FunnyHulkBoy

Erik stared down at the note with the faintest of smiles, sniffling as if he'd caught a cold. "Oi'll do ye proud," he muttered as droplets of wetness fell upon the letter.

Erik sat in exhaustion in front of the forge of Hefrumm. Scraps of metal, wood and leather surrounded him, accompanied by an unnecessary amount of tools. Frustration, along with stowed away tears, clouded his eyes as he stared at the grass and dirt beneath him. Unwanted thoughts raced through his mind. He was silent. Far too silent. As if he was breathing breathless breaths. He sat idle for what seemed to be hours, wordlessly contemplating. Eventually, the dwarf stood. Brushing dust from himself, he gathered his things. Erik walked back and forth across the foot of the forge, tidying all that needed to be tidied, placing tools where they needed to be, placing his mistakes of scraps into their respective barrels, and clearing ash away that sat for far too long. After all was said and done, Erik left, walking slowly back to his home. There he dug through barrels and withdrew three items: the claw of a mist hound, a red pheasant feather adorning spear, and the eye of a danugol. The spoils of his clan trials. He then made his way back to the forge, placing all three items within it, along with handfuls of coal. He sparked a flame and watched the forge roar in front of him. After a few moments of waiting, Erik drew a single chunk of daemite from his satchel, casting it forward into the fires. Those flames from within the forge roared more and more violently, heating expeditiously. Sweat trickled from Erik’s brow to his beard, his orange hair seemingly glowing from the light of the flames. He filled his lungs deeply with air, then let it out in a deep exhale. “To theh dwed who introduced meh to me new life, and to theh dwed who granted meh theh gift of famileh. Foreva tah be in me mind, and me heart, fer emerald nevah breaks.” With that, Erik killed the flames. There was nothing left inside the forge but cinder and ash. He smiled a near invisible smile, turned, and left. His mind had grown quieter.

Erik's breathing hitched as his hands shakily removed the timeworn helmet from his head. He was speechless. Countless thoughts raced through his mind, none he wished to think.

The Sugary ***, the local tavern of Hefrumm, was vacant to all but one tonight. Erik Mossborn sat alone at a table. In front of him sat two things. The first was a mug of ale that he had retrieved for himself, though he was yet to down any of it. He stared down with half-open eyes at the cup before tapping his finger on the rim. The alcohol within rippled, startled from the center, and sent waves that crashed silently and calmly against the wooden edges of the container. The second item that sat adjacent to the cup was Erik’s helmet. A rare sight to see it sat anywhere but upon the Mossborn’s head. It was an old, worn armor, a survivor of decades gone by. This weathered piece of headwear has truly earned its stripes, donning scratches, dents and dings all over its metal body. Despite these impurities, it has never seen repair, and proudly so. It bears the marks of authenticity, refusing to retreat from its natural, timeworn essence. It has seen its fair share of battle, physical and emotional, most of which bestowed upon by its one frequent wearer, though a handful of these conflicts were experienced by one other. Erik watched the waves in his drink slowly die down then let out a deep exhale. He lifted the cup, breaking the serenity of the liquid once more, and swigged back some of it before placing the mug gently back down atop the splintery table and looking to his helmet. He reached his scarred hands to it, bringing it a few inches off the tabletop. The forest dwarf tilted the headwear slightly, glancing upon the inner rim of it. He ran his thumb across two letters engraved in the metal and smiled a small smile. The first letter was an ‘E’, lazily carved and severely aged, split and crossed with scratches and scrapes alike. One could assume this etching shared the same age as the helmet itself. The second letter was an ‘M’, much newer and more deliberately carved. Each of the two markings owned their own distinct styles of engravement. Erik stared at these symbols for a few moments longer, that soft smile fading from his face as he lifted the helmet to his head and placed it upon his scruffed, orange hair. He then grabbed his mug, bringing it to his lips and downing the rest of his ale in one fell gulp. He stood and brought the mug over to the front counter of the tavern, dropping it off, a few mina now residing within it. The dwed glanced at the currency and turned before scratching at his ginger beard, his fingers grazing a scar that was carved into his skin above his lip. His mouth opened slightly, as if he was planning on saying something to the emptiness that surrounded him. He exhaled, his eyes trailing across the ceiling of the tavern, glancing from vine to vine that dangled from the rockiness above. After a moment of this, Erik brought his hand down from the scar and finally headed back home. It was far too late to be out and about. He sought to dream good dreams.

ISSUED BY: Erik Mossborn ᛏᚺᛖ ᚺᛖᚠᚱᚢᛗᛗ ᚷᚨᛗᛖᛊ! THE HEFRUMM GAMES! ᛏᚺᛖ ᚺᛖᚠᚱᚢᛗᛗ ᚷᚨᛗᛖᛊ! The rings of Hefrumm are happy to announce the Hefrumm Games! A day long event open to all! The games include: Bobbin’ for Apples Archery Boxing Drinking Contest!!! Each category grants a medal for 1st, 2nd and 3rd place, and a specialized prize for the big winners! For any questions, send a bird to Erik Mossborn. Signed, Erik Mossborn, Primarch of the Ebony Beavers

ISSUED BY: Erik Mossborn ᚱᛖᚲᚱᚢᛁᛏᛊ ᚹᚨᚾᛏᛖᛞ× ᛏᚺᛖ ᛖᛒᛟᚾᛁ ᛒᛖᚨᚢᛖᚱᛊ RECRUITS WANTED: THE EBONY BEAVERS! ᚱᛖᚲᚱᚢᛁᛏᛊ ᚹᚨᚾᛏᛖᛞ× ᛏᚺᛖ ᛖᛒᛟᚾᛁ ᛒᛖᚨᚢᛖᚱᛊ New to Hefrumm? In need of a job? In need of Mina? Then the Ebony Beavers’ are just for you! The Ebony Beavers are responsible for providing tools for Hefrumm when they are needed. We’re also responsible for collecting mineral resources for Hefrumm! Your job as a Beaver would be to gather resources, such as wood and iron, and deposit it at your given drop-off point. If you’re a smith, you would also make weaponry, armor.. Anything that could be of use to Hefrumm! If you’re interested in joining the Beaver’s, or if you have further questions, write to Erik Mossborn. Signed, Erik Mossborn, Primarch of the Ebony Beavers.