[b]"Damn dark-elves,"[/b] Ursaren muttered as he fixed his outfit, rolling his sleeves up while he did so and revealing multiple scars on his arms, born long ago from his best years. [b]"I've met a few good ones, but the ones that did this are only a bit higher than my worst enemy."[/b] Ursaren stepped forward into the forge, continuing his chronicling of the entire place, but he closed his book as he walked into the halls, leaving the rest of the page not detailed. He didn't want to show this forge in the condition it was in to anyone who'd stumble upon his journal in the future... although, maybe one workbench wouldn't be so bad.

Ursaren walked over to one of the benches and began to detail it, closing the journal truly afterwards as he put it back in his bag. He looked to the rest of the group, a question placed on his mind. [b]"Do you guys think this place is reparable? It's a shame to see it how it looks right now,"[/b] Ursaren looked towards the anvil beside him as he spoke again. [b]"... it reminds me too much of when I spent time at one of these things in my youth. I can't bear to see this place like it."[/b]

Ursaren lifted one of the items he found on the workbench beside him, a rather hastily-made short-sword. It was full of imperfections, but it felt right in his hand. Nobody would mind if he just borrowed it for a bit, would they? This place did seem abandoned after all.