At a concealed cleft in the Mammoth Mountains, Badger Ironsmith, an elderly dwarf man with a stocky build, a weathered face, a gray braided beard, and a dark travel coat over sturdy work clothes, emerges from the pine shadows with a traveling bard at his side. The stone door remains sealed behind them.
The bard is a lean young adult woman with warm brown skin, wind-tangled black hair, and a moss-green cloak clasped over a weathered blue tunic. A silver string marks her worn lute.
Badger Ironsmith
Buster. Good. I hoped to find you before the mountain swallowed the trail again.
The Traveling Bard
Your son knows the old forge-signs, then? The song names a child beneath a falling star, carried from fire into stone.
Badger studies the bard sharply, one broad hand resting near his belt. Behind her, the mountain wind threads through the pines like a distant flute.
Badger Ironsmith
She heard it in three valleys, each time from a different elder. The verses change, but the name of the hidden blood does not.
The Traveling Bard
I can sing what I remember. Whether it reveals heritage or summons trouble, the mountain may decide.
✓ Quest Accepted
Discover Buster's true heritage
“Wait, You heard word of me in noise from a Mountain?”
SUCCESS (Fair Reasoning, rolled +2)
Buster Ironsmith
You heard word of me in noise from a mountain?
The Traveling Bard
Not mere noise. The mountain gave a voice to wind, stone, and echo, and your name formed among them.
The bard lowers her gaze to the silver string on her lute. It trembles once, though her fingers remain still, carrying a faint mineral hum through the cold air.
Badger Ironsmith
She came to my forge afterward. Knew the old signs, knew the verses, and knew enough of you to make me listen.
The Traveling Bard
I heard no clear name for your blood. Only that a child passed from fire into stone, and that the mountain remembers.
Beyond the sealed door, something answers with three muted knocks. Dust sifts from the cleft, but the stone remains unmoved.
The Traveling Bard
I will not sing the whole verse here. You asked what I heard, and this is truth: the mountain spoke of you.
“Do I have Dwarven blood in my veins, or am I the result of their lifestyle, and work ethic?”
FAILURE (Fair Reasoning, rolled -2)
Buster Ironsmith
Do I have Dwarven blood in my veins, or am I the result of their lifestyle and work ethic?
The question settles into the cleft. The three knocks answer at once, then a pale line of light crawls across the sealed stone door.
Badger Ironsmith
Blood is a forge's first question, lad, but not always its truest one. Let the mountain answer what it can.
The Traveling Bard
I will sing only the question, not the whole verse. If trouble answers, it will be the mountain's choice, not mine.
She plucks the silver string once. The note sinks into the stone, and the glowing line twists into a symbol neither Badger nor the traveling bard recognizes.
The Traveling Bard
That is no dwarven clan mark. The song has changed because you asked for blood instead of belonging.
The light suddenly gutters. A thin crack opens beneath the door, releasing warm forge-air and a single black iron scale onto the snow.
“The exit has opened, I must return to my forge. Good Bard, please join me so we may discuss more of this tale.”
SUCCESS (Fair Agility, rolled +2)