Nothing is more calming than the rhythmic sound of steel rebounding against steel. As a child, she would often find it hard to fall asleep in the silence of her home, instead finding comfort in the corner of her father’s forge. She would curl up and listen to him work through the night, letting the sound of hammer striking metal, metal striking anvil, the radiant heat of the furnace, and the soothing aromas of oil and molten iron drifting about lull her into a peaceful slumber. Even now, she sometimes wishes for the same comforts.
Alas, one cannot slumber while yet swinging the hammer. Katnira Stoutfeast has recently found herself increasingly within the forge house, hammering away as if looking to find something hidden within beaten steel. Saying a quick prayer to her ancestors, she hefts the glowing longsword and rapidly dunks it into the quenching vat. As she removes the blade, dripping bits of quenching oil, vapor wafts off it and curls around the room. She carefully inspects the blade and wipes a rough cloth across the fuller, looking for any signs of warping or cracking in the steel. Satisfied, she sets it aside on the table and starts walking to the sanding bench when interrupted by a knock at the entryway.
Katnira turns to see her mother, Kathdora, standing in the open doorway, “Kat, come to dinner.”
“Yes, marm,” Katnira replies. There are times to be stubborn, but Mum calling her to dinner is not one of them. After wiping her hands and face clean, she helps herself to a mug of ale and sits at one end of the table. The smell of potatoes and pork immediately stimulates her appetite, especially after a strenuous day in the forge. Katnira enjoys the meal in relative silence, but something about today makes her look at the empty chairs around the table as she feels a pang of longing.
“Mum,” Katnira starts.
“I want to know,” she looks straight into her mother’s eyes. “I want to know where he went. And why.”
Her mother looks at her seriously, meets her gaze for several moments, and finally looks down at the table with a sigh. “I suppose you’re not a child anymore. I’ll tell you what I know, but promise me one thing, Kat.”
“What is it, mum?”
“When I tell you, don’t decide anything lightly. Be sure it’s what you want.” Katnira replies with a solemn nod.
“How much do you know about Durgeddin the Black, the legendary bladesmith?”
“Not that much … isn’t he known for angry steel?”
“Anrgy …” her mother chuckles. “The forge of fury, daughter - they call it the forge of fury. A horde of orcs and trolls kidnaped Durgeddin’s kinsmen, and he imbued his hatred of those monsters into his blades. Supposedly, a troll will perish just from the seeing of one being drawn.”
“That doesn’t sound believable. What does that have to do with Pa.”
“Your Pa followed Durgeddin … to forge and to fight. I don’t know which parts of the legends are true, but Durgeddin and his Forge certainly exist. He joined an expedition south to join the defense of his citadel when he called for aid more than 80 years ago when you were still drinking ale from a baby’s bottle. We haven’t heard from him after that, and since he hasn’t written at all …”
“You assume he’s dead,” Katnira meets her mother’s eyes.
“Yes,” her mother replies, continuing after a pause. “The grizzly maul you inherited from your grampa Torkam when he passed and the eagle’s axes I gave you are part of a set. The last item of the set is called the shield of the pack. Your father carried it south. I wish he’d left it for you—he was planning to give it to you when you came of age.”
“Traditionally, you would complete your battle rite when you received all three, but since that’s impossible, we can just-”
“I’ll find 'em!” Katnira interrupts her mother, “I’ll find the shield, and I’ll find Pa - or news of what became of him.”
“Remember what you promised me. Be sure of it. Wait a few days, finish your outstanding commissions, and if you still want to go, you should.”
Katnira could only nod.
Over the next few days, she dedicates herself to training with her Maul, repeating her grandfather’s techniques countless times. When not training, she works tirelessly to forge the remaining items she needs to complete her commission and make a set of smithing tools to bring with her.
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As the days go by, Katnira feels more and more determined to uncover the truth about what happened to her father. Finally, after a full week of pondering and preparation, she decides to tell her mother. With a burning purpose within her, she explains that she has made up her mind to travel south in search of her father, the Shield, and the fabled forge of Durgeddin.
As the eve of her journey draws to a close, Katnira’s mother presents her with a small pouch of gold coins, a sturdy barrel of ale, and enough dried rations to last a week. With the barrel's weight secured upon her back astride the maul, she sets out on her journey south, determined to follow whatever trail she can find of her Pa. As one of the few dwarven families residing on this side of the mountain range, she naturally draws attention to herself wherever she stops to resupply, but luckily, she doesn’t find any trouble. Her stops are usually brief, only long enough to refill her barrel with fresh ale.
