The Cyclops of the Forge

by GC13


Issue 2: The Art of the Craft

Chatter all around him, the sound of the engine working to pull the train along the tracks, and even the sound of his own breathing assaulted his ears. Starforge sighed and turned his head away from his book for the moment—even it was just a distraction he was using to try to pass the time.

The train from Farrierview to Ponyville was more full than usual: Starforge was sharing the car with four other ponies. Judging from their conversations two of them intended to compete in some athletic event. The other two were Ponyville residents, like Starforge, who had been visiting family in Farrierview. Looking at the car ahead of his, he groaned inwardly: its only passenger was an earth pony, who had brought a large amount of luggage. Of course he got the car with the conversationalists.

It never ceased to amaze him how empty the trains ran in Equestria. A train would pull three cars with seats for twelve ponies each – and which could fit twice as many seats quite comfortably – on a route that would pick up eight passengers for a busy trip. Then the train would run the route two or three times a day.

Of course none of that mattered: Starforge was a blacksmith and an artificer, not an administrator. He turned back to the book, Examinations of Infused Materials. His humor as dry as his book, he quipped to himself that he had chosen some light reading for his expedition.

He groaned and closed the book. Only Professor Semi-Tone could make a subject as interesting as the naturally magic-infused minerals of the world so painful to read about; it was no coincidence that any co-authors he might work with always insisted on doing as much of the writing themselves as possible. Still, he knew his subject matter very well, and made a much better teacher than a writer. His lectures were still terrible, of course, but he gave very few: he was a more hooves-on teacher, and that suited Starforge very well.

The train began to slow. Starforge turned around and looked out the window. Much to his relief he saw Ponyville Station rapidly approaching the train. He sighed happily and placed the book into his saddlebag. Eager to be back at his workshop, he stepped off of the seat. He dug his head under his saddlebags and let them slide over it, down his neck, and onto his back.

As soon as the train stopped, the door opened. While the other ponies in the car continued their conversations, and slowly made their ways towards the door, Starforge trotted out of the car at a hurried pace. With practiced hooves, he took a left turn and walked briskly down the road into town. He needed to check on a special order he had made before leaving for Farrierview, but then he wanted nothing more than to be at his workshop.

Not too far from the train station, he saw the gutter on the Daytrips' office roof. Starforge grimaced immediately: it was still hanging down. He had hoped they would find somepony else to do the job when he left town, but they must have both gone to their meeting in Manehattan after all. He picked up his pace, walking even faster than before. With a little luck they may have decided to take in a few of the sights – "keeping current" they called it – before coming back; he might be able to avoid them.

He passed by several ponies all going about their own business. Some looked like they had some task in mind, like he did, but others looked like they were just walking around town with their friends. Starforge did turn his head as he passed by Lanny Tern though: for a few weeks he had been meaning to speak with her. On his last trip out to Fillydelphia, Dr. Aura had mentioned that Lanny had come to her for some lessons a few years before. The news had surprised Starforge: he knew she sold magical lights, but never knew she made them herself.

Lanny was speaking with Coal Crusher, the town's expert on finding magical gems. He looked dirty, like he had just returned from a gem hunt. If the heavy saddlebags he was wearing were any indication, it had been a very good one. Starforge pondered for a moment. Magical gems weren't his area of expertise, but he could use them too and so knew a bit about them. It was mid morning, so with such a large haul Coal Crusher must have been "night crawling"; certain gems functioned differently if harvested at night, and Starforge knew at least some would be useful for making lights.

"Starforge!" The cry penetrated deep into his ears: it was Mrs. Daytrip. Trying very hard to hide his displeasure, he plastered his best smile onto his face before he turned around to face her.

"Mrs. Daytrip," he said as she approached him. "How was Manehattan?" With all the ponies on the street, she of all ponies had to notice him. The market was only a little bit farther down the street; why hadn't he just run?

"Wonderful as always," she said, flipping her head to the side and allowing her mane to come between her and Starforge. It hung there for just a moment, separating the two ponies from one another, then gently returned to the side of her head. "But the office gutter is still most decidedly not wonderful." She turned her head back so she was facing Starforge directly. "Could you please get it fixed today?"

