Where's the Blacksmith

The Warlords patrol had taken him towards the ocean when the summons rolled across the pack. He paused his steps, tilting his head for a moment as he listened to the cry. A male, and an unfamiliar one. With Fireside and the Pirates harrowing his borders, he could never be too careful. He turned on the spot and moved quickly back towards the Plains. His paws light on the grass despite his size. Slowing as he approached the border. As the stranger came into sight, he opened his mouth, sampling the air. Tasting the rogue scent of the wf with some satisfaction. He could catch no trace of his enemies on this wolf.

He settled to a stop before the stranger. Noting the rich reds of his handsome coat, and the scent of skins and metal about him. Interesting indeed. "Greetings stranger, and welcome to the Armada. I'm Sirius it's Warlord. What brings you to my borders?" He asked, wondering if this wolf would have greater knowledge of crafts then the Warlord did. Most of what Siriud had accomplished in crafts had been self taught through trial and error.