The translucent orange goo is struck into the stagnating bitter waters in the bucket beside the blacksmith , a tremendous hissing noise ripped through the dry air in the forgery , dragging the sword from the bucket the blacksmith observed with an eagle eye the sword which he had worked tirelessly upon for half a year . He inhaled into his humongous chest as he was lovebound by his beautiful piece of weaponry that was almost complete . Despite the overwhelming heat the man squeezed tears that sparkled like diamonds out of his rock like face . Scraping the tears from his surface , he got back to work . Wiping the sword dry with a rag the man trod heavily with all the manourisms of a giant turtle , as he thumped through his workspace over to his whetstone . The sanding began , the man's arms exposed the muscles rippled throughout his whole body and veins protruded through his rough shell as he strangled the masterpiece against the grit. Hot sweat hung around the room like a boiler making everything feel damn and smell aweful.
*Blurgh-* a voice shot through the grating sounds and caught the blacksmiths attention...