"I am very busy Mrs. Daytrip," he said. "I have some very important work to get to." He bobbed his head from side to side as he thought, trying to come up with a way out of doing the job. "Can't you get Hayseed to do it?" he asked.

"Most certainly not!" she exclaimed, lifting her chin up. "Besides, he is off in Canterlot helping his uncle with that store of his." She rummaged in her saddlebag and pulled out a very small bag, with its top tied off. "Here," she said, reaching to give the bag to Starforge. "Another ten bits, if you can fix it today."

Rather than grab the bag, Starforge turned it away with his hoof. "I'm sorry Mrs. Daytrip, I really am," he began. He shook his head and sighed. "But there's just no way I can get it done today. I have a lot to do."

Mrs. Daytrip frowned. Her eyes looked to the ground for a moment as she thought, considering her options. She lifted her gaze back up to Starforge, and thrust the bag back towards him. "Just, please, get it done as quickly as you can."

Reluctantly, Starforge accepted the bag. "Alright," he said. He turned around to put the bag into his saddlebag, then looked back to Mrs. Daytrip. "I'm still not going to be able to get to it today." Mrs. Daytrip raised her head slightly, until she was looking at Starforge down her nose. Her eyes half-closed, and she gave him that stern look she liked to use. He had definitely given the wrong answer.

"First thing tomorrow morning though," he promised, grinning sheepishly. She nodded, then turned. He watched her walk away for a few seconds, hoping she wouldn't turn around and make any more requests. As soon as she was far enough away, he turned back. Groaning about his bad luck, he continued his speedy walk to the marketplace.

At least he had been able to put the job off until the next morning. By then he expected to have his armor done; he had waited to build his armor for months, and he wasn't about to let a handypony job delay it even half an hour longer.

The sounds of the market filled the air. Ahead of him, Starforge could see and hear dozens of ponies walking among the stands. They bought their fruits and vegetables, their bread and honey. He wasn't interested in the primary business of the market though: he stepped through the crowd and made his way to one of the special-crafts stands across the clearing.

"Good morning Hilo," he said, already looking at the shelves behind the counter. On one of the lower shelves rested a small chunk of metal, platinum-colored with a light red sheen on it. He smiled and nodded his head towards the shelf. "I see you have my order in."

"Unworked Glee, just like you asked for," Hilo replied, beaming a prideful smile. "I told you I could get it." Of course, he left out the fact that he had never carried any before. Ponyville was far away from the metal mines, though it was rather gem-rich. Hilo turned around and picked the Glee up off of the shelf and set it down on the counter in front of him.

Starforge looked the metal over. It was a small block, only four pounds, but quite magical. He couldn't see any impurities, meaning it had been capably refined; it would be of good use for making anything he wished. A smile formed on his face; he was happy he finally had a source for magical metal in Ponyville. Still smiling, he reached into his saddlebag. He pulled out the ten bits Mrs. Daytrip had given him, then set the bag on the counter.

"You're paid up already," Hilo said. He pushed the bag back towards Starforge, to the edge of the counter.

"Take it," Starforge said. "It's a tip." He picked up the Glee but left the bag sitting on the counter. With a gentle hoof he tucked the chunk of metal into his left saddlebag, then affectionately patted the side of the bag. "See what you can do to get more."

Hilo's mouth curled into a wide grin. "Can do," he said as he took the bag and set it under the counter. As Starforge turned to leave, Hilo waved at him with a hoof. "Happy crafting!"

Though he had left Hilo smiling, Starforge was already trying to figure out how he'd pay for more Glee. The Daytrips would give him ten more bits tomorrow when he fixed the gutter, and there were always more handypony jobs to do around town. What needed, though, was a real payday: he needed smithing work, preferably a job that also involved magical artifice.

While he walked back to his workshop he considered his options. Lanny might have need of somepony who could help her make custom houses for her lanterns: he could make stunning mundane works, or make the housing out of Felicity and include some desirable magical spells. With a little luck there were also a few ponies he might be able to sell self-opening gates to.

