The usual reverie of the Common Grounds was a sight to see. The liveliness of the inhabitants was infectious, the merchants peddling their wares to any passerby whose attention they could grab. Children using their innocent pull to convince their parents to get them this and that. It was a means of finding peace and joy regardless of whatever else ailed them throughout the day. The sore thumb in the crowd would be none other than Sym, looming over many of the other inhabitants with his abnormal height. A crooked smirk, almost conniving in nature, would stretch across his face, observing the activity around him. The various stores and guilds that flourished around him caught his eye.

There were taverns, pubs, jewelry stores, clothing boutiques and more. Each business flourished with its numerous patrons, breathing life into the brick foundations as many before them had. The owners of the shops displayed the most joy of all, knowing that they would enjoy the fruits of their labor in the form of beli. The assumed normed, Sym expected to see little variation in the display. Having no intention of actually purchasing anything himself, the trip through the district more so a means of immersing himself into the area. A good god always understood the needs and actions of his subjects, an even better one could relate.

It had become such commonplace that the structures seemed to start blending together. There's always a diamond in the rough though. Towards the center of the shopping district where most of the human traffic amassed, a single building stood out, seeming to only be hanging on by a thread when surrounded by an ocean of stability. It would grip and claw at his vision, unable to look away as his massive strides brought him closer and closer until he found himself standing in front of it.

A focused glance over the exterior would reveal the intended purpose of the building, a smithy. But why wasn't it receiving any business, the location it occupied was prime to rake in more than enough business to keep it bustling all day, every day. There wasn't even anyone visible inside, shopper or worker. It almost seemed deserted, or at least that was his immediate assumption. But of course, if it was someone would've have taken it over by now right? There had to be more to it than it appeared.

"Damn it!"

The exclamation radiated from deeper within the building, filled with contempt and frustration. Another variable to add to the equation, his interested far too invested into the establishment to not pursue more knowledge about it. His hand would grip at the handle that protruded from the front door, slowly turning it to see if it was unlocked. And voila, another prayer heard.

INFO:

The gentle chime of a bell would ring throughout he smithy as Sym opened the front door, alerting whomever was inside of his unexpected presence.

"If you assholes are back again to --" A womanly shape storming around a corner to match the feminine voice that came before it. Adorned in customary blacksmith garb, her gaze would be focused downward. She was angrily pulling off her fireproof gloves off her hands, obviously in no mood for further annoyances and disruptions. A glare would shift upwards once both gloves were fully removed, expecting to see a familiar face. What she saw stopped her cold in her tracks, however. Startled, to say the least, it would take her a moment to choke out the words stuck in her throat.

"You're -- you're -- tall."

Not much of an introduction but needless to say, Sym had become used to wonder that came with taking him his presence for the first time. "I noticed." A brief chuckle following as he found amusement in her bewildered look.

"Ah! I'm sorry, that's not what I meant to say! I assumed you were someone else!" The woman growing more flustered with the abrupt explanation. Noticing how Sym was doing a poor job of stifling his laughter as he continued to gaze upon her, a newfound resolve to gather herself took over. It would take but a moment for the young woman to regain her composure, her eyes shifting down as she checked her clothing to ensure she looked decent. Tugging at the bottom of her shirt to straighten her appearance, she would take a deep breath before looking back up.

"Welcome to Godhand Smithy. I'm Onile, the head smith. At least now I am..." Her eyes averting to her left, there was some discomfort being drum up with her admission. Obviously some unpleasant memory rearings its ugly head. The pain undoubtedly fresh in her mind, both she and the shop certainly had a story to tell, it was just waiting for the right person to come and hear it.

"Pardon my candid nature Onile, but you said that you were expecting someone but your shop doesn't appear to, how do I say it, draw many patrons in its current state." Doing his best to be tactful with his words, he by no means meant to disrespect Onile's establishment, he just simply desired to further understand the history of Godhand Smithy. His face, now a far distant display from the humor he once showed, the genuine interest in his eyes would be easily conveyed.

"None taken, I can understand the assumption from the first glance." Her focus retrained on the new patron as the baritone in his speech snatched her away from the painful memories. "You know, this place didn't always use to look so run down and unloved. This shop was the heartbeat of the Common Grounds. People would come from all over to see our wares and furnaces. They'd watch as we smelted both weapons and trinkets alike."

The glean in her eye would be had to stifle as she recalled on day after day of prosperity from what seemed like the distant past. Of course, that couldn't truly be the case, she was much too young to speak in such a manner. "Good things don't last too long around here, unfortunately." The hazard in her voice heavy, the only thing containing the emotional rebellion in her words was an even greater burden of responsibility.

Just what was really going on behind the blissful veil of the Common Grounds?

INFO: