Forgemaster Fira

In the heart of the mountain, where the fires burn bright, Forgemaster Fira hammers through the endless night. With a bravery untamed and a will forged in flame, She shapes the weapons of might, etching her name. With a braid of red hair and eyes like the stars, She crafts weapons of power, adorned with ancient scars. From the depths of the caves to the heights of the sky, Her creations are whispers of the battles gone by. When the With every swing of the hammer, a legend is born, In the echoes of the forge, the old tales are worn. Oh, Forgemaster Fira, mistress of the steel, Crafting mithrill from the embers, with the strengths from the wheel. In the shadows of the mountain, her legacy will soar, For the heart of the forge beats forevermore. When the shadows grow long and the darkness descends, Fira stands like a mountain, where fire never ends. With a heart full of courage and a spirit so bold, She weaves tales of glory in the mithrill and gold. With every swing of the hammer, a legend is born, In the echoes of the forge, the old tales are worn. Oh, Forgemaster Fira, mistress of the steel, Crafting mithrill from the embers, with the strengths from the wheel. In the shadows of the mountain, her legacy will soar, For the heart of the forge beats forevermore. Oh, Forgemaster Fira, mistress of the steel, Crafting mithrill from the embers, with the strengths from the wheel. In the shadows of the mountain, her legacy will soar, For the heart of the forge beats forevermore. So raise the voices, let the stories be told, Of Forgemaster Fira, and the legends of old. In the heart of the mountain, where the fires burn bright, Her spirit will linger, a beacon of light.