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Ragdir Bronzebeard of The Lonely Mountain


Bang, bang, bang... the sound of his crashing hammer on steel echos throughout the armor shop, the lower section of Khallida's home. Bang, bang, bang "One, two, three... One, two three... Now ya see kitties, when ya' hit de hammer on de anvil, be sure to use ye elbow n'd not ye whole arm. Provides a more controlled and powerful hit. It don't matter how hard ye hit it, if da metal is hot nough, it'll mold just how ye want it to." Looking up from the breastplate, his large eyes glanced over the crowd of tots before him. Their parents wanted them out of the house and what better way than to enroll them into free Blacksmith lessons, "Alrighty, know ye homework for de week? Find a piece o' iron to bring ta class, togetha we'll forge a shield wif all o' it. Go on, get." A large smile crossed his lips as the group of children ran out the door to continue their lives as kids. Setting down his blacksmith hammer on the hot anvil a light sigh escaped his lips. Tonight would be another night of drinking, tomorrow morning would be another day waking up in the slums surrounded by pigs. Shrugging his shoulders lightly he removed the half-completed breastplate and placed it into a large dish, placing that into the smelter, "Dum de do de dum de do de dum." His light hum escaping the deep bass drum of his belly as he made his way up the stairs to invade Khallida's room. It was fairly simple with nothing more than a bed, a privacy wall, a small table, and a closet in the back. Trudging forward his steps were the only sound that was heard- or rather this was the case if it wasn't for the light thud coming from within the closet. With a heavy hand he opened the rough door, exposing a man hogtied with his gut on the floor. A thick cloth lay tied around his mouth and eyes as he struggled about, "Oi, cut the shit. Ya' disrespected us, now its time for us ta send da message. Don worry bout killin ya- or ratha me killin ya. I'm sure /she'll/ be da one ta do dat. Now play nice now, I don wanta hear anada word from dis here closet now, understood? Good!" With a heavy slam he closed the closet once again, "Alright- time for da ale." And like that the large cannonball was off and out of the building. Today would be a night for drink, all knew he needed it.

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by KhallidaHester, 345 days ago

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No FB Yes FB Hand (smaller) Lap 40.063em Desk 64.063em Wall 90.063em