The Soul Forge
Posted: Thu Feb 05, 2026 6:26 pm
It was a night like any other.
Odric sat next to the great fire in Karagard, his trusty pal Gadget, the bear by this side, sipping on a fine brew of Granitebreaker beer. The sound of an approaching wolf caught his ear, and he looked up, as Dowgin Stormbrew, one of his samman rode into view. The two exchanged pleasantries, albeit briefly, before being interrupted by Baphen Irontongue, Warden of Karagard.
“Vemu Lad” Odric said to Baphen, with a light smile.
The Warden nodded in kind “Vemu” as he looked at both present.
The trio engaged in casual conversation for a while...
...Until he appeared.
Dowgin was the first to notice, turning to his brethren “Yeh lads not see dat?”
Odric looked to Dowgin “See wot lad?” as he turned to match Dowgin’s gaze.
Baphen took off first; the Warden of Karagard has a sworn duty to protect the halls, so an intruder had put him into high alert.
“Oi! Yeh fawkin stop! Who are yeh!” Baphen exclaimed as the three pursued the figure. “Why are yeh in meh halls?” He asked again, only met with more silence.
Odric eyed the figure. He knew who this was; he had dealt with him before. The nonchalant attitude, and lack of caring for others presence around him, it could only be one man, if he was even that anymore.
Mortimer.
Mortimer heaved a sigh, the ‘pests’ behind him constantly buzzing in his ear
“More of... you” Mortimer said, as he cradled a large ball of light, heat radiating so great the waves could be seen coming from it.
The trio of Dwarves cautiously eyed the light, and Mortimer took notice.
“A gift from the Orcs” he said, looking at the ceiling as he continued his unbothered walk.
“Oi ain’t interested in yer ‘uman schemes” Baphen said, now with more authority in his voice
Mortimer, looking between the stone below and the stone above, sighed once more
“It would extend your lives significantly if you... left me alone.” Mortimer chimed in.
“Yeh got dat backwards, Lad” Baphen huffed.
Odric notched a bolt, pointing it at Mortimer, not that it did any good, Mortimer remained uncaring, unbothered, as he continued to walk among Karagard’s residential area.
“Yeh Stop! Fawk it! Git’ em lads!” Baphen cried out, hurling his axe towards Mortimer’s skull.
The axe cut though the cool Karagard air, flying as true as any axe thrown by a Khuzud, but it did not find its mark. The axe fell short of Mortimer, as if something abruptly halted it. Baphen charged forward, grabbing the axe from the floor in stride, swinging it heavily at Mortimer.
Mortimer waved a hand as the Dwarf launched his attack, sending him flying to the floor in the other direction
“Baphen!” Odric and Dowgin yelled out as he was sent to the cobblestones.
“I gave your kind warning once” Mortimer forced the words out “It is...unusual for me...”
Mortimer kept walking, shaking his head as he stopped in different locations. The Dwarves followed behind him, seemingly powerless to stop him, but that wouldn’t stop them from trying.
Mortimer stopped, with a nod. He knelt, drawing some runes on the ground, and as he did, his dark army seemed to manifest themselves.
“We got company lads!” Dowgin exclaimed
“Dey here! It's an invasion lads!” Raygor chimed in; the Master artisan who had joined the group in passing gripped his enchanted pickaxe.
The proud group of Khazad took up their weapons and began fighting back the invaders. Gadget, the bear lunged forward, tearing into flesh, Odric fired his bolts, each one finding their mark, Raygor channeling spells through his enchanted pickaxe making quick work of the Acolytes as well. Dowgin offers prayers, sustaining his brothers as he launched attacks of his own, and Baphen, the proud Warden, swinging his war pick expertly, finding his mark this time with ease.
The group fought their way through the hordes of attacks, making their way through nearly the entire residential area, all while the invaders chanted to Azamul for power. Every wave cleared brought them closer to Mortimer, who was still searching the halls, however after every wave, a new group seemed to appear.
Then it happened...
A portal emerged from one of the corpses, Mortimer vanishing inside of it. The Dwarves cleared up the last of the invaders, and followed him inside, eager to end his life for good.
The group emerged on the other side, but what met them wasn’t decay, or demons, or anything they expected. Their eyes were met with a great fire spouting from an immaculate forge, Mithril blanketed the area...
The shellshocked Dwarves couldn’t believe it. An unfamiliar sight filled their eyes, but it somehow felt like... home.
