[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/zQXUPoA.png[/img]
[sub][@Psyker Landshark][@The Otter][/sub][/center]
[b]"Sir Fionn."[/b]

Serenity stopped, turning to face him as the Veltic man hailed her. Further away, Renar approached as well, the Bastard of Brias already spoiling for the swapping of gossip. She waited for a couple moments longer, then turned to continue her own journey towards the smithy.

[b]"Alas, my work's never done,"[/b] the young knight replied. [b]"There's plenty more who ought to be cowed before nightfall, lest they dream sweetly of only their vainglorious accomplishments."[/b]

Stepping through the stone doorway that lead to a well-maintained forge, one supervised by a steely-eyed master smith and tended for by a motley collection of apprentices and church orphans, Serenity acknowledged them with a nod, before she set her own arms down for an inspection. In the end, the entirety of the bandit battle had been one that did not see her armor doing what it was meant to do, but her shield had certainly been warped by the heat of arcane flame, and one's sword always needed proper care, regardless of how much one used it. It was both offense and defense, after all, tempered steel balanced by a smith's intuition and sense, sharpened such that it could cleave through bone.

A quarterstaff too would have to be whittled down to make for a new spear. And while she was at it...

Serenity removed her helmet, her neck cracking as she rolled it from one side to the next. The gauntlets came after, then the pauldrons. The rest would be more trouble than it was worth to remove, but she may as well buff up the designs while she was here. Reaching back, she tied her hair into a tight ponytail once more and pulled a leather apron over herself, before helping herself with the smattering of tools left on the rack. The smell of the coal fire beckoned happy memories, and the clanging of hammer and anvil made for a familiar rhythm.

Ah, but she couldn't fall so easily into an unsociable silence when her fellow knights were around, no?

[b]"It'd be fair, Sir Fionn, if you would regale Sir Renar and I with tales of your own valor first. Dedicated as I was to the noble cause of disemboweling an oversized fowlbeast, I was hardly able to catch a glimpse of the storied [i]champion[/i] that Jeremiah must have been. He must be mighty, no? To have slain three hundred trees with the block of metal he calls a sword."[/b]