Where's the Blacksmith

The other wolf was polite and courteous, greeting the Warlord in turn. Sirius inclined his head in acknowledgement of the bow. He had no inclination to require his pack to attend court manners, but the gesture was appreciated nonetheless. It was clear this wolf wished to give a good impression. Little did he know, he needed only open his bag and say a few magic words to accomplish that. Sirius grinned warmly as the wolf admitted to something he had started to guess - he was indeed a blacksmith. He thought of the raw materials thay had been collected after the stores had been damaged. Sitting in wait for wolves to have time to mold them.

And then the world got to the heart of the matter. The reason he was here. Not to join and offer his services permanently to the pack, but to request a trade. Ah, alas. One could not win them all. "Your services would be well sought here, Ruga" he said warmly, pushing away the disappointment. He gave an almost abashed expression then. "I've dabbled a little in black smiting, but everything I know is self taught. A true black Smith is a welcome sight indeed" he said, thinking of his grandchildren that would be parting ways at the turn of the season. He would wiah to ensure they and their mother where properly outfitted before adventuring out. He thought also of his grandkids on the way, who would need tools to practice with once they were old enough.

"We have a great many raw materials collected at the start of winter. I'll take what time your willing to give to turn them into armor pieces and weapons. In return, I'm sure we can come to an agreement in leathers. If what I have isn't enough, I can send out hunting parties." Certainly Mortis could be put to work.