Kira led him to a secluded workshop tucked into a natural hollow of a massive, ancient root. It was a space that felt older than the rest of the city, the walls lined with the skulls and carapaces of beasts that Sol didn't even recognize.
"His name is Teshar. He's the tribe's best. There is nothing he can't do with beast materials, but don't mind his attitude. He's a bit... singular." Kira warned.
Sol nodded, not caring much. In his experience, the more eccentric the craftsman, the better the result.
They stopped in front of a forge that looked surprisingly modest. Contrary to Sol's imagination of a hulking, muscle-bound brute with a giant hammer, the man who stepped out to meet them was lean, wiry, and carried himself with a dexterous, almost surgical precision.
He looked to be in his late 40s, his skin a map of fine scars and his eyes holding the sharp, analytical glint of someone that didn't seem to see the people in front of him, only the materials they carried.