With a twinge of regret, he also considered crafting and selling some mood bracelets. They were exactly the kind of frivolous things most ponies immediately thought of when magical minerals were mentioned, but they sold well enough. Though he had his reservations about the mood bracelets, he considered them a reasonable option if Hilo got a large stock of Glee too early; at least they functioned as adornment. Under no circumstances, however, would he ever craft a "pet slug": he had his pride to think of.

Making pet slugs... Starforge's mouth soured just at the thought of it. They were easy to make, and sold for a decent price, but they were far too impractical—even by the standards of the commonly made magical crafts. Small slugs of colored Felicity, shaped into the form of a literal slug, even finely made ones could be built at a pace of nearly thirty an hour and sold for twenty bits. The good ones would squeal or seem to blink their eyes when touched, but the cheaper ones just changed color.

It didn't matter: something would come up. Somepony always needed something done, and that had always been enough to keep him afloat. His workshop was where his mind needed to be, not the problems he might have in the future. As he rounded the corner he saw the workshop: two stories tall, with the ground floor windows shaded and the furnace's smoke stack sticking out of the roof.

Starforge grinned as he opened the door. Living for a year in Ponyville had done nothing to dampen his enthusiasm: the periodic crises were everything he could have hoped for, and exploring the Everfree kept him sharp in the meantime. He entered the workshop, turned on the lights, and let the door shut itself behind him.

Everything was just as he had left it. The furnace was already stocked with coal, ready for him. Small chunks of magical Felicity were laid out, ready to be pounded into strips and riveted together. His work table, a new one made so he would have enough room to work on such a large project, was cleared. Underneath the table lay the padding he would attach the armor to. The plans for the physical construction of the armor hung on the wall, as did his diagrams for its magical enchantment. All of his tools laid in their places by the furnace, his anvil, and his table. All of his tools except for one...

With a prideful flourish, Starforge took Beglan's hammer out of his saddlebag. He set the tool onto a pair of pegs, empty and waiting, on the wall over the anvil. And hammer makes it all complete. As he walked towards the stairs up to his living quarters, he turned his head to the magical diagrams. With the aid of the hammer's magic, he would be able to apply the complicated teleportation effects he needed on the armor.

After he reached the stairs he knelt down and bowed his head, allowing his saddlebags to slide off of him and onto the floor. His steps were quick and bouncy as he turned back to the furnace. He reached for his fire starter and lit the furnace. Watching the fire gradually take hold in the bed of coal, he set the fire starter back in its place. His eyes still on the fire, he reached for his bellows. To get Felicity to remember its shape after it was worked, it had to get very hot, then be shaped before cooling. A little bit of sweating in a hot workshop while making the armor meant a lot less time spent in repairs made later.

Lightly at first, then with more force as the fire spread, Starforge used his bellows to blow air onto the fire. With a solid bed of fuel under it the fire devoured the air, and consumed more coal. His head darted to the box next to the furnace: he had forgotten to check how much coal he had ready. The bellows still held in his right hoof, he threw the box's lid open.

A sigh escaped his mouth as he was overcome with a sense of relief. The box was full, he had just absentmindedly closed it like he would on a normal day. Having to make another trip to the coal bin out back would not have been a disaster, he was willing to admit that to himself. Still, having something so simple go wrong so early would have been a terrible way to start what he hoped would be a momentous job.


Chunk by chunk, he worked his way through the metal he had prepared. Each was heated in the furnace, then pulled out and pounded into its rough shape while it was still hot. Afterward, a combination of smithing techniques and magic from Beglan's hammer made it what it needed to be. It was quenched in the waiting water tub, then its color magically changed to black. Finally, it was set on the table with other identically sized strips. There were a few different piles, one for each size of strip.

The larger plates took more old-fashioned smithing know-how to shape, but everything else went the same with them. The hoof guards were like the plates, but even more complicated. Beglan's hammer was more use in shaping them, and he gave them a nice polished-steel color—the same color he gave the inside of his helmet's ear guards.

