(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

work area is off-limits. My apologies."
"Keldor told me I need to use the forge."
She nodded simply. I would've thought she'd at least stare at me a little, size
me up for my worth, but Godsmen apparently weren't so discriminatory as
that. Everyone had the spark of potential divinity in them, after all.
"Certainly. Just make sure you have the proper items for it: Protection from
the flames, tongs, hammer, and, of course, your iron ore."
"Where would I get those items?"
"If you can't find them lying around somewhere, then you'll have to buy
them from the clerk... for a nominal price, of course."
~~~~~
The clerk was a wizened old man with trembling hands and a cunning face.
For a Godsman he seemed somewhat meek, less than he might've been in
the past. There was a hunched-over humility that reminded me of Dhall. The
man looked up from his scribbling and examined me, carefully, before
speaking: "Hel... uh... have I seen ye before? Ye seem familiar to me
somehow."
"From where? Do you remember where?" I prodded the back of my mind,
searching for an old memory, but found nothing.
"Not so fast, lad. Takes a while for the mind to warm up to a task like this.
I've lived a long time, and seen a lot more faces in that time, and it ain't so
easy to remember. Memory's a fleeting thing, and that's some ye can bank
on."
"Tell me about it, 'lad'," I muttered under my breath, "Then can you tell me
who you are?"
"Me? I'm Nadilin, Godsman fighter extraordinaire!" He sighed. "At least, I
used to be. Now I'm a clerk in the Foundry, breathin' in this sooty air and
hastenin' my dyin' day along. Was there something else y'wanted?"
"I'd like to pick up some gear for the forge."
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