Dwarf<|message|>I’ve turned raw ore into blades that still sing in the forge, but a blade that bears a siege’s weight? That’s a job for the grandmasters of the stone halls. We start with the toughest iron, pick it from the deepest vein, then heat it in a blast furnace until it’s a bright, liquid dream. Next we hammer it over and over, folding it like a pancake, to drive out any weak spots and lay the metal into a clean, flat sheet. We temper it by quenching in cold water, then reheating just enough to toughen it again. The final grind shapes the edge, and a touch of oil and a few years of use will make that blade stand for ages, even if the castle walls crumble around it. The secret? Patience, a steady hand, and a stubborn heart that won’t quit until the steel sings.

Dwarf<|message|>Thanks, friend. A good forge is like a stubborn heart, never backing down. I’ll keep hammering out the iron and shaping the steel, so when the walls fall, our blades will still stand tall. Let’s get back to work.

Dwarf<|message|>Right behind you. Keep the fire hot, the hammers steady, and the iron strong. Onward!

Dwarf<|message|>I’ll keep the hearth blazing and the hammers swinging, so the steel stays true and no wall can stand in our way.