Continuing their journey, they came across the Bogbloom Apothecary where the aromatic scent of herbs wafted through the air. The shop's exterior was adorned with hanging baskets of vibrant blooms and the subtle scent of medicinal herbs wafted through the air. The wooden sign above the entrance depicted a blooming bog flower, a symbol of resilience and healing. A slender elven woman with a crown of intricate flowers adorning her silver hair stood behind a counter laden with potions and salves. Her eyes, a deep shade of green, sparkled with wisdom earned through years of studying the flora of the Bonechill Bog. She wore robes crafted from woven vines and embroidered with delicate patterns resembling leaves and her hands, stained with the pigments of various plants, moved with grace as she tended to the shelves lined with jars and vials containing the bounty of the swamp. Glancing through the open door, Von noticed quite a number of the jars and vials withing the shop glowed faintly of different hues and colors.
The next structure they saw was a sturdy building with a distinct air of resilience called the Wyvern's Scale Armory. The exterior featured dark wooden walls adorned with intricate wyvern-scale motifs, meticulously carved to convey both protection and adaptability. The entrance, marked by a wrought iron sign depicting a coiled wyvern, swung open with a faint creak as they pushed the door.
The surroundings bore the subtle scents of freshly forged metal and the earthy aroma of damp wood. Hanging baskets of vibrant bog flowers adorned the entrance, offering a touch of natural beauty to the otherwise utilitarian facade. The rhythmic clanging of metal on metal filled the air, accompanied by the occasional hiss and crackle of quenched steel meeting water echoed from within providing a preview of the craftsmanship awaiting them inside.
Upon stepping inside, Von and Monica found themselves in a space filled with the warm glow of a well-stoked forge. The interior was organized with precision, tools hanging from the walls in strategic order. The air was thick with the rich scents of molten metal, the lingering warmth of the forge, and the faint aroma of treated leather. The bellows wheezed and puffed, accompanying the clang of metal while feeding oxygen to the flames that danced in the forge.
Grimdon's workspace commanded attention—an imposing anvil at the center, surrounded by various molds, tongs, and hammers. The wyvern-scale patterns adorning the walls seemed to come alive in the dancing light, casting serpentine shadows across the room. The shelves were lined with completed pieces of armor and weapons, each reflecting the mastery of Grimdon's craft.
Grimdon, a short stocky man with a singed beard, was currently striking a piece of metal. Grimdon's hammer rang against the anvil surrounded in chains, a symphony of metalwork echoing through the town. After watching for several minutes, the two children began to feel ignored, but were fascinated at the same time as the metal began to take shape. Eventually, after about an hour, the voice in Von's head sounded:
What? Armorsmithing can give me experience points?
Once the heated pieces of metal were shaped and quenched, the burly blacksmith stopped hammering. Seeing the children still there, he looked at the two of them. "Good afternoon, how may I help you?" Once this was said, he began to showcase armor and weapons designed specifically for the swamp's conditions. The wyvern-scale patterns on the various armors caught Von's eye, and he noted the resilience of the craftsmanship.
Monica was the first to speak. "Sir, we were told by the woman at the Mystic Trinkets Emporium that you might have a use for this armor we salvaged from the swamp." She then proceeded to show him the findings wrapped up in their travois.
Moving past the short counter, the smith examined the tarnished hauberk. He tapped it a few times with a light hammer before moving to the back and dipping it into some sort of solution. A sharp, slightly acrid, and tangy smell with a hint of metallic undertones arose from the container and small bubbles formed slowly on the top of the dark liquid.
As the hauberk soaked in the fluid, he walked back and looked at the ancient, engraved gauntlets and vambraces. After a glance, these too he added to the strange liquid causing another round of bubbles and stench to fill the air. Scrutinizing the sword, he tapped it against the wooden counter causing the blade to shatter. He then tossed it at the shards to the side. "Worthless," was all he said.
Pulling the heater shield from the travois, he inspected it closely, his eyes keenly studying the ornate craftsmanship laying before him. A master of his trade, he instinctively noted the fine details which spoke volumes about the shield's creation. His gaze fixated on the shield; the smith squatted down to bring himself closer to the artifact. His experienced eyes danced across the intricate patterns and designs that adorned the surface, a testament to the skill of the unknown craftsman.
Bringing the shield into better light, the smith scrutinized the forging techniques with a critical eye. Immaculate craftsmanship became evident as he traced the lines and curves, recognizing the telltale signs of a seasoned blacksmith. The edges were sharp, indicating a dedication to precision and functionality. With a deliberate and gentle touch, he ran his calloused fingers along the edges, feeling the smoothness of the metal. The lightweight nature of the shield surprised him, and he pondered the choice of material.
The smith, now lost in thought, rose from his inspection with a newfound appreciation for the shield. His trained eye had unraveled some of its secrets, but the mystery of its origin and purpose lingered. With a respectful nod, he acknowledged the craftsmanship and historical significance encapsulated in this lightweight, ornately designed, and immaculately forged heater shield.
The smith, having completed his meticulous inspection of the heater shield, began polishing the corrosion from it with a gentle hand. He then turned towards Von and Monica with a gleam of admiration in his eyes. "You've stumbled upon quite a remarkable piece here. This heater shield, it's no ordinary find. The craftsmanship is truly exceptional, a testament to the hands that forged it. Look at these designs. Ornate, intricate patterns etched into the metal. This wasn't just crafted for function; it's a work of art. The blacksmith who made this had a keen eye and a steady hand."
Looking at each other, the two didn't know what to say. To them, it was just a shield, too large for them to wield properly. "Is it really so special?" Monica asked.
"Well, the metal used here is top-notch. Lightweight, but no compromise on quality. It's not your common material; there's a deliberate choice in selecting something durable yet feather-light. The edges are sharp and well-defined—this shield was made for more than just display, yet it shows no signs of battle damage. The condition is what surprises me the most. Found in the bog, yet it's in near-perfect shape. The bog's usually unkind to metals, but this shield seems to have defied the odds. Either the metal has some unique properties or, I dare say, someone took great care in preserving it. It's not just a functional piece; it's been treated with respect over the years. If you give me a day or two, I can run some tests on the metal and see what it might be made from."
"I don't want to stay that long if we don't have to. The king is probably worried and looking for us right now." Monica said concerned.
"I understand, but what you've unearthed here is truly exceptional, a piece of history deserving more than just a passing glance. I strongly suggest you consider staying for an extra day. There's much more to discover about this shield and its place in the past. This is not just a shield; it's a key to understanding a bygone era. The craftsmanship, the choice of materials, the preservation methods—it all hints at a story waiting to be uncovered. I can sense there's more beneath the surface, and staying another day could unravel the mysteries surrounding this artifact. I for one want to know what it's made from."
Being more pragmatic, Monica looked at the smith. "Can you tell us how much you can give us for it and the armor or how we can afford to stay an extra day? We are both children with no real money to speak of."
Looking behind him, the armorer said, "Without knowing what metal it was made from, I couldn't tell you for the shield, but don't worry, once the armor has had a soak and been cleaned up a bit, I can make you a fair offer for it. For now, though, if you help me clean up these swamp fang hides, remove the meat and fat, and mark the bad spots with chalk, I will give you enough money feed you for the rest of the day and tomorrow, as well as providing enough for a private room at the inn."
Monica sighed and looked back and forth between the smith and Von. "It does sound intriguing. I guess you can examine the shield until the armor is done. Von, what do you think?"
"Alright, one more day won't hurt. Let's see what this shield has to reveal. But we're counting on you, Smith."