Smithing was good, honest work. Unfortunately for someone like Amitha, it wasn't enough to subside on. Most of the honest, simple crafts were easily handled by other smiths. Horse shoes were a nice, stable source of income. Unfortunately, such work was more often left to farriers who specialized in such a thing. The simple works were easily left with the other, cheaper blacksmiths. Long-term work was left to the smiths and craftsmen who could read contracts. This left her in a perilous predicament: unable to do meaningful amounts of both skillful and unskilled work. 

However, her skills could perhaps be leveraged in other ways.

When news broke about jobs opening up to those who possessed special powers, Amitha knew she had an opportunity to make coin again. If she could get enough coins, she could finally sate her appetite instead of eating just enough to survive!

So there she was: at a no name bar which had just opened. Did they even serve food there? Maybe. 

She was crouching in front of the bartop, her chin barely above the counter top. 

[b]"What say?"[/b] She inquired as her arm stretched to point at the piece of paper.