1590 1590. The First To Leave

The modifications to Gil's armor were more than just intricate. It was easy to say that the armor was a completely new set. There were hundreds of rune patterns that covered them. So many from different races and even a few origin runes. The skill of the wandering blacksmith was truly expanding by the second. 

"This is too much. It's magnificent. I think this is armor I can pass down as a family heirloom one day. Armor I can give to my son when he grows up!" The dreams and praise that Gil had for the armor made the wandering blacksmith smile. He had purposefully worked harder to make things for the party before they left the city again. He was not going to travel to the next continent. 

"The price for everything I have made. Bring me materials. New materials." The insatiable hunger that the wandering blacksmith possessed was enough to show everyone there that they had a great duty to help him.