Donorrin

From the fire is made, evey Dwarven axe and blade! 

When the hammer falls, forging weapons for all! 

When the hammer falls, songs of battle fill the Halls! 

“So you’ll go?”  

The night hung calmly over the carved halls. The stars, like a thousand gems scattered across the velvet, shone clearly in the deep blue, bathing the Iron Hills in their silver glimmer. Two dwarves sat laid atop the Dainlik, giggling to some, undoubtedly hilarious, joke one of them made.