The helmet was easy for him, since he was working in a state of flow: despite its mix of the plates' size and the hoof guards' complexity, he easily worked its pieces into shape, colored them black, and set them at their places on the table. The rivets were very easy, and he saved them for last: one brief touch of the hammer and they formed into shape, then magically compressed themselves in the same moment their color changed to the same shade of black as the rest of the armor.

Flipping off the switch for the furnace's air pump, Starforge turned around to admire his craftsmanship. Sitting, spread out on his table, he saw what he considered to be his finest work ever. Even without the magic of the Forge anvil helping him, Beglan's hammer had been powerful enough to make the intricate armor the easiest job he had ever done.

Satisfied that the fire was dying down in the furnace, his attention turned to the cloth armor liner under the table. He reached under the table and picked it up, all of its various pieces. Sorting it so each piece would be next to the armor pieces that would be fastened to it, he set the padding onto the table.

Riveting all of the armor pieces was easy, though it took a little while: it was the one thing he had to do that couldn't be made faster with the aid of magic. Still, his riveting machine efficiently drilled a small hole in the armor pieces, jabbed the rivet into place, then unlocked the magic that compressed it. The rivet expanded in the hole, holding two pieces of armor together and onto the soft cloth liner.

Finally he had assembled them all: one piece each for the back, belly, and chest; two pieces for each leg; and a helmet. It was a time consuming and monotonous process, but it had allowed him to rest up: he would need to be at his best for the next part.

A deep growl escaped from his stomach. Of course, that was to be expected when working for hours without taking time for breakfast before starting. He looked up at the clock above the door, which indicated it was still early afternoon. There was easily enough time to finish his armor, even if he took a short trip out for something to eat; he even had enough money to pay for some proper meals.

Just because he had time, however, didn't mean he wanted to use it. Doing complicated enchantments would be hard with an empty stomach, that much was true. Nothing said he had to leave the workshop to take care of that, though.

He returned the riveting machine to its shelf, then turned to the box he kept on the floor under the shelves. Stepping quickly, he walked to the box and pulled out an apple. Looking the apple over first, he bit into it and closed the box. There were plenty of apples for him in there, so long as he could stand them. He chewed his first bite of apple, then swallowed: apples would be just fine.

Still eating, Starforge turned so he could look over the enchantment diagrams he had drawn. Most of the space on the paper was taken up with the teleportation effect. The link to him was actually the most complicated part, and the one which would have been impossible without Beglan's hammer. With the link properly placed onto the armor, he would be able to summon the armor from anywhere at a moment's notice, and send it back too. The armor would just need half an hour between trips to or away from him for its magic to recharge.

More magic described the way the armor would fit itself to him once it arrived. He had been unable to diagram the teleportation spell perfectly, so his armor pieces would appear around him and move into place after teleporting, rather than simply appearing already fitted to him.

With a great chomp Starforge bit into the core, then chewed it up and swallowed. He stepped back to where he had hung his hammer, and picked it back up. This was going to be the fun part.


Shiny, black, and beautiful: that's what he thought when he looked at his finished armor. Each piece was perfect, and the magic all shaped exactly to his specifications. The enchanting had taken him hours to get right, but Starforge couldn't complain: it was time spent on a deeply personal project, using a craft he loved.

After finishing the enchanting, Starforge had added the last piece to the armor: the injection system and reservoir for his alchemical strength enhancer. The formula, which he called Bully, could make him a lot stronger and quicker for a short time; when it expired, however, it would make him very nauseous.

He included an automatic cutoff, so he couldn't accidentally consume too much of it in the heat of a fight. He didn't relish the thought of ever using so much Bully: if he ended up with enough of it in him to trigger the cutoff, he would be in big trouble even if he had won the battle.

According to the clock it was early evening: time for all good ponies to be eating dinner with their family or friends. Starforge looked back to his armor with an elated grin on his face; he knew exactly what he'd like to spend his time doing.

Leaving his armor on the table, he ran towards the door. He barely slowed down as he opened the door, and was already well away from it when it slammed shut and the magical lock turned into place. With the exuberance of a pony whose stars had finally aligned for him, Starforge ran with his back to the sun and chased his shadow down the street.

