Chapter 3 - Hatchet
Going inside the shop, Rowan glanced around at the dusty interior. On the walls were a few metal wares hung up for sale. Those were mostly weapons made of iron and copper were the main building materials used for them.
On the shelves were some items also forged from metals like containers or utensils.
The lack of metals on the island was just about as bad as the lack of wood.
From the back-room Rowan could hear some hammering noises. The sound of a person hammering flat a piece of metal probably.
Rowan knew who the smith was here, it was a guy by the name of Baldor. He had been on the island for a couple decades, similar to Old John. Baldor was the person who he came to when he needed something metal made.
Rowan went to the back door and gave it a knock. After a few seconds, the sounds of hammering ceased.
After a minute the door finally opened. There stood a short man with a large bushy black beard with strands of grey in it. He was covered in soot, and seemed a bit tired by the way his eyes rested, but that was just natural to him.
"What do you want this time?" Baldor asked.
"I want a head to a hatchet. Iron would be best." Rowan said.
"One-sided or two-sided?" Baldor asked.
"One-sided."
"It will take about an hour, maybe two."
"That's fine. I can wait."
"It will cost ya' 3 silvers."
Rowan gave a small nod and handed over the three silvers before going back and sitting down in a chair in the main shop.
Baldor was a straightforward person and didn't like idle talk. Rowan had grown used to his personality, and it worked for him. It was mainly a professional partnership anyways. One person makes the wood, and the other makes the metal.
He sat in the shop while waiting for his hatchet's head to be made. He could make the handle himself. Well, atleast, the previous Rowan could. This new Rowan, while he had the old one's memories, hadn't experienced it for himself, so it would be good practice for him.
With those memories though, was very little emotional attachment. Rowan wasn't sure why he didn't feel that attached to them, or did he even know if anything was a trigger to cause his reincarnation. Either in himself, aside from dying, or the old Rowan who seemed perfectly fine.
He was pretty sure they both combined, and he didn't feel any dissatisfaction from the original Rowan. He couldn't help but shake his head again. These thoughts were getting him nowhere.
Rowan let out a soft sigh before he opened up his Status Screen again, and looked down at the one other thing that made him have other thoughts.
Unique Ability: [Dormant]
The people in this world all held a unique ability. One that was solely their own. The issue with it, was that certain conditions need to be filled in order to awaken it. Rowan still hadn't awoken his.
From what he knew, it could be things like increased luck of catching a fish while fishing, or even having a better touch while cooking so some things can be made better.
If someone never goes fishing, then how would they know that's their ability? A warrior type person could go their whole life fighting, and never know that their ability was related to magic!
But some unique abilities can have huge potential. Some can talk to spirits, fly without learning any magic, or even manipulate time itself.
It was, essentially, a gamble. And Rowan still hadn't unlocked his. That will have to come in the future.
After waiting a bit over an hour, the door opened and Baldor walked out. He set down a chunk of metal, and when Rowan walked up, he could find a dark grey hatchet head.
It was a bit smaller than a woodcutter's axe head, but that was fine. The sharpened edge was slightly curved, and around the part where the wooden handle would go through it was decently thick. It didn't look like it would break from ordinary use at all.
"All good then?" Rowan asked.
"Yep. It's good. It will do all that a hatchet needs to." Baldor said with a gruff voice while nodding.
"Alright then, take care." Rowan gave a nod back before leaving from the shop. Stretching out a farewell to someone just makes things awkward.
He went back to his shack, and behind the counter. He didn't have enough supplies to build himself a bedroom or workroom, so there was a small bed behind the counter on the floor where he slept, and he worked at the same counter that customers came to talk to him to.
After setting the hatchet's head down, Rowan knelt down behind the counter and looked at the shelves on it. Some pots and pans, plates, cups, and various things he needs were put on the right side. On the left side on top was a small leather satchel with some woodworking tools. They had been a gift from Old John when he got this place built.
He set the satchel down on the counter top before kneeling down and looking at the few logs of wood he kept here. It was just in case anyone ever came and asked him to make something, then he would have the wood to do so. A shop of any kind without supplies won't get any business.
He flips through the few logs he kept stored, trying to figure out the best one to use. The one with the right size where he wouldn't have much waste.
