ChiMakwa
The Big Bear
Worth, a Forgotten Realms Tale
Somoril, the city in the mountains. A fable of the old Fort Glamdring, Foe-Hammer of the North, once a fort meant to keep back the hordes of savage Orcs of those Northern Mountains, now just a steadily dying city in the North. In the long history of Glamdring, they have only had a few fables, none worthy of notice really, none but the mention of Somoril the City in the Mountains.
Down south there once was a people who had prided themselves on their abilities of the arcane arts, arcanists they were called... Netheril was their empire. But almost all their time and knowledge were lost to time... until something called Somoril was heard by one ear or another, Somoril, the City in the Mountains. Lost and forgotten knowledge just sitting there somewhere in the mountains beyond Glamdring. Treasures not touched for a thousand years or more, a prospect that... some would jump at, some crazy fools who would actually believe that Somoril was a place and not some fable of some downtrodden city that is slowly freezing to death in the north.
Somoril, the city in the mountains. A fable of the old Fort Glamdring, Foe-Hammer of the North, once a fort meant to keep back the hordes of savage Orcs of those Northern Mountains, now just a steadily dying city in the North. In the long history of Glamdring, they have only had a few fables, none worthy of notice really, none but the mention of Somoril the City in the Mountains.
Down south there once was a people who had prided themselves on their abilities of the arcane arts, arcanists they were called... Netheril was their empire. But almost all their time and knowledge were lost to time... until something called Somoril was heard by one ear or another, Somoril, the City in the Mountains. Lost and forgotten knowledge just sitting there somewhere in the mountains beyond Glamdring. Treasures not touched for a thousand years or more, a prospect that... some would jump at, some crazy fools who would actually believe that Somoril was a place and not some fable of some downtrodden city that is slowly freezing to death in the north.
- Sigurd Arnimson
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"I don't burn so easy."
Sigurd, adopted son of the blacksmith Arnim, the single best blacksmith of Glamdring, not that people buy off of Arnim anymore. Glamdring is an old and superstitious city, if it wasn't for the fact that Arnim was a good man, Sigurd wouldn't have survived that cold night where Glamdring found a devil-child abandoned in the city square. No one else would take a Tiefling orphan in, so Arnim the blacksmith decided to call everyone cold-hearted bastards and took in the kid himself.
Sigurd -in his own opinion- isn't anything special, but according to his father, he's the best blacksmith of Glamdring, if a bit reckless. Sigurd of course learned his talent of blacksmithing from his father, who had a unique way of blacksmithing that you would only find in Glamdring because Arnim invented the technique. Arnim employed magic in his blacksmithing, now Arnim isn't very good at magic, what he's learned about it came from a dusty old book in the even older and falling apart library of Glamdring. When Arnim was younger, he thought he would be a wizard when he grew up but Arnim never got around to making his spellbook. He taught what little he knew to his chosen son Sigurd and the Tiefling took to magic far better than Arnim ever did.
Aside from the scorn and not-so-well-hidden hate against Sigurd and Arnim, the blacksmith shop stayed afloat. Even if business isn't as good as it could be, Arnim and Sigurd are still undeniably the best shop in Glamdring. Sigurd was really good at making the remarkable blades and hammers... if only he was any good at making things consistent. That is the one thing Arnim criticizes his son for, no two of his works are similar. Even if they're good, making every work unique from each other stops the bulk orders that require consistency from coming into the shop.
Sigurd Arnimson learned Wizardry to better his blacksmithing. As a Wizard, he's an amateur at best, but he's learned everything he knows off of one book so maybe there's more to it than he's an amateur. - Elimil Silverfamilia
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"Let us keep it at, I'm the Stranger with deep pockets."
Eli, some rich adventurer from the south, as the town of Glamdring would put it. Elimil Silverfamilia, the stranger named so because at least people from Glamdring recognize him over other adventurers that pass through. Eli's the one to come back the most, so he got the name that stuck as The Stranger. There isn't much known about Eli, he's a noble based solely on his heavy coin purse. People remember hearing about the Silverfamilia, but southern politics play no role in Glamdring so they never bothered to learn the significance of the name. However, Glamdrings a small city, so there are rumours for why a noble kid is up north here... One has to do with how mad he looks. Or that glint in his eyes... it stinks of magic people say, even the ones that don't have a sense for magic will say it stinks of magic. Spell Scarred was tossed around quite a bit too, the rumour has no proof.
Elimil Silverfamilia is a Ranger as anyone could see with the bow and quiver he keeps on his person. He must be good in some way to make it work up in the mountains.
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