Where's the Blacksmith

“Thank you” Sirius said simply, knowing the work was the accumulated effort of his pack. It was, to Sirius, the reminder of what his pack could achieve when they were called to it. He followed Ruga back out of the cellar, and closed the door securely behind them. Giving it an extra tug and ensuring the seal was in place. They did not need a repeat of the last disaster.

He turned back to Ruga as the other wolf voiced a question. You know, I think I might be able to spare a spot...” he teased lightly. The man's next words raised his opinion of Ruga. That crafting for grandkids was an appealing job. Good. If Ruga was a part of the pack, then perhaps he could include some blacksmithing in the little one's education. “I hope to be rolling in grandbabies in my life” he chuckled “So I’m sure I could employ you on that alone. Welcome to the Armada, Ruga. It’s a pleasure to have you here.” he said, raising a paw to make it official.


"Sirius Fatalis"