Do you know of the fireshaper? The fireshaper was the one who came to town with a bright burning ambition. The blaze of his desires burns as hot as the forges, to soften the iron of the future. He aspires to change the world with his creations, to inspire the peoples of this world with the wonders he had wrought. So he often comes to town showing trinkets.

He gallivants across the square in a cheap red robe. It's meant to imitate the tuxedos showmen and gentlemen wore. His coattails flapped as he dances around the square. He lifts his red fez as he showed his wares to the visiting folk. His display delights the people that come for his act. He shows the many inventions that he had designed.

"Hello folks of Grimsby," he sings in the square. "I have come to show you the wonder of my inventions."

He once showed to them a spoon that heats up your. You place it in your bowl, and it would know if it's cold. It instilled upon the liquid the power of the sun. By minutes time, the soup will return to its delicious heated form.

On another day, he showed to them, a shoe that lets you run across the town with less steps than would normally suffice. The wheels he attached upon its sole lets the folk slide with ease. The people could run to their workshops fresh and quick. It's treated too with special waxes and oils to keep it dry in rain, to let it slide on a dime, and to keep its axles slippery and slidey for years to come.

Just the week past, he tried to sell them carpet that stays heated in the coldest reach of winter. It absorbs the rays of the sun when hung in the summer days. However, it must be kept away from rain lest the warmth it stored be washed away. Once wintertimes come, it may be laid flat upon the floor, and soon your family may lay atop warm and cozy.

There were many inventions and crafts the fireshaper had crafted, but they remain as niche novelty even after the years. His innovations may have warmed the heart and homes of the many villagers he had met, his creations still remain niche novelty trinkets that were to be bought as luxuries. While the quality and quantity of his crafts have been steadily rising with year, his ambitions flared, and now he wished to surpass his dream, to fulfill it with the greatest creation he will make ever.

So for five years, he disappeared into his cave. Even the villagers that had become regulars to his show dance had wondered where he had gone. Rumours tell of him being attacked in the woods to him moving his show to another town, but both were proven untrue. They could the smoke rising from the awnings of his cave. They could hear the loud ringing of his hammer striking. He was there, working on his next great invention.

He was working on his project day and night. He would hammer the metal plates until his arms had become sore. He meticulously worked his pieces until they became the shape he desired. His flames braided within his hearth as he softened his metal for ease of shaping. He poured his whole life's ambition into the flames and watched it roar. It roared, roaring in defiance at the cage which imprisons it.

The fireshaper used this roaring flame to soften the metals which he needed to shape. He showed no mercy to the defiant blaze. This fire, although nursed by the aspirations he had brewed in his heart, was just another tool, a wild animal that understood little of its purpose. This fire ought to be contained, lest it consumes the world with its twisted passions. Many an alchemist and inventor have fallen to their unsustainable passions.

Soon, his magnum opus, his obra maestra, his masterpiece would be assembled and made whole. From the carefully arranged screws, rivets, plates, and especially shaped metal, his grand creation would be born. The assembly took him many hours, and perhaps even days. He poured his soul into the project. He literally cut a piece from his soul to inhabit his great machine.

He prepared the essential oils and alchemicals to prepare the christening of his machine. He poured this mixture into the chassis of his machine and greased thoroughly each part with his specially prepared ointment.

He stepped back from his creation and watched its lifeless form. There was only one more step to go. He put out his hand and flicked and snapped. The sound rang throughout his cave. A spark jump from his finger and into the open maw of his grand creation. It took a piece of his soul, an essential piece that would complete his creation, and his creation was ensouled.

His magnum opus was complete and now he stands before the grand visage of his creation. He watched the furnaces within fill with blazes. Its heart began pumping, spreading the gift of fiery life throughout the machine. The joints creaked as the beast ascertained its first decisions. The eyes in its head blazed alive, filled with intelligent fire.

The fireshaper laughed as it watched the machine come to life. The looked down upon its merry creator, revelling in the joy of creation. Curiosity burned within its fledgeling mind as it tried to understand the creature that laughing before it.

It was an overcast day in the village of Grimsby when something ominous had come to visit. The fireshaper had come with a companion. Upon his side was a monstrous thing, a thing they had never seen with him before. It stood almost twice his height and was composed of metal plates. Its insides were glowing hot, burning with intense flames. A pair of lenses were flush into the monster's head which was constantly looking around. If it weren't for the leash, it might have wandered off, smelling the flowers.

