Castle Crashers Blacksmith Novels & Stories

I replied, sliding a wrench into my back pocket. "Good. Because the qualifiers today aren't just about speed. It's a contact sport," he warned, nodding toward the far end of the pit. "The Ravagers brought their new ringer. They call him 'The Butcher.' He likes to see how much chrome he can peel off other people's bikes while they're still moving."

I reply. Casper and Jim quickly relieve themselves then we all scurry out of the bathroom. I wave at Devon, who stands and follows us. “Devon,” I say once we’re outside. “This is Casper and Jim. They’re tinkers.” “Thieves, you mean,” Devon replies with a smirk. Jim and Casper rock uncomfortably. “Well, we also fix pots and pans.” Devon laughs aloud. “They must have some news.” “They do. And they’re coming with us. You two don’t mind some legitimate, well-paying work, do you?” I ask.

The voice on the other side of the door was not just a sound; it was a physical weight pressing against the corrugated steel. Kaelen’s heavy boots scraped against the concrete landing, accompanied by the metallic shing of a crowbar being wedged into the frame. The Ironmongers were not known for their patience, nor were they known for their subtlety. They were a hammer, and this safehouse was merely a nail waiting to be driven into the rotting floorboards of the industrial district.