They quickly found themselves back at the smithy. Guluss wasn’t around, so they laid out their armor in the small fenced in area at the back of the smithy. Bron still had his shirt and tattered pants. Bron stared at her, “You aren’t meaning to work half-naked are you? That would be a bit too distracting, even for me.”

She laughed and pulled a new purple shirt out of her makeshift fur bag. “I got this with the leftover money. I knew I’d need a change of clothes, eventually.”

Bron turned as she unfastened her thick, battle-scarred leather vest and threw the shirt over her head. “Did you buy any pants too?”

“I couldn’t afford it. Besides, I prefer skirts. And not long ones, they get tangled too much. The robe I wore back in Greihold was a pain.”

She laid the segmented skirt and vest across a table. The first task was to repair the ripped back of the clothing. The Chimera Bear had shredded both her back and the vest. It took a lot of thread, but was eventually sewed back together. The color still varied wildly from a combination of charred leather and all kinds of grime and dirt. The orc frowned at the discolored armor, but wasn’t sure what to do about it. 

“That expression won’t change the color. You need to treat it with oil. It will darken it, but half of it is already discolored anyway.”

Rhun turned at the words, Guluss stepped out of the living area of his building. Bron noticed her face was a shade darker. She was only wearing a shirt and her leather shorts. She had seemed comfortable enough dressed like that with him around, but not someone she didn’t know well. The blacksmith opened a chest and handed her a can of thick oil.

Rhun peered at the stuff dubiously, her nose wrinkling from the powerful smell of it. “Should I use a brush or anything?”

The man laughed, "No, just use your fingers. Are you squeamish about a little smell?”

She frowned at his words and his laughter, snatching the can out of his hands. She began lathering her leather clothing with thick globs.

“You can use a lot less than that. Work it into the material.”

She complied, accomplishing her messy task in silence. But Bron could see her nostrils working overtime from the powerful smell. He left her to it, and began adding rings to damaged portions of his mail hauberk. An entire sleeve of his mail had been removed by a swipe from the huge horned bear. The collar was stretched wide, leaving his neck and collarbone exposed. Numerous small tears from his battle with skeletons and battle in the crypt. Looking at the damage to his armor made him remember every blow that had struck him. His skin bore the result of those marks too.

The most recent was the large swipe to his shoulder. It had scabbed over, but was still very painful. He couldn’t resist the urge to run his fingers down the three large scars. But the armor wasn’t going to repair itself. It had protected him from much worse had he not been wearing it. He hammered new rings into the armor. It was hard tedious work for both, and exactly what they needed. The tension of dealing with the attack on the town, and the stress of dealing with untrusting people fell away. Noticing their focus, Guluss slipped away to leave them to it.

The she-orc finished treating her leather skirt and vest long before Bron was finished his work. It gleamed a glossy dark-brown. Rhun wasn’t finished yet. She began sewing her purple thread throughout the seams of the armor. Some of those seams needed the repair, but she wasn’t doing it just to fix it. 

“So why the purple?” he asked, “You are aware it is the color of royalty?”

“Pah!” she scoffed, “Why should the rich get a color all to themselves? My teacher used to string a light blue thread and the symbol of lighting into all his uniforms. It served as a marker for his magical school and students. I have chosen purple as a marker for my brand of magic. For no other reason than I like it.”

“So what is your element?” Bron asked.

“I’d say the wind, but I don’t know Tempest well enough yet. Maybe I’ll just stick to the seams for now and decide on an icon later.” She worked at her uniform with renewed vigor, and threw it all over her shirt and shorts. Her oiled dark brown armor with accented purple thread gleamed in the afternoon sun.

Bron couldn’t help but be impressed. He had gotten used to her earthy brown colors. “You seem more intimidating.”

“I don’t look too scary though, do I?” asked the orc.

“You’ll be the least dingy orc in all the land. And no, I do not think these people frighten that easily. He lifted his own chainmail, not as perfect as it once was. But it was now intact again. He scrubbed it clean and applied the smelly oil to protect it from rust. His nose wrinkled from close contact with the stuff, but he knew the she-orc’s sense of smell was much stronger.

With their clothing complete, they removed their cloaks from the barrel and laid them on the table. Just being away from the hides for a while emphasized the smell of their incomplete curing process. The smell itself seemed to call Guluss to them. He pointed to a second barrel filled with salt. “You did a decent enough job removing the fat and other material from the skin of this bear. Now you need to take that salt and rub it into the flesh side of those cloaks. You’ll want to wash them well first. For this, I do have brushes.”

“The mayor said something about using animal brains for this.” Rhun said, unable to keep from frowning at the prospect.

Guluss’ face adopted a similar expression to Rhun’s, “A gross but necessary option for hunters. I much prefer to use salt as it feels a lot less like mushed brains.”

He turned to leave, but seemed to reconsider. He took a battered helmet down from a peg and handed it to Bron. “It’s just an old iron cap, but the attached chain coif will help protect your neck. It’s on the house.” He left the helmet on the table and stepped into his house. “Time for a nap. See you later if you’re still here.”