Role

Chapter 21

Gruhnarld looked at his young son, sitting on the ground,
his eyes so fiery and steady for such a young boy. He
felt his eyes looking deep within his soul, deep within his
secrets, his heard hurt. His head always hurt, in his sleep
he could hear the hammer calling to him, his lifes work
behind him marred by death and plagues. His soul being sold
long ago, how long could he keep it from being collected.

Gruhnarld felt fear overtake him, and he thought back to a
time long ago....

Gruhnarld watched from the road on the ourskirts of a large
dwarven settlement, the smith worked on a blade of the finest
mithril, a blade to be made for a lord of great wealth and power,
he would have guessed.

He came in closer, a bakers son by trade, and watched with ENVY
as the smith hammered away on the fine metal, his work being
shaped before the smith.

As he took another step the smith looked up, his eyes glaring
at him through the smoke and dust of the forge, he stormed
towards Gruhnarld raising his hammer as if to strike and
stopped short, looking at Gruhnarld with a furrowed brow.

"Git yer arse outta ere yer bastid, goin ta yer paw dare ehn
gittin outta meh forge fer ah be crushin yer fargin skull eh!
Ner be comin inta meh ferge eh!" The smith turned his back
to Gruhnarld and started to walk away, his hands dropping to his
side, his massive hammer in one hand, the glowing rod in another.

Gruhnarld looked at the hammer, his eyes blurring a bit as it
seemed to swollow the light around it, in a way he swore it glowed.

Gruhnarld slept uneasy that night, his dreams were taunted by
unknown demons, his body sweat and glistening in a fine sheen...