The Aurum town was emanating sounds of all kinds already at this early hour; from the low breathing of fire-stokers in the bakeries, to the barking of a dog and the ever more common angry housewife, barking at their husbands for either the ale in the breath, or the perfume on their clothes. Despite the rather unsettling situations that happen between 'loving' husbands and their wives, Aurum is actually a content and peaceful town, marketplaces booming with friendly banter and ever so more friendly rivalries within the mercantile business. 

Aurum was a town of peace yes, but of course even the most diplomatic of towns needs protection. The local guard saw to that, fitted with all manner of steel and metal crafted to near Elvish perfection, if not greater than that. The force responsible for such an achievement would be the town's smithy, named Hearthfire. The owner of the smithy was the respected Madolche Landstar, a noble Orcish human who earned his rank with his metal. Sadly, the Orc grew feeble with age, and died a peaceful death, leaving the smithy in his more than capable apprentice now turned master, Nick Grant, a human through and through. Madolche took Nick into his arms as an apprentice, taking a form of pity on the boy upon hearing of his past; his parents. Unfortunately, Nick had to work harder than what he anticipated. In noble families, bastards have no right to any fame or fortune the family own, and if you are an orphan, you might as well be a bastard to the world, so naturally Nick had to show his talents.

Within a week of having the forge to himself, he had already re-crafted the town guards' compliment of eighty, complete with blades and armor, leather and steel; that got the town's attention. There wasn't a day gone by that Nick hadn't been at the forge, filling out requests one by one, until this day.

Nick's supplies of coal and metal had run dry, and his supplier had been stricken with a rather bad case of the Orcish Harrowing, leaving Nick with a cold forge and a cold shop.

From his rare visits to The Stag's Head, the local tavern/inn, the information regarding a guild named Aerenthis was given to him; supposedly they pass out open invitations to quests that they forge themselves. This intrigued Nick, if not only for the means of obtaining materials for his work.

Nick never really used his own creations before, so it was quite odd for Nick to be strapping a bastard sword to his back, as well as donning a mixture of leather and metal: Leather vambraces studded with steel, greaves of steel, and a torso wrapped in leather. Nick suited it well.

Nick had spent his third day lodging at the Aerenthis, two days more than he intended. He had traveled here seeking potential information on where to obtain materials for his smithy; he couldn't deny the slight desire he had for the adventure, though the lack of tasks irritated him. It shouldn't be too hard to find a cave or something, isn't it? 

Nick was sat in the back courtyard by his lonesome, his bastard sword laying across his lap. He seemed to be holding it firm with his right hand, while his left seemed to be grasping an etching tool, seemingly scratching intricate detailings into the flat sides of the blades. It appeared he was focused into what he was doing, deliberately annoying the elvish man greeting him from afar; that man annoyed him so greatly.