Information

Jakob

The

Steamwork Mahar
Owner:

Age: 3 years, 2 weeks

Born: May 4th, 2010

Adopted: 3 years, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: May 4th, 2010

Statistics

Level: 1
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 0
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

Jakob doesn't have much. He inherited a small blacksmith shop in downtown Munich when his father passed away. He doesn't have a dog, but he has an owl that he raised from a chick, after it appeared in the courtyard one morning after a ferocious thunderstorm, soaking wet and shaking, clearly lost and confused.

Sometimes that's how Jakob feels. He works hard to keep the house, in a relatively nice part of downtown Munich. He doesn't have time for friends. When he's not working, he's mining in the foothills beyond the city. He doesn't go out. He doesn't look for adventure anymore. That had ended when he mangled his leg in a mining accident. He still has a slight limp in his step, but the physical cane is gone, but the mental crutch is still there.

Some mornings Jakob wakes up before the sun and sits in bed, wondering. What is he doing with his life? What is he living for? Mending broken shovels and shoeing horses isn't a glamorous living, Jakob is aware of that fact. He doesn't need anything glamorous, all he wants is a purpose. Why is he running the shop? The memory of his dead father? For a living? But he has nothing to live for, other than his own life, which he doesn't hold to high regard.

---

The letter is unexpected, and wholly unwelcome.

---

Jakob had started working with the sun. It was nearly dusk.

The air in the workshop shimmered with heat, the taste of metal, heavy in the air.

"Jakob?" the mail man shouted again, not quite loud enough to be heard, and took a step forward. Jakob was rather intimidating, his bare back slick with sweat, heavily muscled arms bulging under the weight of the heavy hammer. Best not to surprise him.

The stranger took another timid step forward. Jakob saw his shadow move out of the corner of his eye and hefted the hammer over his muscular shoulder, turning to look at the man standing in his courtyard.

"What are you doing here." Jakob said curtly, cigar hanging from his lips, the corner of his mouth turned down in a glower. He was not pleased at the interruption.

The mail man scuffed his boot against the tiled ground as he spoke. "I was told to bring you this letter, straight away." He held out a small envelope he had been holding. "The master postman asked me to deliver it. He said it was urgent." He held out the letter, his hands trembling slightly. Jakob almost turned his back to the mailman, but but his face cracked in a half smile. He put down his massive hammer, and he took the letter from the much smaller hand of the young man.

"Thank you."
Jelenko woke with a start. There was a sound, he did not know what it was, but it had woken him up from a deep sleep. Had he been dreaming? Jelekno held his breath in the silence, sharp ears straining to hear a sound. There were none. He sighed to himself as he lay in bed, now wide awake. The sun had not yet risen, and the room was black. Morning was far off. He lay there until dawn, thinking.

When, a few hours later, Jelekno decided it was time to get up, he sighed again. Today he was to pick up his cousin at the train station. He had not seen her since they were both children, many years ago. Now, Jelenko, by all physical appearance, was an old man. Long hours outdoors had turned his skin dark, deep set furrows creased his brow, and when he smiled, it looked as though a mason had chiseled two lines into his cheeks. He rarely smiled. He was unsure why Ania wanted to visit an old, crippled man like himself, but he could think of no reason to decline other than his selfish .

Jelenko shuffled his feet as he stood, waiting for the train to pull up. It was cold. His cousin Ania was coming to visit from Poland for a while, and he was nervous. He hadn't seen her for many years, and was truly anxious. And Jelenko didn't get anxious very often.

As the passengers began flooding out of the crowded train, Jelenko caught sight of the outline of a striking redheaded woman. "Ah, Ania, my little Ruby." He thought, his childhood nickname for his favorite cousin randomly popping into mind.

As she came closer, he noticed how many bags and trunks the porter behind her was struggling to carry. He saw how she was wrapped up in a ermine shawl, tight around her shoulders against the chill, and how her sharp eyes were picking up every detail of the dirty station.

When their eyes locked, Ania's face broke into a massive grin. Jelenko sighed. It was going to be a long visit indeed.

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