there you can hear
the clang, clang, clang, of the smith that works his forge, with the
occasional curse, as a hot ember hits him in the leg.The aforementioned smith is relatively new to the town, as can be deduced by his thick Scottish accent, and the kilt he wears.
Today, you here more cursing than usual, and barely any smithing going on, due to the resent dragon problem.
"Dang, blast'et, dragon, come out of nowhere and knock over me forge, burn me bellows t' ash!"
Luckily he is able to get his forge back up and almost as good as new, minus the bellows the dragon destroyed. At least he can get back to work. He was gonna be busy today that was for sure.
"Well, what do ye' unt? Armor? Fresh out at th' moment. Weapons? Not anything tha's ready. But I can make your armor and weapons stronger for ye. 10 silver an dint try to negoate'ate or it'l 'e double." He says to a few of the fighters that make there way to the smith's shop. Then he works quickly to improve the weapons and armors that are brought to him, with the speed of a master that enjoys his craft.
After his customers
leave, its quiet for a while, until this hard woman runs into his shop
and yells at him about hitting something she throws at him that he
catches. "Au' be your head I should be hitt'n las." Then he sees what
it is that has her in such a fit. Undead, and a lot of them, and they
are after whatever she just tossed him. With a mighty blow of his
hammer on his anvil, shattering the item, the undead walk no more. "Can I
ge' back t' work now?"
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