This blacksmith's shop is renowned not only for its skilled craftsmen, but also for how well their forges are fired. It doesn't hurt that two of the master smiths are humans in dragon form, and the third who owns the shop is a dragon who doesn't like shifting, but has no problem sharing their flame. -- Anon Guest
[AN: I think OP meant "Dragons in Human form" so I shall be running with that idea]
They call the place Featherforge, because these red mountains are where they smelt feathermetal. The smiths who work with it blend it with other metals with the help of Dragon fire.
There's also a kiln built in a specific way that some call a Dragon's Belly, but this place uses real dragons. For the foundry and the forge.
The best forge was enormous, primarily because of the Dragon who also lived there. Each forge had a space large enough for a Dragon head, and special stones to retain heat. No coal is necessary, just baskets and baskets of sea shells, or crates of limestone schist. Shipped in from wherever can get it cheaply.
The Dragon, source of the heat of the forge, moved from place to place, there to fire up the special stones and move on to the next. All in a rough circle. At some forges, ze received instructions from the smith at the anvil.
"Working with starmetal, I need a little extra heat," one would say. Or, "Lightly does it, this is just iron." Or, "Slow heat thanks."
Visitors were amazed. Dragons were generally a little on the haughty side. They held themselves above most other creatures and did not often serve other creatures in such a way. When they did, they generally bragged about how benevolent and magnanimous they were.
This, in turn, lead to periodic inspections by the Church of Two Kind Hands, the Lutemen, and various agencies of Justice.
This one was a Paladin of Tyr, and failing to be discrete.
They watched the forge from an out-of-the-way balcony. Stayed there until the smiths broke for a meal and the Dragon adjourned to hir cavern. Gracias Fulcrum didn't bother with stealth, just got to the lair as quickly as possible.
What briefly gave them pause was the size of the hoard and its cavern. Big enough for a host of Dragons.
"Another one," sighed the Dragon. "My name is Eldrad, I am not being held captive, I am not working under a Geas nor any other kind of compulsion. And I will sit still so you can verify that independently."
"But... the work you're doing?" protested Gracias. "No Dragon would ever lower themselves for Humans like that."
"Who said they're Human?" countered Eldrad.
One of the smiths entered with a large cart containing two entire roast oxen. "We didn't forget you, Unty. Had to explain things to a bunch of Creature Liberationists... aaannnd you have one too."
"Unty?" echoed Gracias.
The smith strolled to a separate part of the hoard and stretched. And kept on stretching until they were almost the size and shape of Eldrad.
"Oh," said Gracias. "You're all Dragons?"
"Yup. And it leads to a self-made hoard," preened Eldrad. "It's a proper business, like any good citizen of the greater world. That we made."
Ah. There was the proper Draconic ego. Balance was restored.
[Photo by fazil abi on Unsplash]
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