Meanwhile, Roland had stepped into the core of the Anvil and Sparks workshop.
A scorching gust of air, mingled with the scents of metal and charcoal, rushed to greet him. Rhythmic, heavy hammering echoed throughout the spacious stone chamber.
A massive furnace belched forth a searing, orange-red glow, casting flickering shadows across the room and filling it with sweltering heat.
Next to the massive anvil at the center stood the workshop's owner.
Old Copper Hammer.
He stood with his hands planted firmly on his hips.
The Dwarf Artisan's white beard was streaked with gray, and the gnarled muscles on his bare torso resembled old tree roots. His face was a mask of undisguised excitement and admiration.
"It's done, kid!"
Old Copper Hammer's voice was as loud as a booming bell, easily drowning out the roar of the furnace and bellows.
