The crafter

It was a rainy day on Atys, one among all the others and no one seemed to be
willing to venture out through the safety of their doors into the wilderness
that lied around.
In Zoraï a ayoung man was eager to try his new found skills in the art of
craftings, he had long watched the other ceraftsmen doing their profession and
seen their result. He had worked hard the last few days in order to find enough
to learn how to start the studies of his perticular craft.

He was sitting in his small house as he started to lay out the plans for his
work, around him there were different materials that he successfully had
gathered himself or bargained over with the merchants around. There were small
piles of resin, oil, seeds, woods, nodes, fibers and what else he had got his
hands on. Some of them were of the better kind, it could be seen and felt on
their composition. Yet they were what he had got his hands on. The days before
he had studied hard to find what was needed to perform his craft. It was just
before closing time today that he had finally sold his last loot to get the
dappers to purchase that crafting tool that he had been staring at for so long.
The merchant selling had seen his looks and even told him that he would hand him
the tool in return that he would pay off the debt in parts. But he had declined
this kind offer telling the salesman that he would like to earn his way through
time and had in return told the merchant that he would sell him his craftings as
thanks for the kind gesture.

And now finally he sat there, looking at the different layouts and the basic
receipts that he had got from the merchant when purchasing the tool. He
scattered them around and looked at them closely. He knew from what he had read
that some of them were easy to craft with the tool he had bought. He knew that
some of them were not able at all to fullfill the craft from the tool. Yet he
had his eyes on this particualr tool for some time and knew that it would also
be the item to decide what craft he would take up.

The rain still kept pouring down, hitting the roof of his small cottage and
outside some Homins who were home late ran by trying to reach their homes before
their armours were all soaked. Some made it well while others stumbled and fell
in the ponds that was formed on the ground, it had been some time since Zoraï
had last seen such rain. He didn’t mind at all, he was just staring at the
different plans that lied in front of him on the table, and the piles of mats
that was scattered around him.
He looked at the tool he held in his hand, and then on the plans and materials.

“What craft should I chose?”