Joe
__**Greenheart Forest: Crimson Company Ruins**__
Deep within the Greenheart Forest lies the ruins of a long forgotten building. What was once a great guild now lies in rubble and overgrowth, remnants of a forgotten time and place. While any hint as to what the building could have possible been is long gone, there is a sigil above what used to be a doorway, now nearly faded away completely. A hammer and anvil, the colors red and gold just barely visible.
Larry
*Theradin walked contenedly through the forest. He didn't normally travel this far into the woods, but he was looking for just the right tree to make the handle for a sword he was working on. Despite the fact it wad only for a minor noble, he always poured all his skill into each tool or blade he forged. He walked from tree to tree, examining the branches and the leaves to see what there was.* 

*After some time he finally found a satisfactory tree, an old Ash tree with long, straight limbs. He could make several handles from the fine wood of this tree. He lifted his axe, lopping a branch off the tree, and once it had fallen he began hewing off the smaller leaf bearing twigs, leaving only a fine branch, waiting to be worked like the iron in his forge into pieces of art, worthy of Dwarven skill.* 

*Once he had obtained what he came for, he started back up the path back home. He was looking around when some old stones caught his eye. He approached them to investigate, when he found they were part of some old ruins. Greatly curious of what he had stumbled on, he started looking around.*
Janet
The ruins, a grave for dreams from those who no longer wake from their slumber. There was an aura of anxiety and excitement looming like a cloth- draped over these corroding walls. Foreign sigils of creed and honor, long since faded, décor once proud halls. However where now stands in the hollowed structures of history is nature, with hints of saddened residue- tragic. How many eras have passed in the wake? Enough to make a memory distant says he...

Sunken, submerged in earth and vegetation lay rotted and rusted armor and by its side a weapon of size to match. The armor appeared empty, but 'twas not- for a spirit inhabited a husk forged by itself. It could not remember when it woke, or for how long it laid there letting the earth consume it. But with its head tilted back and up towards the sky it stared unblinking towards the stars. How it longed to feel again, even if it wasn't just, to feel the rain fall on metal skin traced with winds to dry. More than heaven for the spirit, heaven and more- for the god of madness decided his fate as a wandering soul was to come to an end, in literal escaping the maze that binded it.

Memories were so hard to remember, but he could not help himself to remember, as the sounds and scents of life were that of delicacy he was so starved of. Laying there for a millennia more didn't seem so terrible. That was, until the serenity was intruded upon. The spirit could hear a change to the natures tune, a tune that only sung in the presence of an outside entity. A sigh escaped its unfathomed lungs, no need to breath, as it tried to remember how to move.
Larry
*Theradin was lost exploring the old ruins. They were too old to easily identify their purpose, (He was no archeologist) but he was amazed by how long they had withstood the test of time. He wondered how old they were and what they were built for. What tales were written in these halls, what stories forged? He wished he had been able to set aside running his forge for a few weeks, long enough to learn to be more expert in the practical side of archeology, but alas, all he could do was explore with wonder.*

*One particular ruin caught his eye. It looked roughly like a blacksmith's shop. He was familiar enough with them to recognize the decrepit shape of what must have once been a forge, although now collapsed like the rest of what was left. He decided to explore the shop to see what he could find.* 

*As he looked he noticed an interesting motif that had been repeated multiple times in the decor. A hammer and anvil. Made sense, but it was odd it was repeated so often. What blacksmith's shop was so unrecognizable that it needed this much identification. He shrugged in confusion as he continued exploring.*