Michael smiled at the dwarf as he stepped into his workshop. There was something eminently entertaining about those that he’d met so far. Admittedly that amounted to Dugan and a few dwarves he’d healed back in Stad, but he really appreciated how well they took to grumpiness. They seemed to be naturals at scowling, even when gold and good news was in their future. He’d healed one dwarf’s broken tooth and the first thing she’d said was, ‘don’t expect me to smile at you to show it off’.“Things are only going to get busier for you I’m afraid. My expedition was only the first one to return, and we were the smallest of the groups.”The dwarf rubbed a blackened hand across his face. “Lords below, I came here to live an easy life of fixing wives pots and pans and the occasional guardsmen’s spear.”Michael shrugged. “I guess you’ll just have to suffer busy with pockets weighed down heavily with fat stacks of coin.”The dwarf snorted. “I guess there’s that.” He held out his hand. “Gurndan.”Michael took the hand and gave it a firm shake. His own hand wasn’t small, but it felt like a childs squeezed in the dwarf’s tremendous grip.“Michael.”“Alright Michael. Whip it all out and let's take a look at what yer packing.”Clara giggled at that and the dwarf sent her a surly wink.Michael took his pack and started to place each piece of his armor down. The dwarf would take a look at each piece, muttering as he did so before moving onto the next. When he got to the swords he frowned and actually spat on the flame of his forge.“What in all that comes up from the ground is this?” he asked, holding up the thick sword that had been forged for him by the blacksmith back in that Svict village they’d cleared the yeti rift from. Even with his ministrations the previous evening it was blackened and brittled.“I have the ability to summon powerful energies into my sword from the divine. I had a blacksmith forge that (...)