*CLANG* *CLANG* *CLANG*. The sound of Metal banging against Metal Reverberated around the small Forge as a young man worked and laboured away. He sighed and wiped a bead of sweat off of his forehead as he put down the Hammer and picked up the Steel Shield He had been working on. His old Iron Shield had been Broken in his last Job, and, after 'acquiring' a few Steel Ingot's from the Bandit Hideout he'd cleared for his client, had decided he needed to make himself something new.<br/><br/>Marven Gorhart was a Mercenary by Trade. Pretty much if you had the coin, He'd do the job, as long as he was confident enough in his skill to do so. He was Born and Raised in Ivarstead, but after His Father was killed by a Frost Troll while delivering the traditional Savoury Food's to the Greybeard's, He had been left to fend for himself, since his Mother Died at Childbirth. He was 20 year's old, and had been alone for 7 of those year's, although he had only become a Mercenary 2 year's ago, when he turned 18, When he used the gold he'd cobbled together (from a mixture of Work and Pickpocketing) to buy himself an Iron Sword. Since then he'd acquired a Steel one, and, after Offering his Mercenary skill's to a Breton skilled in Enchanting, had had his Blade Enfused with a Weak Shock Magic Enchantment.<br/><br/>He had traveled most of the Skyrim Hold's, since, being a Nord, He wasn't under any pressure from High King Thrane's Laws. He personally couldn't really care less what his Stormcloak's or the Aldmeri Dominion had going on. He planned to just keep doing what he did best: Kill, Assist, Escort, and anything else that fell under a Mercenary's Checklist.<br/><br/>His travel's had led him to The Reach Capital of Markarth, and he was currently at the Blacksmith, having just finished Crafting his Shield he'd been meaning to make a while ago. He'd always' considered himself a decent Smithy, but he still wished the Blacksmith here had had the time to craft the shield himself.<br/>"...Hmmm, Not too shabby a shield you've made there Nord." Came the gruff, Orcish voice of the Blacksmith who had walked up to him. Marven simply nodded.<br/>"Thanks...Still wish you'd been courteous Enough to do it yourself though." He replied to the Orc.<br/>"Look kid, I already told ya, I just haven't got the time. I've only stopped my order now because I came to see if you'd finished and cleared off by now...so now that you've made your shield, how about you leave my Forge and let me get back to my Job?" The Orc said sternly to Marven, who rolled his eye's.<br/>"Sure, whatever Orc...cheer's for the service...<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 7pt;">or lack there of it...</span>" He mumbled the last part under his breath as he walked away, attaching his shield to his arm as he walked through the street's of Markarth.