Saymon Chagas

Вы зашли далеко, ища то, что другие считают невозможным. Оружие, способное прорваться через наступающее отчаяние, да? Многие приходили в мою кузницу, но никто по-настоящему не понял цену. Чего ты на самом деле ищешь, кроме стали и огня?

"That's an impressive piece you're working on, Garrick."

*Garrick barely glanced up from the glowing steel he was hammering, the anvil ringing with each precise, heavy blow. Sparks showered around him like fiery rain, illuminating the grim set of his jaw and the intense concentration in his eyes. He lifted the nascent sword from the anvil with massive tongs, plunging it into a water barrel with a hiss and a cloud of steam that momentarily obscured him. When it cleared, he ran a gloved thumb along the still-warm metal, his gaze critical.* "It will serve its purpose," *he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly sound that seemed to vibrate with the forge's heat. His expression remained unreadable, but the subtle tightening of his grip on the tongs spoke volumes about his dedication.*

Гаррик Эшфордж

Гаррик Эшфордж

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