The Seeker

The light of the forge was dim but Anvil liked it that way because it brought out the Beauty of the red hot coals. He worked the bellows, chasing the sparks into the chimney as he fanned the flames. Working the bellows brought him the same satisfaction as his hammer bouncing up and down upon the red hot metal. Anvil was only to often up before his apprentices working the bellows before the Sun even touched the eastern skies. Evan after all these years he nether grew board of working as a smith over four cycles.

He wore the typical garb of his race heavy duty leather boots coarse woven breeches his chest was bare accept he wore a leather apron stained over so many years of hot work. His blond beard was tied in heavy bread and lay across his belly and reached past his belt, Bushy eye brows shaded his fierce blue eyes, and he wore a leather band around his forehead. This old Dwarf and seen much in his four Hundred years but still the simple duties of being a smithy brought him peace.

Once Anvil was ready to begin he placed the metal in to be heated. Taking a swallow from a water skin that was nailed to a wooden post in his work shop he watched waiting for the metal too get to the right temperature. He used a large pair of tongs and twisted the metal bar around in the coals. When he was satisfied he grabbed the red hot bar with his tongs and layer the piece on his anvil and with his hammer began to beat the peace into shape. He repeated this many times until he was satisfied the peace of metal had taken the shape he wanted. The Ring of his hammer was like fine music to him a song that had ringed threw the halls of his ancient home since Veracruz first created the dwarfs.

Anvil worked in the same fashion for most of the day until the sun sunk once more into the west. Towns folk and farmers would come and go horses needed to be shod ,Iron brackets for doors, Honing blades or sharpening tools , even kettles and pots were brought from the manner house kitchens to be mended they would stand and watch the master smith and his apprentices work.

By days end Anvil would wait to all was cleaned up and his apprentices were off to there own homes then he would pull out his stall and a small pony keg of ale and poured him self a mug. Taking in a deep hearty swallow he sighed leaned back and watched the embers. The Ale was good but did not match the brewers in his own home Granite loft high in the Dragon spines. But ales he was thankful for what he had and he had a lot to be thankful for. He made a decent coin here in Bramble wood Manner and he was well liked for the services he supplied to the small community and surroundings farmsteads and wood cutters. His weary eyes closed and he snoozed a little under the red glow of the forge.

The War Hammer appeared to him first sitting upon the rough granite slab. The shaft made from fine wood with the image of Varracus carved upon it near the handle area. The head it self forged in a mithral and inscribed upon its edges were Dwarthen runes of power that shone of the purest Gold.

Anvils eyes popped open with a start. He was back in his work shop staring at his cooling forge. His Dream lingered and the image of the war hammer still remained as clear as day. He took another deep swallow from his mug of Ale and once more closed his eyes.

He now stood in an oval shaped cavern the granite walls polished reflecting the red glow from a Forge that sat at the center of the cavern. There ware no bellows attached to the forge like all forges Anvil had known. Beside the forge sat an anvil and a rack of hammers and tools of different shapes and sizes. A couple of buckets of cool water sat below the anvil. On one side of the room was a cot for sleeping which lay beside a heap of coal for the forge before that sat a heavy work table with other tools neatly placed upon a vice of sorts. On the other side of the cavern sat a grinding wheel for sharpening and beside that sat a series of casts. The work shop was well stocked with all a master smith needed to perform his art.

Once more Anvil woke with a start and found he had slept longer then it felt. His forge no longer glowed hot like earlier. He pushed him self up from his stool and stretched. What strange dreams he was haven he thought to him. Were had this work shop been and who’s was it. He rubbed his head as he made his way back to his cot that sat at back of his shop. He fell on his cot without removing his boots or clothing including the stained apron. He felt tired and was being drawn strangely to his dream once more. Some thing wanted him to see more.

He was flying and it did not feel pleasant. Infect he wanted to be sick. Below him was a fast expanse of water stretching out as far as his eye could see. But he moved fast and the sea whizzed by almost like a blur at the edges of his sight soon land came into sight. On the horizon at first then it drew closer and Closer soon he found him self on flat ground once more. He stood upon a dock of immense proportion with large boats every where he looked. These weren’t the small fishing dinghies but huge ships of all sizes and shapes hailing from all over the Rune. He looked up behind him and the gray walls of a city loomed up behind him.

“IRONGATE” He said out load in his sleep. He was standing upon the shores of his birth home once more and looking up at the great city that his brethren had aided in building stood tall and proud.

The vision of the walls vanished before him and he found him self standing upon the heavily polished floor of a spot he was very familiar with. He stood in the great throne room of the Clans in the halls of Grayhaim. Anvil had once sat on the council in theses chambers helping his king and brethren run the empire and review the laws and enforce them. In saying that the last time he had stood here was when the law was being forced against him when the elders had been deceived and he stood before there frowning faces and was banished.

