Our blacksmith, Joften, has gone mad. Most of the time he spouts nonsense. This all started three days ago. Now he won't even pick up his hammer. We've tried to talk sense into the lout, but it's like he doesn't even see us.
He wrote down the means to forge our Golden arms and armor, and that of the Seducers, but he never told a soul where he left the blasted notes! If we weren't holding out hope that he might snap out of it, we would have already parted his head from the rest of him.
Lately he's been going on about "playing under the bridge," like he were still a child. "That's where I always hid my toys," he said. I know his kin used to live around Half Moon Mill. We should round up some folks to have a look.