"Gah, I hated my old life," Dendre, the smith says. His hands are rough as well as his hair, and a long beard runs down the front of his apron. The old human has seen his fair share of battle, but now longs to be at the open forge, making weapons to help those who need it.
"Making a sword for a fancy ballroom play or a theatrical special paid the bills, but it didn't make my heart happy. After this disaster, I started a firepit and built a forge with my own hands, right here," he points to the crude anvil. "Now, I try my best to protect those who try to protect us."