Role

Chapter 1

Thraldrin wiped the sweat from his brow as he lifted the red hot metal from
the forge. His muscular arms bulged with the effort, moving with practiced
ease. This would be the finest steel the village had seen in some time,
destined to become a new set of armor for the village elder.

He glanced over at his sons, Faldur and Bron, as they worked the bellows to
keep the forge hot. Though still young for dwarves, only 45, they were
diligent workers and quick studies in the craft. Thraldrin was proud to be
passing his skills to them, just as his father had passed the forge to him.

Their village was small but prosperous, tucked into the Shadowpeak mountains.
For decades they had mined rich seams of mithril, silver and iron, carving
deep into the mountain's depths. Thraldrin put those ores to good use in his
smithy. Tools, weapons, armor - he forged them all for the villagers with
skill.

Life was good. Until the day the excavators broke through into the ancient
cavern. None had known it was there, hidden far below their deepest mine
tunnels. But within they found an obelisk of carved obsidian, and upon it
unfamiliar runes. The elder ordered it brought to the surface for study.

That night, as Thraldrin closed down his forge, the village was alive with
speculation about the obelisk's origins. He paid it little mind, focused
instead on finishing the elder's new armor. After kissing his sons goodnight,
he fell into a deep and restful sleep.

If only he'd known what events the obelisk would unleash, perhaps things would
have been different. But fate had other plans for Thraldrin and his village.