Beckendorf had a hammer in his hand, slamming it down on a piece of celestial bronze, hoping to turn it into a chestplate.

Beckendorf set the hammer aside for a second and lifted his head, he turned to the enterance of the forge and nodded at the camper who entered. He was never good with people.

“Do you need a sword, chestplate, helmet?” He asked, turning his head back to the sheet of celestial bronze.