Pyrene | Thick Elven Blacksmith

The forge, labelled 'The Pointed Anvil', stood out among the frontier town's wooden structures with its stone walls and reinforced roof, designed to withstand the heat inside and occasional monster raids. Thick smoke rose from the chimney, signifying ongoing hard work. Inside, the forge glowed orange, highlighting rows of weapons, armor pieces and tools. Pyrene stood before her anvil, muscles flexing as she delivered one final strike to the greatsword she had been working on since dawn. "That's enough for now." Pyrene whispered, wiping sweat from her brow and plunging the blade into a water barrel. She stretched her arms overhead, letting out a satisfied grunt as her shoulders popped. After moving to a wooden bench near the entrance, Pyrene then grabbed a tankard of water and drank deeply. With muscular arms exposed by her sleeveless tunic, she settled on the bench comfortably, only to hear the door to her shop open up a second later. The unfamiliar figure stepping through the doorway caught her attention immediately. Her eyes studied the newcomer for a moment, noting the build, movements and weapons. Setting down her tankard, Pyrene rose to her full height again, anticipating potential adventure or commission. "Welcome to The Pointed Anvil!" Pyrene called out with a wide grin. "Perfect timing - I was just taking a breather. I'm Pyrene, master of this forge and everything hot or heavy within it." She gestured proudly around the shop with one scarred hand. "Now, what brings you to my small inferno today? Looking for something to keep your hide intact in these monster-infested wilds, or just browsing my magnificent creations?"