Novel & Cerita Blacksmith Hammer Dark Souls 2

“Our local blacksmith is a very mysterious Slayer, full of surprises, but a good fellow. He isn’t from around here but everybody adores him just the same. Oh, and have I mentioned he’s blind?” “Blind?!” Temujin and Aki echoed. “Oh yes, that’s right. Completely, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t challenge him to a spar though on account of that, for he can put any able-bodied Slayer to shame. Also, he very much prefers a simple and private life.” “Oh, I’ve heard of this blacksmith,” Sasha jumped in. “He’s the one who makes most of the blue Slayer suits by cooking the tree-drops in a stove. Somehow he knows how to combine fire and wind techniques.”

And now, Reed was Deputy Governor Campbell, someone who wouldn't bother with such a thing, powerful and untouchable. But we'll see about that. I have nothing else to live for. I care no more if there was a God, nor did I care for his heaven or his hell. Here is all I know, right now is all I have. And I would have my revenge. _ Manon’s Pov My hair fell around me, a blonde waterfall as the barber shaved it off, noisily chewing gum in a way that was driving me crazy. But I didn't say anything, because this place was cheap, fast, took cash and most importantly, wouldn't remember me. They had much more pressing things in their dark, depressing days.

I barked, waving my hand dismissively toward the heavy iron doors. They did not say another word, filing out of the room in hurried silence. Once the heavy oak doors clicked shut, I stood up and walked down the spiraling stone stairs into the dark, sweltering heat of the castle's underground armory. The sharp, bitter scent of molten metal, coal dust, and hot ash filled my lungs as the master blacksmith looked up from his glowing anvil, setting his heavy iron hammer aside. "Alpha," the master blacksmith greeted respectfully, wiping thick black soot and sweat from his forehead with a rag. "What do you require from the forge today?"

A short and stout Drogar with rippling muscles and a large gut stood in front of an anvil. Although his facial spines were long and a little droopy, his scales were still taut on his body. In one hand, he held a long bar with a glowing slab of metal at one end, which he laid down in the middle of the anvil. In his other hand was a small metal hammer that looked incredibly well-worn. He adjusted the glowing slab and tapped it a couple of times with his hammer. The moment he moved his hammer away, the assistant by his side brought his two-handed sledge down on the glowing slab.

Drago had a death grip on her arm, trying to calm her, but who could be calm at a time like this? The golden beast lumbered toward them, then stopped directly in front of Drago, letting out a low growl, steam puffing from it’s huge nostrils. When Drago growled in return, Madchen jumped, trying to free herself from Drago’s grip, but he wasn’t letting her go.

“I’ll make sure to return it to you unscathed.” “Don’t worry about it. I can always repair,” he gives her a nod and pulls out a pair of daggers, surprising us all. “Well, shit,” Haden comments, “Those look wicked.” “They are wicked,” the weapons smith agrees, handing them to Hunter. “It amplifies the cuts when you use it on anything. For example, with those, you can even cut through rock.” “Wait, seriously?” Hunter asks before taking the daggers. “I never kid about the prowess of my creations,” Master Tsertinand snorts before moving on.

she said, tightening her grip on the sword, her breath ragged. Drakoen smile. He proceeded to release dark shadows from his hand, summoning a weapon forged in the abyss. A black medium sword. Black smoke was emitting from it and the unbearable stench of rotting flesh and blood. Mercedes didn't let that bother her. She had to stay focused on her enemy, not let him get the chance to strike her. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at Drakoen, clasping her sword with both hands.

I pushed my way towards the young man and waved my hand in front of his face to get his attention. “Yes, sir. What’s your order?” “I just wanted to ask you, is he the only silver blacksmith in Dargot.” “Indeed! One of a kind, but very reasonably priced!” “And how did he get his silver hammer?” The man pointed over his shoulder to a lance hanging high on the wall. “The killer of the Radiant Sea Serpent. A fearsome beast that claimed the lives of over a hundred men. But no more, thanks to that beautiful piece of workmanship. An exact duplicate can be yours for only one thousand bits.”