Post by Ulric Favager on Jun 6, 2016 20:01:13 GMT
Midnight Musings - A day's work
Ulric Favager lie awake on his bunk, listening to the rain beat unending against the roof of his modest home. He often had issues finding sleep, and used the extra time to reflect on the day's events or even some new ideas for products. He had to make a living after all. He scratched his nose and let his gaze drift where it may as he retreated inward into his own mind. A scene from the previous day seemed to stick with him quite relentlessly, so he gave it thought:
It was early evening, and Ulric had just finished one of his last orders for the day: A curious pair of daggers. Nothing fancy, but nothing that could be concealed well either. He pondered the practicality of the weapon as he waited for his customer to return with payment. It wasn't his place to ask for what purpose the items he forged were being used, and wondered if someday he might be an accomplice of murder because of his trade. Ulric shuddered, realizing he had zoned out as he entertained the thought, and did his best to bring his attention back to the real world, where he was a mere blacksmith and by no means wanted for assisting murder. But then again... how many lives has his craft taken? Did that make him somehow responsible for those deaths? Who knows. "I am no philosopher." He grumbled to himself aloud, and snapped out of his temporary self-reflective sinkhole. The rest of the day continued as normal.
It was thoughts like these that would stick with Ulric for his entire life, and shape who he is as a person. In the end he chose not to blame himself for the misdeeds of those who use his forged goods. He may have constructed the items, but he no longer had control over them. Ulric grunted and rolled over in his bed, burying his face in his one pillow, trying to force sleep. With time, he drifted off.
Ulric Favager lie awake on his bunk, listening to the rain beat unending against the roof of his modest home. He often had issues finding sleep, and used the extra time to reflect on the day's events or even some new ideas for products. He had to make a living after all. He scratched his nose and let his gaze drift where it may as he retreated inward into his own mind. A scene from the previous day seemed to stick with him quite relentlessly, so he gave it thought:
It was early evening, and Ulric had just finished one of his last orders for the day: A curious pair of daggers. Nothing fancy, but nothing that could be concealed well either. He pondered the practicality of the weapon as he waited for his customer to return with payment. It wasn't his place to ask for what purpose the items he forged were being used, and wondered if someday he might be an accomplice of murder because of his trade. Ulric shuddered, realizing he had zoned out as he entertained the thought, and did his best to bring his attention back to the real world, where he was a mere blacksmith and by no means wanted for assisting murder. But then again... how many lives has his craft taken? Did that make him somehow responsible for those deaths? Who knows. "I am no philosopher." He grumbled to himself aloud, and snapped out of his temporary self-reflective sinkhole. The rest of the day continued as normal.
It was thoughts like these that would stick with Ulric for his entire life, and shape who he is as a person. In the end he chose not to blame himself for the misdeeds of those who use his forged goods. He may have constructed the items, but he no longer had control over them. Ulric grunted and rolled over in his bed, burying his face in his one pillow, trying to force sleep. With time, he drifted off.