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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 9766755" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 4Folgar stood in front of the smithy, listening to the sounds of activity coming from within. Heat poured out of the interior, and the dwarf could feel himself starting to sweat a bit under his layered robes. The frequency and intensity of the strikes picked up; whoever was working in there was maintaining a good pace. From the sound of it, the smith was drawing out a piece of hot iron, probably for a short blade.He waited until the pounding stopped. He could almost see the smith putting the piece of metal back into the heat of the forge. He stepped inside, nodding at the organization of the front area of the smithy, the absence of clutter or debris in the corners. A large sliding door, currently open, offered access to the workshop. The smith, a muscled dwarf woman, saw him and nodded. Folgar noted that she adjusted the placement of her metal in the forge and carefully racked her hammer and tongs before coming out to meet him.“Big of a mess, aren’t you?”Folgar felt self-conscious for a moment; his hair and beard were their usual mess, and his robes were torn in several places; he never seemed to get around to applying needle and thread when there were other things to be done. And with his research demanding more hours than were in the day, there were always other things to be done. “I need a quantity of powdered gold.”The smith nodded. “I can do that. How much are you thinking?”“About twenty-five gold pieces’ worth.”The smith grabbed a rag from the front counter of the shop and wiped her hands. There was an assortment of tools and metal goods on display, samples of her work, but no weapons, Folgar noted. “That’s the trick, with that kind of work. It’s not just the weight of the metal; half a pound of gold would make a neat pile of powder, if you could snap your fingers and make it so. Doing it with your hands requires the right tools and a fair amount of effort, if you want to avoid introducing impurities into the end product. Assuming you need it fine, for alchemy?”Folgar nodded. “How much can you produce for twenty-five golds?”“You can provide the raw metal?”Folgar hefted his purse, gave it a shake. “Fair enough,” the smith said. She considered a moment. “Four and a half ounces.”“Done.”“It’ll take a couple of days,” she said.“You cannot do it any faster?”The smith eyed him carefully. “Been real busy ‘round here,” she said. “Just got a delivery of old weapons from the keep garrison that needs to be melted down. If I could get some help with that, I could move your job to the front of the queue. Assuming you know your way around a forge?”Folgar gave the shop another look, then nodded. “I know my way around a forge.”The smith extended a hand. “Name’s Kalista.”He met her grip; it was strong but not crushing. “Folgar,” he said.The work was as he remembered, though it had been long enough that his muscles were quick to protest. Within an hour, his back had joined in the complaints, and his tunic was soaked in sweat, even though he’d hung his robe on one of the hooks in the front of the shop. The pieces of metal they were working with were battered and rusted, and had to be cleaned before the first heating; every step of the job required an expenditure of strength. Kalista watched him as he went about the tasks she set for him, but said little; she apparently didn’t like to waste words in the forge.They were near the end of the process, with Folgar carrying a crucible full of molten iron toward an ingot mold, when his tired hands slipped. The crucible fell and shattered, spraying molten metal against the leg of one of the work tables. The old wood immediately began to smoke. Kalista instantly ran to one of the buckets of sand she kept around the forge, but Folgar reacted first. He extended a hand and uttered a series of seemingly meaningless syllables. A beam of white energy erupted from his fingertips, hitting the hot metal and causing it to hiss and crack. Within moments, the metal had stopped glowing, and the beginning fire was quenched.Kalista looked at him. “So not an alchemist, but an arcanist,” she said. It sounded almost like an accusation.“Yes,” Folgar said. “I am sorry for the damage.”“I’ll finish up here,” she said. “You can pick up your powder in the morning.”Folgar nodded. He put his robe back on, counted out twenty-five gold coins onto the countertop, and left without looking back.Game Notes:Folgar: Strength (Athletics): 20 (+0): 20 vs. DC 13 (Success)Dexterity (Sleight of Hand): 5 (+2): 7 vs. DC 13 (Failure)The adventure allows for retries on these skill checks (up to three failures), but I skipped them to expedite the scene.</blockquote>

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