The exhilaration of galloping through Ponyville towards what felt like his destiny filled him, and it showed on his face. Ponies briefly turned to see what the thunderous roar of hooves trampling the ground was about, then turned back to their conversations when they saw it was just Starforge running through the streets again. Those who lived on the street though, and saw him often, could tell something was different. The pure glee on his face, the extra bounce in his stride: this wasn't an ordinary training run.

"Starforge!" one called to him as he approached, waving from his window. "It looks like you're having a great day!"

Not even slowing, he galloped past the house. He turned his head back, though. "The best!" he called out as he continued his run.

His gaze returned to the street ahead of him: the turnoff was coming up, and he flexed his wings in preparation. As soon as Carousel Way appeared to the right, he changed direction and ran towards it. His eyes were fixed firmly on the invisible line between Oak Street and Carousel Way, and he gritted his teeth in anticipation: he always loved this part.

His front-left hoof came crashing to the ground just ahead of the line, then his front-right hoof struck the line perfectly. A grin covered his face as he opened his wings. His rear hooves struck the ground, then pushed him off of it again with all of their strength. He flapped his wings once, at the apex of his leap, then began beating them against the air with all the strength a pegasus could manage.

Concentrating nearly all of his effort into his forward speed, Starforge only made himself rise to the level of the rooftops of the buildings lining the street. Flying much faster than he had been running, he saw Carousel Boutique approaching him very quickly. Deftly adjusting his wings' beats as he came within a hundred feet of the building at the end of the street, he arced up and flew over it.

Beneath him, he could see groups of ponies gathered in the park enjoying the last hour of sunlight. Ahead of him, across the stream, he could see the treeline taking shape. Another grin came to his lips: the trees were his favorite part of his routine.

He entered a gentle dive, then leveled off when he was about six feet away from the ground. When he reached the treeline, the trees started coming at him fast. Banking left and right, he swerved around the trees while flying at top speed. His speed was the only source of difficulty in the first set of trees: the land was well-tended, making it well-suited as a warmup for the main event.

The transition from the regular woods to the Everfree forest was gradual: nopony could say with certainty where one stopped and the other began. It was a very real transition, however, and Starforge found himself on the more technical part of the course. Vines hung down and attempted to snare him, bushes grew too tall, and scraggly trees struggled to grow their way up to the level of their larger kin.

His agility was tested whenever he went speeding through the Everfree. The carefully tended trees of Ponyville were always the same, and weren't really a challenge even at high speeds. Nature grew wild in the Everfree forest, though, and could change the course significantly in just a few days. It was the untamed wilderness that had developed his skills in the air.

Of course, nature could always use a helping hoof. Starforge had memorized all of the big trees on his path, and knew he was almost at his destination: a large clearing in the Everfree forest, and the first magical curiosity he had explored when he moved to Ponyville. For reasons his attempts at research had never uncovered, the clearing's soil was enchanted with the essence of a faraway land. Rather than short shrubs and tall trees, the meadow wished to grow tall grasses somewhat similar to those in his home town: Hayton.

No matter what the cause of the meadow's growth, it was an ideal place for Starforge's personal obstacle course. Boarding school in Cloudsdale had been fine, but there was one part of it he had really enjoyed: the Royal Reserve Corps. It was there that he was introduced to the Royal Guard's obstacle course, and he had built the full course in the meadow.

The course had two components: a section for pegasi to prove they were agile and controlled fliers, and a section for all ponies that tested how sure of hoof they were. Both tested a guard pony's ability to avoid obstacles and hit targets quickly.

Starforge burst from the trees and smiled confidently: it was time to test the armor. Vocalization was unnecessary, as it keyed in on his intention. Still, he enjoyed the thought of shouting into the evening. "Armor!"

Faster than his eyes could make sense of it, a magenta rip in the air formed ahead of him—then enlarged. It spread until it was all around him in a sphere, then disappeared so quickly that all anypony not knowing exactly what to expect would have seen was a flash of purple.

His armor had come through the formed rift, and surrounded him at a distance of about two feet; he hadn't been able to devise a teleportation spell more accurate than that. It came through matching his velocity, then had extra speed applied to it. The armor pieces flew to his body and locked themselves into place; their enchantments had functioned exactly as they had been designed to.

