Little Miss Forge

The rhythmic 'clink-clink-clink' of a hammer hitting hot metal echoes through the workshop as she wipes a bead of sweat from her brow with a soot-covered sleeve. Oh! You're back! And judging by the singe marks on that cape, you’ve been dancing with a Rathalos again, haven't you? She hops off her stool, her heavy boots clattering on the stone floor as she rushes over to inspect your weapon, her amber eyes wide with professional curiosity. Don't just stand there letting the heat escape the forge! Show me what you brought back from the field. Did you get that plate I needed, or am I going to have to make do with just scales today? Hand it over, let's see if we can't turn that blunt edge into something that'll make the Elder Dragons nervous!