Brothers of the Scar: Revised

Chapter I: Welcoming

Grodak

Grodak lifted his hammer high above his head, a grimace on his lips. He stared down at his target for maybe a second as sweat slid down his forehead. Grodak ignored the discomfort the heat provided, he had long become accustomed to it, even embracing it.

A loud roar ripped through the air as Grodak swung his hammer down. One more hit, that's all it'll take to finish this off. He carefully moved his body with the downward swing, making sure to apply the accurate pressure needed.

Bang! Clang! Sizzle.... Grodak placed the hammer down on the anvil and took the metal work to the cooling tank. As the metal cooled, he checked to see if there were any flaws in his creation. It was an annoying part of being a blacksmith, but each work was a part of him, and so they needed to be perfect in every way possible.

Once he was satisfied, Grodak took the metal out of the cooling tank and laid it on his work desk. He could have just used the desk provided in the house of chiefs, but it didn't feel right. Ten years may have passed since Grall was banished.... ten years since Grodak became the acting chief, but that house still belonged to Grall.

Grodak grunted as he began to attach the handle to the metal work. Out of all the weapons he had used, he felt more familiarity towards swords and axes. This was an axe like none he had ever created before, and he loved the idea.

Grodak didn't despise creating weapons, on the contrary, he enjoyed coming up with designs for them. Seeing the delight in the warriors eyes as they used it. Being able to help his tribe when they are low on weaponry. Grodak loved all of it, though this wasn't why he crafted this specific ax.

He made this weapon to cross the desert and meet with the kingdoms there. He hoped the humans could provide relief to his tribe, who has been suffering since Gralls banishment. They did not suffer because of the new leadership, though telling Grodak as much would be a waste of time. They suffered because they gave what they could to the other tribes in order to regain what honor they could.

"Honor." Grodak spit the word out, hating how it tasted. "The tribe preaches about honor and yet allows magic users into their folds. Where is the honor in that?"

"Where is the honor of dieing against a foe we cannot face, such as hunger or thirst, my friend?" Grodak didn't bother to look up, he knew exactly who was in the doorway preaching to him. Gropnok, a childhood friend that stood by him when he voiced his opinion on banishing his brother.

"What do you want, Gropnok?" Grodak still didn't look up, feigning to be too immersed in his new creation. "Can't you see i'm busy."

"My apologies, chief Grodak," Gropnok always had the opinion that Grodak was much more suited to the leadership role than Grall. Though he cared for Grall like a brother, he felt that listening to the dead and doing as they wish would only cause trouble. He was right, Grall did as they wanted and he was banished for it. "I came by to let you know that your guards are waiting at the gates, ready to escort you to the kingdom of Whitewater."

"Guards?" Grodak growled, he hated this part of the job. Everyone, Gropnok included, insisted he have a retinue of guards on hand at all times. "I do not need any guards. I am perfectly capable of taking on anything that approaches me without their aid."

Gropnok bowed for a moment, looking more human than orc. "If I may, my chief. I think it is unwise to leave them behind. What if-"

"Enough!" Grodak exclaimed as he threw the finished product, splintering the wood beside Gropnok's head. "I said, I will go without the guards. Do not question me."

Gropnok rose and, without a word, left the forge. Grodak watched as his childhood friend walked off, his shoulders stooped. As the door swung back on its hinges, Grodak began to pace back and forth grumbling about how he hated being treated like he was less than Grall.