Astra kept sprinting, as his instincts told him that he was still being tracked, he ran and ran, and called upon the shadows even more to cover multiple areas, eventually he felt the gaze look away. As he finally stopped still freaked out, his heartrate up.
"Huff. Huff. Huff what the fuck that was not a normal person....…. I still have shivers!"
Astra was never doing that ever again, he had offended some very powerful people as that gaze was not something a mere rank two warrior could produce, he knew as he had many run ins with rank twos!
"Seems like I'm in the forge district now" as astra looked around and realized where he was
The Lower City and its Forge District lie beneath the soaring heights of the Upper Bazaar, a vast subterranean expanse carved into the heart of the cavernous rocky region. It is a place where the earth's very bones seem to hum with a rhythm as old as time itself. The streets are winding, labyrinthine, and lined with rough-hewn stone, yet they carry the unmistakable mark of a civilization that has long since mastered the art of creation, forged in the very fires of the earth.
The atmosphere here is thick with the weight of ancient industry and magic. As you descend from the brighter upper levels, the air grows warmer, heavier, the heat of the forges creeping up from below, mixing with the tang of iron, coal, and the faint, smoky scent of molten metal. The smell of oil, sweat, and burning coals hangs in the air, almost a physical presence. The hum of machinery, the rhythm of hammer and anvil, the sharp ring of metal on metal, all combine to form the symphony of this bustling underworld. The God of Steam would be proud of such an environment.
The Forge District is at the heart of the Lower City, its sprawling expanse a web of stone streets and immense, intricate forges, each one a masterpiece in its own right. These forges are not simple industrial spaces—they are living, breathing entities, each one uniquely designed and brimming with ancient, dwarven craftsmanship. Massive chimneys rise from the tops of these buildings, and from them billows a constant plume of smoke that curls into the darkness above, adding to the haze that fills the air. This smoke and steam gets ventilated however out into the desert and into the mountains
Forges in the District are a fusion of magic and metallurgy, built with enchanted anvils, hearths, and vats that seem to draw power directly from the earth itself. The heat here is intense, a constant, roaring presence that threatens to overwhelm the senses. As you walk through the streets, the molten glow from open furnaces spills out like rivers of fire, casting long, flickering shadows on the stone walls. Each forge burns with its own magical hue—some glow a deep, blood-red like the fires of war; others shimmer with the cold blue of enchanted steel, or the eerie green of arcane forges that hum with elemental energy. The lights dance and shift as the molten metal is poured, changing the atmosphere in a thousand different ways as the shadows contort and stretch along the walls, twisting and flickering like sentient things. The shadows dance and dance this place was truly heaven for shadow magic
The forge workers, primarily dwarves, move with a rhythmic precision, their hands skilled and sure despite the oppressive heat. Their faces are etched with soot and sweat; their muscles thickened by years of hard labor. Yet, even in this grueling environment, there is an undeniable sense of pride in their work. The items they forge—swords, armor, tools, and artifacts—are masterpieces, imbued with both the skill of their makers and the magic of the flames. Their craftsmanship is legendary; each piece not only carries the weight of history but the pulse of the forge's ancient magic. The dwarves' steady hands work both metal and rune with equal grace, inscribing arcane symbols and enchantments onto the very steel they shape.
The streets themselves twist and spiral, leading to towering, cavernous workshops where molten metal flows like rivers, and great machines powered by arcane energy churn tirelessly. Iron, copper, and steel are pulled from deep within the earth in veins that run like veins of lifeblood beneath the city, and those who work here know their trade as intimately as they know the very stone they were born from. Gears turn, bellows exhale, and the sound of hammer striking metal rings through the air like a thunderclap, a constant reminder that the heart of the city beats in rhythm with the anvil.
Above all, the forging fires cast an eerie, magical light across the entire district. The glow is not simply the result of the heat, but something deeper, magical. Arcane energies suffuse the flames, bending and warping the light in strange and unexpected ways. The glow from the forges reaches out like fingers of fire, casting the walls in shifting hues of crimson, amber, and violet. The very air vibrates with arcane power, causing the shadows to twist and writhe in unnatural ways. At times, the flames seem to burn not with heat alone, but with a deep, almost sentient fire, as though they carry within them the essence of the earth itself.
As you move deeper into the Forge District, the streets become narrower, more claustrophobic, winding their way into massive caverns, where the forges grow even larger and more intricate. Here, in the belly of the rocky mountainous hill that duskfalls built on, the city's most prized crafts are made. Gigantic bellows, powered by elemental forces, pump air into roaring furnaces that can melt even the hardest ore. Sparks fly like fireflies in the air, and the ground vibrates underfoot as massive hammers fall, shaping metal with deafening force. These caverns stretch far below the surface, like an entire world unto itself, a place where the boundary between the mundane and the magical is thin.
The dwarves who inhabit this district are the true artisans of the city. The fire burns brightly in their veins as well as in their forges. They are creatures of the earth, their hands calloused by years of shaping stone and metal, and their eyes ever watchful for the slightest imperfection in their work. Their community thrives on both the sweat of their brows and the magic they invoke, a union of fire, stone, and sorcery. There is an old saying among them: "The fire does not burn the metal—it sings to it." And indeed, it is as though the flames of these forges do sing, their song one of power, creation, and the forge-fueled magic that courses through the city's veins.
In the heart of the Forge District, deep within the tunnels and caverns, lie the ancient Forge Masters—dwarven elders who have dedicated their lives to understanding the intricate dance of magic and metallurgy. They are the keepers of the old ways, and their forges are said to be the most powerful in the city, producing not only the finest weapons and armor, but items of legend, imbued with great magic, designed to stand the test of time.
