The events of the 22nd of Hematite, 1068Vash toiled down in the furnaces. Old armor, broken swords, discarded mugs and crafts, there were bins of steel that he was mindlessly smelting down into basic bars for reuse. Yes, this was a job that was beneath him, but there was something comforting about menial work, of doing something that produced results from brainless monotony. It was therapeutic; it eased the mind.
With a set of heavy tongs, Vash reached inside the smelter and pulled out the crucible. It glowed bright red, and he carefully pulled it out into the open, the heat waves making everything beyond it hazy and wrong. He swung it around towards the bar molds, and gently twisted the tongs to pour it. The molten steel spat as it dropped down, and unbeknownst to vash, a few sall droplets landed on the front of his tunic - left bare as he was not wearing his apron.
He first noticed something was wrong at the sound of crackling, of fire consuming cloth. He looked down and nearly blacked out from the sheer horror of his shirt becoming ablaze. The crucible was thrust back into the smelter, and quickly the metalworker stripped his shirt off, screaming as he hurled it into the empty corner of the workshop.
Vash quickly grabbed a bucket of sand from beside the work bench and pitched it onto his tunic, a thin wisp of smoke escaping as the fire was smothered. With a sigh, he dug out his shirt and picked it up, blinking at the small scrap of wax that blotted against the shirt pocket.
The note was scorched, but not ruined, though the wax had melted into the cloth. He opened it with a smirk, and turned to throw it into the smelter, but something was wrong. There was more written there now, the dark ink only showing on the flame-curled sections.
We come soon. Your wish is not forgotten. We thank you for the invitation <3
Eyes wide with horror, Vash turned and bolted from the workshop. He headed towards the barracks, to Merkil's office.
***
The newly-arrived hammerer stalked around the perimeter of the fortress, her cold eyes taking in the scenery. The trial of Aryn Estetar would be starting soon, and as mandated by her order, she was to act as impartial judge and administer of law. The humans were a necessity to dwarven society; long term allies and excessive purchesers of trinkets. Whole industries relied on supplying their women with jewelry, their children toys. To keep them happy was of total importance.
As the hammerer rounded the corner, she saw a child playing near the large wooden donkey constructed beside the fort. She called out a harsh warning and got a wave in response, causing the hammer to scowl at the insolence. There was a shimmer from behind the child, a wave of heat. As if it had come from thin air, a sword-wielding goblin stood behind the child. The hammerer shouted again, gesturing with her hand, and the child waved once more. His arm was struck off with one clean blow, his body bisected at the middle with the next.
Drawing her hammer, she took two steps forward. A crackle of energy beside her caused her to stop and turn. To her side was a thin goblin in a black robe, the cowl thrown back to show off his large, elongated head, his green ears jutting high from his temples. He wore a small goatee and a smile.
"I apologize dear hammerer," the Goblin said, "but we have tasking to complete, and an audiance inside. Sadly you won't be able to attend." He lifted his hand and pointed four long fingers in her direction. She took a single step forward and stopped as lightening crackled from the Goblin's fingertips. Her head exploded like a ripe mellon hit with a bolt, showering the sands around her with brain matter and bone. Her body crumpled to the ground.
With a giggle, Olngo, the Goblin in black, gave a jaunty wave to his compaions and called, "Come, please, we have a date to meet, and a very special little dwarf to take."