Minoc

Minoc, the city of sacrifice, is located in the north-eastern part of the realm. Surrounded and protected by mountains Minoc has originally been a community of artisans and gadgeteers, but when precious metals were discovered the town quickly changed into a mining town.

Many ores are common in the many mines around Minoc, and one can mine everything from plain iron to the expensive valorite. All in all the town reminds a bit of a gold-rush city. Today the many artisans are not frequently visiting Minoc anymore, and almost all of them have been replaced by workers and laborers doing their business in the mines and forests.

Minoc produces most of the raw resources for Britain, Vesper and Magincia. Of course raw ore and ingots are the most valuable goods, but also wood, furs and leather are produced and sold. Smithing and tinkering, as well as carpentry, are quite common as well, and especially the achievements made of metal by the people of Minoc are of a high quality. They are usually sold on the market in Vesper, as besides the working population the town of Minoc is scarcely visited. As most of the goods are sold at Vesper the inhabitants of Minoc tend to move the manufacturing to this town, to be closer to the market place.

Generally, furs are very common as the climate in Minoc is relatively cold due the propinquity to the sea and the mountains. The winters are very tough, and it happens often that wild wolves frighten the population of Minoc. Luckily Minoc is also very much of a frontier town with very capable guards.

Also, Minoc is the home of the gadgeteer’s guild. It is there to provide the gadgeteers with the raw materials they need: ore and lumber. Minoc is also rich of Blacksmith’s and Tinkers, and provisions can be found at every corner of the town as well.

The nearest dungeon to Minoc is Covetous. North of Minoc is the well known “Respawn Field” which is often visited by young warriors in training – and eyed with despise by the working population of Minoc, as there are many mines nearby as well and the monsters are making mining in the area relatively dangerous.

In the Heat of the Smithy, by Sani Kendade, Apprentice Tailor

From my early childhood on I have loved being at the blacksmith’s. It is only natural for the daughter of a miner and smith to be found at such a place often, and in fact my parents always wanted me to pick up the trade of my father. Soon enough they found out though that I was far to weak to become an acceptable smith, miner or lumberjack – and so all I do today is sewing and working with the leather and furs the hunters often bring with them.

The love for smithies stayed with me, though. It is hot, the air seems to temper, and the monotone hammering caused by the tools of the present blacksmiths is only interrupted by the sibilant sound of cool and pure water on the annealing iron of half-finished weapons and armors. I am sure that my face is reddened, and my forehead is moistened with little, shimmering pearls of sweat.

It is not only that omnipresent ardency of the smithy, though, that burns me up. My look wanders from the fervency in the forge upwards, to a annealing piece of metal, shining red and orange, glowing bright in the appetence of being formed and crafted. My look is caught by a massive hammer that is bolting down on the not-yet-finished sword fulminatingly.

I almost do not dare to let me eyes wander even more, but finally they are set on the target of my craving. He is young, with long brown hair. The upper part of his body is bare and muscular, his skin is kissed by the moisture of the air in the smithy and his sweat. The expression in his face is concentrated and all his thoughts and deeds are focused on the vibrating piece of metal on the anvil in front of him.

His swings the hammer again and again, sinewy and irresistible, and I can see how the muscles on his arms get tense and relax again. I dry gasp escapes my throat and I cannot help but wonder how it would feel to be held with those arms. My heart is beating loudly and blood rushes in my ears, and for a while all I can do is watching him with my eyes half-closed.

And then, suddenly, he throws the sword he has been working on, into a bucket of water. It frizzles and simmers, and when he puts the weapon out of its bath again I notice that it is almost done. He sighs contented, holding the weapon against the reddish light of the smithy. Then he leans it on a nearby wall, and, suddenly, he looks up and directly into my eyes. His look makes its way directly under my skin, and I know that I am lost when he smiles at me, and so all I can do when he comes over and asks me if I would like to have a drink with him is nod.