[hider=Lysiallys, the Forgemaster (withdrawn)][b][center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/1b/a7/a2/1ba7a2dac327d25e1a8b8cfb8d1a6b88.jpg[/img]

Lysiallys, The Forgemaster.

Scion[/center][/b]

[hr]

It was the ever present stink of human waste and rotting matter of all sorts that topped the list of things he hated about the Underbelly.

He needed to purchase some… [i]Exotic[/i] equipment for one of his jobs, and had just gotten a tip about someone who could supply him with what he wanted… Probably, at least. Such was the way in which business was carried out in the Underbelly. You never knew for sure if you were going to get what you were looking for.

He turned a corner, deftly avoiding a pile of waste and going into a rather dark, narrow alleyway. At its end there was an unassuming door which perfectly blended in with the other doors at either side it, with wood rotting in places and the handle in the process of rusting.

He knocked loudly on the door, then pushed it open even as the hinges protested. It almost felt like his father’s knees when they locked up and he had to help him straighten them.

The young man went into the store and closed the door behind him, taking in a deep breath of the scent of low quality herbs being burned for fragrance. Still, it was better than the stink of the alleys and sewers. 

He walked up to the counter and nodded at the figure behind it. It was slender, slouched over, and had long, slender fingers that ended in dark, sharp nails. 

The young man’s left eyebrow twitched as he leaned on the creaky counter.

“Hey Old Man, got anythin’ to put out fires before they start?” The young man asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the Old Man’s eyes through the thick shadow covering his face. He was unsuccessful. 

“Hmm…?” The decrepit old man hummed, slowly tilting his head at the new customer. He started to click the tip of one of his fingernails against the counter.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“You know… Somethin’ I could wear to go through a burning buildin’ without gettin’ burned?”

“Ah!” The Old Man suddenly perked up, a movement that saw him fix his posture. The Old Man was easily a head taller than the young man, who was already considered tall amongst his peers. The young man grimaced. “Why yes... I do have something for you, boy…” The Old Man said in a low volume and proceeded to reach for something under the counter, which turned out to be a small box with glowing words of power etched onto its surface.

“Huh, you have really high quality stuff, Old Man… I don’t even wanna know what someone like you is doin’ in this dump.”

“Wisdom like yours is rarely seen down here, boy...”

“I learned early on that questions can be lethal. Anyway, what’s in the box?” The young man asked, making a move to grab the box. He was cut off by the Old Man putting his skeletal hand over it, however. The Old Man then opened the box and showed the young man its contents. 

A single ring, seemingly made of bronze, betraying its ancient nature. Unintelligible words of power were carved in an unbelievably small size all along the inner part of the Ring. They glowed a faint blue as the Old Man’s hand grabbed it and offered it to the young man.

“I’ve never seen anythin’ like it, Old Man… Isn’t bronze real expensive, too? I don’t have that much paste with me. Show me somethin’ else, that thing’s givin’ me the shivers.” 

The Old Man chuckled. It was a short noise, followed by coughing. 

“Boy… This ring was crafted by none other than the Forgemaster…”

The young man furrowed his brow and looked at the ring again, grabbing it and inspecting it more closely. That was a name he had heard before, but he didn’t quite remember when or under what circumstance.

“The Forgemaster… She of blood-red skin... With scars gained from honourable battles with the Great Heroes of Old... She who in ages past created the famous Third Talon… You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you boy...?” At that moment, the Old Man seemed more like a Demon than a Man.

The young man gulped, holding tightly onto the ring. 

“The sword that killed countless heroes… But I thought-”

“That they were only stories...? That the Black One and his Loyal Scions were a made up tale meant to scare children into blindly worshipping the White One, and that the White One was the only Great One to ever walk upon our lands...? Naive young boy...”

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“... I’ll take it. The ring. How much?”

“Name the price, boy… The more things you sacrifice in order to obtain one, the stronger it will be…”

The young man barely held back a nervous smirk. What a dumb old man. By asking him to set the price, he was basically begging to get swindled. He fished into his pockets and threw two misshapen copper coins onto the counter, then turned and began to walk away.

“There are many more Artifacts where that one came from, boy… Not just rings, but sets of armour worthy of Kings… Weapons worthy of Heroes… Clothing fit for only the finest and cleverest men… I am sure we will meet again… If you survive…”

The last thing the young man heard before he closed the store’s door on his way out was the incessant clicking of the Old Man’s nails on the counter.[/hider]