In the shadows of these cavernous halls, dwarves toil, their figures outlined by the molten glow, their faces stoic as they work tirelessly under the oppressive heat, crafting treasures that will never see the light of day. This is a city where the fire never goes out, and the heat never fades—the forge burns eternal.
The Forge District is overseen by the House Steel, a legendary house in all the continents as this house has made countless relics and legendry armaments for many great Houses, the leader of the house is a rank 6, Angel of Vulcan, Agnar Steel his power and manipulation make this Forgemaster the most legendary, his experience and vast combat strength is truly harrowing, he is top five in the city without a doubt.
As astra made his way deeper and deeper into the inner forges walking along the intricate and vast tunnels of the inner forges, he felt very out of place,
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
The sound of many masters hammering away at swords, spears, arrows, shield and many armaments can be heard into a cacophony of unmelodious ringing
Astra was truly amazed at how intense the dwarves worked it was admirable really, the dwarves were always masters at steel and earth, sometimes gravity and lava as well, they're martial strength and industrial was truly incredible, they're also not dwarves at all, their size is massive, the dwarves that inhabit this world are called dwarves because they're a sub-species of ancient giant that downsized, the smallest dwarf is well into the 6 foot and is built huge, they are truly big people.
Astra was seriously lost at this point, he was quite distracted at the grand sight as this was his first time in the forge districts inner forges, as they were technically for masters only but this rule was not enforced, it seems he has snuck in using [shadows embrace] which allowed him to blend in with the shadows and be unseen.
along the way astra decided to acquire some new clothes, as he looked out of place wearing black and purple rags of clothes, and a desert scarf to cover his face and curls, as well as the ragged cloak. Down here however he had to take it off as it was hot
Something caught his eye, a glint or a feeling, his blood boiled almost
something weird that he could not describe resonated with him
something told him that this was important something deep inside of him, his eyes narrowed as he looked towards an old and seemingly out of place shop, "strange" this shop was well away from the market, it was almost an estate, yet it looked abandoned
the shop was quite the piece, it was ancient, like seriously ancient, it was in a secluded corner, and it was magnificent, like an ancient outpost, made out of obsidian, with golden intricate carvings on its two towers, astra was confused on how this place was not reworked on or at least maintained especially this deep into the inner forge.,
he made his way towards the estate, the gates were open, and the aura from the building was heavy, astra felt like he was walking into a Volcano
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Heavy sounds that seemed to pierce through astra resonated in him as he walked into the estate's doors, there were no servants and this was technically a shop, as there was a sign in the front gate
The sign literally said "shop" on it, truly strange
As he walked in the main hall, it was dimly lit, the place however was very clean,
There were many relics on the grandiose walls of this estate, the estate was truly luxiurous as well
The rooms were all very elegant and intricate, the designs royal almost or it seemed royal to astra? He really did not know and was basing this off his experiences with Nobel ladies sneaking him into their mansions
And those mansions could not even compare with this estate,
"Should I leave?" A sudden thought popped up into his mind
Yet his intuition told him to keep on moving, as if he didn't move it would be something he would regret very deeply.
Clang.
Clang.
Astra made his way to the center of the estate where the forge seemed to be, the sound of a hammer and anvil became even louder, and it even made Astras bones shake.
"What kind of power"
At the heart of the Obsidian Estate there was a forge one that seemed unlike any other, a place where reality itself seemed to bend beneath the heat and the hammer. This was no simple workshop
There was an ancient looking Anvil the aura it gave was that of a very powerful artifact Surrounded by pillars of dark iron and veined marble, the forge was vast, and the sound of its hammering would echo through the caverns of the Under forge for miles.
Astra was stunned
The forge's flames blazed bright and eternal, their heat enough to melt stone and warp metal. But it was not the common fire of the dwarven smiths that burned here. These flames were fed by a deep, magical source—a molten river of pure, untainted essence that ran beneath the city, its energy drawn from the very heart of the earth. The flames themselves were not bound by the mundane laws of nature; they flickered with colors that shifted and writhed like living things, casting eerie shadows that danced across the blackened walls.
Astra felt the shadows dance and revel in the power of this forge
In the very center of the forge stood the Anvil, a vast, dark slab of obsidian that looked so ancient that it looked like it could crumble at any second.
The forge itself was surrounded by a circle of Soul Stones, ancient crystals imbued with the power of long-dead Mana Beasts of Untold power. These stones hovered above the forge, suspended by some unknown force, their surfaces glowing with shifting lights. They hummed with an ethereal power, their faint illumination bathing the forge in an ever-changing glow.
Around the forge, shelves lined the walls—shelves upon shelves of books, scrolls, and grimoires, each containing knowledge and secrets that had been passed down through the ages.
The air in the forge was thick with the scent of molten metal and burning incense, the perfume of old magic.
The entire estate seemed to pulse with a strange energy, as though the stone and fire had become one—an eternal heartbeat beneath the world's surface. Astra felt as if this was a place of endless possibility and infinite danger, for the forge's fires were not easily tamed
This forge demanded respect.
"well hello there…strange visitor….."
"Say kid....how the hell did you get into the inner city" spoke an ancient looking dwarf, he was shirtless, his body littered with scars.
In his hand was a majestic golden hammer that shone with a brilliance that reminded astra of the sun the dwarf had darker skin, and deep strong blue eyes, remincent of the morning sky
The aura this man gave off told Astra he stood before a being that was not mortal.
It felt like he stood Infront of a reincarnation of a volcano it was unsettling
"Um. I really don't know… I'm kind of lost sir, I don't know why, but I felt like I needed to explore this estate" Astra knew this dwarf was not someone he can lie to and get away with, the aura he emanated told astra everything he needed to know, this man if he so willed can destroy this whole inner city with but a swing of that golden hammer...