“Blessed be moi fawkin’ beard lads” Dowgin exclaimed to the group
There was no doubt. This was the Soul Forge, the sacred realm of the creator Saerin. His great hammer rested nearby two exquisite anvils, made entirely of Mithril.
“It was real, all along” Mortimer said, now standing at the base of the soul forge”
“Wot yeh doin’ up there! Git away!” Dowgin shouted out
Mortimer remained unbothered; the pests still buzzing in his ear. He produced the orb once more “The sundered stone... Filled with the blood of the land.”
“Wot deh fawk yeh doin!” Odric cried out
“E’s gonna curse deh Soul Forge!” Baphen screamed “Saerin! We need ye lad!”
The group of Dwarves launched whatever attacks they could at Mortimer, but they were of no avail. Axes fell to the floor; bolts scattered around. Their attacks had no effect.
Mortimer bent over, picking up Saerin’s great hammer. He took the orb in his hand, and lowered it into the Soul Forge, the fires flaring up.
“I called, and it answered” Mortimer said, the forge next to him cracking, hissing. He pulled out a long, black shard.
“Everything I have done, had led me here.” Mortimer said, almost euphorically “To make this” pushing the crystal into the forge.
The forge didn’t take any time to make the crystal pliable. Mortimer pulled the crystal out, placing it on the anvil. He raised the Mithril hammer, Saerin’s hammer, high into the air, bringing it down with a thud onto the crystal. Swing after Swing, the crystal taking form, the Dwarves still trying relentless to halt what was happening, but it was no use. Mortimer finished forging the crystal.
“Your maker has done me well” Mortimer turned to the Dwarves, tossing down the hammer, cradling the now forged shard in his grip.
“Now, I have to see some humans...” Mortimer said with a pause “...This blade needs quenching”
Mortimer disappeared. The silence of the forge was now deafening. The group looked among themselves. They felt defeated. They were defeated. The Soul Forge of the Great Creator sullied. A disgrace.
They didn’t have time to wallow. A voice from the dark bellowed through.
“I’d like to introduce you to my favorite creation”
No sooner had the words stopped, three dark, crystal pillars emerged from the ground of the Soul Forge, electricity crackling between them. From the electricity emerged some sort of monstrosity. Unbeknownst to the Dwarves, this was subject number Seven-Zero-Nine.
The Dwarves took up arms, fighting this beast. This was unlike anything Odric had ever fought before. Not even the three great Dragons he had slain by himself at one time were a comparison.
Axes swung; Bolts flew, flesh torn off by Gadget piled on the floor.
Odric wondered if this thing would ever die... Die? Was it even alive? He shook his head, knowing that the place of their creation would be the place of their demise if they didn’t prevail.
The beast seemed to only get stronger, the more damage it sustained. The blows seemed to hurt more as the beast became more desperate. Gadget grew increasingly weary; he was a hell of a bear, but he was still mortal after all.
Then it happened. The beast finally fell. Gadget collapsed to the ground, exhausted. The Dwarves, breathing heavily, looked among themselves.
They inspected the body of the beast, folded amongst the flesh, a bloodied note. They unrolled the scroll, reading down through it; a last will and testament of who this “thing” used to be. Teeth gritted in anger; the group took their leave, converging outside the portal to the Soul Forge, before making their way to the throne of the High King.
“Me king! Mortimer’s back! He-He used deh Soul Forge!” Baphen cried out
Rurin Stonehelm, the High King, stood up from the throne, looking to his brothers in the room
“Mortimer...Went to the soul forge?” Rurin asked, puzzled “And did yeh lads go to?”
Raygor, looked to the High King “Aye, we did”
“There be no mistake, me king... it felt loike... Home” Baphen reflected as the words came out.
Raygor handed over a hammer, taken from the Soul Forge. Rurin hefted up the large hammer.
“Runes of Saerin... Hammer of Saerin... The Hammer o’ Saerin lads...” Rurin said
“He used it!” Baphen said “He used it ta forge some kind o’ blade! Said e’ needed to use it on ‘umans!”
Rurin took in the information gathered by the group, settling on a general report to relay to the Human, and the Elves. Rurin still pondering over the events, stopped the group before they left the throne room.
“Lads” Rurin sat regally back onto the Throne “Tha’ blade was nay meant fer ‘umans, was nay even meant for mortals...”
“Woycha’ mean?” Baphen chimed in
“By teh gods” Dowgin piped up “E’ gon’ kill a god?”
