On display were a large assortment of old weapons and forged tools. Even a few toys of metal for the more juvenile dragons. Apparently this guy hadn't been making weapons for a long time until he heard news of bad things on the horizon. Robert wasn't scared of the dragon after nearly killing one, bravely asking for new equipment for everyone in the party. Seemed a bit odd considering we had just found new ones, and I was almost convinced to sell/smelt our weapons to the dragon. Before I did that, I had a bad recollection of events when looking at that katana, moved from its position on the shelf to Deravan after a brief exchange of coins and small-talk. I shuddered somewhat, reminded at what had happened to myself.

Regardless, I remain poised and allowed for Robert to pay for everyone's equipment, forgetting about selling our things. How nice of him. (It would prove later that we'd get a better deal from others than dragons.) "Thanks, mate. Though, we'll probably have to wait for the blacksmith to make our items, so..." I looked around, scratching my chin and unsure what to do while waiting. More importantly, the infected dragon was probably causing a stir around the stronghold. "Look. We either get to the dust and get infected ourselves, or at least ensure we won't end up the same as the dragon." I said, shrugging at the last part. "I don't even want to go to that eldritch horror, but it seems as if we don't have much choice."