“Ah, m-more dirt. It’s a m-mirror into my soul,” Edwards mumbled to himself as he shuffled to the next spot to clean. Do I even have a s-soul after how m-many times I have been r-reconstructed? The thought twisted in his mind, clouding much of what was going on around him, so much so that he nearly singed his long chops on Corvus’ blazing furnace.
“Watch yourself, janitor!” Corvus sneered as he continued to hammer away at a rune blade. The blacksmith was always in a foul mood, and if you asked him why he would ramble on about anything and everything that could possibly give him discomfort, including the various weather.
Edwards headed to the pits, at least that is what he called them, to collect the discarded limbs of the chained up undead that were used simply to gauge the sharpness and skill of a blade and its wielder. A whoosh of air surged above him as one of the Death Knight’s blades cleaved the arm off a chained hack ghoul, that is what Edwards called these poor wretches used for target practice. As he knelt down, every misplaced bone in his body cracked as he swept up the severed arm, still twitching. Not so bad, could be a hack ghoul or have a m-mistress again. Edwards winced at the thought of his last mistress, who not only made him do demeaning chores of lesser undead, but would dress him up in various ‘costumes’ that the mistress made, parading him around like a prized pig. Never have a m-mistress again! Edwards thought.
Emptying the severed limb in a nearby barrel, Edwards continued to make his rounds, searching for every speck of dust that he could find. Have to keep this place clean, just in case… before finishing his thought, Edwards craned his brittle neck to see the Death Lord arrive on a great undead wyvern. He dismounted, fresh demon’s blood glistening off his armor and runeblade. He approached the forge, and even Corvus bowed his head in silence as the Death Lord wiped the blade clean upon his cape and then thrust it into the forge where it pulsed for a moment with power. Satisfied with the enhancement given by the forge, the Death Lord turned to leave, but not before seeing Edwards, neck tilted awkwardly, dust pan in hand with fresh gore on it.
“Seems we have both been busy, Edwards,” the Death Lord said, his voice echoing softly in the nearby alcoves.
“Indeed m-my Lord,” Edwards briskly replied. The Death Lord nodded and mounted the huge winged beast and flew back to the isle, back to the fight. Deep in thought, Edwards’ eyes glanced over and saw some cobwebs.
“Ah, m-missed a spot.”