I'm not officer, drunk (Barret, Elias, open)

[Aelodil]

It had been a lovely day. The sun was out, and there was a nice breeze. Looking around, Barret noticed how much of a mess his forge was. Feeling a throbbing in his head, he rubbed his forehead confused. Getting up, he noticed a bottle still in his hand. Last night sure was a blast he thought before guzzling the contents of the bottle in one go. Throwing it aside, he gave out a loud belch followed by a hysterical giggle. Few to no people ever ventured to his forge. Whether it was a Dwarf, an Elf, a Human, whichever. Most were too afraid of him. Not that he was that scary of a figure, no. Rather his habits at drinking and joking were what scared most of them. Over the past year though, people had decided to seek him out more and more for weapons and armor among other things.

Yawning and stretching, he squinted, eyeing the entrance to his forge. It was literally his home. Just an entrance to the cave and boom, two different entrances other than that. One led to his whine cellar, which was heavily disguised in case of burglar theft, and the other led to his forge, which was also his home.

"Thing of beauty, aren't you? There there, don't worry. Papa's here for you, darling." he whispered, stroking his hammer as he carried it the way you would a baby. Some people thought he was delusional. Others thought he was really in touch with the stone, iron, and metal. In reality though, he simply showed the equipment the respect it deserves. Plus he may also be just a little drunk. Despite that, it had never affected his work. Some of the finest homes in Farthen Dur were constructed by him. Not only did they look fine, they were reinforced perfectly against most anything.

Standing up to his full height, a knocking 4"6, he began to rekindle the fires of his forge and began to prepare his materials and equipment. He had received an anonymous message from one of his informers in Farthen Dur. Apparently someone was asking around for him. A human, to boot. He wasn't particularly worried, much as he was eager for a chance to earn some more gold. After all, no Dwarf would say no to treasure. Capping the bottle he finished guzzling down earlier, he looked out the entrance to his forge. Looked like it'd be another lovely evening.

When you die, your world ends. The world may go on, but in your eyes, the world ends with you.

-Carpe Diem

[Joker]

Elias had finally made it to Farthen Dur a few days ago it had been a hard trek from Feinster to here but good weapons where in short supply and his own where starting to get worn down. The dwarves where much better architects than books had given them credit for and some of the weapons that Elias saw the dwarves carrying looked amazing as well. He had never met a dwarf to an extent sure he'd seen them before but they seemed like a good hardy people. Seeming as though there where hundreds of dwarves it could be almost impossible to find just one. Maybe he could find someone who knew Barret by name or association but that seemed unlikely but he had to start somewhere. Were better than to start where he saw the most people and this was it.
Elias had asked more people than he had cared to count this was going no where fast.

Putting both hands behind his head sighing he put his hands back to his sides and continued walking he was large by human standards Seven foot even but the dwarves made him feel almost like a giant though he dared not to say so but walking around was great fun looking at the craft of the pillars the work It must have taken to make them would be unbelievable.     

Finally after searching for Barret for a while someone finally knew where to find him making his way towards Barret's forge stopping at the entrance Elias heard some commotion from the interior of the forge. Waiting for a few moments thinking over if this was in fact the Barret that he was looking for. He knocked on the archway of the door hearing the echo " I was told this is the residence of a blacksmith named Barret and If you are in fact him then I wish for some arms and some armor." Waiting outside the door for his response.

[Aelodil]

Whistling a merry tune Barret continued his daily routine. The forge had a fire. He had his hammer in hand. All that was left was to begin. Earlier that week he had received an order of shipment by someone for a dozen suits of armor for humans. He had no idea who placed the order, except that it came from Gil'ead. Generally he didn't care what people did with his work so long as they didn't use it for bad. Whoever had asked for this shipment had given him their word that they would only use it if they were forced to. That was fine by him.

Grabbing the raw materials to produce his own version of iron, he got to work. He infused stone with steel among other minerals and ended up with something similar to iron in looks, other than the fact that it was a darker shade of grey, and it was a lot tougher. He had no idea why the person who had contracted him needed such fine armor, but he wouldn't ask questions yet. Finishing up in the forge as he completed his Black Iron, as he called it, he moved to the anvils.

Placing the Black Iron on the anvil he began to hammer away, shaping it into suits of armor. A few hours later, he had finally completed the entire order. A dozen suits of armor made of his personal Black Iron. Wiping the sweat of his brow, he set his hammer back in its place but left the forge's fire kindled. Moving to his wine cellar, he grabbed one particularly strong wine and tread back to the forge.

Just as he reached to open the bottle, he heard a knock followed by a voice. Not the same kind of gruff voice as a Dwarf though. Uncapping his wine, he began to guzzle it down, heading to the door. Opening the door with the bottle still in his hand as he guzzled its contents he asked, "Is that so, laddy? But what if.. play along with me.. what if this blacksmith named Barret was actually a Dwarf?" not making any sense with his drunken humor as he chuckled. Beckoning the man, he said, "Come in, come in! You must be the fella who was asking around about me. Want a drink? Ha! Too bad!" guzzling the remnants of the wine, capping the bottle and rolling it to one side of the room which was littered with empty wine bottles.

Obviously drunk after two bottles, he squinted at Elias and asked, "So why do you need-" interrupted by his own hiccup, "armor and weapons? Maybe you're a butcher, yes, yes! Anyway, do tell, what kind of armor and weapons do you want? Here are some examples of what I've made." talking in a slur due to his drunk state. He brandished a belt of cloth that contained many different varying examples of armor and weapons he made, whether it for Elves, Dwarves, or Humans, and sometimes even for Dragons.

When you die, your world ends. The world may go on, but in your eyes, the world ends with you.

-Carpe Diem