A little book with little teasers or samples of stories im thinking of making. Some won't be official since this will also allow me to see if it's good to be a story, a oneshot or none. Enjoy this collection and also stop by if your wondering what i...
TW: All characters that appear are not owned by me obviously and the rightful owners belong to Marvel & Stan Lee
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Nine Realms, Nidaviller 2013
Nidaviller, home of the greatest blacksmiths in the entirety of the realms, dwarves. This is where the dwarves craft and mold the greatest weapons to those worthy of it's possession. These craftsmen were known for their creation of the tool used by the thunder god Thor himself. They work under Asgard for the sake of protection from enemies, sadly it lasted too soon as their hardwork are about to be used for a new customer, a being to be feared.
On Nidaviller, you arrive inside the workshop by transportation similar to that of the bifrost from the Asgardians. You smile at the view of all the dwarves and the arsenal they mount. Out of the way, the purpose of your arrival was that you were sent from your home world Yülnira (Yol-knee-rah), part of Midgard. Your world is subjected to the principles of valor, care, and security. Pledging to protect those who severely require help, your planet produces one of the most skillful and powerful champions ready to be sent to anyone that calls.
You just so happened to be part of the chosen few. Like all champions your sent to Nidaviller by King Hof, your proud father as well, to retrieve your weapon of choice made by the best materials in the universe. As you continue to admire the surroundings, one of the dwarves finally catches eye on your presence.
???: "Alright the gogglings over, whatdiya want stranger?"
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You: "Screwbeard! Sorry I was.. distracted, I'm F/N L/N of planet Yülnira and-"
Screwbeard: "F/N?! Well my my, thought you'd be tall like your pop."
You: "Oh don't assume yet, I'll get there *chuckle*. So I guess my father had let you all know ahead of time."
Screwbeard: "Your right on that, your father has already gave us the print of it and we are just about done with it. Come!"
He leads you across the shop, as you resume your previous action. You look around as many dwarves smash their hammers on pieces of Uru and other such ores with sparks splashing. You even catch a sight of a hold of all the weaponry and armory made for countless other people, even armor big enough for beings you can't even think of what they look like.
Screwbeard: "Hey! Come on, believe me F/N your weapon will be more stronger than those thangs. Considering your royalty blood and your planet, we want your people to possess weapons that might as well be worthy of the gods."
