Chapter 2(a)

There was not a cloud to be seen anywhere. The sky was deep cerulean. It was the kind of sky that inspires poets, the kind of sky that children and lovers find perfect for frolicking A gentle breeze tamed the mid-day sun, making for a beautiful day. The splendor of this day; however, was lost on Angus, son of Jocknor. He could not understand what topsiders found so appealing. He felt that they did not know true beauty if a simple blue sky got them so excited. True beauty was found deep within Kairn's Keep. If one wanted to see an awesome sight, one had only to sit on the shores of Lake Hillock. The calm black water was a sight in and of itself, but when the forges were fired, the lake revealed its true beauty. The red and orange flames would reflect off the walls and towering roof, refracting the light in the crystals and gems embedded there and send a rainbow of light down to that ebony surface, which would then literally dance with color. As the flames rise and wane, the patterns and hues change, giving any person lucky enough to be resting on the banks a veritable kaleidoscope of beauty all day long. No simple blue sky could hope to hold a candle to that. Of course, Angus felt that topsiders were a deprived group anyway. They had not had the joys that come from living dep within the earth's crust. Dwarves were one of the All-Father's most blessed creatures, as far as Angus was concerned. There were many othere creatures that lived within Kairn's Keep, but none compared to dwarves. They had the pleasure of molding the very earth into creations of beauty and purpose. Angus did not relish his time on the surface. He attmepted to stay below as often as possible. He was under this alleged beautiful sky today because there had been some trouble of late with his people's trading missions. The last two had been attacked with everyone killed, save one poor individual who would have been beter off dead. Buoun had been found wandering aimlessly two days after his caravan had been due to return to the Keep. He was mad, beside himself with grief and fear. When the clan leader, Jocknor, son of the All-Father, tried to question him, the only coherent things he said were that the smell was almost lethal, and the creatures, ruthless. Whenever he was pressed for details, he bagan screaming and balling himself up on the ground. Since that day, daily armed partols traveled the road from the Keep's main entrance, through Kairn's Rest to the Silvermark Road. They would meet up with the patrol from Silvermark there. Today was Angus's turn. With Angus were his two oldest sons, Boulder, twenty-nine and Fenel, twenty-three. The three of them made up this patrol. Usually the patrols were larger, as many as ten soldiers, but this was Angus. When Angus had announced that he and his boys would be all the party he needed, no one questioned him. Angus was revered as a fighter. He was fearless and ferocious. He actually enjoyed fighting. some said he should have a second name, Battlemore. They said that he was always looking for a way to extend a fight. all agreed that Angus relished teh fight and those who fought him wished they had chosen a different opponent. While his son's were still consideredyoung ones, they were considered formidable warrioirs in their own right. There were many a veteren soldier that would value the addition of these two pups to any war party.
Like the glove to Angus's martial hand, his skill as a smith made him an even more challenging foe. He produced the finest armor in the Keep. There were others who forged armor, but only he outfitted the Elevated Ones, the leaders of the clan. Only the Elevated Ones could be outfitted with full armor, but in appreciation of his skill, they allowed him to fashion and wear his own full armor, truly an honor since he had many years to live before he could challenge for a place among the Elevated Ones.
Only Forgekin made weapons that rivaled Angus's. Between the two of them, the Elevated Ones were well armed. Angus's father, Jocknor was partial to the battleaxe. He had made his own battleaxe many years ago, but he gladly replaced it with the pne Angus gave him, when Jocknor became clan leader. Angus, on the other hand, relished the war hammer. He often said that there was no better sound than the crushing of your enemy's bones. His own hammer, Thunderstrike, was a magnificient piece of craftmanship. It was uniquely balamced, so that even though it was a heavy weapon, it could be thrown with ease and accuracy. Angus had yet to find a foe that could stand up for any length under the blows he delivered with Thunderstrike.