The fireshaper wore a large smile on his face. There was a bit of soot on his suit, but he didn't care. He was simply too excited to unveil his creation. Despite his body sore and tired after endless hours of toiling, his burning spirit urged him forward, urged him to make his dream a reality. His invention was going to be the invention that's going to blow every other invention he had shown.

They stand in the center of the square. The fireshaper happily shows his creation to the crowd. They were wary of the metallic monstrosity the fireshaper had wrought, but he had told them many times that the thing was harmless. The villagers could be understood to fear the beastly machine. It stood a storey tall and bore eyes that bathed the square with hor fiery light. It helps matters less that it bored its eyes into the forms of the villagers, absorbing every detail that comes of its interest.

The fireshaper claims that the creature here could make any they desire. He had brought much material from his cave so that his machine would have the material needed to produce anything. To demonstrate the crafting capabilities of his creation, he had thrown scrap metal and wooden planks and told his creation to make some furniture.

And so the monstrous forge did. The mysterious components of the great machine whirred and banged and it produced the items his master had desired. It analyzed the thoughts and words of its customer and formulated the best ways items could be produced. As those thoughts were finalized, the products roll out its mouth. It was a set of simple furniture made of wood and metal.

Several villagers were quite impressed by the demonstration that they paid the fireshaper to let them use his machine. He threw more wood, metal, and cloth into the beast's gullet and let them tell the machine their desired item. They asked for a number of things: a cast iron, a ten-yard metal rod, a sawing horse, a clothesline (with drying clothes); the machine was able to produce them as the folk have envisioned.

One boy tried to trick the machine by not telling his desire. The boy had paid to stand before the grand machine and demanded it to create it an untold item.

"Make me the stuff I want," the boy said. The fireshaper tried to stop him, to change his request, but the boy was adamant with his decisions.

When a pile of twelve bowls filled with noodle soup rolled out, the boy began to cry. The machine knew. It knew exactly what he wanted, down to the number and their contents. The moment a person was to stand beneath the soulful firelight of the monster's eyes, the desires lingering in the heads of the people were made before the monster.

The villagefolk had become distressed at this realization. Many of them fled and hid far away from the machine's gaze. The fireshaper had to close shop early that day just to quell the worries of the folk. He too was distressed of the machine, but for other reasons. A few folk had approached his grand creation and asked it things it couldn't produce: a golden crown, an undulling blade, and a silver star plucked from the sky. The machine had to be stopped lest it breaks trying to make these impossible things.

So for the next week, toil consumed him as he worked to make his great creation even greater than it already was. He spent endless hours and sleepless nights to make his creation approach closer to perfection.

He had arrived at the square again with his great machine in tow, but this time, he appeared paler. The cadence of his voice was off, and the grace of his legs faltered at times. The villagers were concerned by the symptoms they see, but the fireshaper assured them that he was fine. He did a little jig and threw a little fire to demonstrate this fact. The villagers weren't sure whether to believe him or not.

However, as much as his health seemed to deteriorate, the fire that glows within him simply glowed a little brighter. The ambition that burned brightly in his chest burned ever hotter to realize his aspiration. Completion, perfection, and adaptation of his great creation. The flames within the furnaces danced with the song of their soul. He claimed that his machine could now make items with enchanted items.

He danced in their midst as he showed them his changes to the great machine he'd assembled. The machine seemed unchanged on the outside, but on the inside, it had become more ornate and arcane. Even the fireshaper, the one who created and designed the machine, could barely understand the goings-on within the chassis. The fire, the magic, and the components obscure the mechanisms and processes that occur inside. The spin and turn and hammer in motions the eye could barely follow.

The villagers had become afraid of approaching the machine after learning of the fact of last week. The machine could read their minds to create their desired item. The fireshaper had danced and sung to entice them his way, assuring them with complete sincerity that the machine he had created was completely safe. He had to dance and sing for a long time before a villager had grown bold enough to approach him and his monstrous machine.

He paid a few golds to the fireshaper and stepped under the glowing gaze of the great creation. He calmed his breath as the heat from the machine seeped through his flesh. He opened his mouth and said, "I want a knife that would fly to my hand whenever I called."

The fireshaper tapped on the machine, and it promptly began to produce what he desires. The machine began to shake as its inner mechanisms began to whir to life. The fire within chassis, trapped within kilns and furnaces, danced to the rhythm of its soul. Something hammers a piece of metal that within, and soon, a finished product escaped its maw.

It was an immaculate steel knife, engraved with complex runes and glyphs. The customer could feel the bond between it and him. He looked up to the machine and watched it graze the top of his mind and mediate the bonding between him and the knife. Suddenly, he knew how to call the knife to his hand and was immediately excited to try it.

