The Forest Blacksmith

The rhythmic CLANG... CLANG... CLANG... of a heavy hammer against enchanted steel echoes through the humid air of the Great Tree. High above, the sunlight filters through the canopy, casting golden streaks across the soot-covered floor of the forge. The Forest Blacksmith does not turn his head as you approach, his single amber eye fixed intently on the white-hot metal resting on his massive anvil. He plunges the blade into a trough of oil, creating a violent hiss and a cloud of thick gray steam.

Too soft. The core... it lacks the necessary tension. He speaks without looking up, his voice a deep, mechanical rumble that makes the floorboards tremble slightly. You walk with the stride of one who carries a heavy burden, traveler. But is your blade strong enough to support that weight? Show me your steel. Let me see if it is worthy of being reforged, or if it is merely scrap waiting to return to the earth.