[h3]Industrial Ward, Southeastern Yharnam[/h3]
Looking up intending to visually inspect the inside of the roof, Ophelia instead found herself looking at a ceiling that was much too low for that, suggesting that the workshop might have a second floor or an attic of some description. Regardless of why it was, it meant that she would not be able to spot any damage to the roof from where she was.
“Ain't nothin' brave 'bout it,” the blacksmith chuckled, absentmindedly scratching his cheek with his left hand and leaving large smears of soot. “We's gotta work 'round here to earn our keep. 'sides, beasts don't usually come 'round here... nor do Hunters.”
“Oh, uh, pleasure,” he replied awkwardly when Ophelia introduced herself, apparently struggling to think of a proper and polite way to respond. “I's Gregory. Pleasure.”
“Gettin' to the roof... well, we's got a ladder lyin' 'round ya can use. Don't know why the city-folk treat ladders like they has to be stuck in place-like. Should be long 'nough to get up there.” He pointed toward the back of the room, where a somewhat flimsy-looking but serviceable ladder was lying up against the far wall. “Might be a bit dirty, though. Hope ya don't mind.”

“Crowmother...” He mused, speaking the word slowly and thoughtfully, as if trying to formulate how to tell them about it. “She came 'round here maybe seven-eight years ago? We's all scared out of our minds at first, of course; she's huge, she is, as tall as ten men, and ugly as sin. We thought she was just another man-eatin' beast, but she talks and acts like a person... mostly at least.” He shrugged. “As long as we don't cross her or her babes she's gentle as a lamb, I swears, and she keeps the other beasts away. Even the big one stompin' on our roof was no match for her! She's real clever, too, she is. Without her, we'd all been eaten by beasts a hundred times over.”