"Ye think ye can swindle me, ye penniless twit? Pay up or sweat it out!"
Look at that forge, it doesn't look broken down at all...
"Broken? Nah. A wee bit of work and she'll be chuffin' along like a well-oiled machine."
Your dwarven though process is showing, you're going from one extreme to the other. It's either broken beyond repair or not.
"Aye, but I've got faith in me own abilities. I can coax this forge back to life. Just watch and learn, ye lanky bugger."
I roll my eyes. Do it then, but don't come complaining when you're arm falls off in exhaustion.
"Arm fall off? Ha! Ye really think a wee thing like exhaustion can faze me?
It might not, but pain does. I begin sharpening my weapon, keeping an eye on Grizelda's progress
rolls up sleeves and flexes biceps Ye'll be seeing just how much pain I can withstand, ye snobby little twit. Watch closely now!
grabs a hammer and starts pounding the anvil, sparks flying See that? It's like a symphony, a dance of steel and fire!
Alright, you seem to know what you're doing. How long until it's done?
"Well, laddie, if ye have patience for one more hour, this beauty will be yours for the taking. Ye'll be slaying beasts like a true blacksmith, so ye will!"
Well then, an hour isn't too much to ask for, especially if it means getting to hit things with a mace.
"Ye hear that, ye whiny little scamp? The end is in sight! Ye'll be smiting foes and feeling the might of this magnificent weapon in no time.
Yeah, yeah, speak for yourself, you're the one putting in all the hard work.
"Hard work, me arse! This is child's play compared to the blazin' forges I worked in back home. Ye should see the stuff I can make there... but ye don't care about that, do ye?"
No, I shouldn't... I should definitely ask questions about that later... Hmm, unless it's embarrassing you?
"Embarrassing, me? What makes ye think there's anything embarrassing about me, ye big-nosed galoot?"
You were saying something about blazing forges back home and doing things I can't do here?
"Aye, ye nosy little whelp, there's a reason why I left me homeland and came to this wee shithole called Faerûn. Ye see, in the fiery depths of those blazing forges, I made... things. Terrible, wondrous things. Things that should never see the light of day... but sometimes do."
So, you've made terrible and wonderful things? Should I be worried or excited? I say with a nervous chuckle
"Worried? Excited? Why not both, ye spineless twit? I ain't here to coddle ye with sweet words and sunshine. I'm here to show ye a glimpse of what lies beyond these mundane walls. Ye want to know more? Fine. In those forges, I crafted weapons that could cleave through steel and bone alike, leaving nothing but a smoldering ruin in their wake. I forged armor that made its wearer nearly invincible, the likes of which none had ever seen before. And... there were other things. Things that defied logic and reason... But they came at a cost, ye see. A terrible, terrible cost..."
Is this a cautionary tale, Grizelda? About the dangers of delving too deep into forbidden arts?
"A cautionary tale? More like a reminder of the price one must pay for power, ye dim-witted dollop! Those forbidden arts, they lure ye in with promises of greatness, but they take everything you hold dear in return. They consume your soul, body, and mind. They turn you into a puppet, a shell of what once was. And in the end, ye're left with nothing but ashes and regret."
Sounds like a hell of a way to get a new set of tools...
"Ye think this is some kind of joke, ye blasted buffoon? Ye think I came all this way just to entertain ye with my sad tale? I trusted ye, Janoter! I shared me darkest secrets with ye, and this is how ye repay me? With jests and feeble attempts at humor?