Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24510587-20190822192352/@comment-5543592-20190827235007

Smith nodded, producing his purse from his belt. "How much?"

The inside of the forge was warm, but not uncomfortably so. The cause of the heat was likely the smelter, which was open. Various tools, equipment, and finished products, were scattered throughout the room on workbenches, placed high on shelves.

Old Smith Black was a big man, like his son, but he was as aged as his name sake implied. His arms and chest were strong, but saggy, and his face was haggard. His eyes were narrowed to slits, his forehead lined from a life of scowling.

"I am." He was stood near the smelter, shoveling coal into it, sweat soaking through his gloves and shirt, coating his brow. He paused in his work to wipe the sweat on his sleeve and turn to face Vander, setting the shovel aside. "You got'an order to fill?"