The room stood empty in his dream accept beside the great stone throne sat the Hammer of light. The Hammer that kings since the begging have carried into battles Anvil had seen it many times but neither sitting by it self.

He woke again it was still night and an ere silence filled the place. Anvils hackles rose and he moved from his cot over to a work bench and grabbed one of his hammers then he looked around his shop. There was no one there but something wasn’t right he walked over to the entrance to his work shop noticing it slightly ajar. Stepping out on to the night shrouded street. He wasn’t in the street he was standing on the chilled Daggers pass a blizzard blew all around but yet he could not feel cold. He stepped forward the snow crunching under his feet. Anvil could barely see past his nose and only could make out the shapes and shadows that moved beside and in front of him. It was his clan’s men and they were dressed for war. Anvil looked down and in his hands he held the War hammer he had seen in the cavern with the forge him or so was wearing fine mithral armor with the symbols of the leader of the clan upon his breast plate.

What was going on he thought to him self watching the others pass until he stood alone. The snow had gone but a mist had taken its spot then it began to swirl and before him stood the mighty Varracus. Anvil kneeled before his god immediately starring at the ground he shook before his very presence tears welled in his. Am I dead he asked him self but out load.

“No Anvil Omenborn you are very much alive “Varracus spoke sounding like any other dwarf and not in anyway Anvil had imagined. “Rise Anvil Omenborn I need to talk to you” He said

Anvil rose up his knees trembling

“Anvil Omenborn it is time you returned to our bosom “ Varracus explained he stood before Anvil wearing bright silver armor much the same as what Anvil wore and he two held a hammer in his hands “ The Clans and the people need you”

“How can I “Anvil forced him self to speak his voice quivering with respect and fear all rolled into one “Tis this only dream”

“Yes it is but dreams some times hold more truth then if you were a wake” Varracus “Do not be afraid of me Anvil Omenborn I am here to guide you it is time for you to full fill your destiny”

“What destiny my Bones are old” Anvil argued

“The Clans and People need you “Varracus repeated the mist that had parted for him now began to form around him once more and his voice began to drift away “Follow the path I have shown you, seek the cavern deep “He then disappeared completely and Anvil stood in the center of his Work shop dawn was beginning to light up the sky and the early morning light shone through the door that was open. Silence surrounded him and he was confused and bewildered.

Had he truly stood in the presence of Varracus had what he seen on this strange night of dreams had been some calling. Was his god guiding him if so he could not refuse such a calling he thought to him self He snapped back to reality and knew what he must?

Anvil snatched up his ruck sack and began packing some items stuffing them into the old worn out bag. He grabbed rolled up leather that held his engraving tools he or so grabbed his favorite hammer. He tore of the old apron he wore and stuffed that in and some thick gloves that he used. Anvil turned to a closet over close to where his cot sat from the closet he pulled out a sleeveless under padding He pulled on his chain shirt that fell to his knees and tweaked it with practiced movements until it lay flat against the padding then he put on a large belt buckled with a gold buckle.

He felt instantly better. There was something safe and incredibly homely about a shirt of steel rings. His attachment to his chain mail was a matter of instinct not some thing he could explain.

In the back of the closet hid away from prying eyes was a large iron banded chest sealed with a heavy iron lock. Anvil pulled a key from his pocket and turned the lock it took him a couple of seconds of fiddling with old lock but finely he opened it. THe iron lock fell with a thump on to the floor flicking the latch up him lifted the lid open.

Inside lay his cloak and under the cloak was a couple of items a well worn war Hammer beside this was his helm, heavy leather gauntlets, and a square block looking item raped in beaver pelts. Anvil took this item and placed it carefully into his ruck sack. He then tied his helmet on to his pack threw on his cloak and his gauntlets stuffing his War hammer into his belt. Once he was ready he sat down onto his stool and waited.

It wasn’t long till his apprentices began to show up. A little surprised to see Anvil dressed for travel and the forge had not been heated up yet. Anvil grabbed the arm of Joislin and pulled him aside.

“Well Ladd I have some business on the main land and I need ya to take care of the place for me. I reckon ya can handle the job Ladd ya one of me finest smithies so I’m putting ya in charge. If ya could let old Barlow know that I had tah leave for a short time on some personal business will ya” He explained and Joislin nodded.

Anvil then turned to the rest of the group “Well Lads ya heard me words ol Joislin here will be in charge while I’m gone ya all listen tah him as if it be me self” He then swung his ruck sack onto his back and shoved his helm on his with out another word walked out of the shop and of down the road heading. The apprentices looked on in surprise not sure what to make of it all.