Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-17114085-20161126014740/@comment-24510587-20161128001950

Ambroise pulled the red-hot rod of steel out of the Skyforge and put it onto the anvil. While he slammed his hammer onto the metal, he recited a passage from an old tome in his head. Smithing was not a profession one would expect from a scholar, and as such, no one who looked at him would suspect a high level of intelligence from him. This was good, considering his rather unique heritage.

Besides, he'd gotten quite proficient at it. Proficient enough to work the Skyforge, and smith weapons for the Companions. He had gotten to know its members fairly well in the last couple of years, and he even considered some of them his friends. Not that he'd shared his secret with them, though. It was best if no one knew Arkay was his dad.

In his contemplations, Ambroise nearly forgot to cool the metal, so he hastily stuck it into the water. It was too late, though; the blade was already bent.

Grumbling about his mistake, he cast the failed sword aside and put down his hammer. He would do it over later. For now, he felt like he deserved a break, so he walked down to Jorrvaskr.