Clelk smiled deviously as he gazed into his iron pot. It was probably the possession that he held onto with the most pride - he wasn't on a very friendly basis with others in the village, so he wasn't completely sure, but he believed he was the only goblin in Greenfield to have such a device! And oh, how it served him well = the stews he cooked were quite delectable, at least by a goblins standard... This filled Clelk with a slight sense of melancholy, however. Despite being far more cultured than his fellows, the chance to experience the pinnacle of human cuisine was a far off dream that would take a heavy investment. Clerk rose from the floor of his hut and turned his attention to one of the corners of his hut, where he stored most of his food. Well, the food he traded for or took from the granary - no matter what he tried, it seems like the fish he collected didn't last much longer than an hour or two. Maybe if he asked a human? They know so much more than the fishers in this village.

Nevertheless, spearfishing rifled through the various grains and vegetables stored here, moving moldy and infested pieces to the side for disposal. Some of his goblin peers eat this filth, but given his relative free access to the village granary, there was no need for Clelk to resort to such measures. He'd use them as fishing bait, or simply toss them far from his hut. After picking out an assortment of carrots, potatoes, and even a fruit or two, Clelk happily gnawed on them while admiring his possessions. Normally he'd make a stew to better savor his first meal of the day, but he had just cleaned his pot at the river a few hours prior - he'd save the stew for dinner tonight instead. 

As he scarfed down the last raw potato, Clelk rubbed his stomach and turned to his Fishing pole. Many fishers in his tribe used spears or even their hands, but there were quite a few who realized the effectiveness of rods. Clelk himself got the idea from seeing a human do it - that had to mean it was one of the best ways. Some of his only acquaintances were the older goblins in the village who prefered the slow and calm method of rod fishing to the barbaric spear fishing. Even if he called them that, he knew that they found his gluttony as disgusting as the rest of his tribemates - they just seemed better at ignoring it when talking to him. While the idea of fishing for some meat to complement his recent meal seemed quite appealing, Clelk pulled himself away from that thought. He was still suffering from his purchase of the iron pot a few weeks ago, and he needed to replenish his supply of weaponry - a few spears wouldn't last long! He wiped his hands and donned his poorly made apron, before leaving his hut and checking up on his bloomery. He had left it heating the night prior, and it was about time to finally start adding some charcoal.

The furnace lit up quickly enough, and Clelk looked over his supply of metals. He knew damn well that his old master was getting more supply since he went through the granary less than Clelk did, but the young Goblin didn't take much offense at this. After all, his master was one of the few Goblins in Greenfield that still respected Clelk somewhat, and he always made time to talk with him or share a meal. Still, a little more iron is always appreciated. Clelk took some of the crushed ore and got to work on the process of making a few blooms, which he would inevitably work into bars once he got that far. Clelk was thankful that the recent purchase of ore that the tribe made was pre-crushed - crushing it himself was always the part that caused him the most stress. Pouring in the charcoal and crushed iron was much easier, and the process of actually making the bloom was much more relaxed and time-intensive than anything else. It took about three hours until the iron had heated and condensed itself into a discernable bloom, and Clelk quickly removed it with a pair of tongs. He quickly moved it to his anvil in order to separate the slag from the iron, and after a few minutes of hammering, he had a solid ten pounds of wrought iron. It took quite a bit of work to keep the flames working and the Bloomery full, but it was well worth the wait - with this much, he could make quite a few Spears! 

Clelk was just finishing off hammering the slag when one of the hunters had come back, a rabbit slung over his shoulder. While this normally wouldn't attract Clelk's attention, he had just finished hours of work and was looking for any excuse to take a break before processing the iron into workable bars. Even if the hunter didn't come over, watching him would at least provide a moment's rest. Clelk rushed into his hut and grabbed a few carrots to gnaw on after taking a drink of water, the former earning him a few glares from passing goblins as he exited the hut. He pretended not to notice, focusing on any passerby who hadn't noticed him and the hunter, who had just taken a seat on a nearby rock.