Rurin looked over the group, concern washing over his face
“I think e’s gonna try”
Odric sat next to the great fire in Karagard, his trusty pal Gadget, the bear by this side, sipping on a fine brew of Granitebreaker beer. The sound of an approaching wolf caught his ear, and he looked up, as Dowgin Stormbrew, one of his samman rode into view. The two exchanged pleasantries, albeit briefly, before being interrupted by Baphen Irontongue, Warden of Karagard.
“Vemu Lad” Odric said to Baphen, with a light smile.
The Warden nodded in kind “Vemu” as he looked at both present.
The trio engaged in casual conversation for a while...
...Until he appeared.
Dowgin was the first to notice, turning to his brethren “Yeh lads not see dat?”
Odric looked to Dowgin “See wot lad?” as he turned to match Dowgin’s gaze.
Baphen took off first; the Warden of Karagard has a sworn duty to protect the halls, so an intruder had put him into high alert.
“Oi! Yeh fawkin stop! Who are yeh!” Baphen exclaimed as the three pursued the figure. “Why are yeh in meh halls?” He asked again, only met with more silence.
Odric eyed the figure. He knew who this was; he had dealt with him before. The nonchalant attitude, and lack of caring for others presence around him, it could only be one man, if he was even that anymore.
Mortimer.
Mortimer heaved a sigh, the ‘pests’ behind him constantly buzzing in his ear
“More of... you” Mortimer said, as he cradled a large ball of light, heat radiating so great the waves could be seen coming from it.
The trio of Dwarves cautiously eyed the light, and Mortimer took notice.
“A gift from the Orcs” he said, looking at the ceiling as he continued his unbothered walk.
“Oi ain’t interested in yer ‘uman schemes” Baphen said, now with more authority in his voice
Mortimer, looking between the stone below and the stone above, sighed once more
“It would extend your lives significantly if you... left me alone.” Mortimer chimed in.
“Yeh got dat backwards, Lad” Baphen huffed.
Odric notched a bolt, pointing it at Mortimer, not that it did any good, Mortimer remained uncaring, unbothered, as he continued to walk among Karagard’s residential area.
“Yeh Stop! Fawk it! Git’ em lads!” Baphen cried out, hurling his axe towards Mortimer’s skull.
The axe cut though the cool Karagard air, flying as true as any axe thrown by a Khuzud, but it did not find its mark. The axe fell short of Mortimer, as if something abruptly halted it. Baphen charged forward, grabbing the axe from the floor in stride, swinging it heavily at Mortimer.
Mortimer waved a hand as the Dwarf launched his attack, sending him flying to the floor in the other direction
“Baphen!” Odric and Dowgin yelled out as he was sent to the cobblestones.
“I gave your kind warning once” Mortimer forced the words out “It is...unusual for me...”
Mortimer kept walking, shaking his head as he stopped in different locations. The Dwarves followed behind him, seemingly powerless to stop him, but that wouldn’t stop them from trying.
Mortimer stopped, with a nod. He knelt, drawing some runes on the ground, and as he did, his dark army seemed to manifest themselves.
“We got company lads!” Dowgin exclaimed
“Dey here! It's an invasion lads!” Raygor chimed in; the Master artisan who had joined the group in passing gripped his enchanted pickaxe.
The proud group of Khazad took up their weapons and began fighting back the invaders. Gadget, the bear lunged forward, tearing into flesh, Odric fired his bolts, each one finding their mark, Raygor channeling spells through his enchanted pickaxe making quick work of the Acolytes as well. Dowgin offers prayers, sustaining his brothers as he launched attacks of his own, and Baphen, the proud Warden, swinging his war pick expertly, finding his mark this time with ease.
The group fought their way through the hordes of attacks, making their way through nearly the entire residential area, all while the invaders chanted to Azamul for power. Every wave cleared brought them closer to Mortimer, who was still searching the halls, however after every wave, a new group seemed to appear.
Then it happened...
A portal emerged from one of the corpses, Mortimer vanishing inside of it. The Dwarves cleared up the last of the invaders, and followed him inside, eager to end his life for good.
The group emerged on the other side, but what met them wasn’t decay, or demons, or anything they expected. Their eyes were met with a great fire spouting from an immaculate forge, Mithril blanketed the area...
The shellshocked Dwarves couldn’t believe it. An unfamiliar sight filled their eyes, but it somehow felt like... home.
