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Posted: Tue Jul 03, 2012 7:13 pm
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Posted: Sat Jul 21, 2012 10:31 am
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Vulo, the blacksmith, came limping in from a back room. "Hello to you too." He said as he drug his dead foot accross the ground. "Aren't you late for a meeting or something?" He said, gesturing towards the a door off to the left. "They seem to want to get things going, and it looks like you may be part of that group. But if you want something made, leave the orders here, and I'll try to have them made by next week. Sadly, I'm all out of stock right now. All these homeless people seem to have bought me right out."
Vulo was not an old man. He looked around twenty by the shape of his body, but his face told a different story. His eyes said he was experienced, sharp, and not to be fooled around with. His mouth said he knew enough to keep it shut, to watch what he said and to who. And his worn skin said that he had seen his fair share of rough days.
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