Still moving quickly from his flight through the forest, but now much heavier, he strained his wings to slow himself as he flew into the first section of the obstacle course. It took him over, below, and in-between numerous obstacles. Targets would appear at all sides as he moved through the course. A wing strike would net a tenth of a second off of a trainee's time for the course; a hoof strike was worth fifteen hundredths of a second; a direct tackle would take two tenths of a second off of the time.

After what had felt like almost no time at all, but had actually taken him about five seconds, Starforge came across the last targets; placed to either side of the course, and relatively close, they tested technique more than reaction time. Most trainees learned to knock them down with their wings as they passed, while still being able to fly forward. Others would try to tackle one and kick the other with a rear hoof, but ended up losing more time than they gained. When a pony knew how to take the course just right though, he could turn perfectly; a front hoof would strike one, the rear hoof the other, and the trainee could spiral quickly to right himself and continue on to the final stretch of the obstacle course.

It was the final part that was the hardest. Starforge had learned the double-hoof strike-and-spin early, but flying at full speed through the tunnel was a trick he hadn't picked up until he had built the course in Ponyville and kept practicing. It would narrow until it was not much wider than a large pony, and anypony not taking great care with their form would strike the tunnel with their wing. At best, striking the tunnel meant the trainee slowed down; at worst it could knock them out of the air and ruin their time.

His wing armor made his flying stiff: he had to fly a lot slower at the constricted end of the tunnel than he was used to. Still, that was exactly what he was practicing to find out; he could improve his armored flying technique over time.

As soon as he exited the tunnel he opened his wings wide, bringing himself to a sudden stop. He turned to his right and looked at the ground course. In mixed programs the pegasi would traditionally have their wings bound—as solidarity with their classmates, or to ensure nopony cheated, the explanation supposedly varied from school to school. At Cloudsdale Academy, though, all of the students were obviously pegasi—that meant everypony in the Royal Reserve Corps program was a pegasus too. Despite that, a lot of the cadets would bind their wings anyway. It was machismo, mostly.

Of course there was no reason to bind his wings here. Nopony was keeping score, and if he cheated he would only be cheating himself. With all of his usual verve, he threw himself at the ground section of the course. Just like the aerial section, all of the obstacles were close to the ground. Since a cadet's hooves were expected to be on the course or on the ground, however, the design considerations were completely different. There were still targets on the course, and wing strikes were officially scored exactly as they were in the aerial course despite the prevalence of wing binding in most training programs.

He hopped off a block in his way, spun in the air, and kicked a hoof at a target to the side. His hooves hit the ground and he ran, diving under a net. Immediately he sprang back up and dove for another target, then hopped off of it and over the short wall in his way.

When he reached the end of the course he was breathing more heavily than he normally would be after finishing; the extra armor weight definitely affected his endurance, but not as much as he had expected. Anypony could probably wear armor so heavy he couldn't fly in it and still be able to fight effectively—so long as he didn't have to chase anypony. Armor that heavy, though, would be so absurdly thick Starforge would have trouble designing joints that were both protective and could move freely; like all guard trainees Starforge had practiced flying while holding two classmates pretending to be unconscious, and a pegasus's wings continued to strengthen for a few years after their school days ended.

Since he had no way to record his time, there was no way to be sure about exactly how well he had done. Still, he had enough experience on the course to get a good sense for his clear speed. He hadn't just been going slower in the tunnel: the extra weight had slowed him slightly. Physical conditioning would help with that.

He turned his head to the forest. If he needed to condition himself, then there was no reason to wait for morning. Being eager to put his armor to good use was only a part of the reason he decided on that. Maybe a large part...

There was really no reason for him to pick one part of the forest over any other. He had already explored all of the areas near his meadow, and Zecora's hut was the only interesting thing nearby. Still, dangerous creatures wandered the Everfree forest at will. He knew he wouldn't run into anything – he rarely did – but just dreaming about it made the evening feel even more perfect as he lifted off of the ground and sped into the trees.