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A good story, like any good story in fact, begins at the accounts of the most unimaginable

character. Of all the extraordinary creatures ever created and conceived, and all the much

more skilled warriors and brave heroes, he, by fate or by chance, would be the one chosen to

uphold the burdens of an adventure.

Far up north, there was a city inside of a mountain. This city, known as one of the dwarven

cities of the land, had no official name, being coined by travelers and traders of all parts of

the land as Blaeforge ! due the enormous smoldering forges located in the entrance halls,

bubbling lava and molten steel incessantly. The fact that it had no name was rather odd.

"any from the outside would say that it was some sort of dwarvish superstition, but for the

natives it was a tradition that they would never break.

There is nothing like a dwarf life inside of a mountain. The city is always singing with the

sound of the hammer hitting steel. The houses smelling like coal and meat. The traders and

travelers, coming and going incessantly, exchanging goods for a few small sacks of gold orsilver, whilst bringing with them stories of adventures and news from the countries they

visited.

#eep into the mountain, there was a dwarf$house, and in this house of bricks and stones

lived ! obviously ! a dwarf by the name Bluntrock. This dwarf was a singular one, being,

probably, the most hardworking of his kin, spending days mining in dark pits and caves,

looking for metals and gems. %e was the third son of Blouin Bluntrock, a minner, and

"arillien &hitengem, a servant maid from 'rebor both

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Acording to the travelers description of the city, it is located inside of a mountain corvered in snow,

surrounded by a forest of darkened trees. The main gates of the city were five$men thick each door,

it had seven meters in height and it was, at least, ten$men in width. After the gates, there was a room

with torches and braiers where a few guards would stand watch and in(uire the visitors about their

business in the city. #epending on the answer, they would be allowed to enter the city where they

would be greated by the roaring sound of the titanic forges, cascading rivers of molten steel.

This is a story about a dwarf called Borin Bluntrock. )nlike most of his kind, Borin grew

accustomed to a simple life, away from the likes of caves, dungeons and mines. %e lived in a

yellow brick house with green roof tiles.*nside his house you could find, right after the blue

entrance door, in the exact middle of the house, a large cedar staircase leading three floors down

into the ground $$$, this was because a dwarf feels much more confortable when he is sleeping under

the dirt.

$$$ The first floor ! the floor on ground level $ housed the dining room, the kitchen and the living

room, all provided with oak chairs, couches, tables and carpets. The second floor was where the

pantry and the cellar was, both big in its dimensions. The pantry was filled with all the types of

cheeses and sausages. There were smoked hams and several cuts of meat on hooks, and bottles

filled to the brim of milk, honey, molasses and +ams. Barrels of wine and ale were pilled in the

cellar shelves, all of them from a particular vintage. The third floor had within its walls a library,

filled with lots of bookcases crammed with books, and a barelly used workshop with a few tools

and a dusty workbench. The fourth floor ! the deepest one in the ground ! was where his bedroom

was. *t had a bed, of course, and a closet for his clothes.