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View character profile for: Thromgin Forge-Stout
View character profile for: Erik PureForge
Tending the Forge
Watching Amelia leave with no comment, Erik continued to brood as he began his journey home. Passing others in the town, he was quickly reminded of what the majority thought of him, beneath the polite nods and brief hellos were the eyes of wary men and women. He couldn't blame them, although his territory had been far from Warfall, he knew there was a reason no other giants dwelled with this otherwise pristine valley.
A cold wind alerted him of a storm, which was confirmed by looking at the dark clouds covering the sky. A fitting tribute to the death of Kuz.
This would mean miners would need to come down from the mines for repairs.
He rounded back to the talk with Tech. The sincerity of the goblin's story made it seem genuine. Then again... he wasn't always the best at picking the right side of things. This was a major reason he kept dragging Thromgrin around, the dwarf didn't have a good sense of people either, but he was more skeptical.
Nearing The Mountains Sorrow, he slowed as he listened for the telltale sign of his brothers mood.
Sighing in defeat, he knew Thromgrin was still in a mood. The frequent yet powerful strikes echoed around the area. He was still working through his frustration.
He decided to take a walk. Finding a stump that had hollowed out, he placed all but his clothing and ax within.
Breathing in the evening air, he walked off not as Erik Pureforge, but as a free hill giant.
~The Mountains Sorrow~
Anyone near the forge would plainly hear Thromgin working away. What they wouldn't hear was the constant grumbling and curses coming from the dwarf, an entire afternoon of work doing little to soothe the frustrations on his mind.
The recent ruckus in town was the main cause of his anger, all of these people coming into Warfall, bringing with them noise and trouble. When he and Erik moved here, no fuss was made, they set up shop and began earning their keep.
Dousing another trinket, he looked at his creation with scrutiny. Finding a flaw that no one else would have seen, he threw it into a bowl for melting.
He took this small break to check outside, having felt a cold draft several times during his work. Seeing the storm clouds, another round of curses was heard. He would have to douse the forge before the rain started.
Not willing to give in yet, he began eyeing the small shack he called home. Grabbing a wood ax, he settled into a rhythm of splitting wood.