After a month of continuous foot travel, she comes to a terrible realization. She knows where she is and where she’s going, but she also knows that she won’t have enough gold to refill her barrel after another week. Facing the life-threatening situation of potential ale drought, she decides that she must find some paid work in the next town before continuing. Fortunately, just as her barrel is ready to be filled again, she reaches the town of Oakhurst.
As she walks towards the center of the small town, she feels a slight tickle in her nose. A peculiar yet familiar scent fills the air, drawing her attention. The tantalizing aroma is a mixture of iron, oil, and fire. She can't help but grin as it dawns on her that the town must have a resident blacksmith, and she lets her nose lead the way.
As she approaches the low, open building, she can see a white-haired man about her height alternately heating and hammering a set of layered sheets for a shield.
“Finally! A dwarf. Maybe this town’ll have decent ale for once,” she exclaims.
The blacksmith pauses his hammering and looks over to her before cocking an eyebrow. “And who might you be, lass? I rarely see a dwarf who isn't part of a caravan.”
“Katnira Stoutfeast! I’m traveling south looking for someone.” She looks over at her barrel before continuing, ”But I guess I’m just looking for work for now. I didn’t realize this town had a dwarven smith - I won’t take your business.”
“Lass, with all the craziness lately, I could use some help with the repair orders. You say you’re a Stoutfeast, so I trust you’ll do passable work.” He gestures to a pile of dented armor and chipped swords in the far corner of the shop. “As you can see, I’m quite backed up. I’m Rurik, by the way, Rurik Lutgehr.”
“Ah, that’s great. By the way, I accept payment in both gold and ale.” Katnira says as she sheds her gear and tosses it to the side to start working. Rurik just lets out a short chuckle.
“We actually had a trade caravan pass by recently. I’ve got several barrels of decent dwarven stock. I’ll give one to you at cost out of whatever commissions you can finish.”
Hearing this, Katnira begins to work with a passion, completing 26 repair orders in under 4 hours.
“Old man. Ale.”
“Alright, alright, you’ve earned it. Actually, you helped me a lot, so let me treat you to lunch, and we can talk about your travels.” Wiping his hands on his apron, he enters his shop and returns with a barrel bearing a conspicuous red stamp and several sandwiches wrapped in thin cloth. “The constable paid for one of her repair orders with some good cuts of elk - makes great sandwiches. This barrel is yours.” He places the barrel securely on the ground and puts half of the sandwiches on top. For the next hour, they eat, drink, and talk about her journey south.
“Rurik,” Katnira changes the subject, “you know anything about Durgeddin the Black?”
The older dwarf thinks for a second and then exclaims, “Ah. Yes, I do, in fact. It was a century ago, though, so I don't remember much. There was a whole group of dwarves who passed through here back then. They were going to meet up with Durgeddin the Black to do something or other.”
Katnira gasps, “Old man, remember! Which way did they go? I’m looking for them.”
“Well, they went south from here; I don’t know where after that.”
“This means I’m at least on the right trail. Thank you, Rurik.” She pauses for a few seconds, then asks with an awkward smirk. “Ah, you wouldn’t know of anyone hiring short-term, would you? I’ve been on the road for a month, and my ale funds almost dried up.”
“Aha, well, after subtracting the barrel, I still owe you a few coins for the rest of those repairs, but if you’re looking for more work …” He hesitates for a few moments before continuing, “It might be a bit on the dangerous side, but the lady in that mansion over there is hiring for some kind of rescue mission. Might be worth considering if you’re the adventurous sort.”
Thanking Rurik again, she excuses herself to visit the mansion, where a man promises to let her meet the employer tomorrow morning to finalize the details of the rescue mission. Afterward, she returns to Rurik’s shop and completes several more repair orders while chatting about how human babies drink milk instead of ale and whether or not that is why they are all so skinny.
As the sun sets, she bids Rurik goodbye and heads toward the Inn. As she walks, she skips giddily, thinking of the 200 gold reward for the rescue quest and the fresh barrel of ale in her arms. “I’ve got a new barrel, a new job, and I’m on the right trail. I should celebrate a little,” she says to herself, cheering a bit as she swings open the door to the inn.
She spots what she thinks is an orc sitting at the bar next to a fully armored dragon-man. With a wide grin on her face, she hefts her barrel with her right arm and points to the orc with her left, shouting, “Hey, orc! I bet I could drink you under the table.”
Katnira doesn’t clearly remember everything that happened after that, but it was definitely fun.