>>375515
>Sunday: not much to report. Same old chaos, handholding and struggle cuddles.
>I kept to myself in my apartment, corrected the remaining test and worked out. I usually don’t venture out during full moons, and night time would be suicide.
>Monster’s urges are so much stronger when the moon is full.
>Speaking of urges…
>Opening my wardrobe, I pull out my armor, the real stuff.
>My blacksmith buddy fixed it for me.
>Quite the conversation we had.
He stood up and ran his hands through his hair. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck is this? Nano-weave with runic infusion and prayer engravings? What is this layer here, is that silver? Blessed silver? Oh my god, the rivets are cold-iron. Against fae, of course. How many levels of protection is there here? Who the fuck thinks of this stuff? This is some next level bullshit, I don’t even know where to start. And you want me to fix it??” He glared at me, my blacksmith buddy's annoyance reflected in his pale blue eyes. His skin is tan and leathery from hours and hours in front of a forge, his hands strong and calloused from swinging all sorts of hammers and operating various kinds of heavy machinery. The thick beard is stained with oil and small pieces of metal shavings. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was a tall dwarf.
>”[Mind] had some crazy ideas. You’re the only one I know who can even try.”
“Paladin, I’m a blacksmith, not a damn scientist! I’d need a laboratory to fix this armor of yours.”
>”Please try at least.” I urged him, not wanting to give it up so soon. It meant something to me, after all.
“This will cost you. I like having a job, but this is some damn CERN levels of engineering. What happened?”
>”Sledgehammer with a sharpened point swung by a man who had mated with an orc. Pure strength. Killed her too, so he was dedicated to his cause. They were attempting blooPost too long. Click here to view the full text.