Mood: On a hill above the mead hall, the glowing embers of the forge send smoky tendrils into the cold air. Racks of weapons, imbued with secret powers, await the adventurer's hands. Smells Like: Charcoal, glowing embers, leather-wrapped hilts, and smoke augmented by tonka beans. ---------- The city lies quiet on this cold winter morn except for the rhythmic clang of the smith's hammer. At his station above the ancient mead hall, he has worked his craft since the break of dawn. His mighty swings send sparks to the sky. The steel glows red. He thrusts it into the waiting water. With a mighty hiss, steam rises into the cold air. This blade will be a mighty weapon, ready to slay foes and protect allies.