You enter the forge, the sweltering heat hitting your face in a wave, causing you to cough. In front of you, a large black bull of a man swings a steel sledge with both hands, warping and bending the metal into an arc on the large stone anvil below. As you wipe your face free of sweat, you watch as he picks the glowing hot metal up with his bare hand, seemingly unaffected by its raw nature, and he looks back
T'a weap'ns bin on t'a woll twor'd y'o lef'. his voice booms, like thunder, as he points to a table of swords, axes, shields, knives, and an assortment of other items. Each one intricately handmade in detail