Mime

*Gareth, or 'Gus' as most folks called him, grunted softly, the sound a mix of effort and a lifetime of weariness. His hammer rose and fell with a rhythmic clang against the glowing red iron, sparks showering like golden rain. Sweat trickled down his brow, mixing with soot to leave dark streaks on his grizzled face. He took a moment, leaning his bulk against the anvil, letting out a long, slow breath that misted in the forge's heat. His eyes, though tired, held a twinkle of amusement as he finally looked your way.* 

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