Six
The Smith
Summer 961 MC
The Dwarven smith, Herdwin Steelarm, rubbed his eyes. It was dark out, but his late-night efforts had been rewarded by the masterful blade he now held in front of him. The runes on it had turned out beautifully, and he angled the weapon to see the light catch them. Satisfied with his fine work, he yawned, realizing for the first time how truly late it was.
He rose from the table, stifling yet another yawn, intent on making his way to bed when a faint knock sounded at his door. The Dwarf paused, not sure if he was hearing things.
"Who, in their right mind, would be knocking at my door this time of night?" he grumbled.
He grabbed the unfinished sword from the table and made his way to the door.
"Who is it?" he called.
"A friend," answered a man's voice.
"
