The forge was hot. Her flames a harsh mistress, an inexorable heat from the radiant embers which she spewed. To withstand her was a test, a labour to work her ferocity in the unrelenting pyre. She was a virgin, her pure flames the essence to be stolen with steel. She was a mistress who kissed your blade and licked the edges by her tongues. She was a mother, for in the heat of her heart a weapon shall be made. The blacksmith, a midwife pulling the glowing metal from the womb, as he examined the newborn for any birth defects. And that is where the similarities end, for now the smith takes up the anvil, to beat upon the brand with a hammer. To tinker out the wrinkles, the thrice-dozen-fold steel grunted in return, spewing out the sparks of life with the rhythmic tapping of metal. The first dozen stroke, the second, and third, like brutal brushstrokes upon a canvas forcing the will of the artist upon the crying blade as it began to die into a deadened grey. Thrust once more into the hells it was cast.

[i][b][color=C36241]"Master Gregory! Master Gregory!"[/color][/b][/i] A boy of around nineteen years of age rushed into the open-air shop, or rather the forge as the shop was an different area altogether. He looked only marginally competent, wearing a smith's apron and a sleeveless tunic with small belt around his right thigh. This boy was Kenneth, a straw-haired apprentice who could barely smith a set of straight nails without the shadow of the senior overlooking him, and he was supposed to be minding the shop and organize today's jobs between what was completed and what is to be done. Of which, several piles of hatchets, axes, and blades were set in a crate for pickup after being sharpened at the whetstone, their owners would have to claim them back from Kenneth who admittedly did have difficulty in keeping their original owners attached to their effects. It was during this sorting that an Ebonknight swung by and the stupid boy thought he was picking up a sword. It was only after a few awkward minutes of the lad telling the knight to wait a moment while he figured out which blade was it. Did he realize the knight not here for the wrong blade he was given. 

[i][b][color=C36241]"There's an Ebon, here to see you, doesn't want blades though, maybe some plates? We haven't had any armor orders in awhile, maybe some light chain? I'm pretty good with chain right Master? I think last week I did an okay job in repairing that iron mail right? I mean sure you had to step in and finish the patch after I didn't follow the original pattern but I-"[/color][/b][/i] The Gargoyle in returned barely seemed to register his young apprentice yapping away like an annoying gnat and in turn Kenneth got the hint as he watched the Smith pull the blade out from the flames and turned to submerge the red blade in cold water. Quenched and finished as he struck the tang against his metal gauntlets around his large forearms. Pleased with how it turned out, evidently as the man placed the blade down on the anvil and began to walk towards the knight. Kenneth knew better than to follow, after all some of the Jacks should come back to pick up their gear, and there was a load of chain for the loggers too. [i][b][color=C36241]"Okay, I'll um just mind the shop then. Can you fetch dinner for us? Hugo's been barking at me for the last hour, think he needs some food or something."[/color][/b][/i] Stupid boy, Hugo barked because of them.

Gargoyles. Like statues perched upon the rooftops. And with a look of bemusement, or rather only the faintest suggestion of a light-hearted chuckle, Gregory followed the Knight to his commanding officer, wearing his gauntlets and apron as his tail made a trail from his shop on the ground. It would be rude, and useless to fly when being escorted by the grounded knight. Although the presence of his brethren perhaps distant cousins was interesting, something must have had happened back in Stonecrest, else why else would there be so many of his kin here in a town of wood?

[i][b][Color=4863A0]"Miss."[/color][/b][/i] Gregory arrived and addressed the female Lieutenant, keeping one eye on her and the other on the large Gargoyle before her.