“Blessed be moi fawkin’ beard lads” Dowgin exclaimed to the group
There was no doubt. This was the Soul Forge, the sacred realm of the creator Saerin. His great hammer rested nearby two exquisite anvils, made entirely of Mithril.
“It was real, all along” Mortimer said, now standing at the base of the soul forge”
“Wot yeh doin’ up there! Git away!” Dowgin shouted out
Mortimer remained unbothered; the pests still buzzing in his ear. He produced the orb once more “The sundered stone... Filled with the blood of the land.”
“Wot deh fawk yeh doin!” Odric cried out
“E’s gonna curse deh Soul Forge!” Baphen screamed “Saerin! We need ye lad!”
The group of Dwarves launched whatever attacks they could at Mortimer, but they were of no avail. Axes fell to the floor; bolts scattered around. Their attacks had no effect.
Mortimer bent over, picking up Saerin’s great hammer. He took the orb in his hand, and lowered it into the Soul Forge, the fires flaring up.
“I called, and it answered” Mortimer said, the forge next to him cracking, hissing. He pulled out a long, black shard.
“Everything I have done, had led me here.” Mortimer said, almost euphorically “To make this” pushing the crystal into the forge.
The forge didn’t take any time to make the crystal pliable. Mortimer pulled the crystal out, placing it on the anvil. He raised the Mithril hammer, Saerin’s hammer, high into the air, bringing it down with a thud onto the crystal. Swing after Swing, the crystal taking form, the Dwarves still trying relentless to halt what was happening, but it was no use. Mortimer finished forging the crystal.
“Your maker has done me well” Mortimer turned to the Dwarves, tossing down the hammer, cradling the now forged shard in his grip.
“Now, I have to see some humans...” Mortimer said with a pause “...This blade needs quenching”
Mortimer disappeared. The silence of the forge was now deafening. The group looked among themselves. They felt defeated. They were defeated. The Soul Forge of the Great Creator sullied. A disgrace.
They didn’t have time to wallow. A voice from the dark bellowed through.
“I’d like to introduce you to my favorite creation”
No sooner had the words stopped, three dark, crystal pillars emerged from the ground of the Soul Forge, electricity crackling between them. From the electricity emerged some sort of monstrosity. Unbeknownst to the Dwarves, this was subject number Seven-Zero-Nine.
The Dwarves took up arms, fighting this beast. This was unlike anything Odric had ever fought before. Not even the three great Dragons he had slain by himself at one time were a comparison.
Axes swung; Bolts flew, flesh torn off by Gadget piled on the floor.
Odric wondered if this thing would ever die... Die? Was it even alive? He shook his head, knowing that the place of their creation would be the place of their demise if they didn’t prevail.
The beast seemed to only get stronger, the more damage it sustained. The blows seemed to hurt more as the beast became more desperate. Gadget grew increasingly weary; he was a hell of a bear, but he was still mortal after all.
Then it happened. The beast finally fell. Gadget collapsed to the ground, exhausted. The Dwarves, breathing heavily, looked among themselves.
They inspected the body of the beast, folded amongst the flesh, a bloodied note. They unrolled the scroll, reading down through it; a last will and testament of who this “thing” used to be. Teeth gritted in anger; the group took their leave, converging outside the portal to the Soul Forge, before making their way to the throne of the High King.
“Me king! Mortimer’s back! He-He used deh Soul Forge!” Baphen cried out
Rurin Stonehelm, the High King, stood up from the throne, looking to his brothers in the room
“Mortimer...Went to the soul forge?” Rurin asked, puzzled “And did yeh lads go to?”
Raygor, looked to the High King “Aye, we did”
“There be no mistake, me king... it felt loike... Home” Baphen reflected as the words came out.
Raygor handed over a hammer, taken from the Soul Forge. Rurin hefted up the large hammer.
“Runes of Saerin... Hammer of Saerin... The Hammer o’ Saerin lads...” Rurin said
“He used it!” Baphen said “He used it ta forge some kind o’ blade! Said e’ needed to use it on ‘umans!”
Rurin took in the information gathered by the group, settling on a general report to relay to the Human, and the Elves. Rurin still pondering over the events, stopped the group before they left the throne room.
“Lads” Rurin sat regally back onto the Throne “Tha’ blade was nay meant fer ‘umans, was nay even meant for mortals...”
“Woycha’ mean?” Baphen chimed in
“By teh gods” Dowgin piped up “E’ gon’ kill a god?”
Rurin looked over the group, concern washing over his face
“I think e’s gonna try”