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THE BEGINNING, NOT CLOSE TO AN END - ᛏᚺᚱᚨᛁᚾ×ᛊ ᛃᛟᚢᚱᚾᛖᛁ - Thráin entered the great forge beneath the mountain. His nostrils flared at the great smell of iron, heat and burnt coal. The young yet ambitious beardling dropped his sack of ore, and from it he went on to create a great tool in the name of Yemekar. With each heave and roar of the bellows, Thráin’s eyes showed more and more focus. Within the forge, the great noise and echo that surrounded him, he had found peace and with it his heart began to settle. With a tall raise and a strong swing of his hammer he began to mold, create, as Yemekar once did. Striking hot metal the sparks spread, lighting the darkened forge underground as the fire blazed in the back with everlasting heat. A number of emotions came over Thráin. He now understood Yemekar, his need to create the Brathmordakin and the beardling's kin. The feeling of creation was like nothing Thráin had felt before. He finally found his work not to be of need but to be of a beautiful craftsmanship, which he could take pride and joy from. "Blessed be thy Yemekar, me patron and the ever holy god of creation" Called out the young beardling as the tool was quenched in a great barrel of oil. His work is close to completion, but will not ever reach an end.
