Smithy
And then it's over.
The undead, while more then simply mindless, are still old and frail corpses. A hammer, or a hard enough hit with anything sturdy, is enough to do them in. And it looks like my guess was correct, enough damage to the body more or less turns off the magic that's controlling them.
If they can't move, what's the point?
My grip on the staff loosens and my body grows a little less tense.
I let out a sigh of relief, even if I can't help but feel useless.
Why, out of everyone, did I get such a small and weak body? Why do I even need to be a girl? Just because one of my favorite characters is like this doesn't mean I wanted to be!
I'm a mage of some sort, but that's pretty worthless when I can't even do any magic!
...
I can't waste time worrying about that right now.
The smithy itself is pretty dusty. There's no way there's been anyone in here other than the undead for a long time. They were probably only in here because they were shut inside to begin with.
The state of all the weapons is pretty disappointing. But I suppose that's also a good indication of how long it's been since this city fell.
It'd take a while for them to end up in that bad a condition when they were still partially sheltered. Still, I guess it's better than having nothing.
That girl just called me 'lil' Sephily'.
Eyes narrowing, a frown on my face, I step forward immediately. I can't just ignore this.
"I already told you I'm not a child," I firmly insist. Part of me feels tempted to see just how firmly I can swing my staff, but that's probably a bad idea.
Right now, at least.
I run my eyes over the tools and half-completed metalworks, which seem to be in a bit of a better condition than anything else, at least. The sunlight filtering in through the rooftop is enough for me.
I can't say I have much confidence in my ability to use any of these as a weapon. Not like this.
I reach out experimentally to grip the handle of the blacksmith's hammer and lift it, I immediately feel the strain running up through my thin arm.
I'm sure it's heavy given the job it was doing, but even clenching my teeth and putting as much strength into my arm as I can, I'm barely able to lift it at all.
"... Nngh..."
I let go of the hammer, a scowl crossing my features. I wouldn't have had any problem before now, why did I need to end up this week if I wasn't going to be able to do any kind of magic to start with?!
I quickly flash the others a glare in hopes of cutting off any joking comments.
My arm is still shaking a little. I can feel a little bit of tingling up through the muscles. It was really that hard for me just to pick up a blacksmith's hammer?
... Maybe this blacksmith was superhuman, or something. Some sort of half-giant. Maybe he had some kind of divine blessing, this is a fantasy setting after all. The thought makes me feel a little bit better.
Among the unfinished works, one of them is a small knife, relatively sheltered from damage. It seems like it was almost done, with a hilt already wrapped in what looks like leather. While it's not in great condition, I guess it's better than nothing.
I can't see it being that useful against the undead though, but maybe it can keep them away if they get close.
"I think I'll take this."
I pick it up, and am thankful that it's light enough for me to hold one-handed.
@RolePlayerRoxas@Aku the Samurai@PKMNB0Y