUV while the rest of my warriors split between the 14 others. I am surprised when we return to the packhouse and see some of the changes Samuel has already done. I look at him, a little confused, but he just smiles and says,

Jet black feathers adorned him and they all shimmered gallantly under the sun, making Hanji feel lucky and proud of Rai. Patting his neck, he quickly sat on it's back, ignoring the sharp pain he felt on his pelvis. "Let's go Rai. Let's go find Grandfather's apprentice." ❇❇❇ The red ruby was flaring. It was glowing brightly in his pockets and was emitting heat that almost burnt his right hand when he attempted to touch it. It was a charm given by his magician friend that lives in the Pacific. It warns the holder from malicious intent and desires. This ruby had saved him from a couple of scammers and troubles, but it never was this coruscant before. It would only glow a bit, like a pulse of re

"Harl, give me the heaviest hammer in the Great Forge. The one your father used to break the first obsidian vein." ​Harl nodded, returning minutes later with a massive, rusted sledgehammer that smelled of sweat, oil, and ancient iron. ​I took the hammer in my silver hands. I didn't use my strength; I used the connection I had with the mountain. I felt the pulse of the survivors, the fear of the lunar exiles, and the stubbornness of the smiths. I channeled it all into a single, massive strike against the primary intake valve of the silver engine.

"Not common in the Northern Territory." "I designed it," I explained. "Three weeks ago, I commissioned it from a blacksmith in Westmoor Market." Daniel's eyebrows lifted slightly. "You designed this?" "It's a perfect match to my blueprint. Which means the blacksmith is likely connected to the Lotus Moon Cult." "A front for their operations." "Exactly. I can lead you to the shop in exchange for being allowed to track the cult members who took Sparrow and Nanny Winters." Daniel's expression hardened. "Out of the question. My men will handle the tracking."

“We’re back,” Sasha called out, returning with everyone else who had met up on the fifth floor after their material hunt. “What happened?” Zen looked like a dried sardine from behind the blacksmith’s counter. They were gone for a while, but it should not be long enough for Zen to be this worn out. What did he do? Funnily enough, the grumpy blacksmith whistled merrily as he stacked crates at the corner of the shop. “Don’t worry about him,” Ben chuckled. “He’s a spring chicken, so he’ll bounce back in no time. More importantly, do you have all the materials?”

CHAPTER 159 ~3RD PERSON'S POV~ Have you heard about the blacksmith? A man whose hammering echoes again and again in the deepest, darkest part of Mystic Meadow. His eyes were red as blood, and his face was permanently etched with anger. He is surrounded by darkness, hatred, pain, and a desire for revenge. The only light he sees every day is the light of the sparks that fly off the metal after each strike of his hammer. These sparks are the only beautiful things he owns; these sparks keep him from going insane, and these sparks remind him that one day he'll come for those who hurt him.

The blacksmith stall smelled like smoke and iron. I loved it immediately. Heavy tables were covered with tools, horseshoes, nails, and rough chunks of raw ore that glinted under the hanging lanterns. A few finished blades sat further down the display, their polished surfaces reflecting the warm festival lights. Bjorn wasn’t there tonight. Instead, a broad older shifter worked the stall, carefully weighing small chunks of ore for another customer. I hovered near the end of the table, studying the raw metals laid out on a cloth.

Not many men could take the Hawk by surprise, and for an instant Hawk was as fascinated as he was irritated with the smithy. "I didn't hire you. Who are you?" "Adam," the smithy replied coolly. "Adam what?" The smithy pondered, then flashed a puckish smile "Adam Black" "Who hired you?" "Theard you were in need of a man to tend a forge." "Stay away from my wife." Hawk was startled to hear tire words leave his lips. By the saints, he sounded like a jealous husband! He had intended to push the question of who had hired the smithy, but apparently he was no more in control of his words than he had been of his feet, at least not where his new wife was concerned