Slobbering, perhaps nearly foaming at the mouth, Nate Mason began voraciously devouring into the pork that was provided to him on the plate. Marinade was dribbling down into the folds of his jowls while the tender pork was dissolving into his mouth. In between unaudible bites, there were distinctive crunching into the crackling of the pork. Though that wasn't the only bit of pesky noise.

Of course that dog wasn't properly trained, so it decided to hop about. The Templar clutched his plate and cold ones together, and swiveled his body towards the side just to make sure he didn't accidentally get any items broken. Though the boy came to a thought as he swallowed a bit of pork. Nate took the piece of bread that was becoming soggy from some of the juices still left on his plate and began to slurp it down his gullet.

After he licked some marinade that hanged under his lower chin, the boy mused, "Y'know I'm not sure that's a dog at all. Real dog woulda fled away by now cause you know burns suck." Nate got up and moved to one of the corner pieces of plank from the table with his brew in hand. He swung the cap down on the edge and caused it to pop open. The alcohol suds rose up from this violent reaction as Nate tilted his head in thought. "It's gotta be a guy in costume. Man, I need to find who does the costumes for this group. Really will help for in character stuff."

Nate took a quick chug from the beer bottle. Exhaling, "Ah. Cleaner than water." He returned back to his seat on the crate and rested his beer bottle. Nate returned to claw and tear away at the pork with both hands. Peering carefully at the plate, Nate proceeded to lick at any scraps that were remaining. He then sucked on all of his fingers before nodding and smiling at Tao. "Worth the Smackeroonies!" He delivered a thumbs up to his host.

"Oh yeah." Nate adjusted his glasses and left a smudge on the rim. He took his beer bottle as he returned towards the furnace. "Gotta finish up a couple more bits." He took another drink from his beer bottle and secured a pair of tongs to remove the molten copper and move it towards the anvil.

As he placed these pieces upon the anvil, with his beer bottle nearby, The Exile, Apostate of the Pact of the Blue Quill, the Templar Solomon Doveheart of the Stormbearer Isles clasped his hands together in prayer. "Lord, I hope I used the disposed hoard in a manner that you saw fit. Though I suppose you have seen it fit." And after that bit of in character prayer, Solomon began to use the hammer to shape two distinctive things from the copper. The scabbard to hold the ceremonial golden blade in, and the hilt.

All the while during his work he finished the rest of the liquor. 

[hider=Smithchores]
1. Shape the scabbard
2. Shape the hilt[/hider]