Role

Chapter 1

Horfik pulled the blade from the quenching oil, excitement and anxiety clear
on his bearded face.

The smithing masters were gathered around, ostensibly there to render
judgement, but they all knew it was just a formality.

They had seen his body of work during his apprenticeship, and it was already
sufficient to make him a proper blacksmith.

Horfik hails from the Smokebeard clan, so named for an ancestor who, so
focused was he on his forging, had allowed his entire beard to be singed off
by a stray ember before he took notice of it.

Forging was in his blood, and he took to it with an intensity few others could
claim to match.

The product was as the masters expected. Balanced, strong but pliable, and
without flaw. Functional.

The masters passed it amongst themselves for close inspection, each giving
their blessing and praise for the craftsmanship.

But Horfik was disappointed. He longed for more than just a proper edge and
weight. He wanted to forge metal into greatness, like the masterworks of old.

The masters saw the expression written on the younger dwarf's face. They
looked at each other before nodding at once, as if sharing a single mind.

The one currently holding the blade took it in his calloused hands and
shattered it upon the anvil.