Role

Chapter 12

The final leg of Arinayar's trio brought me to Thaldrak, a brother hailing
from beneath the mighty mountains, and he calls his dwelling Akan. His words
flowed like a subterranean stream, reluctant to delve into the annals of his
lineage or ancestral lore. Yet, a glimmer of insight he granted, revealing
that in days of yore, he once bore the mantle of a blacksmith. However, the
hammer's song has since yielded to the relentless call of war. Another Maran,
another opportunity for me to implore them not to forsake their roots. The
thread woven from their past to their destiny shall remain steadfast and true
if they hold fast to the memories of whence they hailed and the promise of
what they can become once the fires of battle have dimmed.

In the reverie of his dreams, Thaldrak envisions a world liberated from the
Empire's grip and the Scion's taint. "The world shall bloom anew when old men
plant trees under whose shade they shall never rest," so spoke he. His spirit
blazes with an unyielding determination to seek and cleanse the world of that
foul corruption, and his wits remain as sharp as the keenest of dwarven
blades.

In the midst of ceaseless training and bold adventures, he contemplates the
prospect of seeking solace in the embrace of his hammer from time to time. A
worthy pursuit, for all dwarves, where time spent honing one's craft and
strength amid the company of comrades is indeed a treasure trove of memories.