Death General's Gauntlets
"I need stronger gloves," handing her tattered fire gloves to the blacksmith Reina, Aria glared at her intensely.
With visible confusion on her face, the red-haired wiped the sweat off of her forehead and just stared at the equipment she'd sold not long ago to the dark elf. Her eyes darting back and forth between Aria and the gloves, Reina was baffled beyond reason.
"The fuck you did to my gloves? Ate them and shat 'em out?" Throwing the ruined gloves at Aria, Reina picked her hammer back from the counter and turned to the red-horn iron resting on the anvil. Grabbing it with a metal pincer, she glanced at Aria once more before she began hammering. "I don't do refunds, much less stitch-up work anymore, just go get more gold and I'll make you something good. What the hell did you even do to these ones anyway?"
"I tried to kill Helga, the barbarian lady," Aria responded, her tone as flat as it could be.