Charis - Smithy

As you step into the smithy and weapons shop, the acrid scent of old metal and dust fills your lungs. The air is still, heavy with the lingering ghosts of fire and forge. The stone walls, blackened by centuries of soot, enclose a once-bustling workspace now fallen silent. Shafts of light filter through cracks in the wooden roof, illuminating floating motes of dust that swirl in the gloom.   To your left, the forge sits cold and dead, its great anvil standing in quiet defiance of time. The once-roaring furnace is now a gaping maw of crumbling bricks and rusted iron, its bellows torn and sagging like the ribs of some long-dead beast. A heavy iron hammer rests atop the anvil, its handle splintered but the head still solid, as if waiting for a hand to wield it once more. Scattered across the floor are broken tongs, rusted chisels, and shattered remnants of weapons left unfinished.   To your right, rows of weapon racks stand eerily empty, their wooden frames warped and brittle. A few blades remain, their edges dulled and rust creeping along their once-polished steel. Among them, a longsword still rests in its cracked leather scabbard, the hilt wrapped in decayed cloth. Nearby, a handful of arrowheads, some still sharp, lie in an overturned wooden crate, their shafts long since rotted away.   Further back, a sturdy worktable is covered in a thin layer of dust, tools scattered as if abandoned in haste. Faint scorch marks mar the surface, evidence of hurried craftsmanship or desperate last efforts. A suit of chainmail, half-complete, lies in a heap beside it, the rings tangled and brittle with age.   Against the far wall, a locked iron cabinet stands, its door slightly ajar, revealing the glint of something within. Beyond it, a wooden staircase leads up to what was likely the shopkeeper’s quarters, the steps creaking under even the slightest weight.   The silence here is thick, unnatural. No sound of hammer striking metal, no roaring flames, no voices bartering for blades. Just the eerie stillness of a place that once thrived—now nothing more than a graveyard of steel and fire.