All of the wood is [Horned Aeleaf], the same wood that was used to make the table in Old John's shop. This kind of wood was the pretty much the only kind that grew on this main island, and most of it has been chopped down over the years, leaving the island covered mainly in bushes, weeds, rocks and sand. Truly a horrid place.
After finding a decent piece of wood, he stood back up again. He set down the log and flipped open the satchel. There was a small handsaw, a small carving knife with a blade about two inches in length. There was also a scraper, a hook knife, a file, and a rasp. With these items, he could make practically anything! Atleast, that's what he tells himself.
It was a very basic kit, but it's been put to good use over the years.
Rowan started off measuring the piece of wood, getting an idea for the right size. After he gets an idea of the shape and size of the handle, he goes to the left side edge of the counter where there was a clamp. He set the piece of wood in it, and following his memories, grabbed the scraper to slowly work it into the rough shape of the handle.
After that, he began to measure the hatchet heads eye. The eye of an axe or hatchet head is where the wooden shaft goes through it. It must be snug. Using the file first to get it into a decent shape, he began to switch towards the rasp, slowly smoothing it down lower until it was just perfect.
Now comes the difficult part. About two inches were extending from the top of the hatchet head after it was slipped on. That was what he was aiming for.
Taking the hatchet head off again, he grabbed the handsaw and gently started to split it down the middle, from the sharp end to the back.
The reason for this, was so that a wedge could be slipped inside of it after the head was on. That pressure pushing against the sides and from the top would keep the hatchet head from slipping off.
Once it was cut far enough, he slipped the hatchet's head back on. After grabbing a piece of scrap wood, and meticulously making a wedge to slip inside the split area, he was almost ready for setting the head. He reached under the counter and pulled out an old stained brush, and a small jar of wood glue that had pretty much gone old already, but it was needed.
He covered the wedge in wood glue before slowly tapping the wedge into place. As the wedge went further down, the split wood pushed against the inside of the eye, slowly making it a tighter and tighter fit.
"Now, I need to let that part dry." Rowan mumbled to himself. His eyes went back to the rest of the wooden handle that still needed to be filed and rasped down.
While laying it on the counter, he gently began to smoothen it down.
About an hour later, it was a nice handle light brown handle with a slight curve in it for better grip, and the bottom of the handle was slightly wider to keep it from slipping out of his hand.
"After it dries, I just need to saw off the excess on top where that wedge is, smoothen it down, and it should be finished." Rowan said to himself.
While a wood sealer or polish would be nice, it wasn't necessary. He just needed to use this hatchet for a short while before he could get something better.
One thing he really wished he could do, was somehow inspect the weapon. But he didn't have the right skill or ability for that. The only one he had was [Wood Inspection], and since this had a large chunk of metal added to it, it wasn't something he could use his ability on. If it was something small like a nail, then he probably still could. But not on this.
"Talk about exhausting…" Rowan leaned back with a soft yawn. He looked outside of his shop as it started to dim.
Oh yeah, there was one other really weird thing about this island and the two small ones next to it. At just about 6 PM all to way to 6 AM the next morning, the islands were filled with fog. It has been this way since he was a baby, and the fog rolled in just about every day.
Supposedly, from what he had heard from others, was that there was some weird underwater activity happening near here. Like an underwater volcano or something. It heats up the water, makes some steam, and that covers the islands.
Rowan wasn't sure if that was really the case, but it had been consistent, and always showed up. He stood up from his chair and went towards the front door and opened it a little to peak outside.
He looked down the street towards the center of town, and could see the dim lights in some buildings from lamps or candles. But it was mostly just a thick fog which made him shudder a little. It was too damn eerie.
But, this kind of atmosphere drew his attention back to one of his skills.
[Stealth Lv. 1]
He didn't know how to trigger the skill exactly, or what conditions need to be met. It didn't help that he didn't have a method to get a description of his skills or abilities. Rowan decided to try and use [Stealth] and walk around the inside of his shack. As he slowly crept around, he instinctively started walking a bit more carefully, and eventually his steps got quieter and quieter.
His movements got a bit more comfortable, and he was able to still move in a small crouched position with greater ease. After nearly an hour later, he stopped.
"Huh, not bad. That was just from Lv. 1 as well! I wonder just how far it can go. Maybe I can even sprint in stealth later on!"