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... on phase?" Bram grumbled, stomping into the firelight.
The Forgemaster tossed a slab of P.A.C.I.F.I.C. steel onto the stone. It landed with a dull, useless clank that echoed too long in the quiet vault.
"I’ve spent all morning trying to spark a Mythic-tier forge with campfires and bad language," Bram growled, swatting at the singed ends of his beard. "The Forge is starving, Will. It’s currently looking at me like I’m a particularly disappointing appetizer."
"It’s an an ...
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