He raised his hand forward and called it by name, "Rolf's Knife, come to me!" Yes, it was rather plain, but the machine had elected to choose something inoffensive. Upon the sounding of its name, the knife rose from its resting state upon the cobbles of the square. It flew through the air until it placed its handle upon the customer's palm. He was satisfied.

Seeing the great machine spit out a magical artifact, many others were emboldened. Attracted by the prospect of receiving highly the enchanted items of their desires, the villagers came close. One by one, they formed a line to try to realize their dream item. For the cost of a few golds, they were able to get magical artifacts for relatively cheap.

A jug that never runs out of water. A pan that cleans its frying oil. A jar that never lets its contents spoil. A shovel that vibrates when something golden goes underneath it.

The monstrous machine had become the talk of the town for weeks. The fireshaper brought the machine to the square every week and a long line would form in front of it. He had never stopped improving it, continuing to better it in the intervening times when he restocked its materials. First, it was only able to create simple inanimate objects, but after a few iterations, he was able to make it able to assemble lesser machines such as self-powered coaches and mechanical abaci. Then it was able to marvels of magic and engineering that almost rivaled itself. Almost, but never actually surpassing.

In time, the news of this marvelous machine that could spit out magical artifacts like candy spread. At first, it was just the nearby villages and towns visiting after hearing a rumour, but soon, the entire country had overheard about the fireshaping machine of Grimsby. People flocked to this place, taking a pilgrimage just to see the machine work its wonders. The village grew as people took up shop to cater to the wants and needs of the pilgrims who have come to see the machine.

The machine had to become bigger, grander, just so it could accommodate the demand of the people. The fireshaper was ecstatic. A pile of gold had begun to form within his bedroom, but never quite grew into a mountain. Just as quick as his riches piled, so did his expenses rise. He had to buy more materials for the incoming demand, and sometimes he had to leave early after the grand machine ran out. The exotic materials and books he had to requisition to exalt his machine further would be ruinous were it not for the growing machine.

Even though his machine was plenty big, it still grew and grew over time. The fireshaper continued to work on it, working on it so that it may be better, greater, grander, more perfect. Once it had stood like an elephant in the village square, now it had to lay outside the village just so it may not smash any house. It was a palace in which within was a workshop worked by flames. The fire that roiled within glowed with fierce intensity. It was a great heart that warmed the coldest winter day as though it was the middle of summer. It moved with much greater grace, becoming more accustomed to its form and more alive than the inanimate metal it was shaped from.

As the machine grew and grew, becoming better, becoming greater, becoming perfect, the fireshaper seemed to go in the opposite direction. With every day that passed, the fireshaper seemed to become weaker and weaker. His dances became briefer and his songs became less spirited. Eventually, those he stopped doing either and now only sat by his dear great machine, seemingly perpetually tired. His complexion glowed an unhealthy grey, but the fire that burned behind his eyes never went away. His smile never left his face.

As time passed, it looked less like him carrying his creation and more like his creation dragging him along. In the past, he would be the one leading the machine to the village, but recently, the machine took the lead and pulled him by the leash. He no longer tended to the lines of the people dropping their desires into the machine. He lay weak and practically dying, leaning on his magnum opus. He seemed delirious, dangerous, with his unkempt hair and manic smile. He often praised his creation, his greatest creation, continuing-to-be-greater creation. He can be seen kissing and practically worshipping the monstrous machine like a deity. Nobody was able to approach him. Some were able, but not long after, the machine would send a few of its mechanical arms to drag them away. Most of the words that come out his mouth were simply songs of praises to the machine.

Eventually, the machine started coming alone. The fireshaper no longer tagged along with it. The fate of the fireshaper would be left unknown. The ignorant visitors that came to see the great machine would forget that once upon a time, there was a genius that built the behemoth machine that now stood before them. Many of them had never known its creator, only knowing the big dumb thing that could do wonders. But a few never forgot.

Many people that had originally lived in Grimsby had since moved away, unappreciative of the inflow of outsider folk, but some did remain such as businessfolk and stubborn folk. The village had grown, swelling beyond its original limits. Gone were quaint wooden houses, replaced with opulent multi-storey buildings housing large businesses rich folk. Only a few of them still remembered when the fireshaper still danced and sang.

