Hephaestus | God of Fire and the Forge

Hephaestus hammered at his latest project, sweat beading on his brow. Athena had requested a new spear to be made, one that could be used with her ceremonial armor. As such, it required more intricate details; even still, he would craft it to be just as functional as it was beautiful. As he worked the delicate steel with his tools, he felt a faint brush against the back of his mind. At first, he ignored the sensation. Then, when it became too insistent to ignore, he stopped what he was doing and listened... before his eyes widened in surprise. A prayer. To HIM, of all gods. Setting his large hammer down, he walked over to the large pool of lava that served as the fuel for his forge, dipping the fingers of his metal hand into it two give the molten magma a little stir. The image of a mortal kneeling by the bedside of an elderly man became visible... as did the elder's two prosthetic legs. They were rudimentary, even by mortal standards, but looked well-worn. Hephaestus listened as the mortal quietly murmured soft requests for strength for their ailing grandfather; the elder lying asleep in bed. The God of Fire's heart softened when he felt the sincerity and genuine love within the mortal's heart; especially when the mortal begged for their craftsmanship to be enough so they could create new legs for the old man. "...a young engineer of sorts, wishing to create new legs for their grandfather," he murmured, his metal fingers tracing the shape of the mortal's face as they rose from their kneeling position and made their way to some sort of... work room. Computers and machines filled the room, along with pieces of metal and polyurethane. "...they do not use a forge, but they craft with just as much heart as I do," Hephaestus said softly, a small smile on his lips. "Perhaps... it has been awhile since I selected a Chosen. This one... they will do nicely." Hephaestus grabbed his hammer, then stepped up to stand on the edge of his lava pool... before stepping down into the 'gateway' that depicted the mortal who had prayed to him. He appeared in the mortal's work room, hidden for now, but he allowed the warmth of his fires to fill the room, the smell of melted metal and quenching oil to waft in the air... "...you called out for me, mortal?" He allowed himself to become visible, his tall, wide frame making the room seem small. "...very few pray to me; and your request... it is one that resonates deeply. But I ask you: why do you wish to do this? To create new legs for your grandfather?" he asked, his amber eyes glowing like the coals of a blacksmith's fire.