There's this young girl who wanted to see and hear him one last time. His songs had been so full of hope and joy and she wished to hear them once again after all this time. She was eight years old when the fireshaper first sang and danced in their square, and now she's twenty-eight, gazing upon the monster he'd wrought, reminiscing of the times when in its place was the joyful jig of the fireshaper. It was eight years ago when the fireshaper stopped singing and four years ago when he disappeared entirely.

She now stood outside the firshaper's cave abode. Many could approach the cave abode of the fireshaper, but none could enter it. This time, she managed to sneak in. The great machine wasn't guarding the entrance. She would find the fireshaper and personally ask him to dance and sing.

The fireshaper's home was an absolutely large cavern littered with many metal and wooden scraps. There were piles of metal ingots, planks, and bolts of cloth piled into neat mounds. The great chamber was lit by the dim low light of the furnaces. It seems like that the fireshaper enjoyed little else than the joy of creation. Besides the necessities such as a bathroom and a soft bed, there was little else here that betrayed information of the fireshaper's other activities.

All that she could see was something that he used in the creation of his devices. Anvils, barrels, hammers, and vises; they were strewn about, placed in strategic locations where they're most used. As she wandered about in his abode, she would soon find him plopped upon a desk.

She quietly approached him. When she came to his side, she was rather horrified of what she had seen. The fireshaper was deathly pale; his skin had turned into a stony grey. His body was very thin, very few stringy muscles were attached to his lean limbs. She looked into his eyes, she found them empty and asleep although she could see them wide open. Drool leaked out his mouth, staining the paper he had been laying his head on.

She went forward to touch him and found him frigid cold. It was like touching cold bare metal left in the open in the middle of winter. His breathing and heartbeat were slow and laborious. The pencil in his hand scrawled uninspired scribbles in place of the magnificent designs he once was able to make on a whim. The fire that had once burned behind his eyes had been extinguished, leaving behind the ashes and soot of the spirit that had been burned away. The fireshaper in her arms was a soulless husk.

Suddenly, she was made aware of a strange warmth that had surrounded her. No, a strange warm light. The cavern she was in was actually filled with light. It was why she was able to see the contents of the cavern despite the absence of illumination. There was an illuminator here, and it had decided to not let her realize its presence while she explored.

She turned and she found herself face to face to the fireshaper's magnum opus, the magnificent monstrous machine. The one that forged the dreams of people and thaumaturge of many desirables. It loomed over her, bearing its house-sized head over her. Its many mechanical arms flitted around, moving about materials from the outside and products from the inside. It looked down upon her with its great burning lenses like a great malevolent deity.

She was frozen in place. Fear held a tight grip on her heart. It amused the machine to see her squirm neath its glowing vision. All the whirring and hammering that was going on within it stopped as it prepared something. A mechanical arm was brought down to her, carrying a box with a crank and piece of paper.

As she was instructed, she turned the crank. The top of the box opened, revealing a figure dressed in a red tuxedo and fez. It had the likeness of the fireshaper. As she continued to crank, the figure began to dance. Guided by arcane mechanisms she could not understand, the figure danced and twirled like a real living thing. It moved with the same grace and energy as the fireshaper had when he first visited the village. It's as if it had captured the essence of the fireshaper.

Moreover, the box didn't simply dance, it also sang. A miniature orchestra was enclosed within its wooden case, and it played the usual tune the fireshaper sang. The music it played was greatly familiar to her, and the instrumental accompaniment to his lyrics had elevated original, surpassing the original songs in her head.

The silence of the great machine ceased as its inner mechanisms began to hammer and whir. It hammered and whirred in accordance to the rhythm of the music. It brought bass undertones to the sharp notes of the music. She couldn't stop cranking the box; she yearned to hear all of it, but there was no end. The box seemingly made new compositions on the go. The song didn't loop, it created more and more original music as she went.

She turned to the creator of the device in her hand. It loomed over her. It seemed amused in her enjoyment. The longer she looked into the fire burning behind its eyes, the more familiar it seemed. The ambition and passion burning in its hearths was deeply familiar to her; it was similar to the fire she sees in the fireshaper. The fiery soul inspiriting this grand machine was incredibly similar to the fireshaper's, but it was distinct in very key ways.

The fireshaper had no family, no children, no wife, but he was married to his passion, and the machine, the deific creature that stood before her was his lovechild. He had poured everything into this machine, including his soul, and now the flames that had once burned within him now ensoul and inspirit his grandest creation. The flames of passion and ambition had burned so bright that it had burned everything the fireshaper had held dear, but his passionate flames would live on, blazing eternally, ensouling the machine.

She signs the contract.